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CHAPTER V JACKS IN OFFICE WE have
seen how
India is divided by race, language, religion, caste, and wealth, but
there is
yet another division, which, although it only detaches a fraction from
the
whole, still demands attention, because it is the governing element.
And the
members of it afford an admirable illustration of the attitude we
understand by
the phrase “Jacks in Office.” The possibilities of temporal power are nowhere more thoroughly appreciated and developed than in India. The Indian official, European or native, is the master, not the servant, of the public. It is not too much to say that the native has elevated service under Government into something very like a privileged predatory caste, common to Hindu and Mahomedan. The “Man in Authority,” no matter how humble his appointment, draws away from his fellows, and acquires a definite position and power over them from his association with the machinery of Government. The highest ambition of every native is to get into the service of the State, for it assures him the three P’s — pay, pension, and pickings. And the greatest of these is pickings. All
authority in
India is despotic. British rule is a despotism pure and simple,
tempered with a
bland desire to deal justly. The rule of the rajah is personal, with a
corner
of his eye on the British Resident to see how he takes encroachments on
the
revenue for the Civil List. Spreading downwards from these summits, the
subtle
spirit of despotism pervades all branches of the administrations. The
lower you
penetrate the social scale, and the more inwardly you explore the
ignorant
masses, so assuredly shall you find the despotism greater and more
brutal. For
sheer unmitigated tyranny, where he has an object in view to gain, the
policeman of India knows no equal; in cunning and rapacity, the chupprassi, or guardian of the
threshold,
is a man who has reduced blackmailing to a fine art. The
administration
of India is carried on in practice by something like three thousand
Englishmen,
who act as heads or assistant heads of departments. All the working
parts of
the machinery of Government, its subordinate and clerical posts, are
filled by
natives. An average Indian “district,” as each administrative area is
called,
is a tract of country as extensive as the largest English counties. The
English
staff administering this territory seldom exceeds more than five or six
officials, to carry out whose orders there exist a company of native
clerks and
a regiment of understrappers. The actual execution of authority filters
through
their hands. There is no means of ventilating abuse, for there is no
public
opinion, no public Press (broadly speaking), and no publicity in India.
Conceive, then the result when every Jack-man of that subordinate and
crafty
crew is bent on making, by hook or by crook, some illicit profit over
and above
the salary assigned for the execution of his official duties. In
England, a civil
servant is rightly regarded as a man of fixed income. Be he in a
Government
Department or the Post-Office, anything, in short, from a Prime
Minister to a
telegraph-boy, you know that his remuneration is exact and un-elastic.
But in
India, the native employee of Government would be horrified to think
that his
income was fixed. On the contrary, he regards it merely as a
stepping-stone to
making money. Where there is litigation, direct taxation, and crime,
there is
profit to be derived by the shrewd and enterprising man, and the Indian
Jack in
Office is the person designed by Nature to show how to derive it. Bribery
and
corruption are the rule, not the exception, in the East. In every
transaction
in life, it is held to be not only allowable but sensible to derive
some
advantage over and above the scheduled amount. He would be a poor fool
who did
not avail himself of dustoorie,
or the customary fee. There is not a single native in India who does
not pay or
receive dustoorie in
some form or
other. It is the unearned increment of the East. It enters into every
phase of
life, and, according to the form it assumes, may be a perquisite, a
commission,
a fine, a bribe, or blackmail. In transactions between the subject and
those
placed in authority over him, it becomes a bribe or blackmail, and Jack
in
Office is the recipient, and the whole of the rest of the population
the
fleeced. Bribery is
ingrained
in the native character, and a recognised part of the etiquette of
their social
system. The inferior always approaches a new superior with a gift in
his hand —
made, not from love, but from policy, and to neglect it is boorish
rudeness, as
well as a folly. It is a bribe in embryo, meant to smooth the way for
an
ultimate benefit. Notwithstanding, the native will affect to be vastly
affronted if it is declined. It is called a nuzzer
or dáli, which, being
interpreted, means a complimentary tribute. Ask why it is proffered,
and you
will never get any other answer except that “It is the custom.”
Needless to
say, Englishmen are pestered with dális
— if they are worth pestering. They usually take the form of a tray
neatly
piled with sweetmeats, flowers, and fruit, apparently a most innocent
confection. But, when the investment is fairly safe, a bag of rupees
not
unfrequently lurks under the pile of sugar-candy. Say, for instance,
you are an
engineer, with a fat contract to give out, and a reputation for
accepting dális, you
could practically depend on
that bag of rupees when you received a complimentary visit from a local
contractor. Happily such incidents are exceedingly rare in connection
with
Englishmen, and the dáli
contains
nothing more guilty than roses, oranges, and lollipops. But with native
officials the case is different, and the dáli
is the recognised vehicle for a bribe. It is a
moot point
with the Anglo-Indian whether to accept dális
of the innocent description or not. Some do; some don’t. In the latter
case,
they “touch and remit” them, which is supposed to salve the feelings of
the
donors, whose offerings are theoretically accepted, but in practice
returned,
as the touching of the heels of a monarch with the spurs is supposed to
endow
him with knightly virtues. Christmastide is the apotheosis or dális; then does every native
you know
desire to present you with one, his eyes glued on the return chance. If I have
dealt at
a little length on the nuzzer
or dáli system, it is
to illustrate the
national character with which Jack in Office has to deal. Here are a
people who
voluntarily give bribes; who will have you believe politeness demands
it; who
are willing, nay, anxious, to expend a day’s pay in propitiating a
stranger who
comes to assume authority over them. Saddle that people with an
administration
considerably more urgent to receive than to give a bribe, and endowed
with an
absolute faith in its fitness, and you shall see the art of extortion
carried
to its extreme. Power in the hands of such a class is merely a lever to
extract
profit from the powerless; and there are no people in the world so
powerless,
unprotected, and preyed upon as the peasants of the Indian Empire. I
have no
hesitation in saying that several millions of rupees are paid away
every year
in India in the shape of dustoorie,
or the unearned increment of pillagers. And now
let us see
how these conditions work out in practice in India. Every schoolboy
knows that
the sale of justice in the East is a simple and time-honoured
institution. Is
justice sold under the British raj? Without a doubt it is. I will pass
over the
higher native officials holding what may be called Englishmen’s
appointments,
with the observation that they are not immaculate. I could recall a
recent case
where a bribe of some thousands of pounds, specially contracted to be
paid in
gold bullion, passed between a litigant and a native judge who was the
highest
judicial authority in the district. And I could quote several others.
But in
this rank venality is the exception. When you
come to
the subordinate judicial staff, the native judges and magistrates, with
restricted powers and comparatively small salaries, you may take it as
an axiom
that, in the slang phrase, they are all “on the make.” Prudence alone
puts a
limit to their harvest. Of course, no one but a fool would take a bribe
often;
that would be the surest way of killing the goose that laid the golden
eggs. In
riding a foul race, the jockey’s horse must gallop, and to retain a
seat on the
bench of justice, the judge must dispense justice in general. It is
from the
percentage of his backslidings that the venal judge acquires his
reputation.
“He is a very good magistrate,” I have often heard it said of a native
functionary by natives; “he takes very few bribes.” In other cases, a
sad shake
of the head, and the mournful, “There is no satisfying him!” has been a
sufficient commentary. Notwithstanding
this foreknowledge that the dice are probably loaded, the native of
India plunges
into the lottery of litigation with absolute gusto. It is a speculation
that
appeals to him, requiring as it does chicanery and lying. For whilst
blaming
the unjust judge, it must not be forgotten that the unjust witness is
almost as
great a factor in the prostitution of the law courts, and that perjury
is the
basis of all evidence in India; the “fourpenny witness,” who will for
that
modest professional fee swear to anything, haunts the precincts of the
courts,
and will rehearse you a tragedy or concoct you a concatenation so that
even
cross-examination shall be powerless to shake him. The actual
eye-witness
rarely gives his testimony without introducing gratuitous and needless
fiction.
It is an admitted and notorious fact that the bulk of the evidence
tendered in
the law courts of India is perjured, and yet prosecution fo: perjury is
practically unknown. It is the “custom”; that Augean stable is too foul
to
attempt to sweep, and British administration shrinks from the task. It
may even
be logically argued by the judicial Jack in Office that until
Government takes
steps to punish and put a stop to perjury, the illegitimate profits of
justice
may just as well pass into his pockets as into those of the
professional liar. Leaving
this
unsavoury subject, let us pass to the consideration of those Jacks in
Office
who have to make their illicit gains by operations less simple than
selling
justice. That, after all, can be done genteelly and with an air of
learning,
and even defended in a plausible judgment delivered in open court. The
Indian
policeman proceeds in a different way. His the open palm and the veiled
threat.
A “case” represents itself to him in two aspects: shall it be pursued
for
reputation or rupees? If he decides on the former as the most
profitable, then
this Jack in Office has no hesitation in applying the methods of the
mediæval
torturer in order to extort a confession from the accused man. If lucre
is his
object, it degenerates into a matter of blackmail, and most probably
the
trumping up of false evidence. The visit of a constable to the most
honest
homestead in India is like the visit of a wolf. When the inspector
follows, it
is like a tiger to the attack. “Once get the police in — ” is an Indian
phrase
that corresponds to the English “Once get the plumber in — .” The
Hindu’s hut
is very far from being his castle. The policeman literally takes up his
abode
on the premises, lives on the fat of the land, so far as the victim’s
family
can provide it, and never departs without a substantial reason. Those
in
England who look upon the “Bobby” as their comfortable friend and the
protector
of their hearths and homes during the wicked night hours, little know
what
awful shape his Indian prototype can assume, whose presence is far more
dreaded
than that of a thief. For, after all, the native can defend himself
against a
thief, but he is powerless to do so against the arch-robber who poses
as a
policeman. As with
the man in
blue, so in his special degree with every low Jack in Office in India.
The
surveyor who comes round to assess the land for taxation can find a
vast
diminution in its ratable value, not to mention its superficial area,
if the
owner is lavish with his dustoorie;
the watchman who guards a timber reserve is blind to the cutting of a
tree if a
quarter of its value is slipped into his hand; the goods-clerk on an
Indian
railway, under the highest pressure of accumulated consignments, what
time
markets are urgent, will always find an empty truck for the merchandise
that is
recommended with a coin or two. Every Jack in Office has his price; it
is
absolutely beyond the genius of the native character to refuse a bribe.
Perhaps
the most
wonderful Jack of all is the chupprassi,
who is a creation peculiar to the East, and a sort of janitor at the
verandah.
He announces your arrival, runs errands, performs petty commissions,
and is a
blend between an office-boy and a commissionnaire.
He lives within hail of his master, and is supposed to possess his ear.
You
would not credit him with transcendent powers, and yet the way that
lowly
individual can coin money out of his own post passes conception. He is
the
front-door bell, and there is no seeing the master unless he is rung.
“Wait;
the sahib is busy,” is all he says, and you may wait till doomsday if
you fail
to fee him. The well-to-do native has a distinct disinclination to
being made
to wait; it is far more derogatory in his eyes than you would suppose,
and he
willingly pays toll, or, as you may say, tolls the bell. The poor
suppliant
with a petition seeks advice from the chupprassi,
asking if the sahib is in a good temper to be approached, and this Jack
in
Office has always a sound opinion to sell. The power and influence
accredited
to him are extraordinary; he is in and out of his master’s room; he
knows all
his moods and humours; he will unfailingly tell you when is the best
moment to
make appeal. It may appear preposterous, but such information in a land
where
despotism rules supreme has a market value, and the chupprassi makes the most of
it. I have heard of a case of
one man on a wage of six shillings a month who contrived to increase it
to as
many pounds by the exercise of his peculiar talents in imposing on the
credulous and exacting toll from the ignorant. We have
seen these
Jacks in Office in their smiling moods when the world is going well
with them,
but there is another side to the picture. Let the
seeker-after-something be too
poor or too ill-advised to bribe, and you will see a change in the
demeanour of
the man in authority. He becomes a truculent tyrant, a domineering
despot, who
reflects all the lightnings of heaven, and borrows the roaring of its
thunderbolts. He is devoid of manners and politeness, he rants and he
raves, he
storms and he swears, and will have you understand that he is a portion
of the
governing machinery of the land. He is Jekyl, or he is Hyde, according
to
whether you fee him or not. For in
India,
generally speaking, as the inferior is servile so is the superior
overbearing.
Courtesy from the high to the low is an almost unknown quality; from
Jack in
Office to those who have dealings with him, and omit to fee him, an
unknown
one. When once the breath of a little power gets into the native’s
nostrils, it
invariably issues out in the shape of abuse. The abuse of the East is
untranslatable,
a thing apart. Englishmen relieve themselves in Hindustani when they
find their
own tongue inoperative. In the native courts of law, I have heard a
magistrate
address those he was trying, or hearing evidence from, as dogs and
swine. As
for merely calling a man a liar, that is usually justified by
circumstances.
This attitude is not unfrequently part and parcel of native official
life, and
dropped in private behaviour. Blustering and boorishness, impatience
and
petulance, are the licensed privileges of Jacks in Office. The practice
of
civility never enters into the economy of the native civil service. In common
with
other bullies, the Indian native official is a currish-spirited thing
at the
bottom, and he loses none of his inherent servility by his translation
to the
governing sphere. To his superiors, he adopts the behaviour he exacts
from
those beneath him. Indeed, his humility is invariably exaggerated
towards those
whose breath can unmake as their breath has made. He is a consummate
actor and
Machiavelian schemer, who seldom fails to worm himself into favour.
Notwithstanding his roguery and backsliding, he is rarely dismissed
from
office, being far too cunning to run the risk of that. Moreover, he is
supported in his hour of need by the clannishness of the predatory
tribe he
belongs to. There is much of the jackal in Jack in Office, who only
fights with
his kind when it comes to dividing the spoil. If, however, disaster
overtakes
him, and he gets the order to “go,” in an instant the fierce light of
rapine
dies out of his eyes, the bulk of his turban is diminished, the ample
starched
linen robes give way to meagre soiled garments, his arrogance departs,
and he
passes over to the meek majority whose badge is sufferance. Second only
to
losing caste is the loss of employment in he service of Government. There are
Jacks in
Office outside Government employ, for you may say that every native of
India
who has it in his power to confer an obligation is one in a minor
degree. The
favourite of a rich man — and in the East favouritism is an almost
universal
foible — who has the ear of his master can always put it to profitable
account.
The Englishman’s “bearer,” or valet, has numerous opportunities of
turning a
penny. The cook, who provisions the larder periodically, does not do it
for
nothing. They all exact their quid
pro quo,
and never a purchase made for you or your household but pays its
recognised dustoorie,
or commission. Half an anna in
the rupee is the established scale, which works out three per cent., or
double
the ordinary rate of brokerage in commercial transactions. In a strange
city,
if you hire a gharrie,
which is
the Oriental equivalent of a cab, and tell the man to drive to a shop
where you
can purchase such-and-such a thing, that jehu gets his pickings out of
your
purchase. As like as not, you will have been previously accosted by a
polite
personage, anxious to show you the sights of the town, and give you the
advantage of his superior experience for nothing. He is a dálal, or broker, and the sign
that passes
from him to the shopkeeper will put an extra ten or even twenty-five
per cent.
on the shop’s price-list. These are all temporary Jacks in Office, who
are
exploiting your purse for their own benefit. Your groom, when he brings
you the
bill for shoeing your horse, blandly debits the amount at twenty pence,
whereof
fourpence goes into his pocket. This dustoorie
is paid without a murmur by shopkeepers, who know it is the only way to
retain
custom. Were it refused, they would soon find your patronage
transferred, for
means would be taken to render what they supplied an abomination by
deliberately spoiling it. Even Government accepts the system, and if
out in the
jungles you hire a score of coolies or half a dozen mules to carry your
baggage, there will be an odd half-anna for the hire of each, which is
the
agent’s dustoorie. All India
sits, or
desires to sit, at the receipt of custom. Financial morality admits it
as
perfectly legitimate, and King Custom condones it. So long as it is a
sort of allowable
brokerage for poking your nose into another man’s affairs, perhaps no
great
harm is done. But the system has ploughed the ground for Jack in
Office, and
prepared it for that cropping with corruption which is one of the
ugliest
features of the administration of the Indian Empire. |