Latest / The Rise of Colonialism: How Europe Divided the World — Fexingo History / The English East India Company's Bengal Famine of 1770
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about how European companies extracted wealth from Asia—the VOC in the Spice Islands, the French in India, the Portuguese cartaz system. But there's one episode that stands out as especially brutal, and it involves the English East India Company in Bengal. Luna: The famine, right? I've heard the numbers are staggering. Lucas: The Bengal Famine of 1770. It's often called a 'forgotten holocaust'—an estimated ten million people died, roughly a third of Bengal's population. And what makes it so chilling is that it wasn't just a natural disaster. Company policies turned a drought into a catastrophe. Luna: Wait—so the Company made it worse? How? Lucas: Let me set the stage. By 1765, the East India Company had secured the diwani rights—the right to collect taxes—in Bengal, Bihar, and Orissa. This was after Robert Clive's victory at Plassey. Suddenly, the Company was both the ruler and the tax collector. And they had one priority: maximize revenue. Lucas: In 1769, the monsoon failed. The rice crop withered. Normally, this would be a crisis, but local rulers had grain reserves, and there were mechanisms to distribute food. But the Company didn't care about that—they were focused on paying dividends to shareholders in London and funding wars in southern India. Luna: So they kept demanding taxes even as people were starving? Lucas: Exactly. They actually increased the land tax in 1770, right in the middle of the famine. And when peasants couldn't pay, the Company's collectors—many of them Indian agents, but under British direction—seized whatever grain they had. They even stripped the villages of cooking pots and livestock. Lucas: Meanwhile, the Company's own servants were hoarding grain to sell at inflated prices. Warren Hastings, who later became the first Governor-General of India, was himself involved in the grain trade. He made a personal profit of forty thousand pounds during the famine. Luna: That's disgusting. And there was no intervention? Lucas: John Cartier, the governor of Bengal, did order some relief measures—like opening granaries—but it was too little, too late. The Company's priority was never feeding people; it was extracting wealth. And they had a weird economic theory to justify it. They believed in 'laissez-faire'—that the market would sort itself out. So they refused to regulate grain prices or ban exports. Luna: So they kept exporting grain to Europe while people died of hunger. Lucas: Not just to Europe. They shipped grain to other Company outposts, like Madras, where they were fighting wars. It's estimated that during the worst months of the famine, grain was still leaving Bengal ports. The roads were lined with corpses, and yet the ships kept sailing. Lucas: And this brings me to something that strikes me every time I read about this. The Company's own records show that in 1771, they actually congratulated themselves on how well they handled the famine. A report to the Court of Directors in London said that 'the loss of one-third of the population' was 'a decrease of consumption' that would actually reduce costs. They saw it as a business adjustment. Luna: That's horrifying. They saw millions of deaths as a cost-cutting measure. Lucas: Right. And it gets even more cynical. After the famine, the Company worried that the reduced population meant lower tax revenues in the future. So they started offering incentives to attract new settlers—basically, people who could pay taxes—but they never compensated the families of the dead. Luna: What happened to the survivors? Did the Company do anything for them? Lucas: Very little. Some of the Indian elites, like the Hindu banker Jagat Seth, tried to organize relief, but they were also squeezed by the Company. The British government in London eventually investigated the Company's conduct—partly because the famine was so notorious—and it led to the Regulating Act of 1773, which placed some oversight on the Company. But that was more about controlling corruption than helping Bengal. Lucas: And here's a strange twist: the famine actually made the Company more powerful. With so many small farmers dead, the Company could consolidate landholdings and impose the 'Permanent Settlement' in 1793, which locked in tax rates and turned peasants into virtual serfs. The disaster was used to justify even more extractive policies. Luna: So the Company profited from the famine in the long run? Lucas: In many ways, yes. And it set a precedent. Later British famines in India, like the Great Famine of 1876–78, would repeat the same pattern: the government insisting on free markets, refusing to intervene, and exporting grain while people starved. The Bengal Famine was the blueprint. Luna: I think a lot of our listeners who've been following this show with us—especially those who care about history and the way power works—might feel the same way I do right now. It's hard to hear this stuff without wanting to do something, even if it's small. You know, like supporting the show that brings these stories to light. Lucas: Yeah, absolutely. And for anyone who's been coming with us through these conversations—about the scramble for Africa, the spice trade, colonial taxation—if you find value in digging into the real history behind today's world, listener support is what keeps this ad-free and independent. You can find us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Luna: Honestly, it's a way to keep these conversations going. And we really appreciate it. Lucas: And what followed the Bengal Famine, in the long term, was a slow shift in British attitudes. Some officials started to question whether the Company's ruthless extraction was sustainable. The famine became a symbol of corporate greed, and it fueled arguments for bringing India under direct Crown rule—which eventually happened after the 1857 Rebellion. Luna: So the famine was one of the things that led to the end of Company rule? Lucas: In a way, yes. It exposed the moral bankruptcy of a corporation governing millions of people. And it introduced a new idea into colonial discourse: that rulers have a responsibility to prevent famine. Of course, that idea was often ignored in practice, but at least it was on the table. Lucas: One more detail I find haunting. A British official named William Bolts, who had worked for the Company, wrote a book in 1772 called 'Considerations on India Affairs', where he detailed the famine and blamed the Company's policies. He was later deported from India for his trouble. So even at the time, there were voices telling the truth. Luna: And his book didn't change anything? Lucas: It didn't change Company policy, but it influenced public opinion in Britain. It was one of the factors that led to the Parliamentary inquiry and the Regulating Act. So in a small way, it mattered. It's a reminder that exposing injustice can have an effect, even if it's slow. Lucas: To sum up: the Bengal Famine of 1770 was not an act of God. It was a man-made disaster, driven by the East India Company's single-minded pursuit of profit. And it left a scar on Indian society that lasted for generations. The population of Bengal didn't recover its pre-famine numbers until the early 19th century. Luna: That's a sobering note to end on. But I think it's important to remember. Lucas: Absolutely. And it's a story that's still relevant, because we're still grappling with how corporations and governments respond to humanitarian crises. The echoes of 1770 are with us today.