Readers of this column are familiar with the name of Arthur Cotton. In 1854, he published a book titled “Public Works in India”. “There cannot be any greater proof of the evil consequences of doing things without any general investigation, than the history of communications in India up to this time, the desultory way in which the matter has been attended to, and the consequent failures and waste of money that we have seen. While the loss from want to communications was so great that there were a thousand ways and a thousand plans in which money might have been expended with the greatest advantage, perhaps crores of rupees have been thrown away from a total want of judgment in managing the expenditure. A sketch of our first attempts at road-making in the Madras Presidency, may be of great use as a guide, and a warning to us in our future proceedings. It was assumed that all that was necessary to successful road-making was, a given number of men with tools in their hands, headed by an officer taken at random from the line, and without any scientific qualifications whatever. Bodies of pioneers, thus equipped and commanded, were placed upon a line many hundreds of miles in length, and when it was found that but little impression could be made upon such a surface, the remedy was, to add thousands of coolies, and thus, besides the cost of the pioneers, lacs of rupees were wasted in an attempt to do by mere labour what could only be effected successfully by labour under the direction of science.” Sounds familiar.
Up to the end of the 18th century, there was no demand for prepared tracks even for military purposes, transport being chiefly effected by pack animals travelling along the village pathways, while travellers could ride or be conveyed in palanquins. (for representation purpose only)
“Certainly, without any exaggeration, the most astonishing thing in the history of our rule in India is, that such innumerable volumes should have been written by thousands of the ablest men in the service on the mode of collecting the land revenue, while the question of a thousand times more importance, how to enable the people to pay it, was literally never touched upon; and yet even the question of the amount of taxation was utterly insignificant in comparison with that. While we have been labouring for a hundred years to discover how to get 20 lacs out of a district which is not able to pay it, not the least thought has been bestowed on the hundreds of lacs it was losing from the enormous cost of transit, which swallowed up all the value of the ryot’s produce, if they raised it... At present, two persons out of every four are employed in growing food, and a third in carrying goods; one would supposed that it would be very obvious, that if by means of irrigation or other means, one person could grow the food for four, and if by means of cheap transit, one person could carry for forty instead of for four, leaving nine-tenths, instead of only one, out of every four at liberty to labour, either in providing luxuries for the four, or in producing things for sale to foreign states, the worth of the country and its ability to pay an increased revenue would be enormously increased.” That too sounds familiar.
Five decades later, there was the Imperial Gazetteer of India. (Volume 3, which covers road transport, was published in 1908.) “The total mileage of roads now existing is considerable, though the country is still very inadequately provided with communications that are efficient in the rainy season. The need for substantial roadways was not, however, severely felt in the past; and as their provision was only seriously undertaken about 1840, it is permissible to contemplate the present state of affairs with some satisfaction. But the rapid development of trade in recent times, due to the extension of the railway system into tracts ill provided with other means of communication, has lately accentuated the need for more adequate facilities for moving produce and goods to and from the railways, a need which is likely to be enhanced in the near future by the introduction of motor traction on existing roads. Before the advent of British rule, roadways in the modern sense were practically unknown; and even after its establishment there were few to be found, except within urban limits, until 1839, when it was decided to make a strenuous effort to connect Calcutta with Delhi by means of a good metaled road suitable for wheeled vehicles, with bridges over small streams and ferries over the larger rivers. The level plains of India, scoured by streams which, for eight months or more in each year, are passable without difficulty by the conveyances generally used in the country, offer so small an obstacle to intercourse between different localities that, up to the end of the eighteenth century, there was no demand for prepared tracks even for military purposes, transport being chiefly effected by pack animals travelling along the village pathways, while travelers could ride or be conveyed in palanquins. …This state of things had even its advantages. The want of roads taught Indian armies how to do without them. The whole system of military transport and supply being necessarily adapted to a road-less country, the ordinary requirements under this head during peace differed in no material degree from the requirements of a time of war.” I must confess this had not occurred to me.
That dismissal of pre-British roads sounds unfair. The next column will have more details on those.
The author is chairman, Economic Advisory Council to the Prime Minister. Views are personal.