How opium made the British Empire

Amitav Ghosh explores the intersections of culture, history and colonialism in his historical novels, nonfiction works and essays. The acclaimed author has established himself as an authority on the cultural depictions, history and politics of climate change, and its relationship to colonialism.

He visited Johannesburg last week as a guest of Wits University, WiSER, the Presidential Climate Commission and the University of Pretoria. He spoke about his work and his latest book, Smoke and Ashes, a rich and immersive travelogue, memoir and historical essay on the transformative effect the opium trade had on Britain, India, China, and the world at large. Following The Great Derangement and The Nutmeg’s Curse, it might be called the third volume of a nonfiction Anthropocene trilogy.

How did your research for the Ibis trilogy lead to Smoke and Ashes?

I started writing the trilogy, which explores the opium trade between India and China and the migration of indentured labourers, particularly those travelling from India to Mauritius. I also discovered that a considerable number of these workers went to SA. As I delved deeper, I uncovered a whole other story — one that I hadn’t learnt about in history class — about opium. The more I researched, the more I realised that opium was the economic foundation of British rule in India. Similarly, opium financed Dutch rule in Indonesia and French rule in Indochina. Essentially, opium made the empire financially viable. But this part of history, the financial underpinnings, is something we’re never taught.

You discovered a personal connection to the opium trade during your research.

Yes, while researching, I learnt more about my family’s past. My ancestors were said to have left what is now Bangladesh in the 1850s and moved to Bihar. Growing up, I was always told that they settled in a small town and became lawyers. It wasn’t until I researched Smoke and Ashes that I discovered this town was actually a major centre for the opium industry in northern India. I’m not certain if my ancestors were directly involved, but considering how pervasive the opium trade was at the time, they were most likely linked to it in some way. Under British rule, opium touched every aspect of economic life in northern India.

In Smoke and Ashes, you write about opium as if it has its own agency, as if it is a character in its own right. Why is that?

Others who have written about opium describe it similarly. There’s this uncanny quality to the plant — it has properties that make you wonder if it has an agenda of its own. It’s difficult to pinpoint, but opium seems to bond with the darker aspects of human nature, particularly greed. That’s how it spreads. It worms its way into societies and propagates, exploiting human vulnerabilities and societal weaknesses. 

What did you uncover about the modern legacy of opium in China and India during your research for Smoke and Ashes? 

In China, opium is deeply tied to their historical memory of the “century of humiliation”. The social and political struggle to rid themselves of opium addiction was monumental, beginning as early as the 1920s, long before the communists came to power. It’s one of the few societies that has succeeded in overcoming widespread addiction. I don’t believe the US will be able to do the same. The country is too divided to create the broad consensus needed to fight this crisis. In India, the opium problem was eradicated in the wake of the national movement because there was societal agreement that opium was a colonial imposition and had to be fought.

The narrative draws a historical link between the time period of the Opium Wars and today’s opioid epidemic in the West. Why is that?

The opioid crisis in the US mirrors, in reverse, the civilisational crisis China faced in the 19th century. While the US has experienced drug epidemics before, such as the heroin epidemic after the civil war in the 1860s, the current crisis is on a much larger scale, with companies like Purdue Pharma ruthlessly exploiting the situation. Before opioids, methamphetamine also caused widespread harm. But today’s crisis is deeply intertwined with larger economic issues. Since the 1990s, after the North American Free Trade Agreement (Nafta), many jobs vanished, leading to the financialisaton and deindustrialisation of the US economy. This left many people without purpose or stable work, which in turn fuelled the opioid crisis. The US has never fully addressed these underlying problems, and given how divided the country is, it’s unlikely they will.

You’ve often critiqued the Western-centric view of history. How do you hope Smoke and Ashes will reshape perspectives on colonialism and its legacies?

The British Empire was a narco-state. In the US and Britain, there’s often a tendency to blame drug problems on outsiders, on “foreigners”. But in reality, much of Western wealth, particularly in the 19th century, was built on the opium trade. Many of today’s major institutions have roots in the wealth generated by opium. It’s at the origins of some of the world’s biggest corporations, of America’s most powerful families and prestigious institutions — from the Astors and Coolidges to the Ivy League — and of contemporary globalism itself. It’s important to acknowledge this historical reality.

How has your interest in the Anthropocene influenced your work? 

The Anthropocene had a massive impact on our thinking, especially among scientifically minded people, because it suggests we had entered a new geological epoch shaped by human activity. But the term is contested. Some argue it’s not right to label this epoch “Anthropocene” because not all of humanity is responsible for environmental degradation. It’s really a small group of affluent countries and elites within those countries who created this problem, not humanity as a whole. 

You’ve become a prominent voice on climate change. When did interest in this issue begin? 

It began back in 2000 when I started researching The Hungry Tide, which is set in the Sundarbans, a mangrove forest in Bengal. That’s when I first began to notice the effects of climate change, like rising sea levels. Over the years, events like Hurricane Katrina in 2005 and Cyclone Aila in 2009 made the issue feel more urgent. By 2012, with Hurricane Sandy hitting New York, it became clear that climate change was accelerating. That’s when I started immersing myself in the literature to learn more. 

What about the effects of climate change on the Global South, particularly India and Africa? How do you see these regions being affected?

The narrative that the Global South will suffer the worst from climate change has been overstated. If you look at the outcomes of recent relentless heatwaves, like the 2023 event in Europe, more than 60,000 people died. But in India, where temperatures have hit 50ºC, the death toll has been much lower. The real problem in the West is social isolation, whereas in places like India, people aren’t as isolated. The same is true for Covid — Africa, which was expected to be devastated, managed the crisis better than many Western countries. 

You’ve critiqued literature for not engaging enough with the realities of climate change. Why is that? 

When I wrote about this in 2016, I felt that the literary world, particularly in the West, wasn’t taking climate change seriously. It wasn’t just about the writers themselves, many of whom have been addressing these issues for year. The problem lies in the broader literary ecosystem — what publishers choose to support; what reviewers take seriously. Even now, climate change is often treated as genre fiction or science fiction, which limits its reach and the seriousness with which it is regarded. 

Given the enormity of the climate crisis, what should humanity focus on, intellectually and practically? 

Climate change is fundamentally a crisis of culture. It’s a crisis of how we define the “good life” and how we consume resources. We need to rethink our consumption, our values and our relationship with the Earth. We need to rethink our consumption, our values, and our relationship with the Earth. Unfortunately, this is what’s talked about least, though I must say Pope Francis has been one of the few leaders to foreground these issues. 

What are you working on now? 

I have a book of essays coming out in India in January, but otherwise, I’m back to writing fiction. That’s where my heart is.