The EconomistJune 29th 2019 Essay |The South Asian monsoon 41
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ashore. Long ago, they showed others what lay over the horizon.
Had sailors, traders and holy men not followed their lead on the
monsoon winds, Asia would not be the heterogenous place it has
been through history—and remains today, despite the nationalist
narratives and more strictly bordered lives its 20th-century states
forced on their newly minted citizens. Tamil merchants from
southern India put up inscribed stones in Burma (modern-day
Myanmar) and Thailand around the seventh century ad. They
seem to have reached the southern Chinese emporium of Canton
(Guangzhou) not much later. India’s influence is intense in the ex-
traordinary ninth-century Buddhist temple of Borobudur on Java.
Hindu kingdoms arose in the Indonesian archipelago. Bali repre-
sents surely the most embellished version of the Hindu faith to-
day. Via India, Islam spread east, too, after Arab merchants carried
their faith to the Malabar Coast of south-west India and, eventual-
ly, to Quanzhou on China’s eastern seaboard, where 13th-century
Muslims lie beneath gravestones inscribed in Arabic. Later, with
the Portuguese, Roman Catholicism came to Goa and then, via the
south China coast, to Japan.
Arabs, east Africans, Bengalis, Tamils, Parsis, Malays, Chinese,
“Manila men” (Filipinos) and Okinawans met and traded, some-
times sojourning in each other’s lands, sometimes returning on
the next season’s winds. When European merchant venturers—
Portuguese, Dutch, French and British—came to the region they
joined in these seasonal rhythms. The East India Company put the
monsoon winds to the service of joint-stock capitalism, as “East
Indiamen”, heavily armed merchant ships, carried Indian silks
and cottons, as well as Chinese tea, back to Europe once a year.
In the 19th century, with the coming of coal, steam and iron, the
Europeans broke with seasonal rhythms, establishing colonial
dominance over Asia by means of efficient weaponry and Suez-
crossing steamships that could defy the wind to allow a constant
flow of raw materials one way—cotton, jute, grain, timber, tin—
and returned manufactures the other. The Asian ports established
or greatly expanded at the time—Bombay (present-day Mumbai),
Calcutta (Kolkata), Madras (Chennai), Batavia (Jakarta), Manila,
Shanghai—marked the birth of a fossil-fuel age. The winds were
forgotten; but they were not unchanged. As the build-up of atmo-
spheric greenhouse gases which began back then traps ever more
heat the monsoons will change; the vast clouds of pollutants
created by Asia’s now endemic use of coal and oil are affecting
them too, in ways that meteorologists do not yet understand. And
those great low-lying colonial ports will prove far more suscepti-
ble to sudden flooding and rises in sea level than older, more de-
fensible ports farther up rivers were. The 90m inhabitants of Asia’s
great seaboard cities are among the most vulnerable to the Indus-
trial Revolution’s longest legacy. 7
J
ust a fewhundred kilometres from Narayanappa’s smallhold-
ing in Chittoor lie the deltas of the Godavari and the Krishna. In-
dia’s second- and fourth-longest rivers, respectively, they rise in
the Western Ghats and flow east into the Bay of Bengal. The con-
trast between straitened Chittoor, at the mercy of its own local
rains, and the verdant deltas could not be starker. Water drawn
from the rivers and spread across their deltas allows the lowland
farmers to raise two crops a year, sometimes three. Satellite pic-
tures show their lush paddy fields of the delta as emerald patches
on the brown scrub of the Coromandel coast and the land behind.
It is a lesson in the power of water to make or break, and the power
of humans to command it.
The green of the deltas was not always so reliable. William Rox-
burgh was a surgeon who left Edinburgh in 1772 to join the East In-
dia Company. He settled in Samulcottah (modern-day Samalkota)
in the Godavari delta. As Sunil Amrith writes in “Unruly Waters”, a
fascinating new history of the monsoon, Roxburgh was one of
those who, through measured observation, laid the foundations of
modern Indian meteorology. In so doing he came to believe that
nature in India was capable of much “improvement”. The Godava-
ri’s cultivators, he pointed out, depended entirely on the rains:
“when they fail, a famine is, and must ever be the consequence.”
The solution was to harness the water that “passes annually unem-
ployed into the sea”, retaining it for farmers’ year-round use.
The British were far from the first of the rulers of the Indian
subcontinent to transform the hydraulic landscape. The water
tank known as the Great Bath of Mohenjo-Daro is part of an urban
complex built by rulers of the Indus valley civilisation in the third
millennium bc. In 1568adAkbar, the third Mughal emperor, had
water brought to Delhi not only to “supply the wants of the poor”
but also to “leave permanent marks of the greatness of my empire”.
He did so by restoring and enlarging a canal to the Yamuna river
first cut two centuries earlier by a 14th-century sultan. Akbar’s
works, in turn, were restored and re-engineered by the British two
and a half centuries later.
Yet no illustrious ruler had turned his attention to the Godava-
ri. Its improvement fell instead to an unassuming engineer from
Dorking in Surrey, Arthur Cotton. Thousands of Indian labourers
working under his direction built a giant barrage at Dowleswaram,
regulating the river’s flow through the use
of huge gates described at the time as “the
noblest feat of engineering skill which has
yet been accomplished in British India”. To
this day, local people lionise Cotton dora
(“Boss” Cotton) for turning the delta into
India’s rice bowl. On his birthday farmers
hang garlands on his statue.
But if India’s Victorian rulers were hap-
py to lay a restraining hand on the subcon-
tinent’s rivers, they were chillingly unwill-
ing to interrupt the free markets they
imposed on it. Growing cash crops for dis-
tant markets uprooted old community pat-
terns of mutual obligation during periods
of rain-starved stress. In the late 19th cen-
tury terrible famines linked to failed mon-
soons took tens of millions of lives in Asia.
In 1876 and 1877, when the summer rains
failed completely, India’s administrators
invoked the authority of Adam Smith to ar-
Seeing like an empire
Arabian
Sea
INDIAN OCEAN
Bay of
Bengal
TibetanPlateau
H
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m
a l
a y a s
Average rainfall^05101520
2018, mm perday
Prevailing monsoon
winds
Source: NOAA Earth System
Research Laboratory
Summer Winter