In the Name of the Battle Against Piracy: Ideas and Practices in State Monopoly of Maritime Violence in Europe and Asia in the Period of Transition 9004361480, 9789004361485

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In the Name of the Battle against Piracy

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004361485_001

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European Expansion and Indigenous Response Editor-in-Chief George Bryan Souza (University of Texas, San Antonio) Editorial Board Cátia Antunes (Leiden University) João Paulo Oliveira e Costa (cham, Universidade Nova de Lisboa) Frank Dutra (University of California, Santa Barbara) Kris Lane (Tulane University) Pedro Machado (Indiana University, Bloomington) Ghulam A. Nadri (Georgia State University) Malyn Newitt (King’s College, London) Michael Pearson (University of New South Wales) Ryuto Shimada (The University of Tokyo)

VOLUME 29

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/euro





In the Name of the Battle against Piracy

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Ideas and Practices in State Monopoly of Maritime Violence in Europe and Asia in the Period of Transition Edited by

Ota Atsushi

LEIDEN | BOSTON

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Cover illustration: Destruction of the pirate squadron commanded by Chui Apoo, in Byas Bay, China, 1st October, 1849 by Her Majesty’s sloop Columbine, J.C. Dalrymple Hay Esqr. Commr. H.M. steem sloop Fury, J. Willcox Esqr. Commr. & boats of H.M.S. Hastings / E.H. Cree, del.; Dickinson & Co., lith. Courtesy of Toyo Bunko (The Oriental Library). The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2018002162

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 1873-8974 isbn 978-90-04-36147-8 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-36148-5 (e-book) Copyright 2018 by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense and Hotei Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill nv provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, ma 01923, usa. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Contents

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Contents General Series Editor’s Preface vii George Bryan Souza Acknowledgments x List of Illustrations xii Notes on Contributors xiii Introduction 1 Ota Atsushi

Part 1 From Co-existence to Prohibition: Maritime Violence in Europe 1 Privateers in the Early-Modern Mediterranean: Violence, Diplomacy and Commerce in the Maghrib, c. 1600-1830 19 Kudo Akihito and Ota Atsushi 2 Plunder and Free Trade: British Privateering and Its Abolition in 1856 in Global Perspective 43 Satsuma Shinsuke

Part 2 Contingent Developments in Antipiracy Politics in the Asian Seas 3 The Making of the ‘Joasmee’ Pirates: A Relativist Reconsideration of the Qawāsimi Piracy in the Persian Gulf 69 Hideaki Suzuki 4 Petitions and Predation: The Politics of Representation in Northwest India at the Turn of the Nineteenth Century 97 Lakshmi Subramanian 5 Trade, Piracy, and Sovereignty: Changing Perceptions of Piracy and Dutch Colonial State-Building in Malay Waters, c. 1780-1830 115 Ota Atsushi

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Contents

6 In the Name of Sovereignty: Spain’s Tackling of ‘Moro’ Piracy in the Sulu Zone, 1768-1898 143 James Francis Warren

Part 3 Piracy and State in East Asia 7 Piracy Prohibition Edicts and the Establishment of Maritime Control System in Japan, c. 1585-1640 171 Fujita Tatsuo (translated by Ota Atsushi) 8 The Suppression of Pirates in the China Seas by the Naval Forces of China, Macao, and Britain (1780-1860) 199 Toyooka Yasufumi and Murakami Ei Conclusion 232 Ota Atsushi Bibliography 237 Index 261

General Series Editor’s Preface

General Series Editor’s Preface

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General Series Editor’s Preface Over the past half millennium, from c 1450 until the last third or so of the 20th century, much of the world’s history has been influenced in great part by one general dynamic and complex historical process known as European expansion. Defined as the opening up, unfolding or increasing the extent, number, volume or scope of the space, size or participants belonging to a certain people or group, location or geographical region, Europe’s expansion initially emerged and emanated physically, intellectually and politically from southern Europe – specifically from the Iberian peninsula – during the 15th century, expanding rapidly from that locus to include, first, all of Europe’s maritime, and later, most of its continental states and peoples. Most commonly associated with events described as the discovery of America and of a passage to the East Indies (Asia) by rounding the Cape of Good Hope (Africa) during the early modern and modern periods, European expansion and encounters with the rest of the world multiplied and morphed into several ancillary historical processes, including colonization, imperialism, capitalism and globalization, encompassing themes, amongst others, relating to contacts and – to quote the EURO series’ original mission statement –, “connections and exchanges; peoples, ideas and products, especially through the medium of trading companies; the exchange of religions and traditions; the transfer of technologies; and the development of new forms of political, social and economic policy, as well as identity formation.” Because of its intrinsic importance, extensive research has been performed and much has been written about the entire period of European expansion. With the first volume published in 2009, Brill launched the European Expansion and Indigenous Response book series at the initiative of a wellknown scholar and respected historian, Glenn J. Ames, who prior to his untimely passing was the founding editor and guided the first seven volumes of the series to publication. George Bryan Souza, who was one of the early members of the series’ editorial board, was appointed the series’ second General Editor. The series’ founding objectives are to focus on publications “that understand and deal with the process of European expansion, interchange and connectivity in a global context in the early modern and modern period” and to “provide a forum for a variety of types of scholarly work with a wider disciplinary approach that moves beyond the traditional isolated and nation bound historiographical emphases of this field, encouraging whenever possible non-European perspectives…that seek to understand this indigenous

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General Series Editor’s Preface

transformative process and period in autonomous as well as inter-related cultural, economic, social, and ideological terms.” The history of European expansion is a challenging field in which interest is likely to grow, in spite of, or perhaps because of, its polemical nature. Contro­ versy has centered on tropes conceived and written in the past by Europeans, primarily concerning their early reflections and claims regarding the transcendental historical nature of this process and its emergence and importance in the creation of an early modern global economy and society. One of the most persistent objections is that the field has been “Eurocentric.” This complaint arises because of the difficulty in introducing and balancing different historical perspectives, when one of the actors in the process is to some degree neither European nor Europeanized – a conundrum alluded to in the African proverb: “Until the lion tells his tale the hunt will always glorify the hunter.” Another, and perhaps even more important and growing historiographical issue, is that with the re-emergence of historical millennial societies (China and India, for example) and the emergence of other non-Western European societies successfully competing politically, economically and intellectually on the global scene vis-à-vis Europe, the seminal nature of European expansion is being subjected to greater scrutiny, debate, and comparison with other historical alternatives. Despite, or perhaps because, of these new directions and stimulating sources of existing and emerging lines of dispute regarding the history of Euro­ pean expansion, Souza and the editorial board of the series will continue with the original objectives and mission statement of the series and vigorously “… seek out studies that employ diverse forms of analysis from all scholarly disciplines, including anthropology, archaeology, art history, history, (including the history of science), linguistics, literature, music, philosophy, and religious studies.” In addition, we shall seek to stimulate, locate, incorporate, and publish the most important and exciting scholarship in the field. Towards that purpose, I am pleased to introduce volume 29 of Brill’s EURO series, entitled: In the Name of the Battle against Piracy: Ideas and Practices in State Monopoly of Maritime Violence in Europe and Asia in the Period of Tran­ sition. It is the work of a total of nine diverse and talented contributors, who were expertly assembled by Ota Atsushi. As its editor, Ota has overseen and directed the production of a volume that examines and challenges the question of the nature of power and the role of violence on and over seas and oceans in promoting and propagating the expansion of state and non-state actors over significant swathes of space, different places and lengths of time. Ota has clearly introduced, organized the original contributions offered in these eight essays into three parts, and provided the reader with a conclusion

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that clearly address the phenomenon of piracy and maritime warfare and ­provide a different and challenging perspective on these themes. These con­ tributions shift the focus away from European toward, primarily, Asian states and their anti-piracy policies and encounters and engagements with Europeans from the Mediterrean, Indian Ocean, South and East China Seas, and the Pacific Ocean over the 16th century to the end of the 19th century. Such a shift and the variety of options that are necessary and employed to accomplish this feat is stimulating and rewarding. It was also necessary for the authors of these essays to individually utilize some very different concepts, agents and realities to successfully expound upon their arguments. The diversity and utilization of alternative approaches toward the analysis of piracy and privateering is one of the major attributions that commend these contributions to be read and engaged. Despite the range of approaches and the complexity of the variables under analysis, the authors of essays that are found In the Name of the Battle against Piracy have not, in my opinion, compromised the clarity of and control over their arguments. The result is a volume that specifically advances our historical evaluation of piracy and privateering in the expansion of Asian state and non-state actors. In addition, it is a volume that opens research paths that indirectly provokes and, hopefully, will stimulate additional research and comparison of these themes and experience with other expanding European state systems. George Bryan Souza

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Acknowledgments

Acknowledgments

Acknowledgments The idea of this volume first came out under the research project “Eurasia in the Modern Period: Toward a New World History,” organized by Prof. Masashi Haneda at the University of Tokyo (the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science Grant-in-Aid for Scientific Research (S), 2009-14). Upon hearing of Prof. Haneda’s invitation for project members to organize sub-projects related to historical exchanges and interactions between different parts of early-modern Eurasia under the umbrella of his project, I hit upon the idea of launching a project on piracy. State antipiracy politics in the transition period from the early-modern to the modern era seemed a very Euro-Asian interaction, rather than European suppression of Asian “pre-modern” actions, as some of previous studies had assumed. I began a piracy project with other scholars, many of whom are contributors to this volume, in order to deal with piracy issues from a global perspective. We managed the piracy project on the basis of study meetings in Tokyo in every few months, and e-mail communication, in which we continued discussions after the meetings. Apart from our presentations in the study meetings, we also invited experts in this field in and outside Japan, including James Francis Warren, Lakshmi Subramanian, and Fujita Tatsuo, to the international workshops that we organized in December 2011 and September 2012 in Tokyo. The result is their chapters in this volume. Our discussions during and after the meetings were always exhilarating, but we always faced the problem of how we could discuss piracy and antipiracy politics in very diverse locations under different social and political environments in one and the same project. The Japanese suppression of piracy around 1600, that happened much earlier than similar measures in other regions, was always a topic of heated discussions. Finally we reached an agreement that the Japanese piracy and antipiracy politics were comparable and discussable with other similar events in the world, in one perspective. I shall be very glad if the readers enjoy this issue that Fujita and I discussed in Chapter 7 and the Introduction respectively, because this is a unique point raised in this volume, not much discussed in other studies in this field. I would like to convey our gratitude to many people who have kindly cooperated to make this research and publication possible. First of all, Prof. Haneda Masashi has generously supported our research from the beginning, within the abovementioned Eurasia Project and his follow-up project “Global History Collaborative” (the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science Core-to-Core Program, 2014-19). I would specifically like to mention Dr. Ukai Atsuko, the

Acknowledgments

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secretary of the Eurasia Project, for her assistance at our study meetings and workshops. I have also received other funds to support my own research that have contributed to this publication in various ways. Institutions that have supported me include the Taiwan National Science Council general research project “Seen from Maritime Stateless People: An Alternative History of Karimata Sea, c. 1780-1840” (2010-12); the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science Grant-in-Aid for Research Activity (start-up), “Malay Waters in Transition: Migration, Trade, and Modernity, 1760-1840” (2012-14); the Keio Gijuku Academic Development Funds (2017-18); and the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science Grant-in-Aid for Scientific Research (S) “The Hydrosphere and Socioeconomics in Modern Asia – Exploring a New Regional History Using a Database and Spatial Analysis” (2017-22). Scholars who have inspired our discussions in meetings and workshops are numerous, including, to name a few, Simon Layton, Gwyn Campbell, Eric Tagliacozzo, Ishikawa Noboru, Shimizu Hiromu, and Nagatsu Kazufumi. George Souza and Wendel Scholma have encouraged me to publish the result of our project in the form of an edited volume in their series of Brill, and gave useful comments from the viewpoint of the series editor. Rosemary Robson not only edited our English, but also corrected a number of errors. Iioka Naoko has worked on standardizing the style of all the contributions to this volume with great attentiveness and patience. I would like to convey our sincere gratitude to all these people, and also to those who have kindly offered us various facilities in universities, libraries, archives, and other research locations, although I do not mention them individually. Last but not the least, I would like to show my thanks to my wife Sawaka and my daughter Erin, for their understanding of and cooperation for my work.

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List of Illustrations

List Of Illustrations

List of Illustrations

Figures

8.1 Revenue of Fujian customs 1736-1841 (tael) 205 8.2 Total transaction amount of the EIC’s Canton Trade (tael) 212 8.3 Opium import to China (chest) 212



Maps

3.1 4.1 5.1 5.2 6.1  6.2

The Persian Gulf with major place names and ports of the Joasmee in 1819 82 Gujarat 99 Malay waters 116 Sketch of the interior of the Island of Borneo, 1835 137 The Sulu and Celebes Seas 144 Iranun-Balangingi maritime raiding and the Malay archipelago in the first half of the nineteenth century 146 6.3 Spanish colonial and community coastal fortifications in the Philippines 152 7.1 Japan around 1600 173 7.2 The Western part of the Seto Inland Sea  176 8.1 Coastal areas of China 201



Tables

3.1 List of the ports under the Qawāsimi authority in 1819 82 7.1 Those hired by other feudal lords among the family members and the retainers of the Murakamis 192 7.2 Maritime control system in Iyo in 1667 195

Notes on Contributors Notes on Contributors

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Notes on Contributors Ota Atsushi is Associate Professor of the Faculty of Economics at Keio University, Japan. He has published books and articles on socio-economic history of Southeast Asia, including Changes of Regime and Social Dynamics in West Java: Society, State, and the Outer World of Banten, 1750-1830 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), and “Pirates or Entrepreneurs? Migration and Trade of Sea People in Southwest Kalimantan, c. 1770-1820” Indonesia 90 (2010): 67-96. Kudo Akihito is Associate Professsor at Gakushuin Women’s College. His research focuses on the social, cultural, and political history of Algeria and France. His publications include “Recognized Legal Disorder: French Colonial Rule in Algeria, c. 18401900,” in Comparative Imperiology, ed. Matsuzato Kimitaka (Sapporo: Slavic Research Center, 2010), 21-35; Chichukai Teikoku no hen’ei: Fuansu-ryo Arugeria no 19-seiki 地中海帝国の片影: フランス領アルジェリアの 19 世紀 [The mirage of Mediterranean Empire: French colonial Algeria during the nineteenth century] (Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 2013). Satsuma Shinsuke is Associate Professor of the Graduate School of Integrated Arts and Sciences at Hiroshima University. His main research interests are in the maritime history in the early modern British Atlantic world and early modern British political history. He has published a book and several articles on these topics, including Britain and Colonial Maritime War in the Early Eighteenth Century: Silver, Sea­power and the Atlantic (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2013). Suzuki Hideaki is Associate Professor, Nagasaki University. He is the author of Slave Trade Pro­ fiteers in the Western Indian Ocean: Suppression and Resistance in the Nineteenth Century (New York: Palgrave, 2017) and the editor of Abolitions as a Global Experience (Singapore: NUS Press, 2016). His journal articles and chapter contributions include “Baluchi Experiences under Slavery and the Slave Trade of the Gulf of Oman and the Persian Gulf, 1921-1950,” The Journal of the Middle East and Africa 4 (2013): 205-23.

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Lakshmi Subramanian Professor of History, Centre for Studies in Social Sciences, Calcutta, has had a long and distinguished teaching and research career. She has taught in a number of universities in India and abroad and has held several prestigious fellow­ ships. She was recently elected Associate fellow of the Institute of Advanced Studies, Nantes. Her publications include: The Sovereign and the Pirate Ordering Maritime Subjects in India’s Western Littoral (Delhi: Oxford Uni­versity Press, 2016); Three Merchants of Bombay (Gurgaon: Penguin India, 2012); and A History of India 1707-1857 (Delhi: Orient Blackswan, 2010). James Francis Warren is Emeritus Professor of Southeast Asian Modern History at Murdoch Uni­ versity, Perth, Western Australia. He is an award-winning historian who has published numerous monographs, journal articles, and book chapters. His books include Iranun and Balan­gingi: Globalization, Maritime Raiding and the Birth of Ethnicity (Singapore: NUS Press, 2002); The Sulu Zone 1768-1898: The Dynamics of External Trade, Slavery and Ethnicity in the Transfor­mation of a Southeast Asian Maritime State (2nd edition, Singapore: NUS Press, 2007); and Pirates, Prostitutes and Pullers: Explorations in the Ethno- and Social History of Southeast Asia (Crawley: University of Western Australia Press, 2008). Fujita Tatsuo is Professor of the Faculty of Education at Mie University, Japan. His research has focused on the formation of the early-modern state in Japan, especially on the changing relationships between unifiers like Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and warlords and pirates. His publication includes: Nihon kinsei kokka seiritsushi no kenkyu 日本近世国家成立史の研究 [A history of the state formation in early-modern Japan] (Tokyo: Azekura Shobo, 2001); and Hideyoshi to kaizoku daimyo: umi kara mita sengoku shuen 秀吉と海賊大名：海から見た戦 国終焉 [Hideyoshi and pirate daimyos: the end of the Sengoku Period in a maritime perspective] (Tokyo: Chuo Koron Shinsha, 2012). Toyooka Yasufumi is Associate Professor in the Faculty of Arts at Shinshu University, Japan. His main academic interests are the political and socio-economic history of Qing China, and the history of international relations in East Asia during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. He is the author of Kaizoku kara mita Shincho 海賊から見た清朝 [Pirates on the South China Sea and the “decline” of the Qing dynasty] (Tokyo: Fujiwara Shoten, 2016).

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Murakami Ei is Associate Professor of Institute for Research in Humanities, Kyoto University, Japan. His main academic interests are the socio-economic history of China during the late Qing and early Repub­lican periods, the maritime history of the East China Sea and the South China Sea from the seventeenth century to the present, and the history of the overseas Chinese in Southeast Asia. He is the author of Umi no kindai Chūgoku: Fukkenjin no katsudō to Igirisu/Shinchō 海の近代中国：福建人の活動とイギリス・清朝 [Mari­time history of Modern China: Local Fujian actors and British and Chinese Empires] (Nagoya: Nagoya Daigaku Shuppankai, 2013).

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Introduction Introduction

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Introduction Ota Atsushi In 1874, William Edward Hall, a British lawyer who published several influential works on international law, noted that, “most acts of war which become piratical through being done without due authority are acts of war when done under the authority of a state.”1 This sentence clearly indicates the very thin line between piracy and war. When Hall made this observation, he apparently presumed that only a state should have the due authority to determine whether certain acts were piratical or those of war. However, as the political scientist Janice E. Thomson has illustrated, in European history it was not selfevident whether states had this authority before the nineteenth century. State use of non-state violence was very common in Europe from the thirteenth century, when privateering (state-sanctioned attacks on the ships of enemy states in wartime by private vessels) was invented,2 and states continued to use non-state violence in the forms of mercenaries, privateering, and mercantile companies until the mid-nineteenth century.3 States also often turned a blind eye to piracy. The prevalent idea, first proposed by Max Weber, that the state should monopolize violence is, as Thomson has argued, in fact very modern. If the idea of a state monopoly of maritime violence emerged fairly late, when and how did states change their attitudes toward piracy? Although the development of the antipiracy politics in Europe has been relatively well studied in the context of the formation of modern nation-states,4 not many works 1 Quoted in Janice E. Thomson, Mercenaries, Pirates and Sovereigns: State-building and Extra­ territorial Violence in Early Modern Europe (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), 22. 2 For the etymology of the word privateering and its historical routes, see the chapters of Kudo and Ota, and of Satsuma in this volume. 3 Thomson, Mercenaries, Pirates and Sovereigns. 4 Sovereignty here refers to a government’s absolute, autonomous authority over the territories and populations it governs, with the emphasis of the exclusivity of the state’s juridical authority. This does not necessarily require its recognition by others as an independent legal entity, the most important recognition in the definition of nation-state sovereignty. For more detailed legal discussions about sovereignty, see Robert Elliot Mills, “The Pirate and the Sovereign: Negative Identification and the Constitutive Rhetoric of the Nation-State,” Rhetoric & Public Affairs 17-1 (2014): 105-35; Stephen D. Krasner, “Sovereignty and Its Discontents,” in his Power, the State, and Sovereignty: Essays on International Relations (London: Routledge, 2009); Stephen D. Krasner, Sovereignty: Organized Hypocrisy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999).

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004361485_002

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have dealt with the antipiracy politics in Asia, and still fewer works have discussed them from a global perspective. This volume discusses the antipiracy politics in Europe and Asia, from a global perspective.5 We focus on these regions because Euro-Asian interactions in antipiracy campaigns were one of the major reasons that states developed ideas about the state monopoly of violence and state sovereignty in Europe and Asia. For this reason, antipiracy campaigns waged by the US and on other continents do not fall within the scope of this volume. All over the world for a very long time, probably for thousands of years, states have been attempting to suppress piracy,6 but the idea of antipiracy placed in juxtaposition to a state monopoly on violence and state sovereignty only took distinctive shape in the particular period of transition with which this volume deals, that is, in Japan in the late-sixteenth and early-seventeenth century, and in Europe from the early-eighteenth to the early-nineteenth century. In Japan, as Fujita Tatsuo discusses in this volume, as early as the late-sixteenth century state rulers had the explicit perception that they should monopolize maritime violence in order to claim sovereignty over their territories; very different from the ideas in other early-modern Asian states, such as the Ming and the Qing, that occasionally appointed private actors to the state navy with an official status, precisely to suppress piracy. Sixteenth-century Japan therefore fully deserves to take its place in any analysis of the global history of antipiracy politics.7 5 Recent scholarship on the historical relationship between piracy and sovereignty in the world includes Anne Pérotin-Dumon, “The Pirate and the Emperor: Power and the Law on the Seas, 1450-1850,” in The Political Economy of Merchant Empires, ed. James D. Tracy (Cambridge etc.): Cambridge University Press, 1991), 196-227; Thomson, Mercenaries, Pirates and Sovereigns; Alejandro Colás and Bryan Mabee, ed., Mercenaries, Pirates, Bandits, and Empires: Private Violence in Historical Context (New York: Columbia University Press, 2010); Stefan Eklöf Amirell and Leos Müller, ed., Persistent Piracy: Maritime Violence and State-Formation in Global Historical Perspective (Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014). Apart from Brenton’s book, that principally discusses the Atlantic World, I shall come back to the other works later, in order to discuss their scope in relation to those of the present volume. 6 The recent volume edited by Stefan Eklöf Amirell and Leos Müller discusses the long history of piracy, nearly for 3,000 years from the Greek Archaic period to the present. Amirell and Müller, Persistent Piracy. 7 Among the recent works on medieval and early-modern Japanese piracy, Peter D. Shapinsky’s work is most relevant to the argument of this volume, as I refer to later. Peter D. Shapinsky, Lords of the Sea: Pirates, Violence, and Commerce in Late Medieval Japan (Ann Arbor: Center for Japan Japanese Studies, University of Michigan, 2014). Other works include Adam Clulow, “The Pirate and the Warlord,” Journal of Early Modern History 16 (2012): 523-42; Adam Clulow, The Company and the Shogun: the Dutch Encounter with Tokugawa Japan (New York: Columbia University Press, 2014); Tonio Andrade and Xing Hang, ed., Sea Rovers, Silver, and Samurai:

Introduction



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Piracy and Sovereignty

Piracy is here taken as the unauthorized use or threat of violence, perpetrated on the sea by any individuals, groups, or organizations, in order to plunder another party of its property or people. The obvious problem is who held the authority to determine whether certain cases of violence should be judged to be either piracy or legitimate acts of war. Because piracy is invariably linked to this sort of problem, it is fundamentally political if resorted to in pursuit of immediate economic gain, although we do not deal with political piracy in its narrower sense, in the form of resistance or protest against the exploitation of state and any other authorities, or a rejection of the class system.8 As will be discussed in the following chapters, it was always the political authorities who condemned a group of people as pirates and thereby created piracy for their political purposes. This means that piracy was always politically defined, and therefore an analysis of the political purposes and ideas behind antipiracy policies will contribute to an understanding of the historical dynamics of the practice, rather than giving legal definitions by tracing the changing concept of the (il)legality of maritime violence. A historical study of antipiracy politics therefore offers insights into the issues of power and sovereignty in global history. When a political power condemns a certain group as pirates, it claims that it has the legitimate authority to do so. When it claimed the absolute, autonomous authority over the territories or populations it governs, that is, sovereignty, piracy, violence that states were not able to fully control, transformed into anti-sovereignty. Therefore piracy was a matter of sovereignty, and the existence of pirates was a sign of a lack of efficient state control, that might give other states an excuse to intervene. Although there were several sorts of violence like banditry and mercenary activities, that states were not able to control fully, piracy deserves to be paid special attention because it was conducted outside the territories of the state on land. States did not turn their attention to claims of their sovereignty of the oceans before the mid-nineteenth century. If a crime was committed outside Maritime East Asia in Global History, 1550-1700 (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2016). Robert Hellyer argues how a feudal lord stopped his retainers from resorting to piracy in Tokugawa Japan. Robert Hellyer, “Poor but Not Pirates: The Tsushima Domain and Foreign Relations in Early Modern Japan,” in Elusive Pirates, Pervasive Smugglers: Historical Perspectives on Violence and Clandestine Trade in the Greater China Seas, ed. Robert Antony (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2010), 115-26. 8 Thomson, Mercenaries, Pirates and Sovereigns, 46, 48. These types of political dimensions of piracy have been well studied in the Atlantic piracy. See, among them, Marcus Rediker, Villains of All Nations: Atlantic Pirates in the Golden Age (Boston: Beacon, 2004).

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their territories, who should take responsibility for stopping it and for arresting and punishing the criminals? Violence at sea was an especially complicating element in matters of burgeoning international law and state sovereignty. Therefore, another type of legitimated violence on the sea, privateering, is discussed in this volume, in as far as it was related to the issues of piracy and state sovereignty.9 This volume focuses not only on ideas but also the practices of antipiracy politics, because ideas about how to determine what sorts of acts were piracy, who were pirates, and what should be done against them were often formed and expanded as a consequence of concrete steps taken to deal with piracy. In other words, ideas did not always decide practices, instead practices contingently formed ideas. In Mediterranean and Asian waters during the period of European colonial expansion, conflicts over piracy and sovereignty between Europeans and Asians were in fact quite common. Therefore there is a tendency to consider that this sort of conflict derived from Euro-Asian differences in the notion of state and sovereignty, assuming that only Europeans created the norm that states have to eradicate pirates. This volume challenges this pervasive assumption. Apart from state rulers and the pirates themselves, antipiracy politics involved a wide range of agents, including merchants, diplomats, naval commanders, local rulers, local officials, and ordinary local people who now and then turned to or supported pirates. The positions of these agents were not necessarily limited to either Europeans or Asians, but in fact could be taken by both or by mixed groups of people. Discussing the intermingling of agents involved in antipiracy politics, this volume questions the assumed immense disparity between European and Asian factors. In this way, I believe, this volume gives new insights into the European and non-European relationship in the early modern period, that the volumes in this publication series of Brill have already discussed in various ways. Also, in order to question the border between state and non-state agents, the authors in this volume pay special attention to the practices of antipiracy politics, like the confrontations, negotiations, and compromises between state and non-state agents, whether European or Asian. From this perspective, this volume argues that the EuroAsian and state-non-state interactions in antipiracy politics played a crucial part in the crystallization of the ideas of the state monopoly of maritime violence and state sovereignty. 9 For an overview of the scholarly literature on piracy and privateering, see David Starkey, “Voluntaries and Sea Robbers: A Review of the Academic Literature on Privateering, Corsairing, Buccaneering and Piracy,” Mariner’s Mirror 97, no. 1 (2011): 127-47.

Introduction



5

States and Non-state Maritime Violence, in Historical Context

Janice E. Thomson, who has just been mentioned, has put forward the most influential argument about the historical relationship between states and nonstate maritime violence. In recent years a number of works have also dealt with a wide range of issues in non-state maritime violence in broad chronological and geographical frameworks. In this part, I briefly sketch the historical background of state attitudes toward non-state maritime violence and examine recent important arguments. Because of the economic benefits that the latter brought the former, their symbiosis had a long history. Thomson argues that an important reason for the state use of privateering was a ruler’s lack of the revenue needed to maintain a state navy. Both privateers and pirates furnished not only the sovereign but also public officials and private investors with revenue. They weakened enemies by attacking their shipping and settlements. They supplied European markets with scare commodities at affordable prices. They broke the trade monopolies of competitor states. States even knighted some pirates, after they had successfully attacked and weakened rival states.10 Similar developments were also common in Asia. The Ming government, for example, made use of the naval power of the leaders of wealthy local merchants like Zheng Zhilong, and rewarded them with privileges and official positions. States were loath to abandon the benefits to be obtained from non-state maritime violence, while privateers and pirates made use of such state attitudes to remain in business. In Japan, however, as early as the 1580s, the state ruler, who was in the pro­ cess of unifying the state, issued edicts to prohibit piracy. As Fujita explains in his chapter in this volume, as this ruler, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, strengthened his control over the feudal lords, the piracy prohibition also became increasingly more effective. Whereas Peter D. Shapinsky emphasizes Hideyoshi’s land- and agriculture-centric ideologies that lay behind his piracy prohibition,11 Fujita argues that ex-pirates were assigned new places in the national maritime security system of the Toyotomi and Tokugawa regimes. By the early-seventeenth 10 11

Thomson, Mercenaries, Pirates and Sovereigns, 21, 47, 107-108. Shapinsky, Lords of the Sea, 229-56. Andrade and Hang explain that piracy reduced in latesixteenth-century Japan for two main reasons. Firstly, as warlike feudal lords lost their autonomy during the political unification process, pirates lost their patrons. Secondly, the government policy to provide licenses for authorized merchant ships removed the need for armed smuggling. Tonio Andrade and Xing Hang, “Introduction: The East Asian Maritime Realm in Global History, 1500-1700,” in Andrade and Hang, Sea Rovers, Silver, and Samurai, 9.

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century, pirates had virtually disappeared from territorial waters in Japan, a very exceptional happening in world history. In Europe, Thomson argues, states only began to consider privateering as problem toward the end of the eighteenth century, but complicated interstate politics still made it difficult for them to carry out concerted actions against Barbary rulers for several decades. Privateering was “the weapon of the weaker naval Power,” and as such it was the only real threat to British naval supremacy in the nineteenth century. However, other states wanted to end the British practice of interdicting neutral ships in search of enemy contraband. The ban on privateering was apparently a price worth paying for Britain’s abandoning its right to interdict neutral ships. As a result of these political deals, in 1856 major European states signed the Declaration of Paris that banned privateering.12 In her discussion of European attempts to eradicate piracy, Thomson empha­­sizes the development of the norms against piracy. Her argument is that, by the early-nineteenth century, the norm shared among influential Euro­ pean states was that a state was responsible for quashing piracy within its own territorial waters, in which it claimed sovereignty.13 States had to claim sovereignty in the arena of international politics, and to corroborate this claim a state monopoly of violence in their territories was a crucial instrument. In order to validate this norm, European states had to abolish privateering completely. As in the case of privateering, the norm against piracy was universalized and transmitted to areas beyond the European system. To be recognized as sovereign, a state had to be able control piracy within its jurisdiction.14 While Thomson claims that the antipiracy norm developed “in conjunction with the practical resolution of problems” associated with piracy issues outside Europe, especially in Asia,15 Stefan Eklöf Amirell and Leos Müller have emphasized the development of international maritime law as a watershed in the state attitude toward piracy. European concepts of international law, that emphasized the freedom of navigation on the high seas, acquired global predominance in the second half of the nineteenth century in the wake of colonial domination and expansion. As a result, they argue, the suppression of piracy became a matter of urgent importance, even survival, for many non-European states, “because those that were unable or unwilling to do so were frequently colonized.”16 Although the arguments of Thomson and Amirell and Müller dif12 13 14 15 16

Thomson, Mercenaries, Pirates and Sovereigns, 72-73. Ibid., 115-16. Ibid., 116, 18. Ibid., 115-16. Amirell and Müller, “Introduction,” 19-20.

Introduction

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fer in ascribing the origin of the norm of state responsibility to quash piracy, they agree on the point that the antipiracy norm was created in Europe and it affected Asia. I shall return to this point later. Analysis of the reasons states came to consider piracy suppression to be their responsibility has emerged as an important issue in recent works. Anne Pérotin-Dumon connects the suppression of piracy with the launching of a new commercial policy by the emerging nation-states. She argues that largescale commerce and colonies had become national objectives for some Euro­pean states. In England, a new class of merchants who dealt in long-distance trade outside of the framework of chartered commercial companies required that the state protect their convoys of merchant ships from pirates. Now suppression of non-European piracy became the equivalent to the “civilizing mission,” and the nation-state had to stand out as an all-powerful body, equipped with a navy serving the glory of the nation by suppressing pirates, despite the fact that nation-states in the process of formation were in fact not immediately capable of achieving this.17 Robert Elliot Mills has contributed an insightful discussion to the creation of a negative idea about piracy in relation to the formation of nation-state. Sovereignty requires negative identification, that is, the simultaneous existence of its opposite or the anti-sovereign, for the consolidation of national identity. The pirate became the typical anti-sovereign in the nineteenth-century US. Because pirates rejected not only the laws of a particular state but also of the sovereign order itself, piracy was considered to challenge the common right of every nation.18 While the classical “piracy almanacs” have attempted to chronicle comprehensively the rise and demise of piracy in various parts of the world, recent works on global piracy tend to focus on particular dimensions.19 Nicholas Tarling has thoroughly detailed antipiracy military campaigns in Malay waters.20 James Francis Warren has tended to focus on the economic dimension and on situating Southeast Asian piracy in the global trade, and has therefore impacted a number of following works.21 J.L. Anderson has expanded 17 18 19

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Pérotin-Dumon, “The pirate and the emperor,” 200-21, 214-16. Mills, “The Pirate and the Sovereign,” 114, 122-23. “Piracy almanacs” include, just to name a few, Philip Goss, The History of Piracy (New York: Tudor, 1932); Jacek Machowski, Pod Czarna Bandera (Warszawa: Iskry, 1970); David Cordingly, ed., Pirates: Terror on the High Seas – From the Caribbean to the South China Sea (Atlanta, Turner Publishing, 1996). Nicholas Tarling, Piracy and Politics in the Malay World (Melbourne etc.: Cheshire, 1963). James Francis Warren, The Sulu Zone, 1768-1898: The Dynamics of External Trade, Slavery, and Ethnicity in the Transformation of a Southeast Asian Maritime State (Singapore: NUS Press, 1981); Eric Tagliacozzo, “A Necklace of Fins: Marine Goods Trading in Maritime

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his focus on the economic dimensions of historical piracy to the world, and classified the practice into the parasitic, episodic, and intrinsic strains of piracy.22 The volume edited by Alejandro Colás and Bryan Mabee has concentrated on the relationship between state and non-state violence in the world from the early-modern to the contemporary era. Although their volume does not in­­clude a chapter discussing early-modern Mediterranean or Asian piracy equivalent to the chapters in the present volume, their focus on “practices and process rather than rule or structures” has impacted on our discussions in many ways. The postulations of Patricia Owens in the same volume that, “there is no such thing as public and private violence” and “there is only violence that is made ‘public’ and violence that is made ‘private’ are particularly insightful.23 Patricia Russo has begun an influential discussion about the conflicting perception of piracy from a cross-cultural perspective. She suggests that, although Arabic and other languages did not have words or concepts equivalent to English “piracy,” the British incorporated the concept into their colonial

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Southeast Asia, 1780-1860,” International Journal of Asian Studies 1, no.1 (2004): 23-48; Eric Tagliacozzo, Secret Trades, Porous Borders: Smuggling and States along a Southeast Asian Frontier, 1865-1915 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005); Timothy P. Barnard, Multiple Centres of Authority: Society and Environment in Siak and Eastern Sumatra, 1674-1827 (Leiden: KITLV Press, 2003); Timothy P. Barnard, “Celates, Rayat-Laut, Pirates: The Orang Laut and Their Decline in History,” Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 80, no. 2 (2007): 33-49; Ota Atsushi, “The Business of Violence: Piracy around Riau, Lingga, and Singapore, c.1820-1840,” in Elusive Pirates, Pervasive Smugglers: Historical Perspectives on Violence and Clandestine Trade in the Greater China Seas, ed. Robert Antony (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2010), 127-41; Ota Atsushi, “Pirates or Entrepreneurs? Migration and Trade of Sea People in Southwest Kalimantan, c. 1770-1820,” Indonesia 90 (2010): 67-96; Scott C. Abel, “Asian Seafaring Communities and the Blood-Red Seas: Maritime Violence and the Waters Surrounding the Malay Peninsula, 1825-1885,” Explorations 14 (2014): 32-45. For an overview of piracy in early-modern Southeast Asian, Robert Antony, “Turbulent Waters: Sea Raiding in Early Modern Southeast Asia,” Mariner’s Mirror 99, no. 1 (2013): 23-38. J.L. Anderson, “Piracy and World History: An Economic Perspective on Maritime Predation,” Journal of World History 6 (1995): 175-99. For economic dimensions of global piracy, see also David J. Starkey, “Pirates and Markets,” in C.R. Pennell, ed, Bandits at Sea: A Pirates Reader (New York: New York University Press, 2001), 107-24. For another type of classification of piracy, see Joseph N. F. M à Campo, “Discourse without Discussion: Representation of Piracy in Colonial Indonesia, 1816-25,” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 34, no. 2 (2003): 199-214. Alejandro Colás and Bryan Mabee, “Introduction: Private Violence in Historical Context,” in Colás and Mabee, Mercenaries, Pirates, Bandits, and Empire, 8-9; Patricia Owens, “Distinctions, Distinctions: ‘Public’ and ‘Private’ Force?” in Colás and Mabee, Mercenaries, Pirates, Bandits, and Empires, 15-32.

Introduction

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policy.24 Simon Leyton has examined the changing British perceptions of piracy in the different stages of their colonial expansion in Asia. In a journal roundtable, Leyton and his co-authors have expanded the discussion of British imperial expansion and the shifting of maritime violence into a wider geographical scale.25 Robert Antony, Sebastian Prange, Y.H. Teddy Sim, and Tonio Andrade and Xing Hang have edited volumes and journal special issues about piracy in early-modern Asian waters, attempting to abstract characteristic patterns and structures in Asian piracy.26 While these recent works have greatly expanded our understanding of various dimensions of historical maritime violence, the argument put forward by Thomson and other scholars that the norm of state responsibility to quash piracy was formed in Europe and it was transmitted to areas outside has remained unchallenged. Nevertheless, this argument does need reexamination. The first reason is that demonstrably Japan had a similar but far more successful experience of the state eradication of piracy in the earlier period, exercising its own norm of state responsibility. How its antipiracy norm was formed and how the eradication succeeded will be discussed later in this volume. The second reason is that many scholars seem to presume that the Europe-origin antipiracy norm was so powerful that indigenous states had no 24

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Patricia Risso, “Cross-Cultural Perceptions of Piracy: Maritime Violence in the Western Indian Ocean and Persian Gulf Region during a Long Eighteenth Century,” Journal of World History 12, no. 2 (2001): 293-319. Simon Layton, “Discourses of Piracy in an Age of Revolution,” Itinerario 35, no.2 (2011): 81-97; Simon Layton, “The “Moghul’s Admiral”: Angrian “Piracy” and the Rise of British Bombay,” Journal of Early Modern History 17 (2013): 75-93; S.H. Layton, “Hydras and Leviathans in the Indian Ocean World,” International Journal of Maritime History 25 (2013): 21325; The scope and aims of the abovementioned journal roundtable are explained in Richard J. Blakemore, “British Imperial Expansion and the Transformation of Violence at Sea, 1600-1850: Introduction,” International Journal of Maritime History 25 (2013): 143-46. For the Dutch colonial expansion and their antipiracy politics, see G. Teitler, A.M.C. van Dissel, and J.N.F.M. à Campo, Zeeroof en zeeroofbestrijding in de Indische archipel (19de eeuw) (Amsterdam: De Bataafsche Leeuw, 2005). Antony, Elusive Pirates, Pervasive Smuggler; Robert J. Antony and Sebastian R. Prange, special issue “Piracy in Asian Waters,” pt. 1 and 2, Journal of Early Modern History 16 (2012) and 17 (2013); Y.H. Teddy Sim, ed. Piracy and Surreptitious Activities in the Malay Archipelago and Adjacent Seas, 1600-1840 (Singapore: Springer, 2014); Andrade and Hang, Sea Rovers, Silver, and Samurai. Apart from these works, more recently Scott C. Abel has examined the connection between the piracy and the political economies of the Straits Settlements and the Malay states around the Malay Peninsula during the nineteenth century. Scott C. Abel, “A Covert War at Sea: Piracy and Political Economy in Malaya, 1824-72” (PhD. diss., Northern Illinois University, 2016).

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option but to accept it for survival. This assumption ignores, or at least underestimates, the state antipiracy measures promulgated in Qing China. As the chapter by Toyooka Yasufumi and Murakami Ei in this volume discusses, how on its own initiative the nineteenth-century Qing administration involved the British Navy in order to achieve its goal of suppressing piracy conform to its own idea of sovereignty. These problems could have arisen from the fact that the previous studies dealing with state antipiracy politics in Asia have tended to concentrate their arguments on the regions that later became European colonial territories. Independent China and Japan have often been ignored, but they actually do bring new, different insights into the development of the global antipiracy politics. Even in the regions later placed under colonial control, the following chapters suggest that Europeans did not initially have any firm grip on a state monopoly of maritime violence. Facing complicated local politics, and threading through the negotiations and conflicts between different levels of European, Asian, and intermingled agents, state rulers had to strike a balance between their absolute sovereignty and more economical solutions. European involvement in antipiracy campaigns did not mean the immediate establishment of a European colonial system. Piracy eradication always required long negotiations, and the results were not always successful.

Structure of Discussions

This volume deals with the period of transition from the early-modern to the modern period. I believe that the changes in state attitudes toward piracy during this transition period give insights into the understanding about how states changed their nature. For this argument, the first step is to grasp how earlymodern states dealt with maritime violence, and then we should focus on how their relationship with maritime violence gradually changed in the period of transition. These are the central questions of the First Part, that deals with European privateering and antipiracy policies. In this Part the first chapter discusses the privateering in the Mediterranean between c. 1600 and 1830, the period when European and Maghribi privateering was rampant. Kudo Akihito and Ota Atsushi argue that privateering was a mixture of state diplomacy and private business for both the European and the Maghrib states. This argument shows that states and non-state agents were not clearly separated even until the early nineteenth century, that we conventionally consider the “modern” era.

Introduction

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In the second chapter Satsuma Shinsuke discusses two issues: the nature of the European privateering system between the mid-seventeenth and earlynineteenth century, and its abolition in the mid-nineteenth century. Beginning with a discussion of the system to control maritime violence including privateering, Satsuma argues that European states had established a common legal framework to control privateering by the early eighteenth century. He argues that this legal framework, that was based on the ideology of sovereign state system emerging in early modern Europe, was one of the most distinctive features of maritime plunder in Europe. The author then goes on to argue that the efforts of nineteenth-century European states to abolish privateering and their antipiracy campaigns outside Europe were both sides of the same coin, working in parallel to each other. Satsuma’s argument emphasizes the link between the development of European anti-privateering policies and European antipiracy campaigns outside Europe. This view implies the importance of European experiences of antipiracy campaigns outside Europe on the formation of the norms against pirates. Therefore, in the Second Part of this volume, four chapters discuss antipiracy campaigns in the Asian seas, covering the Persian Gulf to the Philippine Islands, with special attention paid to the political developments and changing ideas toward piracy behind military campaigns. The authors focus on various negotiations, arrangements, and misunderstandings that occurred between various agents like European navy officials, Asian rulers, and Asian pirates before, during, and after military campaigns. The authors also focus on Asian ideas of and practices adopted toward maritime violence, because European and Asian antipiracy ideas and practices mutually impacted each other. Sometimes local state rulers were very keen to suppress pirates; while they were sometimes committing piracy themselves. This difference naturally made European and local politics toward piracy very different. How did the European and Asian confrontations and negotiations with piracy affect their concepts of the practice? How did their experiences reframe the antipiracy politics in Asian and European states? These are the central questions of the Second Part. In the Second Part, in his chapter Suzuki Hideaki discusses what was known as Qawāsimi “piracy” in the nineteenth-century Persian Gulf. In spite of being in possession of very few clear pieces of evidence of any piratical activity by the Qawāsim, the British Navy attacked Ra⁠ʾs al-Khaymah, the capital of the Qawāsim, on the pretext of the “suppression of piracy.” Examining the background to this British judgment on the Qawāsim, Suzuki argues that the British imagined and created pirates from their contingent experiences of negotiation

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and their diplomatic relationships with different indigenous groups, including an enemy of the Qawāsim. The fourth chapter analyzes the voices of local merchants, chiefs, and the pirates themselves about piracy in Northwest India at the turn of the nineteenth century. Examining local petitions submitted to the English East India Company (EIC) authorities, Lakshmi Subramanian indicates that, in addition to the “moral economy” that produced piracy among the locals, how local actors expected, and were later disappointed in, the English involvement in curbing piracy. The EIC claimed to protect only a part of local people, those who accepted its authority, from the threat of pirates, while local rulers insisted on their right to issue passes. Subramanian’s argument seems to suggest that the EIC had not fully developed its idea of sovereignty, while the sovereignty of the seas was under competition between the EIC and local authorities. In the fifth chapter, Ota Atsushi discusses the changing perceptions of piracy among the Dutch officials and Malay rulers in Malay waters at the turn of the nineteenth century. Before the nineteenth century, the Dutch East India Company often labeled its commercial rivals pirates, while the Sultanate of Johor had its own criteria to distinguish between piracy and admirable acts of state. However, when the Dutch established their colonial rule in West Kalimantan in 1818, fired with a fresh intention of instating territorial control, they declared the suppression of piracy to be one of the goals of their rule. Nevertheless, to curb piracy the weak Dutch authorities in the early colonial administration chose to collaborate with ex-pirate leaders. On the other hand, some local rulers launched their own antipiracy campaigns in order to establish good relationship with the Dutch authorities. Ota’s argument indicates that the Dutch and the local perceptions of piracy were both subject to change, adjusting to the local political circumstances, and that the policies of the colonial state were a result of realistic compromise. The sixth chapter by James Francis Warren traces Spain’s efforts to contain the formidable Muslim slaving populations, the Iranun and the Balangingi Samal, up to 1848, and then to defeat and displace them over the next half century. The post-1848 hard-line policy was accomplished in increments through a series of aggressive expeditions, the establishment of forward bases, the effective use of steam warships, a concerted naval blockade and a campaign to annihilate all prahu shipping from the Sulu Archipelago. These measures were complemented by the wholesale deportation and exile of captured slavers and ‘pirates.’ The anti-slave raiding campaigns were legitimated by a colonial frame of mind, and a cant of conquest that portrayed the Iranun and Balangingi, or ‘Moros,’ as ‘savages’ and ‘wild men’ who stood in the way of Christianity, freedom, free trade, and progress. Warren’s argument suggests that Spanish

Introduction

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anti­piracy campaigns strengthened their sense of superiority and that this became linked to their “mission of civilization,” becoming more evident in the Spanish deportation process after the military campaigns. The Third Part turns attention to East Asia. Antipiracy politics in Japan and China stands out in the global history of piracy because of the relative independence of these states from outside powers such as Europeans during the time frame discussed. Japan did not have any significant threats from outside powers in the late-sixteenth century, while, compared with other Asian states, China maintained a leading position in its antipiracy politics in the nineteenth century. Why and how did they tackle piracy, and how different were their results from those of European antipiracy campaigns? How were the ideas of the Japanese and Chinese regimes about sovereignty and state-building reflected in their respective antipiracy campaigns? These are the central questions of Part Three. In the seventh chapter, Fujita Tatsuo discusses the piracy prohibition edicts issued by the Toyotomi regime and the subsequent establishment of a maritime control system under the Tokugawa regime in Japan. He argues that the piracy prohibition edicts were a part of the new type of state-building introduced by the Toyotomi regime in the late-sixteenth century. After taking its first steps in the state-building process, like the survey of the acreage of all the arable land and the destruction of superfluous castles, the regime ordered feudal lords to strictly forbid their retainers to take up piracy. The succeeding Tokugawa regime went even further and organized a national maritime security system, under which many feudal lords installed ex-pirates in their maritime control facilities, usually in different locations in which the ex-pirates had formerly had their bases of operations. Through these measures, the Toyotomi and Tokugawa regimes attempted to create a far more centralized state than before, and a state monopoly on violence was crucial to this process. In the last chapter, Toyooka Yasufumi and Murakami Ei describe the piracy suppression on the Chinese coast by the Chinese, Portuguese, and British authorities from 1780 to 1860. In the early-nineteenth century, while the English East India Company held itself aloof from piracy issues, the Qing government took measures to suppress piracy in cooperation with the Portuguese authorities in Macao. However, after the Opium War, when it finally suppressed pirates, the Qing government relied on the military support of the British Navy. As a result, the Qing government successfully restored and reorganized political and commercial order in the coastal area, but again buttressed by the maritime security controls carried out by the British Navy. This development meant that the British Navy played an increasingly important role as a

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substitute for the local authorities in the control of piracy. This development raises doubts not only about the regular pattern of piracy suppression consisting of “European pressure and local cooperation,” but also on our understanding of the concept of sovereignty.

Issues to be Discussed

This volume compares developments in different parts of the world, and discusses the connections between them from a global perspective. Through these discussions, the present volume aims to argue that, taking a tack away from what is a fairly pervasive idea, modern Europe was neither the sole place of origin of the norm of state responsibility to suppress piracy, nor the central place from which this norm was transmitted to the world beyond Europe. Japan formed a very similar norm in the late-sixteenth century and, as was the case in early- nineteenth-century Europe, its policy was strongly linked to the new model of state-building. Nevertheless, it is still arguable if Japan under the Toyotomi and Tokugawa regimes was a modern nation-state. In China a state monopoly of violence was not necessarily the norm in the period discussed. The first point to be analyzed is what kind of states we are going to deal with? What we should bear in mind is that even in Europe the system and the concept of “modern state” had not assumed their final shape in the period discussed in this volume. The Peace Treaties of Westphalia, signed in 1648, did not signify an immediate birth of modern nation-states. On the contrary, as the first and second chapters of this volume elucidate, it was only by a lengthy process that European states established the coordinated system for state monopoly of violence, that is considered to be an important element of a modern state. Therefore the term state is taken here as any kind of political body that claims sovereignty over a certain territory and people, whose claim to sovereignty is acknowledged by other states. This loose definition is useful when states were in the process of state-building. While the process to abolish non-state violence in Europe seems to have been linked to the emergent ideas of “nation” and nation-states, Japan and China do not seem to have created nation-states in the European sense in concert with their antipiracy campaigns. However, it is still important to point out that the regimes in Japan and China were moving toward a new phase of statebuilding through their pursuit of a state monopoly of maritime violence. In Japan, the suppression of piracy contributed to the establishment of far more centralized regimes than those that had gone before. In China, the successful suppression of piracy the Qing regime, utilizing the military forces of outside

Introduction

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powers like the Portuguese and British, contributed to the strengthening of the central authority of the Qing government, at least against the threat of the local elites in coastal areas. The antipiracy politics ushered these states into a new phase of the state-building, one in which their authority was greatly strengthened. Besides the emerging concepts of nation and nation-states, the establishment of a state monopoly of violence was also a result of various other factors in Europe. In Britain, as Satsuma argues in his chapter, its aggressive type of free trade policy, that urged the state use of military force against trade obstacles, was an important reason for its antipiracy campaigns in Asia. In the East Indies, the Dutch antipiracy campaigns were linked to the establishment of their colonial state delineated with clear borders, that also decided the extent to which the local rulers had the responsibility for the suppression of piracy. Although the causes and results of antipiracy campaigns were diverse because of different local situations, what they had in common was to help states crystallize their ideas of sovereignty, because they introduced the ideas of a state monopoly of violence, borders on the seas, and renewed relationships with foreign powers. We also focus on the connection between European and Asian factors through antipiracy campaigns. Previous studies seem to have overemphasized the differences and conflicts between them, as if Europeans introduced brought the antipiracy norms that were totally foreign to Asians, and as if Euro­pean states alone had overwhelmingly suppressed Asian pirates. As many chapters in this volume elucidate, the actual practices of antipiracy politics developed outside Europe more contingently and less successfully than previous scholars like Thomson have argued. As a consequence of these discussion, this volume argues that the norms against piracy were created and elaborated in various places through strong connections in a series of political confrontations, negotiations, and compromises between intermingled agents on different levels of European and Asian states, for instance, European naval commanders, European colonial government officials, Asian rulers, and Asian merchants. They had different goals, that were in many case more strongly related to the enhancement of their personal benefits and power than to those of their home states, but their interaction contingently led to the creation of the norms against maritime violence. Through this process the distinction between Asians and Europeans became blurred, and in this way antipiracy politics was a global phenomenon and a part of connected history.

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Introduction

Part 1 From Co-existence to Prohibition: Maritime Violence in Europe

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Privateers in the Early-Modern Mediterranean

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Chapter 1 Kudo and Ota

Privateers in the Early-Modern Mediterranean: Violence, Diplomacy and Commerce in the Maghrib, c. 1600-1830 Kudo Akihito and Ota Atsushi

Introduction

The European representation of the early-modern Maghrib,1 covering presentday Morocco, Tunisia, Algeria and Libya, has been closely associated with images of its cities as the lairs of “Barbary pirates.” These sea raiders, also called corsairs (privateers),2 not only caused havoc on the sea; they also played a crucial role in the creation of inland territorial polities, known as regencies under

1 For the use of the term “early modern,” see Virginia H. Aksan and Daniel Goffman, “Introduction: Situating the Early Modern Ottoman World,” in The Early Modern Ottomans: Remapping the Empire, ed. Virginia H. Aksan and Daniel Goffman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 1-12. The term Maghrib originates from an Arabic word al-maghrib‬, meaning “the land of the sunset,” or “the west.” Its corresponding European name, the Barbary Coast, also includes Morocco. From the seventeenth to the late-eighteenth century, European images of the Barbary Coast gradually shifted their emphasis from its closeness as shadow of the Roman Empire, to its otherness as the Orient, a view that concomitantly underlined Europe’s distance from this unknown continent. Ann Thomson, Barbary and Enlightenment: European Attitudes towards the Maghrib in the 18th Century (Leiden: Brill, 1987), 41-63. 2 The term “corsair” is thought to have spread from the Late Latin word cursarius (the thirteenth century) through Italian corsao (the fourteenth century) into various languages. Words of the same origin are found in many languages, for instance, lingua franca corso, Spanish corsario, Arabic qursān, and Turkish korsan. The word was introduced into French in the fifteenth century, via Provençal corsari (the fourteenth century), with alternative spellings such as cursaire, coursaire, and corsaire. Auguste Jal, Glossaire nautique. répertoire polyglotte de termes de marine anciens et modernes (Paris: Firmin Didot, 1848), 527, 540, 710, 722-23; Henry Romanos Kahane, Renée Kahane, and Andreas Tietze, The Lingua Franca in the Levant: Turkish Nautical Terms of Italian and Greek Origin (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1958), 193-96; Ch. Pellat, C.H. Imber, and J.B. Kelly, s.v. “Ḳurṣān,” in Encyclopedia of Islam, Second Edition, ed. P. Bearman et al. (Leiden: Brill, 1955-2005), (accessed March 31, 2017); s.v. “corsaire,” Trésor de la langue française informatisé, (accessed March 31, 2017).

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004361485_003

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Ottoman suzerainty,3 and subsequently participated in the politics and diplomacy in the Mediterranean. Until recently, historical writings on Barbary corsairs have tended to emphasize either the conflicts between Muslims and Christians, stressing their diagonally opposed interests and worldviews, or the “legality” or “illegality” of privateering. These sorts of viewpoints have also argued that the Maghrib regencies were doomed to decline toward the end of the eighteenth century, just at a time European monarchies were organizing their legal and political systems on the road to efficient modern states.4 This view suggests that one inevitable result of these contrasting/antithetical developments was the French conquest of Algeria in 1830, a watershed in the history of the Mediter­ ranean, as it marked the beginning of European territorial expansion onto the southern shore. If we follow this mode of narration, the implication would be that the practice of privateering represented the archaism from which modern European states were linearly attempting to extricate themselves. However, these views have been challenged by recent scholarship. Taking Algeria as its example, this chapter argues that the borders between conventional oppositions, such as Europe and the Maghrib, Christian and Muslim, legal and illegal, development and decline, have always been blurred. European and Maghribi polities did not have their own clearly separate international orders. Rather, they shared an intertwined political-legal configuration, and that configuration was largely maintained until the early-nineteenth century. 1

Establishment of Privateering Polities

From the sixteenth to the seventeenth century, privateering was very rampant in the Mediterranean, where it was an important financial basis of a number of port polities. In the Maghrib, this period is called “the era of the Beylerbeyi,” the (very often foreign) rulers appointed under the Ottoman suzerainty, who established themselves in close association with privateering. Many of them, who had often come from the Eastern Mediterranean, were in fact leaders of privateering groups called taife.5 Having obtained different titles from the 3 In European sources, Ottoman provinces (eyalet) in the Maghrib are usually referred as a “kingdom” or as a “regency.” In Morocco, the Alawi dynasty did establish a kingdom in the seventeenth century. 4 This attitude can be traced back to colonial historiography. See, for instance, Emile Félix Gautier, L’islamisation de l’Afrique du Nord: les siècles obscures du Maghreb (Paris: Payot, 1927), 27. 5 The Ottoman word taife and Arabic ṭāʾifa mean a group, party of men. In the course of time these words gradually came to refer to vocational and social groups formed for a particular

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Ottoman authorities, they established territorial control in the coastal region from present-day Libya to Algeria. Behind this development lay the fierce conflict between Christian and Muslim empires.6 In this fraught religious climate, the Spanish conquest of the coastal cities, like Melilla (1497), Oran (1509), and Tripoli (1510), inevitably created tension between the conquerors and the inland society. Taking advantage of this tension, a corsair called Hızır from the island of Lesbos, later called Barbaros Hayreddin Paşa,7 carved himself a position in the Western Medi­ terranean. Hızır made his first base in Djerba and, after the death of his brother, he chose to pledge his loyalty to Sultan Selim I of the Ottoman Empire and, in return, he was granted recognition of his rule over the Maghrib and had 2,000 Janissaries assigned to him. Soundly backed by this Ottoman support, Hızır established his rule in Algeria in 1529. From this time until the end of the sixteenth century, Hayreddin and other privateers conquered the Spanish bases along the coast. Tripoli, that had been conquered by Spain in 1510 and then assigned to the Knights Hospitalers (the Order of St John) in 1523, fell to Ottoman control in 1551. The siege was led by Turgud Reis, another native of Anatolia with a privateering background.8 When Turgud was killed, he was succeeded by Uluç Ali, an ex-galley slave and convert, born in Carabria (Southern Italy).9 He invaded Tunis in 1569 and carried out many raids on Spanish coastal cities. Around this time influential members of privateering groups included a number of foreigners among them

6

7

8 9

purpose, including privateering groups in the Maghrib. E. Geoffroy, s.v. “Ṭāʾifa,” Encyclopedia of Islam, Second Edition. The Spanish invasion of the Western Mediterranean was not only a Catholic “Crusade” against Muslims, it was also conditioned by the rivalry with other European states. Anne Brogini et Maria Ghazali, Un enjeu espagnol en Méditerranée: les présides de Tripoli et de La Goulette au XVIe siècle, Cahiers de la Méditerranée (Tome 1) 70 (2005): 9-43, (accessed March 31, 2017). Hayreddin was a title of honor, and the epithet Barbaros (Barbarosssa, meaning “red beard”) the name by which he is commonly known in Europe. Granted the titles of Kapudan Paşa (Admiral) of the Ottoman Fleet and Beylerbeyi (Governor) of the Archipelago around 1533, he played an active role in the maritime affairs of the Ottoman Sultanate. Daniel Panzac, s.v. “Barbaros Hayreddin,” in Encyclopedia of Islam, Three, ed. Kate Fleet, Gudrun Krämer, and Denis Matringe (Leiden: Brill, 2007-) http://referenceworks.brillonline.com/browse/encyclopaedia-of-islam-3 (accessed March 31, 2017). S. Soucek, s.v. “Ṭorg̲ h̲ud Reʾīs,” Encyclopedia of Islam, Second Edition. Raised from a prisoner-of-war condemned to be a galley-slave, Uluç Ali served under Turgut Reis. As reward for his exploits during the Battle of Lepanto, he was granted the name Kılıç (sword). Idris Bostan, “Kılıç Ali Paşa,” Encyclopedia of Islam, Three; Daniel Panzac, La marine ottomane: de l’apogée à la chute de l’Empire (1572-1923) (Paris: CNRS Éditions, 2009), 18-20.

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Hassan Aga from Sardinia (self-converted when young), Mami Arnault from Albania, and Hasan Corso from Corsica.10 Hayreddin’s descendants and his close followers gradually established their authority in the coastal areas stretching from Libya to Algeria, sometimes only after conflicts with local Muslim dynasties like Tlemcen. Their actions incorporated a large part of the Maghrib into the periphery of the Ottoman rule.11 After Hayreddin left Algeria, his son Hasan Paşa, born to a local lady, was appointed Beylerbeyi three times between the 1540s and the 1560s. In 1587, during the détente after the Battle of Lepanto in 1571, the Beylerbeyi jurisdictions in the Maghrib were reorganized into the three regencies, whose capitals were placed in Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli respectively.12 Although it is impossible to ascertain whether these regencies had clearly defined borders in that period, it can be said with certainty that throughout the seventeenth century their territorial framework gradually formed into the modern countries of Algeria, Tunisia and Libya. As will be discussed in the following parts, in these regencies, not only rulers but also merchants, diplomats, and local elites were heavily involved in privateering. 2

Privateering and War

As widely known, privateering, an exploit carried out under a certain official order from the authorities and sanctioned by particular laws, rules, and customs, was in theory distinguished from piracy, the predations of unidentified outlaws.13 It is important to note, however, that the prevailing image of Algiers 10

11

12

13

Lemnouar Merouche, Recherches sur l’Algérie à l’époque ottomane. II. La course: mythes et réalité (Paris: Bouchène, 2007), 168-70; Fray Diego de Haëdo, Histoire des rois d’Alger (Algiers: A Jourdan, 1881), 62, 82, 85, 98; Gaëtan Delphin, “Histoire des pachas d’Alger de 1515 à 1745,” Journal asiatique 11, no. 19 (1922): 200-1. Molly Greene, “The Ottomans in the Mediterranean,” in The Early Modern Ottomans: Remapping the Empire, ed. Virginia H. Aksan and Daniel Goffman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 108-9. The impact of the Battle of Lepanto is still a matter of argument. In the vast bibliography, see, for instance, Niccolo Capponi, The Victory of the West: The Great Christian-Muslim Clash at the Battle of Lepanto (Cambridge, MA: Da Capo, 2006), chap. 8; Onur Yildirim, “The Battle of Lepanto and its Impact on Ottoman History and Historiography,” Mediterraneo in armi (secc. XV-XVIII) 2 (2007): 533-56. As early as in fifteenth-century French, the definition of corsairs as those who captured enemy merchant ships was established. However, there was still some ambiguity in its distinction from similar words that mean outlaw plunderers, such as forban and flibustier.

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23

as the capital of “piracy” was reinforced only after the collapse of the earlymodern political configuration, in which privateers played a significant role. Before that time, maritime battles near Algiers were largely (or at least to some extent) legalized privateering. Therefore it is misleading to identify simply it with the image of fierce pirates or hostis humani generis. Privateering in the sixteenth-century Mediterranean was, Braudel argues, a “secondary form of war” that irrupted in the intervals between large-scale naval battles.14 Maritime plunder, as booty of war, had been a fact of life in the Mediterranean since ancient times. Nevertheless, from the sixteenth century, with ever-increasing frequency, it began to consist of attacks on vessels and their cargoes and crews rather than on the towns and people in coastal areas. Consequently privateering was deemed an important part of intra-Mediterranean relations, and its basic structure remained the same, albeit with certain adjustments, until the early-nineteenth century. The basic structure of maritime privateering followed a particular cycle: First privateers obtained authorization for their exploits from a ruler in the form of official letters like charters (lettres de marque) and certificates of navigation (passeport). Once this authorization had been obtained, secure in their official mandate they attacked the merchant ships of enemy states, and captured their cargoes and crewmembers. Privateers made their profits by reselling this booty, or forcing someone to ransom crewmembers.15 In short, although privateering was in part undeniably a bellicose act, it was also a form of economic activity, linked not only to merchants in their business of captured cargoes and hostages, but also to negotiators in these kinds of operation and the network of cities. Privateering was closely incorporated into the Mediter­ ranean economy. For example, it was not unusual for Algerian privateering ships to call at Marseilles during the period in which they had an agreement with the French government.

14 15

Cf. Daniel Panzac, Barbary Corsairs: The End of a Legend 1800-1820 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 89-90; Godfrey Fisher, Barbary Legend. War, Trade and Piracy in North Africa (Oxford: Clarendon, 1957), 140; Isabelle Turcan, “Les corsaires et flibustiers de la lexicographie française,” in Les tyrans de la mer: Pirates, corsaires et flibustiers, ed. Sophie Linon-Chipon and Sylvie Requemora (Paris: Presses de l’Université de Paris- Sorbonne, 2002); Salvatore Bono, Les corsaires en méditerranée (Paris: Paris-Méditerranée, 1998). Fernand Braudel, The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II, vol. 2, translated by Siân Reynolds (London: Collins, 1972-1973), 864. Early cases, in which privateering ships were requested to obtain letter of marque in the thirteenth century, have been found in France and England. Patrick Villiers, La France sur mer: de Louis XIII à Napoléon 1er (Paris: Fayard, 2015), 4.

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According to Godfrey Fisher, in sixteenth-century Spain the Barbary fleets in the Mediterranean were called corsario, and they were distinguished from the British, French, and Dutch fleets in the Atlantic called pirata. He argues that it was only after the seventeenth century, when the fleet led by English seaman Henry Mainwaring16 joined forces with Algiers, that Algerian ships were called “pirates”. In their references to similar acts of plunder at sea, the Spanish condemned that conducted by Christians as contemptible piracy, while they considered that carried out by Muslims and others as (somehow justifiable) privateering.17 In the tumultuous Mediterranean world, religion and privateering were closely interlinked. Muslims considered privateers as actors in the jihad against Christians, and these warriors were devoted to the cults of local saints.18 On the side of the Christians, the Order of St John of Malta, the Order of Saint Stephen of Tuscany and others cities and groups were actively engaged in privateering against Muslims under the banner of a holy war.19 Nevertheless, we should not see privateering only within the framework of its “legality” or within the confines of struggles between different religions.20 In the sphere of international relations, state strategies to promote trade strongly stimulated privateering behind the scenes.21 A holy war waged against heretics was a useful smoke-screen to conceal the reality of attacks carried out in the gray zone between legal and illegal activities. In fact, it was not at all unusual for both Christians and Muslims to attack people of the same religion under the pretense of privateering. The picture is complicated even further 16

17 18 19

20 21

Henry Mainwaring (1586/7-1653) was a navigator from Shropshire in England. He won fame for his attacks on Spanish ships in the years 1612-1616. When his activities became a diplomatic issue, he chose to submit to James I of England and served as a naval officer. G.G. Harris, s.v. “Mainwaring, Sir Henry (1586/7-1653),” in Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, ed. H.C.G. Matthew and Brian Harrison (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), (accessed March 31, 2017). Fisher, Barbary Legend, 138. Panzac, Barbary Corsairs, 24-25. Nicolas Vatin, L’ordre de Saint-Jean-de-Jérusalem, l’Empire ottoman et la Méditerranée orien­tale entre les deux sièges de Rhodes: 1480-1522 (Paris: Peeters, 1994); Anne Brogini, Malte, frontière de chrétienté (1530-1670) (Rome: École française de Rome, 2006); Géraud Poumarède, Pour en finir avec la Croisade: mythes et réalités de la lutte contre les Turcs aux XVIe et XVIIe siècles (Paris: PUF, 2009); Michel Fontenay, La Méditerranée entre la Croix et le Croissant: Navigation, commerce, course et piraterie (XVIe-XIXe siècle) (Paris: Classiques Garnier, 2010). Merouche, La course: mythes et réalité, 30. Philip McCluskey, “Commerce before Crusade? France, the Ottoman Empire and the Barbary Pirates (1661-1669),” French History 23, no. 1 (2009): 1-21.

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25

because, among the privateers, were a number of “apostate” (renégat) sailors and adventurers, who changed sides along with their conversion.22 For example, it was well known that a number of adult Christian converts from the Balearic Islands were among the crewmembers of Algerian privateering ships in the seventeenth century.23 As Braudel aptly puts it, “Privateering often had little to do with either country or faith, but was merely a means of making a living. If the corsairs came home empty-handed there would be famine in Algiers. Privateers in these circumstances took no heed of persons, nationalities or creeds, but became mere sea-robbers.”24 In the first half of the seventeenth century, Maghrib privateering assumed enormous proportions. One theory argues that the reason for this upsurge was that, after the lull in religions wars, surplus crews and equipment from privateering ships poured into the south shore of the Mediterranean.25 Making use of their links with the northern shore, Maghrib privateers now no longer confined their attacks to the Mediterranean coasts but expanded the targets of their assaults, far beyond Spain, reaching the coasts of British Isles in the 1620s. Another reason for the expansion of privateering is thought to have been the forced migration of Moriscos from the Iberian Peninsula. The number of these people who had been forcibly but ineffectually converted from Islam to Christianity amounted to 300,000 at the time of expulsion decree in 1614.26 Some of them sought their livelihood in privateering.27 These few facts are 22 23 24 25

26

27

Bartolomé Bennassar and Lucile Bennassar, Les chrétiens d’Allah: l’histoire extraordinaire des renégats, XVIe et XVIIe siècles (Paris: Perrin, 1989). Natividad Planas, “Les majorquins dans le monde musulman à l’époque moderne,” Mélanges de la Casa de Velázquez 27, no. 2 (1991): 115-28. Braudel, The Mediterranean, 867. For instance, Siemen Danziger (Zymen Danseker, Simon de Danser) from Dordrecht was thought to have brought “round ships” to Algiers. Philip Gosse, The History of Piracy (London: Longmans, Green, 1932; reprint, Mineola: Dover, 2007), 49-53. According to Laugier de Tassy, French consul in Algiers at the beginning of the eighteenth century, in Algiers there was technology available to build cheap ships by reconstructing their carcasses using wood brought from Kabylia region, and equipping them with parts cannibalized from captured ships. Jacques Philippe Laugier de Tassy, Histoire du royaume d’Alger: avec état présent de son gouvernement, de ses forces de terre et de mer, police, justice, politique et commerce (Amsterdam: n.p., 1724; reprint, Paris: Loysel, 1992), 155. Bernard Vincent, “The Geography of the Morisco Expulsion: A Quantitative Study,” in The Expulsion of the Moriscos from Spain: A Mediterranean Diaspora, ed. Mercedes GarcíaArenal Rodriquez and Gerard Albert Wiegers (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 19. Leïla Maziane, Salé et ses corsaires, 1666-1727 : un port de course marocain au XVIIe siècle (Caen: Presses universitaires de Caen, 2007), 169-70; Sakina Missoum, Alger à l’époque ottomane: la médina et la maison traditionnelle (Aix-en-Provence: Edisud, 2003), 34.

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enough to paint a picture of privateer port cities as examples of plural societies, open to foreigners like converts and migrants. 3

Diplomatic Recognition

France, Britain, and the Netherlands, countries that had emerged as major players in maritime transportation in the Mediterranean by the seventeenth century, concluded capitulations (imtiyazat) with the Ottoman Empire in 1569, 1580, and 1612 respectively. These followed the example of OttomanVenice treaties. The capitulations were supposed to guarantee the European ships safe passage, protecting them from attacks either by the Ottoman Navy or by Maghribi privateers.28 In fact, their vessels continually suffered assaults by Maghribi privateers, just as did those of Spanish and Italian cities at war with the Ottoman Empire. In order to deal with the privateering under the aegis of those Maghrib regencies that ignored the regulations of the central government, European courts took three measures. Playing the diplomatic card, their first step was to request the Ottoman court to intervene. Their second measure was to exert military pressure. Thirdly, they took their diplomacy personally to the Maghrib regencies and entered into direct negotiations. France was the first to seek a diplomatic relationship with the Maghrib powers. Because its requests to the government in Istanbul to curb the privateering had been unsuccessful, France chose to conduct bilateral negotiations with each regency. Its efforts resulted in an agreement with Tunis in 1605, that had no concrete effect. The Netherlands concluded treaties with Algiers and Tunis in 1626, and these treaties would serve as a model for others, including the treaty between France and Algiers in 1628.29 Tripoli signed similar agreement with England in 1658. With the exception of several periods in which they were suspended, these treaties were renewed every few years with small amendments, and they continued to form 28

29

Inalcik, s.v. “Imtiyāzāt,” in Encyclopedia Islam, Second Edition; Maurits H. van den Boogert, The Capitulations and the Ottoman Legal System: Qadis, Consuls and Beratlıs in the 18th Century (Leiden: Brill, 2005); Géraud Poumarède, “Négocier près la Sublime Porte: jalons pour une nouvelle histoire des capitulations franco-ottomanes,” in L’invention de la diplomatie, ed. Lucien Bély (Paris: PUF, 1998), 71-85. Edgard Rouard de Card, Traités de la France avec les pays de l’Afrique du Nord: Algérie, Tunisie, Tripolitaine, Maroc (Paris: A. Pedone, 1906), 113. For the process of diplomatic negotiations between European states and the Barbary regencies, see also Géraud Poumarède, “La France et les Barbaresques: police des mers et relations internationales en Méditerranée (XVIe-XVIIe siècles),” Revue d’histoire maritime 4 (2005): 117-46.

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27

the basis on which the relationship between Europe and Maghrib regencies was regulated until the nineteenth century.30 Among other stipulations, these documents confirmed the obligation to observe the existing capitulations, guaranteed safe passage and calls at ports, and laid down the conditions governing the exchange of hostage and slaves, the recovery of captured cargoes, and the residence of consuls. No matter how diplomatically couched the negotiations were, these treaties were not always observed, and Maghrib privateering was resumed for a number of reasons. Algeria especially was financially dependent on privateering during the seventeenth century. Importantly, the refusal of the European powers to repatriate the Muslim captives they used in their galleys gave the Maghrib side another reason to continue privateering.31 Every time tension heightened, similar treaties were renegotiated. Nevertheless, the almost equal balance of naval power turned the seas into an arena for repeat performances of these depredations. However, as the seventeenth century drew to its close, the European countries gradually gained the upper hand over the Maghrib regencies in naval power. European fleets bombarded privateering ports when necessary, in order to pressure the Maghrib rulers into issuing concessions.32 The Maghrib side also had reasons to reduce its scale of privateering, for instance, the decline in the use of galleys, for which privateers had captured people as rowers,33 and the growth in the importance of trade not dependent on plunder. Although these signs of change were in the air in the eighteenth century, the Maghrib regencies continued to be accorded diplomatic recognition. In exchange for their promise to suspend privateering, the European courts agreed to send “gifts,” either in the form of annual payments or payment in kind upon the conclusion of treaties.34 In the early-eighteenth century, Austria and 30 31 32

33

34

Rouard de Card, Traités de la France avec les pays de l’Afrique du Nord, 3-9. Panzac, Barbary Corsairs, 29-31. In 1664, in the reign of Louis XIV, France sent an expedition to Djidjelli (now Jijel in western Algeria) but was defeated. French vessels bombarded Algiers in 1682, 1683, and 1688. Bernard Bachelot, Louis XIV en Algérie (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2011); Phil McCluskey, “‘Les ennemis du nom Chrestien’: Echoes of the Crusade in Louis XIV’s France,” French History 29, no. 1 (2015): 46-61. This does not mean the complete disappearance of the custom of capturing galley oarsmen to resell as captives or slaves. Boyer has explained this as a process of transformation from “slave as a energy source to slaves as a commodity.” Pierre Boyer, “Alger en 1645 d’après les notes du RP Hérault (introduction â la publication de ces dernières),” Revue de l’Occident musulman et de la Méditerranée 17 (1974): 25. Christian Windler, La diplomatie comme expérience de l’autre: consuls français au Maghreb (1700-1840) (Genève: Droz, 2002), 485-90.

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Sweden also concluded similar treaties with the three regencies and, after the Seven Years’ War, Venice and Spain, the last states inimical to the regencies, did the same in 1764-1765 and 1785-1791 respectively. When the United States also joined this group in 1795-1797, bilateral treaties had been established between the Maghrib regencies and almost all major Western states. Therefore, the Maghrib polities were able to contrive the balancing act of benefiting from their acts of privateering and simultaneously from their diplomatic relations with Western states associated with privateering for almost two centuries. In short, they obtained de facto and de iure recognition as sovereign polities, possessing the right of legation. From the mid-eighteenth century, Maghribi corsairs carried certificates of navigation issued by the French and British consuls. By this time, diplomatic relations were no longer one-sided. For example, Tripoli sent its envoys to Paris in 1719 and 1720, to Venice in 1764, to London in 1765 and 1773, and again to Paris in 1774, in order to offer congratulations on the coronation of Louis XVI.35 This seemingly strange relationship between European and Maghrib polities should be considered within the accepted framework in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The classical clear-cut distinction between Europe and the “rest” is obviously too simplistic. In seventeenth-century Europe, the process of the formation of the sovereign state was still work-in-progress, and the system was still far from accomplished. The Treaty of Westphalia in 1648 did not signal an immediate paradigm shift toward the sovereign state, either in theory or in actual practice.36 In early-modern Europe, the concept of international relations was multilayered, consequently thinkers held various views about the relationship with the privateering regencies in the Maghrib. For example, Hugo Grotius implied that the Maghrib privateering could be considered within the legal category of the laws of war in Europe, taking a precedent set by the Supreme Court of Paris in its adjudication of a case of maritime plunder. In this case, the cargo of a 35 36

Panzac, Barbary Corsairs, 40-41. Benno Teschke, The Myth of 1648: Class, Geopolitics and the Making of Modern International Relations (London: Verso, 2003). For the transformation of the international order, see Dan Edelstein, “War and Terror: The Law of Nations from Grotius to the French Revolution,” French Historical Studies 31 (2008): 229-62. For the complex characteristics of the early modern European states, see John Robertson, “Empire and Union: Two Concepts of the Early Modern European Political Order,” in Theories of Empire, 1450-1800, ed. David Armitage (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001), 11-44; Jean-Frédéric Schaub, “The European Old Regime and the Imperial Question: A Modernist View of a Contemporary Question,” in Nationalizing Empires, ed. Stefan Berger and Alexei Miller (Budapest: Central European University Press, 2014), 555-71.

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French merchant had been plundered by an Algerian privateer, and another Frenchman had obtained the cargo after it had been confiscated. Although the victim of the plunder claimed his right to the ownership of the cargo, the court dismissed his claim and awarded ownership to the actual possessor of the goods. This decision was taken on the juridical grounds that the Algerian plunder had been a legal action during wartime, thereby distinguishing it from piracy.37 The other side of the coin was a deep-rooted view among contemporary Europeans that the Barbary corsair was beyond the bounds of “civilization” and therefore outside the confines of the international legal community.38 In an attempt to explain the co-existence of these conflicting views, Jörg Manfred Mössner has stated that there were two co-existing legal zones in the seventeenth-century Mediterranean Sea. Mössner suggests that the Europeans understood that, alongside ordinary international law or “intra-ordinal law,” lay another legal zone of “inter-ordinal law.” This meant that the Maghrib regencies, viewed from Europe, were not outside the jurisdiction of international law, but they were supposedly “on the fringe of the European legal order.”39 As Michel Mollat du Jourdin puts it, “The coexistence of several judicial areas on the European seas cannot be doubted.”40 European recognition of co-existing legal zones must have justified, or at least made it possible to accept, the establishment of official diplomatic relations in which privateering played a pivotal role. 4

Political Structure in the Periphery of Empire

Throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth century, the Maghrib regencies continued to establish control over their inland territory. During that time, they were also gradually edging away from the authority of Ottoman Empire and reaping the benefits of privateering diplomacy. Most noteworthy is the case of Algeria. Pointing out the conflicts that arose between Algiers and 37 38

39

40

Hugo Grotius, De jure belli ac pacis libri tres, trans. Francis W. Kelsey (New York: Oceana, 1964), 715. Guillaume Calafat, “Ottoman North Africa and ius publicum europaeum: The Case of the Treaties of Peace and Trade (1600-1750),” in War, Trade and Neutrality. Europe and the Mediterranean in Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, ed. Antonella Alimento (Milano: Franco Angeli, 2011), 171-87. Jörg Manfred Mössner, “The Barbary Powers in International Law (Doctorinal and Practical Aspects),” in Grotian Studies Papers: Studies in the History of the Law of Nations, ed. Charles Henry Alexandrowicz (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1972), 198, 220-21. Michel Mollat du Jourdin, Europe and the Sea (Oxford: Blackwell, 1993), 97.

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Ottoman Empire, some scholars have argued that Algeria was only nominally part of the Ottoman Empire and it was in fact independent by the seventeenth century.41 However, it is impossible to understand the Ottoman influence in such a simplistic framework of submission or independence.42 For example, the treaty of 1628 concluded between France and Algiers was formulated in such a way that Algiers, as a subject of the Sultan, entered into a peace agreement on the orders of the Supreme Emperor of Muslims (le très haut Empereur des Musulmans). However, the wording of the treaty leaves no room to doubt that the local authorities in Algiers maintained the right to make a decision that might diverge from that of the central government. One article in the treaty, for example, distinguishes those ships that should be subject to investigation between those of “the enemy of the Supreme Emperor (the Sultan)” and those of “the enemy of Algiers,” even though the treaty as a whole was couched in terms that emphasized the superiority of the Ottoman government over that of Algeria.43 Almost a century and a half later, the peace negotiations between Spain and Algeria in the 1780s reveal different attitudes. Spanish diplomatic documents disclose that during the negotiations the local authorities in Algiers did not readily accept the validity of Sultan’s edict (ferman), hence the agreed peace treaty made no reference to the imperial decree and the guarantee of the peace made by the Ottoman government, in spite of the request to this effect made by the Spanish side.44 These two cases indicate that Algiers was gradually gaining autonomy in Meditearranean diplomacy. Nevertheless, Spain was still attempting to negotiate with Algiers through the Ottoman court in the late-eighteenth century. The changing relationship with the imperial center also influenced the internal political structure of Algeria. After the division of the Maghrib into 41 42

43 44

Charles-André Julien, Histoire de l’Afrique du Nord, Tunisie-Algérie-Maroc (Paris: Payot, 1964), 274-76. Tal Shuval, “Cezayir-i Garp: Bringing Algeria back into Ottoman History,” New Perspectives on Turkey 22 (2000): 85-114; Emrah Safa Gürkan, “The Centre and the Frontier: Ottoman Cooperation with the North African Corsairs in the Sixteenth Century,” Turkish Historical Review 1 (2010): 125-63. See also Robert Mantran, “Le statut de l’Algérie, de la Tunisie et de la Tripolitanie dans l’Empire ottoman,” in L’Empire ottoman du XVIe au XVIIIe siècle: admin­istration, économie, société (London: Variorum, 1984), 3-14; Abdeljelil Temimi, Recherches et documents d’histoire maghrébine : la Tunisie, l’Algérie et la Tripolitaine de 1816 à 1871 (Tunis : Publication de l’Université de Tunis, 1971), 9-10. Rouard de Card, Traités de la France avec les pays de l’Afrique du Nord, 16-17. Ismet Terki-Hassaine, “Relations entre Alger et Constantinople sous le gouvernement du Dey Mohammed ben Ottomane Pacha (1766-1791), selon les sources espagnoles,” Osmanlı Tarihi Araştırma ve Uygulama Merkezi Dergisi (OTAM) 5 (1994): 188-90.

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three provinces at the end of the sixteenth century, the central government appointed a Paşa as the ruler of each regency with a three-year term of office. He was to replace the Beylerbeyi. A closer reading of the situation shows that the real authority of the Paşa, a foreign ruler, was circumscribed by the local military powers: the taife (privateers) and the ocak (Janissaries).45 An important factor contributing to the weak position of the Paşa was that the holders of this office did not have an income base generous enough to maintain their followers.46 In contrast, the taife were dominant in the early-seventeenth-century because they influence the financial conditions of the province. The activities of the taife had a dual character: on the one hand, they were private entrepreneurs who provisioned privateering ships; on the other hand while they were officially serving in the Ottoman Navy at the request of the central government and they were also financing the regency of Algeria with their income from privateering.47 Although the income from privateering could fluctuate enormously, there are a number of pieces of evidence that demonstrate their economic power was the backbone of the finances of the province. A good example is Ali Bitchin who became the chief of the taife in Algiers in the first half of the seventeenth century.48 Forging ties with the Berber Kuku dynasty, Bitchin was a master of all kinds of wiles in his dealing with Paşas. The fact that when he concluded a treaty with foreign delegates he called himself “Gouverneur et Capitaine général de la Mer et Terre d’Alger” leaves no doubt about his power.49 Pertinently, Bitchin’s ambition was directed not to any with45

46

47 48

49

Ocak, that originally meant “a hearth,” refers to a corps or a unit of Janissaries. It was current in each of the three Ottoman regencies. K. Kreiser, s.v. “Odjak,” Encyclopedia Islam, Second Edition. Examining the precarious positions of the Paşa, some scholars link the problem to the theory of “general crisis” in the seventeenth century. Shuval, “Cezayir-i Garp: Bringing Algeria back into Ottoman History,” 90-93; Jacques Revel, “Au XVIIe siècle : le déclin de la Méditerranée?” in La France et la Méditerranée : vingt-sept siècles d’interdépendance, ed. Irad Malkin (Leiden: Brill, 1990), 359-61. The theory of a crisis in seventeenth-century Eurasia has yet to be studied empirically. See Suraiya Faroqhi, “Crisis and change, 1590-1699,” in An Economic and Social History of Ottoman Empire, 1300-1914, ed. Halil İnalcık and Donald Quataert (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 433-73. Laugier de Tassy, Histoire du royaume d’Alger (1992), 156. Ali Bitchin is often considered to have been a convert of Venetian origin, but some contemporary sources indicate that he could have been either of Dutch or of Turkish/Algerian origin. Merouche, La course : mythes et réalité, 184-90. Boyer, “Alger en 1645 d’après les notes du RP Hérault,” 21. It was common for more than one person on the Algerian side, the Paşa, a captain of the Janissaries, a Mufti or a Qadi, to sign diplomatic documents. The French notations of each title are Bacha or gouverneur

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drawal from the confines of the Ottoman Empire but to the promotion within it.50 After Bitchin’s death around 1644-1645, the center of power in Algiers seemed to shift from the taife to the ocak. How this happened is not clear, but it is plausible to assume that these two groups, in collaboration with the local population, merged together to form a new urban elite.51 The growing power of the ocak prepared fertile ground for the outbreak of what was known as the “Agha Revolution” in 1659.52 Irritated by the delay in the payment of their wages in Algiers, the ocak put the acting Paşa in jail and created a disturbance when the new Paşa arrived in Algiers. However, their resistance to the central government was pretty nominal. In fact, after being apprised of the government’s message that it would cancel the appointment of the new Paşa, the ocak in Algiers immediately showed they were willing to submit. Nevertheless, it was only two years later, in 1661, that the Ottoman government decided to resume the appointment of a Paşa, at the request of Algiers.53 This episode is open to the following interpretation. The fact that the Ottoman government did not impose military sanctions but declared that the relationship would be discontinued and that the dispatch of the new Paşa was delayed by two years seems to indicate that the importance the peripheral province of Algeria had once held was fading as far as the central government was concerned, and therefore it was prepared to acquiesce in the loosening of its control. Nevertheless, Algeria needed the authority bestowed by the central government of the Empire, in spite of its recalcitrant attitude.

50 51

52

53

d’Alger for Paşa, chef des Janissares or chef et général de la Milice for ocak, and Mufti, Cadi, secrétaire du Divan for Mufti and Cadi. Rouard de Card, Traités de la France avec les pays de l’Afrique du Nord, 22; Henri Delmas de Grammont, Relations entre la France et la régence d’Alger au XVIIe siècle. troisième partie. La mission de Sanson le Page (1633-1646) (Algiers: A. Jourdan, 1880), 26. Mouloud Gaïd, L’Algérie sous les Turcs (Algiers: Mimouni, 1991), 129. It might be possible to see this process as a derivative form of the emergence of “Ottoman-Local elite,” a common happening in various parts of the Empire around the same time. Ehud Toledano, “The Emergence of Ottoman-Local Elites (1700-1900): A Framework for Research,” in Middle Eastern Politics and Ideas: A History from Within, ed. Ilan Pape and Moshe Ma’oz (London and New York: Tauris, 1997), 145-62. Agha is an Ottoman word meaning “chief,” “master.” It was used as a title for those holding various official positions like the commander of a Janissary corps. The Agha of Algiers was the chairman of the meeting composed of the Janissaries. H. Bowen, s.v. “Agha,” Encyclopedia Islam, Second Edition. Pierre Boyer, “La révolution dite des “Aghas” dans la régence d’Alger (1659-1671),” Revue de l’Occident musulman et de la Méditerranée, 13-14 (1973): 159-70.

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These examples indicate that episodes of disobedience to the central government were not staged with the intention of breaking away from the Empire, but seem to have been a fairly common form of negotiation to do with achieving a power balance within the imperial order.54 In short, these incidents of subordination were not thought of as a process through which Algeria would become an independent political body, but should be understood within the context of the reorganization of the regional order in the Ottoman Empire. After the period of instability, the elected leader of the ruling elite in Algiers began to gather the reins of supreme power in his hands and assumed title of Dey in 1671. From 1710 the Ottoman government accorded the Dey the additional title of Paşa.55 However, the Dey in Algeria did not become a hereditary position. It was often taken over by the nephews, sons-in-law, or followers of the previous incumbent. In other words, the holders established their power through the patron-client network of the “kapı (household),” groups consisting of subjects and employees but centered on the kin relationship. Although the system of government that emerged in this period did increase effective autonomy, it also maintained attachment to the Ottoman center. In contrast to other regions in the Empire, until the nineteenth century the ocak in Algeria consisted mostly of immigrants, who were often recruited from the Eastern Mediterranean at great expense.56 Once they were stationed in Algiers, marriage between the ocak and local women was indirectly restricted through a system of the provision of privileges available only to single men. Although intermarriage was in fact accepted, their descendants formed a distinct group

54 55

56

Karen Barkey, Bandits and Bureaucrats: The Ottoman Route to State Centralization (New York: Cornell University Press, 1997), 55-56; Faroqhi, “Crisis and change, 1590-1699,” 416-19. The origin of the title Dey is Turkish dayı, meaning “maternal uncle.” It was used as the title of the commander of the ocak in Algeria and Tunisia. Tal Shuval, s.v. “Dayı,” Encyclopedia of Islam, Three. In the early-nineteenth century, William Shaler, the US consul-general at Algiers noted that, although the title Dey was used in dealings with the outside world, the title Paşa was commonly used among local people. William Shaler, Sketches of Algiers, Political, Historical and Civil (Boston: Cunnings, 1826), 17; Merouche, La course: mythes et réalité, 254-55. The interpreter Venture de Paradis, stationed in Algiers at the end of the eighteenth century, noted that the most of the recruitments for the ocak were conducted in Smyrna and Karaman provinces. A later study indicates that the principal place of origin of the new recruits was Anatolia, but some of them were from the Balkans. Jean-Michel Venture de Paradis, Tunis et Alger au XVIIIe siècle (Paris: Sindbad, 1983), 109; M. Colombe, “Contribution à l’étude du recrutement de l’odjaq d’Alger dans les dernières années de l’histoire de la Régence,” Revue africaine 87 (1943): 171-72, 175-76.

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called kulugli.57 Local recruitment of ocak was also fairly common, but those people would never become predominant.58 Overall, the “households” of the ruling elite in Algiers maintained their foreignness in terms of their lineage, a situation rare among Arab cities in the Ottoman Empire.59 Generally speaking, the urban societies in the Maghrib regencies adopted the Ottoman Empire as their model in terms of their social organization and culture, in spite of their palpably growing political autonomy. For example, the ruling groups maintained their distinction from the local society by adhering to the lifestyle, language, and legal norms of the center of the Empire.60 The rural Arab-Berber speaking population, albeit to varying degree over time, accepted this attachment to the Ottoman suzerainty.61 In other words, paradoxically as central control was loosening its grip, the relationship between the ruling groups in Algiers and the center of the Empire became more pronounced, and the foreignness of the former was preserved. This is a remarkable example of the particular strategy adopted by a political body that attempted to remain within the imperial order, despite its location in its periphery.62 The ruling power in Algeria was still characteristically in the hands of immigrants, but the center of the power was gradually moving from the abovementioned mixed maritime people to the more closed Ottoman military elites.

57

58 59 60

61 62

Laugier de Tassy, Histoire du royaume d’Alger (1992), 127; Pierre Boyer, “Le problème Kouloughli dans la régence d’Alger,” Revue de l’Occident musulman et de la Méditerranée, numéro spécial (1970): 88-89; Tal Shuval, La ville d’Alger vers la fin de XVIIIe siècle (Paris: CNRS, 1998), 115-16. Shuval, La ville d’Alger vers la fin de XVIIIe siècle, 63-64. Tal Shuval, “Households in Ottoman Algeria,” Turkish Studies Association Bulletin 24, no. 1 (2000): 41-64. Bruce McGowan, “The Age of the Ayans, 1699-1812,” in An Economic and Social History of Ottoman Empire, 1300-1914, ed. Halil İnalcık and Donald Quataert (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 676-77. James Mcdougall, A History of Algeria (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017), 39-40. Shuval has argued that this is an ideology that nurtured a “Turkish” character of ruling elite. Shuval, “Cezayir-i Garp: Bringing Algeria back into Ottoman History,” 108. In another study, he has also noted that the ruling groups took the nisbah (adoption of a place-name/ name of place of origin) of al-turki (“from Turky”). This does not necessarily mean, as already noted, that they were ethnically Turkish. Interestingly, only very few bore nisbah derived from places in the Arab region. Shuval, La ville d’Alger vers la fin de XVIIIe siècle, 51-52. Some European sources indicate that the children born to them by Christian slaves were treated as equals to the “Turks” by conversion. Laugier de Tassy, Histoire du royaume d’Alger (1992), 58.

Privateers in the Early-Modern Mediterranean

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35

Commerce and Diplomacy

In the relationship between Algeria and the outer world, merchants and diplomats played important roles. As was the situation in many other places, private and public interests were only loosely distinguished in this context. These international relations reflected the intertwined interests of private companies and the state, and this had a decisive effect on the fate of privateering. Jewish families were the most prominent group in the maritime trade of Algeria, with a not inconsiderable connection to privateering. In the eighteenth century, Jewish merchants from Livorno, North Italy, from where they had controlled the Levant-North Europe trade, gradually moved the base of their activities to the Maghrib.63 After their settlement in Algeria, they still remained in close communication with Italy through their accommodation of waves of newcomers. By and large, the members of these communities were residents living under the protection of European states, especially France.64 In the period in which privateering flourished, these Jewish merchants were heavily involved as intermediaries in the trade in Christian slaves, but by the eighteenth century they were dealing in various kinds of merchandise, including wheat, leather, beeswax and olive oil. The scale and fields of their activities varied. As the financiers of the Dey, influential members accumulated wealth through the tax-farming of customs, and through their monopoly rights to oil trading.65 Among the influential Jewish families in Algiers, the best-known were the Bacris and the Busnaches.66 Both families were settled in Algiers by the 1720s and, after establishing affinal relationships with each other, they expanded their fields of activities. Their heyday was at the end of the eighteenth century, when Naphtali Busnach, as a right-hand man of Mustafa (r. 1798-1805), the incumbent Dey, obtained the position of the Muqaddam (the representative of the Jewish community in Algiers). His activities were many and varied, includ63

64 65 66

Jean-Pierre Filippini, “Les négociants juifs de Livourne et la mer au XVIIIe siècle,” Revue française d’histoire d’outre-mer 326/327 (2000): 85; Jean-Pierre Filippini, “La ‘Nation juive’ de Livourne et le royaume de France au XVIIIe siècle,” in La France et la Méditerranée: vingt-sept siècles d’interdépendance, ed. Irad Malkin (Leiden: Brill, 1990), 259-71. Richard Ayoun, “Les négociants juifs d’Afrique du Nord et la mer à l’époque moderne,” Revue française d’histoire d’outre-mer 326-27 (2000): 110-11. Laugier de Tassy, Histoire du royaume d’Alger (1992) 55-57. Shalom Bar-Asher and Joachim O. Ronall, s.v. “Bacri,” Encyclopaedia Judaica, vol. 3 (Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2007), 41-42; David Corcos, s.v. “Busnach,” Encyclopaedia Judaica, vol. 4, 316.

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ing acting as mediator in the trade and diplomacy between Algiers and Western states.67 Although classical studies of Algeria’s external trade tend to emphasize the dominant position of Europeans, among them the French who controlled a large part of the commercial shipping,68 recent scholars, while admitting the advantages enjoyed by Europeans, have focused on the active role of the Maghribi side. For example, when the activities of French commercial vessels were restricted because of the Anglo-French wars from the 1790s to the 1800s, Maghribi trading vessels filled a part of the resultant vacuum. Daniel Panzac has pointed out the fact that, at the turn of the century, the number of the ships registered in the Maghrib increased in European trading ports. He has emphasized the important role of the Muslim and Jewish merchants, who sometimes diverted privateering ships to their legitimate trade in this change in fortunes.69 For example, David Bacri, the Muqaddam in Algiers, bought up French privateering ships to convert them into trading vessels.70 Consequently, the merchant groups in Algiers became mediators between the Maghrib and Europe, and they were extremely flexible in adapting themselves to international turmoil. It should never be forgotten that the contemporaneous intra-Mediterranean trade was inseparable from diplomacy. European diplomacy toward the Maghrib regencies owes its character to on the way it was organized on the basis of a consular system. From the sixteenth century onward, the French monarchy had been trying to strengthen its control over its overseas diplomatic bases in the Meditearranean, but this does not necessarily mean that it 67

68 69

70

Their upward social mobility did not bring stability as it was hampered by the conflicts with other Jewish families and by the political turmoil seething among the ruling elite. Naphtali was killed in 1805, while David Bacri, who later took over the position of the Muqaddam, had to take refuge. H.Z. (J.W.) Hirschberg, A History of the Jews in North Africa from the Ottoman Conquests to the Present Time (Leiden: Brill, 1981), 29-36. See also Yaron Tsur, “Prélude aux relations judéo-françaises à l’époque coloniale: les rapports entre les marchands juifs et les français, en Algérie, du XVIIIe-début XIXe siècles,” in La France et la Méditerranée: vingt-sept siècles d’interdépendance, ed. Irad Malkin (Leiden: Brill, 1990), 401-11. For such an example, see Jean Mathiex, “Sur la marine marchande barbaresque au XVIIIe siècle,” Annales. Économies, Sociétés, Civilisations 13, no. 1 (1958): 87-93. Panzac, Barbary corsairs, chap. 6-8. See also Mohamed Amine, “Géographie des échanges commerciaux de la régence d’Alger à la fin de l’époque ottomane 1792-1830,” Revue d’histoire maghrébine 20, nos. 70-71 (1993): 287-373; Sadok Boubaker, “Négoce et enri­ chissement individuel à Tunis du XVIIe siècle au début du XIXe siècle,” Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine 50, no. 4 (2003): 29-62. Hirschberg, A History of the Jews in North Africa, 41-42.

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swept aside the social configuration already in place. State control overlapped with the existing mercantile network. The consuls were a part of the state diplomacy, but at the same time members of merchant society.71 Interpreters also played an important role in the multifaceted diplomacy in the Maghrib. The European merchants and consuls often employed local interpreters called dragoman or drogman, Christian subjects of the Ottoman Empire, to assist them in their daily work. Aware of this impediment, in France, as part of its efforts to strengthen central control, Jean-Baptiste Colbert established the École des jeunes de langues (the School of Oriental Languages) in 1669. By the eighteenth century, this school had become a general career path for the students, who had to be French nationals, to become official interpreters or secretaries in the diplomatic posts.72 However, the professionalization of the interpreters did not lead to bureaucratization in terms of modern meritocracy. It certaily represented progress in the expansion of royal authority, but through patron-client links. Therefore it succeeded in coming to terms with the predominance of the influential families that produced the interpreters. They included, to name a few, the Latin merchant families in the Galata area in Constantinople (the Fornettis from Genova), several Jacobite families (the Adansons), and those who had migrated to the Levant from various places in France (the Robolys, the Fontons, and the Devals).73 These families produced interpreters for three centuries at the longest, and acted as the pivot 71

72

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Officially the consuls, as were the interpreters, were prohibited from participating in trade, but this rule had only symbolic value. Géraud Poumarède, “Naissance d’une institution royale: Les consuls de la nation française en Levant et en Barbarie aux XVIe et XVIIe siècles,” Annuaire-Bulletin de la Société de l’histoire de France (2001), 128; Windler, La diplomatie comme expérience de l’autre, 120-29; Testa Marie de and Antoine Gautier, “Les drogmans au service de la France au Levant,” Revue d’histoire diplomatique 105, nos. 1-2 (1991): 12. See also, Marc Belissa, “Diplomatie et relations ‘internationales’ au 18e siècle: un renouveau historiographique?” Dix-huitième siècle 37 (2005): 31-47; Jean-Pierre Farganel, “Les échelles du Levant dans la tourmente des conflits méditerranéens au XVIIIe siècle: la défense des intérêts français au fil du temps,” Cahiers de la Méditerranée 70 (2005): 61-83. Robert Mantran, “Le drogman, instrument de la connaissance de l’Orient musulman,” Méditerranée, mer ouverte. Acte du Colloque de Marseille (21-23 septembre 1995), ed. Christiane Villain-Gandossi, Louis Durteste, and Salvino Busuttil (Malta: International Foundation, 1997), 422. See also Antoine Gautier, “Les drogmans des consulats,” in La fonction consulaire à l’époque moderne: L’affirmation d’une institution économique et politique (15001800), ed. Jörg Ulbert and Gérard Le Bouëdec (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2006): 85-103; Suna Timur Agildere, “Les interprètes au carrefour des cultures: Ou les drogmans dans l’Empire ottoman (XVIe-debut du XXe siècle),” Babel 55, no. 1 (2009): 1-19. For the biographies of the well-known families of translators, see Antoine Gautier and Marie de Testa, “Quelque dynasties de Drogmans,” Revue d’histoire diplomatique 105, nos.

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in diplomatic exchanges. The interpreters, who spent the greater part of their lives in Mediterranean cities, were ineradicably connected to the merchants’ world. This sort of the overlapping of diplomacy and commerce had been obvious since the early period of the diplomatic relationship between the Maghrib and Europe. For example, Sanson Napollon (or Napoleoni), the former consul in Aleppo, who took charge of the negotiations that concluded the first peace treaty between France and Algeria in 1628 on the orders of Louis XIII, came from a merchant background.74 In the same year, Napollon also concluded an agreement with Algerian ruler about the reestablishment of a mercantile office (Bastion de France) in La Calle on the eastern coast of Algeria, whose putative purpose was as a base for coral-fishing. Although this was an inter-governmental treaty, between the Paşa of Algiers and the King of France, it granted Napollon the trading privileges to and the management of the concession.75 The dual nature of the office, in which a state diplomatic relationship overlapped with individual family-based enterprises, would survive for a couple of centuries, although the former gradually assumed more importance. The dual nature of state diplomacy and private commerce was still obvious in the process that led to the French expedition to Algiers in 1830. The immediate incident that precipitated this military operation was a conflict between the Dey and the French consul that had flared up in 1827. However, lurking behind this episode were the complicated debt problems that had beset Algeria and France that had their origins in the wheat export from Algeria to

74

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1-2 (1991): 39-102; Anne Mézin, Les consuls de France au siècle des lumières (1715-1792) (Paris: Ministère des affaires étrangères, Direction des archives et de la documentation, 1998). Sanson Napollon was a merchant from Corsica. He was posted to the trading house with the title of Gentilhomme ordinaire de la chambre du roi on the eve of the negotiations with Algeria. Eugène Plantet, ed., Correspondence des deys d’Alger avec la cour de France, 15791833, vol. 1 (Paris: F. Alcan, 1889; Tunis: Bouslama, 1981), 26; Henri Delmas de Grammont, Relations entre la France et la régence d’Alger au XVIIe siècle. deuxième partie. La mission de Sanson Napollon (1628-1633) (Algiers: A Jourdan, 1880); Michel Vergé-Franceschi, “La Corse enjeu géostratégique en Méditerranée et les marins Cap Corsins,” Cahiers de la Méditerranée 70 (2005), http://cdlm.revues.org/859 (accessed March 31, 2017) Napollon’s privileges were gradually ceded to other individuals throughout the seventeenth century, and in 1690 the Chartered Royal African Company took them over. Peter Fischer, “Historic Aspects of International Concession Agreements,” Grotian Studies Papers. Studies in the History of the Law of Nations, ed. Charles Henry Alexandrowicz (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1972), 258, 260. For the French chartered companies in Africa, see Paul Masson, Histoire des établissements et du commerce français dans l’Afrique barbaresque (1560-1793) (Paris: Hachette, 1903).

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France in the 1790s. In its heyday, this trade had been in the hands of the House of Bacri and Busnach. By manipulating their close relationship with the French foreign minister, Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, the Bacris monopolized a significant amount of the payment from the French government. After this breach of faith, following Deys naturally requested the French government repay its debt to them directly. However, far from fulfilling his expected duty of intermediating between the governments, the French consul, Pierre Deval, whose relationship with the Bacris and Talleyrand was highly suspect, continued to maneuver their negotiations in such a way they were doomed to failure. His obfuscations finally drove Hussein Dey, the last ruler of Ottoman Algeria, to the end of his tether.76 The classical interpretation of this episode is summed up in the remark of Charles-André Julien: “A shady event conspired by an influential Jewish merchant in Algiers and a corrupted French politician, or a trouble created by an indecent diplomat.”77 Those referred to in the quote are Bacri, Talleyrand and Deval. In hindsight, this view is legitimate as these developments were a prelude to the French colonization of Algeria. However, if we consider them in their context, in which people’s private affairs were intertwined with state diplomacy in a very complicated manner, it might not be as apparent that the behavior of the merchant and the consul was a glaring lapse, at least from the perspective of those involved. As has been argued so far, Algeria had created a particular form of regional order by the end of the eighteenth century. Its connection with the Ottoman Empire and its link with European states through commercial and diplomatic channels persisted until the early-nineteenth century without any drastic change in character. However, after the post-Napoleonic reorganization of the international order, European states instigated a fundamental disruption. Faced with the emergence of the new situation, the Maghrib regencies resumed privateering. But their day was done, as by now the European states had changed their policy toward corsair actions, now declared “piracy” and strictly forbidden. The structural change in international relations was obvious. The USA had entered the war against Tripoli in 1801. The Anglo-Dutch expedition bombarded Algiers in 1816. Shortly afterward, the Franco-English squadron called on Algiers, Tunis and Tripoli, to declare a prohibition on privateering under the terms of the agreement reached at the Congress of Aixla-Chapelle in 1818. In efforts to deal with mounting European pressure, the 76 77

For the details of the debt problem, see Charles-André Julien, “La question d’Alger devant les Chambres sous la Restauration,” Revue africaine 311 (1922): 270-305; 313 (1922): 425-56. Charles-André Julien, Histoire de l’Algérie contemporaine (Paris: PUF, 1969), 21.

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rulers of the Maghrib regencies emphasized that the series of acts of visitation, captures of enemy ships and their crews, and the resale of captives were their fully justified right, acknowledged by custom and treaty.78 Notwith­standing their protest, a new age had dawned and the claims accepted by the European states in the eighteenth century were now rejected out-of-hand. Privateering by Maghrib regencies all but stopped. In the same period the Maltese court outlawed privateering that the Sultan of Morocco had already abandoned.79 In 1830, immediately after the French conquest of Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli signed treaties with France in which they effectively renounced privateering. Nevertheless, their submission did not mean their inclusion within the legal space of European “civilized” nations.80 Nor did small-scale raiding and counter-raiding completely disappear in the Western Mediterranean. Sporadic battles between Spanish ships and the ships belonging to the people of Rif coast continued until the 1850s. Just as before, one party justified such an attack as the suppression of piracy, and the other party claimed that it was a counter-attack to protect its trade route.81 In the sphere of international law, the general ban on privateering began to gain more formal authority after, not before, the Paris Declaration Respecting Maritime Law of 1856.82 It was only decades later, in 1908, that Spain declared its adherence to the Paris Declaration.

Conclusion: Changes and Continuity

In sum, the prelude to the colonial relationship in the Mediterranean was not an encounter between two different systems, but a unilateral notification by the European states of their withdrawal from a shared tradition. The changing power balance and the political turmoil in Europe did not cause a

78 79 80

81

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Panzac, Barbary corsairs, 289-90; Temimi, Recherches et documents, 222-23. Paul Cassar, “The Maltese Corsairs and the Order of St John of Jerusalem,” The Catholic Historical Review 46-2(1960): 155-56; Panzac, Barbary corsairs, 201. Christian Windler, “Towards the Empire of a ‘Civilizing Nation’: The French Revolution and its Impact on Relations with the Ottoman Regencies in the Maghreb,” in International Law and Empire: Historical Explorations, ed. Martti Koskenniemi, Walter Rech, and Manuel Jiménez Fonseca (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 219. C.R. Pennell, “The Geography of Piracy: Northern Morocco in the Mid-Nineteenth Century,” in Bandits at Sea: A Pirates Reader, ed. C.R. Pennell (New York: New York University Press, 2001), 55-68. Jan Martin Lemnitzer, Power, Law and the End of Privateering (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 42-43, 173.

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sudden break in diplomatic customs.83 The importance of privateering had been declining since the eighteenth century. However, as was the case with the conflict between the Dey and the French consul in the 1820s, until the early-nine­teenth century no thoroughgoing change occurred in the existing structure, in which consuls and merchants mediated international relationships, without necessarily adhering to the instructions of their governments. What triggered the French expedition of Algeria in 1830 was, it can be argued, a friction between the new order in international politics and the local social configuration that had continued since the early-modern period. Peoples on both shores of the Mediterranean shared, in one way or another, the experience of the Age of Revolutions.84 On the northern shore of the Mediterranean, especially in France, the key concepts of the modern state underwent a crucial transformation. The era was now changing from a period in which people’s differences and pluralities were guaranteed as lower-case plural “nations” to the era of the capitalized singular “Nation.” This conceptual shift resulted in some remarkable reactions from the Algerian elite in the 1830s.85 Nevertheless, on the whole, the early-nineteenth-century Maghribi port city was still a society

83 84 85

Windler, La diplomatie comme expérience de l’autre, 353-87. Ian Coller, “The Revolutionary Mediterranean,” in A Companion to the French Revolution, ed. Peter McPhee (Chichester: Wiley Blackwell, 2013), 419-34. Shortly after the French expedition, notables from Algiers led by Hamdan ibn Uthman Khodja and Ahmad Bu Darba went to Paris to try to influence French opinion. They produced a book in French entitled Le Miroir. The author of this book claimed that the “Algerians” had the right to regain their freedom just like the “European nations.” Sidy Hamdan Ben Othman Khodja, Aperçu historique et statistique sur la Régence d’Alger, intitulé en arabe le Miroir (Paris: Goetschy, 1833), 426. In another document addressed to the French Parliament, Hamdan declared that the case of Algeria should be considered within the tradition of Vattel’s natural law. Archives Nationales d’Outre-Mer (France), FR ANOM F80/9: “Mémoire de Si Hamdan.” Although their activities cannot be defined as protonationalism, they do indicate the circulation of ideas between both shores of the Mediterranean. Further discussion on this topic can be found in the following publications in Japanese. Kudo Akihito, “1830-nendai Furansu no shokuminchi ronso to “Arabu no nashonarite” 1830 年代フランスの植民地論争と「アラブのナショナリテ」 [French Colonial Debates in the 1830s and the Question of ‘Nationalité Arabe’], Seiyo Shigaku 西洋史学 210 (2003): 24-44; Kudo Akihito 工藤晶人, Chichukai Teikoku no hen’ei: Fuansuryo Arugeria no 19-seiki 地中海帝国の片影: フランス領アルジェリアの 19 世紀 [The mirage of Mediterranean Empire: French colonial Algeria during the 19th Century] (Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 2013). See also Jennifer Pitts, “Liberalism and Empire in a Nineteenth-Century Algerian Mirror,” Modern Intellectual History 6, no. 2 (2009): 287313.

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composed of lower-case plural “nations” (resident groups), each of which was interconnected by religion, origin and kinship and by its own interests. In the early-modern period, privateering was both a form of private business and a tool of state diplomacy in the polities around the Mediterranean, be that European or Maghribi. At that time, privateering and state were not miles apart but supported each other closely. From its peak in the seventeenth century to its end in the nineteenth century, the trajectory of privateering was never straightforward. Maghribi privateering survived longtime pressure and reached its broadest diplomatic recognition toward the end of the eighteenth century. In other words, this maritime violence was not simply a synonym for disorder: it was instead a constituent part of order in this region, and accepted as such throughout the period of transition to the modern state in Europe. This overlapping chronology suggests that there are issues, related to the genealogy of state monopoly of violence, that merit further investigation.

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Chapter 2

Plunder and Free Trade: British Privateering and Its Abolition in 1856 in Global Perspective Satsuma Shinsuke

Introduction

In April 1856, major European powers such as Britain, France, Russia, and Prussia signed the Declaration of Paris to regulate various naval activities associated with seaborne trade.1 This declaration marked a turning point in the history of maritime plunder by private individuals, not least in Europe; it brought about the abolition of privateering. Privateering was plunder by private individuals with the permission of the authorities, and had been carried out in many parts of early modern Europe, most actively from the late seventeenth century to the early nineteenth century.2 The activities of privateers and the role they played have been analyzed by various historians, including David J. Starkey and Patrick Villiers.3 Historians 1 This chapter is based on a paper which I gave at the international workshop “Globalizing Violence, Emerging Modernity: Piracy and Anti-Piracy Campaigns in Eurasia, c. 1600-1900” held in Tokyo in December 2011. I would like to thank the participants of the workshop, and also anonymous referees, for their helpful comments. 2 One of the origins of privateering was the medieval custom of “reprisals.” If an owner of a ship was robbed of her cargoes by a foreign ship, the owner was permitted to attack a vessel belonging to the same foreign country and take her cargo’s worth in equivalent value. This custom of “reprisals” enabled victims of an attack to recoup their losses by force, if these were not retrievable by diplomatic or judicial means. N.A.M. Rodger argues that this custom of reprisals, that formed part of private and commercial warfare and in principle could be resorted to only in peace time, should not be confused with privateering, that formed part of public naval warfare and could be undertaken only in war time. Rodger also claims that it is anachronistic to call maritime raiding during the Elizabethan period “privateering,” as this was developed only after the mid-seventeenth century. N.A.M. Rodger, “The New Atlantic: Naval Warfare in the Sixteenth Century,” in War at Sea in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, ed. John B. Hattendorf and Richard W. Unger (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2003), 240-41; See also, N.A.M. Rodger, “The Law and Language of Private Naval Warfare,” Mariner’s Mirror 100, no. 1 (2014): 5-16. 3 David J. Starkey, British Privateering Enterprise in the Eighteenth Century (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 1990). For British colonial privateering in the mid-eighteenth century, see Carl

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004361485_004

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have often dealt with privateering in connection with piracy, which is, in the European legal context, plunder by private individuals without permission of the authorities. Robert C. Ritchie is one author who has described the process of the suppression of European piracy and the control and abolition of privateering.4 Viewed in conjunction with piracy, privateering is sometimes also placed in the context of the monopolization of violence by the nation-states that emerged in early-modern Europe. In his chapter that analyzes the relationship between the state-building and war, Charles Tilly refers to privateers and pirates as one of the parties that shared the right to use violence in the early stages of state-making process.5 Exploring Tilly’s argument has also led Janice E. Thomson to examine this process of the monopolization of violence, and consequently she regards privateers, and pirates, as one example of “nonstate violence,” that was widely exercised up to the end of the nineteenth century.6 Besides these studies that view both European privateers and piracy as closely interrelated activities, several attempts have been made to write a comparative history of various types of maritime raiding throughout the world that has sometimes inaccurately been labeled “piracy.”7 Nevertheless, studies that compare European privateering, not piracy, with maritime raiding in other regions of the world have been few and far between. It is true that some literature on “piracy” in various regions does refer briefly to privateering. For instance, Anthony Reid has made a passing reference to European privateering in a comparison with “piracy” in Asian waters.8 However, these works do not

4

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6 7 8

E. Swanson, Predators and Prizes: American Privateering and Imperial Warfare, 1739-1748 (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1991); Patrick Villiers, Les Corsaires: Des Origines au Traité de Paris du 16 Avril 1856 (Paris: Jean-Paul Gisserot, 2007). Robert C. Ritchie, “Government Measures against Piracy and Privateering in the Atlantic Area, 1750-1850,” in Pirates and Privateers: New Perspectives on the War on Trade in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries, ed. David J. Starkey, E.S. van Eyck van Heslinga, and J.A. de Moor (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 1997), 10-28. Charles Tilly, “War Making and State Making as Organized Crime,” in Bringing the State Back in, ed. Peter B. Evans, Dietrich Rueschemeyer, and Theda Skocpol (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 173. Janice E. Thomson, Mercenaries Pirates, and Sovereigns: State-Building and Extraterritorial Violence in Early Modern Europe (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1994), 9. For example, see John L. Anderson, “Piracy and World History: An Economic Perspective on Maritime Predation,” Journal of World History 6, no.2 (1995): 175-99. Anthony Reid, “Violence at Sea: Unpacking ‘Piracy’ in the Claims of States over Asian Seas,” in Elusive Pirates, Pervasive Smugglers: Violence and Clandestine Trade in the Greater China Seas, ed. Robert J. Antony (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2010), 20. Also see, Bruce A. Ellerman, Andrew Forbes, and David Rosenberg, “Introduction,” in Piracy and Maritime Crime: Historical and Modern Case Studies, ed. Bruce A. Ellerman, Andrew Forbes, and David Rosenberg (Newport: Naval War College Press, 2010; reprint, Lexington, KY, 2011), 2-8.

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answer the question of what the distinctive features of European privateering were and how it differed from maritime raiding in other regions of the world.9 In connection with this question, Anne Pérotin-Dumon’s observation on the political element involved in the issue of piracy and its suppression is worth noting. She claims that who should be called “pirates” depends on who holds the power.10 As she claims, political considerations have indeed played an important role in anti-piracy campaigns, but it is too simplistic to say that this is simply a matter of political labeling. It is also necessary to investigate how the use of non-state violence in maritime warfare by the European states differed from that in other regions of the world and this will be the first question raised in this chapter. The latter half of the chapter examines the abolition of privateering in the mid-nineteenth century and points out the ideological connection between this abolition and the suppression of indigenous “piracy” in other regions of the world. In Britain, ever since the early nineteenth century, attacks on commerce in war time had attracted harsh criticism, and eventually this led to the abolition of privateering in the Declaration of Paris in 1856. Around the same time, the suppression of indigenous sea-raiders was in full swing in East and Southeast Asia. This chapter also draws attention to the ideological connections between the two movements. By examining the characteristics of European privateering and the process of its abolition, this chapter attempts to provide a wider historical context and ideological background to the suppression of “piracy” in other regions of the world. This is perhaps overambitious, especially because it is difficult to trace the development of privateering in all major European nations in this brief 9

10

More recently, in a book entitled Persistent Piracy, the chapter by Starkey and McCarthy deals with European privateering. David J. Starkey and Matthew McCarthy, “A Persistent Phenomenon: Private Prize-Taking in the British Atlantic World, c. 1540-1856,” in Persistent Piracy: Maritime Violence and State-Formation in Global Historical Perspective, ed. ­Stefan Eklöf Amirell and Leos Müller (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 131-51. However, their work does not compare European privateering with maritime plunder in other regions of the world as my chapter does. Their point of emphasis is also different. They stress the fact that the British government often modified the legal framework regulating privateering as well as its legal posturing toward private maritime plunder for its own political purpose. On the other hand, I argue that the very existence of that established legal framework was one of the most distinctive features of European privateering compared to other forms of maritime plunder in the world, as will be explained in this chapter. Anne Pérotin-Dumon, “The Pirate and the Emperor: Power and the Law on the Seas 14501850,” in The Political Economy of Merchant Empires: State Power and World Trade 1350-1750, ed. James D. Tracy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 203-4.

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survey. Therefore the principal focus chosen for this chapter discusses British privateering, because Britain was one of the leading maritime powers in Europe throughout both the eighteenth and the nineteenth century and also one of the key players in the suppression of piracy in East and Southeast Asia in the first half of the nineteenth century. 1

Privateering: Its Definition and Roles

The first step of this analysis of the characteristics of European privateering is to understand what privateering was and how it differed from piracy in the European legal context. Privateering was one form of the exertion of violence by private individuals whose aim was to make a profit from their venture. It is often confused with piracy, another form of the exertion of maritime violence by private individuals for private gain. In fact, as many historians have repeatedly pointed out, the line between privateers and pirates was often thin and easily crossed, especially in American waters before the eighteenth century. However, it should be also stressed that, even at that time, there was a clear distinction between the two groups, at least in the legal terms. Privateering can be defined as an attack by private individuals on enemy, or sometimes even neutral vessels, in war time, sanctioned by the permission of the authorities. In the case of Britain, privateers were permitted to attack only those vessels that belonged to the particular nations designated in their commission.11 They were also required to bring back any goods seized to ports in their own or allied countries to have them adjudged a legitimate prize. By contrast, piracy is an unauthorized and often indiscriminate attack on sea-borne commerce, which could occur in peace as well as in war time. This legal distinction between privateers and pirates is apparent in the way they were treated when captured. Pirates were punished as criminals (in many cases by hanging); privateers were treated as prisoners-of-war. Therefore, at least in terms of their legal statuses, there was a clear distinction between privateering and piracy in early-modern Europe. Furthermore, as we shall see later, by the 11

It should be noted that there were some variations in the form of commerce raiding involving private individuals across countries and time periods. For example, in France in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century, commerce raiding was conducted in far closer collaboration between the navy and private individuals than in Britain. In this guerre de course, the navy often offered vessels, arms, and personnel, while private individuals provided capital. John S. Bromley, “The French Privateering War, 1702-13,” in John S. Bromley, Corsairs and Navies, 1660-1760 (London & Ronceverte: Hambledon Press, 1987), 215-16.

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early-eighteenth century, although large-scale piracy by Europeans was being suppressed, privateering was becoming an increasingly highly institutionalized form of plunder in war time, operating within an established legal framework; the shield that distinguished it from piracy. What was the role of privateering? Why was this sort of maritime depredation allowed to continue? First and foremost, from a government standpoint, privateers were regarded as auxiliary naval forces in the “war on commerce,” that is, attacks on enemy seaborne trade. Maritime warfare in early-modern Europe was not confined to battles between naval fleets. Attacks on the enemy mercantile marine were also an important component. The goal of this “war on commerce,” that John Brewer has described as “a more prosaic and profitable skirmishing war” in comparison to more spectacular fleet battles, was to weaken the enemy economy by seizing their merchant vessels or, in some cases, even neutral vessels trading with the enemy.12 Alongside the navy, privateers were one of the key players in these attacks on enemy commerce and, to a certain extent, in the defence of the seaborne trade of their own country. As Carl E. Swanson has pointed out, this privateering was a strategy attuned to the mercantilist world view, an ideology influential in the seventeenth and eighteenth century. In the mindset of mercantilist policy makers, the chief priority was to secure the finite wealth of the world at the expense of other nations by obtaining bullion or securing a favorable trade balance under the protection of the government. From this standpoint, privateering was an ideal instrument of warfare, as it could harm an enemy economy without incurring greater naval expenses, and simultaneously bringing wealth, including coveted bullion, to the nation.13 Therefore, privateers were expected to be auxiliary naval forces with the added advantage of the chance of economic gain in the war on commerce, although historians who study British privateering in the “long eighteenth century” are generally skeptical about their actual strategic value.14 12 13 14

John Brewer, The Sinews of Power: War Money and the English State, 1688-1783 (London: Century Hutchinson, 1988; reprint, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1990), 197. Swanson, Predators and Prizes, 16-20. Starkey, British Privateering Enterprise, 253; W.R. Meyer, “English Privateering in the War of 1688 to 1697,” Mariner’s Mirror 67, no. 3 (1981): 270; W.R. Meyer, “English Privateering in the War of the Spanish Succession 1702-1713,” Mariner’s Mirror 69, no. 4 (1983): 445-46. By contrast, historians who study privateering in the American colonies have made a more favorable judgment of the military significance of colonial privateering. James G. Lydon, Pirates, Privateers, and Profits (Upper Saddle River, NJ: Gregg Press, 1970), 148-49; Swanson, Predators and Prizes, 225. It is possible that, in the British American colonies, in which the

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Besides this military aspect, privateering had another equally important function. For those directly involved in privateering, it was first and foremost an economic activity. Their primary motive was not to destroy enemy commerce, but to make a personal profit by taking prizes in the form of enemy ships and their cargoes. Both the investors in and the crews of privateers had shares in the profits expected from the sale of the prizes and, after the sale, they would receive prize money according to a prearranged agreement. For merchants and ship-owners, privateering was just one of the options for investment in war time when normal trade was interrupted by war. Rather less glaringly obvious, privateering provided an opportunity to employ vessels and labor forces that might have been left to languish unused if they had not been employed in privateering. For example, during the War of American Inde­ pendence, the Atlantic trade of Liverpool was disrupted by the activities of American privateers and the subsequent closure of the American market. Liverpudlian merchants did their best to circumvent the difficulty by fitting out slave-traders as privateers.15 Profits from privateering were subject to enormous fluctuations according to number and values of prizes captured in the course of a voyage. Starkey reckons that between 1702 and 1783, about 40 percent of the 1,201 “Channel” privateers who cruised around the English Channel and 823 “deep-water” privateers who cruised in the north-eastern Atlantic failed to take any prize that was adjudged by the Admiralty Court to be legitimate.16 That having been said, there were several cases of dazzling success. In December 1709, during his circumnavigation of the globe, Captain Woodes Rogers, a Bristol privateer, succeeded in capturing several ships including one of the Manila galleons engaged in trade between Manila and Acapulco, the net profits from which were estimated to have been in the region of £106,000. In a nutshell, privateering was more a sort of gambling game than a business offering an assured income.17

15

16 17

number of warships stationed was far fewer than in home waters, privateering had a greater military significance. David J. Starkey, “The Economic and Military Significance of British Privateering, 1702-83,” Journal of Transport History 9, no. 1 (1988): 52-54; Starkey, British Privateering Enterprise, 271-72. Starkey, British Privateering Enterprise, 276. Ibid., 278-79.

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Privateering as Institutionalized Plunder

As we have seen in the foregoing section, privateering was both a military activity backed by political entities and an economic activity whose purpose was to make a profit from depredations. However, these characteristics were not unique features of privateering and they were often to be found in many maritime raids in other regions of the world that are often labeled “piracy.” For example, Robert J. Antony states that maritime raiding in Southeast Asia was not regarded as a criminal activity, but as a respectable profession. It was a part of inter-tribal warfare pursued by communities and kingdoms as well as individuals, whose aim was to seize valuable resources, such as slaves and weapons.18 This begs the question of what was the difference between British privateering and sea-raiding backed by local rulers in other regions of the world. One of the most marked characteristics of British and European privateering is that the extent of its institutionalization and the existence of a well-developed legal system to regulate privateers’ activities. Although privateering was an act of plunder conducted with the permission of the authorities, the danger of privateers’ evading the control of the government was an ever-present threat and, in order to ensure a tight rein was kept on them, an institutional and legal framework was gradually developed. In Britain, the key institution in this legal system was the High Court of Admiralty, a court that dealt with cases arising on the sea, such as seamen’s wages, collisions, and salvage, in which both British subjects and foreigners could be involved. In the colonies, the Vice-Admiralty courts fulfilled a similar function. In order to obtain a license for privateering called “letters of marque” or “commissions,” the commander of a privateer or his agents were required to make a declaration before these courts, providing information about the vessel as well as posting a bail to guarantee the good conduct of its crew.19 This High Court of Admiralty and the Vice Admiralty Courts in the colonies were also responsible for prize adjudication. The Prize Act of 1649 ordained that every ship seized on the high seas was to be brought before the High Court of Admiralty to be condemned as a lawful prize and, for this purpose, a distinct Prize Division was created in the court. Thereafter, Royal Commissions that

18 19

Robert J. Antony, Pirates in the Age of Sail (New York & London: W.W. Norton, 2007), 44-45. Starkey, British Privateering Enterprise, 23-4. Privateers were also given instructions compiled by the Lords of the Admiralty that stipulated the rules to be followed during their cruises and during the process of adjudication of captured vessels and goods.

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would enable the court to function as a prize court were issued to the High Court of Admiralty at the outbreak of each war.20 Several pieces of legislations were also devised to control prize-taking by both privateers and the navy. Prior to the late-seventeenth century, the principal instruments that regulated their activities were the Orders in Council and the instructions issued by the Lord High Admiral.21 From the late-seventeenth century, however, Parliament began to assume a more active role in this matter. The most important eighteenth-century pieces of legislation affecting privateering were the two acts passed in 1708: the Cruisers and Convoy Act and the American Act. These statutes dealt with a wide range of issues, but, from the viewpoint of the development of the juridical system regarding privateering, they were especially significant because they established the system of the condemnation and disposal of prizes. Although one of their purposes was to sharpen the appetite for prize-taking by abolishing the Crown’s share in the prizes, they made an attempt to control both privateers and prize courts by defining the legal procedures for dealing with prizes more clearly, covering prize adjudication, the manner of custody and the sale of prizes, and the penalties imposed for irregularities committed by the crews of privateers or by judges of the court.22 Privateers themselves had good reason to observe these regulations. Fear of punishment and the possibility of loss of prize money, compounded by the cost of litigation that could diminish their profits, deterred temptation to commit irregularities. Moreover, owners and promoters of privateering ventures attempted to regulate the conduct of their crews by making articles of agreement with them and issuing strict orders to a captain, as they too feared the pecuniary losses that might be incurred by any irresponsible actions committed by their crews.23 In short, one of the most distinctive features of privat­eering is that it was “licensed” maritime plunder operating within a set of clearly defined legal regulations. The second feature of British privateering is that this legal system that regulated prize-taking was linked to the maritime legal systems in other European 20 21 22

23

P.K. Kemp, Prize Money: A Survey of the History and Distribution of the Naval Prize Fund (Aldershot: Wellington Press, 1946), 9-10; Starkey, British Privateering Enterprise, 22-23. Ellerman, Forbes, and Rosenberg, “Introduction,” 5-6. On the enactment of the American Act of 1708, see Satsuma Shinsuke, “Politicians, Merchants, and Colonial Maritime War: the Political and Economic Background of the American Act of 1708,” Parliamentary History 32, no. 2 (2013): 317-36. Starkey, British Privateering Enterprise, 69-73; David J. Starkey, “The Origins and Regulation of Eighteenth-Century British Privateering,” in Bandits at Sea: A Pirates Reader, ed. C.R. Pennell (New York & London: New York University Press, 2001), 79.

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countries by procedures based on civil law. Unlike many other courts in England, the law used by the High Court of Admiralty was not derived from the common law. It was difficult, if not impossible, for the common law courts to have dealt with cases occurring outside England, because it would have been impossible to summon the jury required for trial in common law courts in foreign countries. Instead, the law applied by the Admiralty courts was based on the jus gentium or the universal law of the sea, whose origins lay in the ancient Rhodean sea law, Roman maritime law, and the laws of Oléron.24 In spite of the repeated attempts by the common law courts to curtail the sway of their jurisdiction, the Admiralty courts managed to retain their jurisdiction over prizes and continued to handle prize cases on the basis of civil law procedures. The use of the civil law procedure in the Admiralty courts made its rulings acceptable to other maritime powers in Europe, although there were sometimes sharp disagreements between Britain and these nations caused by friction over various issues, not least the definition of “contraband,” goods that might have aided the enemy war effort, and the rights of neutrals, as we shall see later. Consequently, the legal system regulating British privateering was also linked to maritime law in other European countries by the civil law procedure adopted by the British Admiralty courts. The third important feature of privateering was that it gradually emerged as an integral part of the inter-state war fought between European states. In the eighteenth century, the authority that could issue valid commissions had to be a European state recognized by other European states as a legitimate government. Conversely, this meant that, if the authority backing these sea-raiders was not recognized as a valid state, the activities it sanctioned could not be deemed to be legitimate privateering; indeed in some cases, they were even regarded as “piracy.”

24

J.H. Baker, An Introduction to English Legal History, 4th ed. (London: Butterworths, 2002), 122-24. The Rhodean sea law is claimed to have been compiled on the Mediterranean island of Rhodes and was partly adopted into early Roman law. This Roman law also influenced the maritime laws codified in Northern Europe and the Mediterranean. Among these were the laws of Oléron (or the Roll of Oléron), that had reputedly been made in the courts on the island of Oléron off the western coast of France and later became a basis of maritime codes in the Atlantic and the Baltic. By the mid-fourteenth century, this law had also been adopted in England to adjudicate in such maritime cases as piracy, smuggling, and shipwreck. Frank L. Wiswall Jr., “Classical and Medieval Law,” in The Oxford Encyclopedia of Maritime History, vol. 2, ed. John B. Hattendorf (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 326-27; Timothy J. Runyan, “The Rolls of Oleron and the Admiralty Court in Fourteenth Century England,” American Journal of Legal History 19, no. 2 (1975): 96-99.

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The case of Jacobite “privateers” in the Nine Years War presents an interesting example of disputed legitimacy. During this war, a number of commerce raiders were fitted out carrying commissions from James II, the former king of England, who had been ousted from power in the Glorious Revolution of 1688. When some of these “privateers” carrying James’ commissions were captured, there was a debate in the Privy Council in England about whether or not they should be tried as pirates. One of the focal points of the debate was whether or not the “abdicated” monarch would have had the power to issue such commissions.25 In other words, the legitimacy of privateers was closely connected to the legitimacy of the authority that issued their commissions, and only those who received commissions from such sovereign states recognized by other major European powers could plunder with impunity as long as they operated within the terms prescribed in these commissions. In view of this aspect of privateering, it would be more correct to see them as a “semi-state” actor rather than considering them a form of “non-state violence” as Thomson does. Parallel with this process of the institutionalization of privateering, from the late-seventeenth century to the early-eighteenth century, the British government carried out a number of anti-piracy operations, especially in the period after the War of the Spanish Succession (1702-13) when there was a large-scale outbreak of piracy in the Atlantic, and also in the Indian Ocean and the Red Sea. The pirates in this period consisted largely of men from the British Isles and the British American colonies and their principal bases were in the British American colonies and Madagascar. The government launched naval operations against their vessels and bases and, as a result of these operations, they had been effectively suppressed by 1730.26 This campaign marked the temporary end of large-scale piracy by people of European origin, although one-off piracy did continue to erupt from time to time.27 Hereafter, the distinc-

25 26

27

Alfred P. Rubin, The Law of Piracy (Newport, RI: Naval War College Press, 1988; reprint, Honolulu, HI: University Press of the Pacific, 2006), 69-73. On the suppression of piracy in this period, see Marcus Rediker, Villains of All Nations: Atlantic Pirates in the Golden Age (Boston: Beacon Press, 2004); Arne Bialuschewski, “Pirates, Markets and Imperial Authority: Economic Aspects of Maritime Depredations in the Atlantic World, 1716-1726,” in Organised Crime in History, ed. Mark Galeotti (London: Routledge, 2009), 52-65. A recent work by McCarthy shows that piracy revived again in the 1820s in the confusion caused by the Latin American Wars of Independence. During this war, alongside “privateers” licensed by Spain and newly independent Latin American states, pirates based on Cuba attacked vessels sailing in the American waters. See Matthew McCarthy, Privateer-

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tion between privateers and pirates became much clearer, not only in terms of their legal definition but also of their actual activities. 3

Conflict with Neutrals and the Abolition of Privateering

As we have seen so far, by the early-eighteenth century, in conjunction with other major European states, Britain had established a system of privateering, legalized and institutionalized maritime raiding in war time. However, their state-sanctioned status did not mean their legality prevented them from causing any problems. Quite the opposite in fact, their activities sometimes created diplomatic tensions between European countries. One particularly difficult problem was the capture of neutral vessels trading with an enemy or carrying enemy cargoes. English interests in this issue were often at odds with those of the countries like the Netherlands and Sweden that profited from trade as neutrals. The clash of interests on this issue had already emerged as an important maritime issue in the seventeenth century. For example, during the war with France and Spain in the 1620s, the English government attempted to interrupt trade with the enemy by the neutrals, such as Hamburg and Bremen, in naval stores and grain that it regarded as contraband. For this purpose, the government employed privateers as well as the navy. However, this attack on neutral trade provoked a barrage of protest from the neutrals.28 Attempts were made to solve this issue, and a series of treaties was concluded between the principal European maritime powers. One of these treaties, the Anglo-Dutch Maritime Treaty of 1674, established an important precedent as it exempted neutral vessels from capture, unless they were carrying contraband. This principle of “free ships, free goods” was also implicit in the pacts the English made with Denmark, Spain, and Sweden.29

28

29

ing, Piracy and British Policy in Spanish America, 1810-1830 (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2013). John C. Appleby, “Wars of Plunder and Wars of Profit: English Privateering during the late Sixteenth and early Seventeenth Centuries,” in Bridging Troubled Waters: Conflict and Cooperation in the North Sea Region since 1550: 7th North Sea History Conference, Dunkirk 2002, ed. David J. Starkey and Morten Hahn-Pedersen (Esbjerg: Fiskeri-og Søfartsmuseet, 2005), 71-72. Nicholas Tracy, Attack on Maritime Trade (Toronto & Buffalo: University of Toronto Press, 1991), 33; Jaap R. Bruijn, “The Long Life of Treaties: The Dutch Republic and Great Britain in the Eighteenth Century,” in Navies in Northern Waters 1721-2000, ed. Rolf Hobson and Tom Kristiansen (London: Frank Cass, 2004), 42.

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In the mid-eighteenth century, this issue assumed even greater importance, and the Dutch advocated their right to wartime trade with the enemies of Britain, invoking the principle of “free ships, free goods.” However, during the Seven Years War, the British government adopted its new “Rule of the War of 1756” that forbade neutral vessels to engage in such trade as was denied to them in peace time. The British government also adopted the principle of “continuous voyage,” by which cargoes on board neutral vessels destined for enemy ports became a target for capture at any juncture in their voyage. These measures made it difficult for the neutrals like the Netherlands to trade with Britain’s enemies.30 Behind this sterner attitude of the British government toward neutral trade was a change in French tactics for protecting their wartime trade from British attack. During this war, the French government entrusted its trade with its West Indian colonies and its Baltic trade, which had been previously restricted to French vessels, to neutral ships. The adoption of the “Rule of the War of 1756” by the British government was a response to this. Nevertheless, the search and capture of the neutral vessels trading with France by the British Navy and privateers provoked angry protests from neutrals, not least the Netherlands. This outcry obliged the British government to compromise, and consequently a new act passed in 1759. This act was intended to regulate the activities of smaller-scale privateers who had often been guilty of committing irregularities in the capture of neutral vessels. However, this new act failed to achieve the desired effect, and tension with neutrals continued.31 In the subsequent wars of the late-eighteenth century, British interference in neutral commerce led various countries, such as Russia, Denmark, Sweden, 30

31

For detailed analysis on the “Rule of the War of 1756” and the principle of “continuous voyage,” see Richard Pares, Colonial Blockade and Neutral Rights, 1739-1763 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1938), 180-224. Tracy, Attack on Maritime Trade, 66-67; Starkey, British Privateering Enterprise, 162-63; Ritchie, “Government Measures,” 20-21. It should be also pointed out that there was significant difference between neutral nations in terms of their trade areas and goods. For example, unlike the Netherlands and Denmark, Sweden had had few commercial interests in the West Indian trade until 1780s, and was therefore not affected by the “Rule of the War of 1756” as much as the Netherlands and Denmark were. Instead, what mattered to Swedish merchants at the time was the British decision to include naval stores in contraband, because, like Russia, its export trade was dominated by the export of iron and naval stores to European maritime powers. Leos Müller, “Sweden’s Neutral Trade under Gustav III: The Ideal of Commercial Independence under the Predicament of Political Isolation,” in Trade and War: The Neutrality of Commerce in the Inter-State System, ed. Koen Stapelbroek (Helsinki: Collegium for Advanced Studies, 2011), 144-46.

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and Prussia, to form the League of Armed Neutrality in 1780, and again in 1800. The issue of wartime trade by the neutrals re-emerged in the Napoleonic Wars. While Napoleon attempted to drive British manufactured goods out of the continental market by the Decrees of Berlin and Milan issued in 1806 and 1807 respectively, the British government retaliated by issuing a series of Orders in Council devised to bring all trade with continental ports under British control. This would be accomplished by restricting this trade only to those vessels that sailed under British convoy or purchased licenses from Britain.32 However, Britain’s attempts to control neutral trade for its own benefit increasingly began to clash with the interests of the United States, a rising power in neutral trade at the time. As the work of Silvia Marzagalli has revealed, after the independence of the United States, American merchants and ship-owners found increasingly lucrative business chances in neutral trade. During the most of the period of the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars, the United States remained neutral until 1812.33 This neutral status opened a window of opportunity for American merchants and ship-owners to benefit from trade on behalf of the belligerents, as merchants of other neutral countries such as Denmark and Sweden did. France especially, whose West Indian trade had been severely interrupted by the war, relied heavily on this neutral trade by the Americans.34 Nevertheless, Britain’s new policy of controlling neutral trade, as well as the impressment of seamen from American merchantmen plus conflicts with the Native Americans allied with Britain in the Ohio River Valley, exacerbated relations between the United States and Britain, leading to the outbreak of the War of 1812.35 In spite of these frictions with neutrals, Britain continued to use privateers until the end of the Napoleonic Wars. Nevertheless, by the late-eighteenth 32

33

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Tracy, Attack on Maritime Trade, 67-72, 74-76; N.A.M. Rodger, The Command of the Ocean: A Naval History of Britain, 1649-1815 (London: Allen Lane, 2004; reprint, London: Penguin Books, 2005), 551-52, 558-59. From 1797 to 1801, there was an armed conflict called the “Quasi War” between the United States and France over the issue of neutral trade. In this conflict, the both nations seized each other’s vessels, but neither side made a formal declaration of war. Alexander DeConde, The Quasi-War: The Politics and Diplomacy of the Undeclared War with France, 1797-1801 (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1966). Silvia Marzagalli, “American Shipping and Trade in Warfare, or the Benefits of European Conflicts for Neutral Merchants: The Experience of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars, 1793-1815,” Kyoto Sangyo University Economic Review 1 (2014): 1-29. For a recent study on this war, see Jeremy Black, The War of 1812 in the Age of Napoleon (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2009).

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century the tide had begun to turn. One of the important ideological motives behind this switch was a gradual change in attitude toward war and private property in wartime. The dominant view of war in medieval times was the concept of “individual enmity.” This view regarded war as a conflict between rival individuals, not between states, and saw all subjects of the enemy monarch and their property as a potential target for attack. However, partly because of the influence of the Enlightenment, one of the aims of which was to limit the harmful effects of war, by the late-eighteenth century this concept had almost disappeared. Instead, a belligerent state and its members were increasingly distinguished from each other, an idea that we find most clearly expressed in the work of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. This also led to the development of the distinction between combatants and non-combatants, and, in turn, contributed to the emergence of a new view of private property. This point of view argued that, in war time private property, including those of neutrals, should be protected against capture at sea, as well as on land, on the grounds that it does not necessarily contribute to war effort of the enemy government. Like­ wise, it argued that trade should be carried on free and unhindered even in war time.36 This new idea found fervent supporters not only in the countries of Con­ tinental Europe like France, but also in the newly independent United States, whose overseas trade as a neutral was beginning to flourish.37 On the other hand, in Britain support for a belligerent’s right to capture at sea remained vociferous. However, even in Britain, by the early-nineteenth century, liberals and the Radicals had begun to criticize the belligerent right to the search and capture of enemy goods aboard neutral vessels (that they called “the old rule”) as a violation of the freedom of the sea. Instead they advocated the principle of “free ships, free goods,” that they dubbed the “new rule.”38 Among these critics was James Mill, a Benthamite Radical. He advocated freedom of commerce in war as well as in peace time, and even argued for abolition of the concept of contraband, that would have almost totally freed neutrals engaged in wartime commerce from search and detention by belligerents.39 During this campaign against interference in wartime commerce, privateering was also condemned as an obstacle to international trade. During the 36

37 38 39

Francis R. Stark, The Abolition of Privateering and the Declaration of Paris (New York: Columbia University, 1897; reprint, Honolulu, HI: University Press of the Pacific, 2002), 13-22; Geoffrey Best, Humanity in Warfare (New York: Columbia University Press, 1980), 35-36, 64-65, 67-70. Tracy, Attack on Maritime Trade, 82-83. Bernard Semmel, Liberalism and Naval Strategy: Ideology, Interest, and Sea Power during the Pax Britannica (Boston: Allen & Unwin, 1986), 51-53. Ibid., 68.

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Crimean War (1853-1856), it was the Manchester School of Radicalism that spearheaded the movement against the “old rule” and privateering. Richard Cobden, who led the school with the Quaker John Bright, criticized com­ mercial blockades and the searching of neutral vessels that hampered the inter­national trade of nations, championing the right of neutrals to carry on trade with Russia on both economic and moral grounds.40 Therefore, by the mid-nineteenth century, privateering was attracting harsh criticism from those advocating the principle of freedom of sea and trade. This is a far cry from the situation in the eighteenth century when privateering was encouraged by mercantilist policy makers as an effective means to weaken enemy economic power. The demand of the Manchester School was partly met after the Crimean War. As early as March 1854, when Britain and France declared war on Russia, the governments of the both countries agreed to temporarily waive some of the belligerent rights at sea. They also decided not to issue privateering commissions during the war. This tendency toward restricting the right of belligerents and to respect the neutrals’ right of trade culminated in the Declaration of Paris in April 1856, signed at the peace conference at the end of the war. In this declaration, as did other major European powers, such as France and Russia, Britain agreed to abolish privateering and to make the principle of “free ships, free goods” permanent.41 On the face of it, this seemed like a realization of the liberal ideology of the Manchester School.42 Nevertheless, we should be cautious about overemphasizing the role of the ideological factor in this change. A more direct 40 41

42

Ibid., 54-55; Peter Cain, “Capitalism, War and Internationalism in the Thought of Richard Cobden,” British Journal of International Studies 5, no. 3 (1979): 241. This declaration also established the following principles; firstly, neutral cargoes carried by enemy ships were not subject to seizure, with the exception of contraband; secondly, blockades were effective only when they were enforced by a number of warships sufficient to render approach to the enemy’s coast actually dangerous. C.I. Hamilton, “AngloFrench Seapower and the Declaration of Paris,” International History Review 4, no. 2 (1982): 174, 178-79; Tracy, Attack on Maritime Trade, 84-85. In fact, Cobden was not satisfied with this Declaration. He continued to demand more thorough protection of maritime trade. A similar idea was expressed in Marcy’s Amendment, a proposal presented in July 1856 by William Marcy, the US Secretary of State at the time, as a counter to the Declaration of Paris. This proposal favored the immunity of private property, including that of the enemy, from capture on the high seas, with the exception of contraband. On the other hand, advocates of the “old rule” in Britain began to attack the Declaration of Paris as soon as Britain signed it. In the House of Lords in May 1856, several Tory peers, including the Earl of Derby, the former prime minister, cri­ticized the Declaration as a disadvantageous agreement for the nation since it severely curtailed its belligerent rights. Jan Martin Lemnitzer, Power, Law and the End of Privateer-

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factor that urged the British and French governments to restrict belligerent rights during the Crimean War was the diplomatic consideration of neutrals such as Sweden, Denmark, and, not least, the United States.43 This consideration was equally important in the abolition of privateering after the war. As Lemnitzer’s recent work on the Declaration of Paris shows, one of the most important backgrounds to the abolition was tension between Britain and the United States over the issue of neutral trade and privateering during the 1850s. While the United States, one of the leading actors in neutral trade, demanded further protection of maritime trade in war time, including immunity of private property at sea from capture, it refused to ban privateering, because it regarded privateers as its only weapon in war against stronger naval powers like Britain. On the other hand, Britain was seriously concerned about the possibility that the Americans might convert their merchant fleet, the second largest at that time, into privateers by accepting Russian letters of marque, and set them on British merchant marine all over world. The Declaration emerged against the backdrop of this clash of interests between Britain and the United States. The Declaration was, in part, a British attempt to deprive the United States of privateering. While the United States tried to take an initiative in the movement to promote protection of neutral trade, Britain, in a close cooperation with France, countered this move by coupling the issue of the abolition of privateering to that of protection of neutral trade and making it impossible for the United States to discuss the two issues separately. In the end, the United States, for whom the abandonment of privateering was unacceptable, did not sign this Declaration. However, most of the nations in the world, including non-Euro­pean nations such as Brazil and Japan, did sign, their decision partly prompted by one of its provisions that allowed non-participants in the peace conference to join it later simply by announcing its intention.44 As a consequence, maritime raiding of commerce by private individuals, which had been carried on in Europe throughout the early-modern period, was finally abolished in most of the states in the world.45

43 44 45

ing (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 71, 87; Semmel, Liberalism and Naval Strategy, 57-58. Hamilton, “Anglo-French Seapower,” 167, 170-71; Lemnitzer, Power, Law and the End of Privateering, 17-23. Lemnitzer, Power, Law and the End of Privateering, 36-70. The impact upon the abolition of privateering of the new technologies that developed in the nineteenth century is a rather tricky question. It is sometimes argued that the advent of steamships made privateers an outmoded weapon. In fact, steamships revived the military potential of commerce raiders, including privateers. As Lemnitzer has stated, during the Crimean War, one of the concerns of British statesmen was that American

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Free-trade Ideology and the Suppression of Maritime Raiders Outside Europe

There is one point that has been neglected by historians who study the abolition of privateering; running parallel to this process of the criminalizing of privateering, a campaign for the suppression of indigenous sea-raiders was being pursued in several regions outside Europe, such as East Asia and South­ east Asia. This raises the question: Was there any interconnection between the two movements in the nineteenth century? This last section is devoted to an examination of the point. One of the key words in Britain’s imperial policy in the mid-nineteenth century was the “Imperialism of Free Trade.” This idea was proposed by John Gallagher and Ronald Robinson in an article published in 1953. They refute the conventional interpretation that depicted the mid-nineteenth century as an age in which the British government was indifferent to imperial expansion; usually juxtaposed with the age of “new imperialism” in the late-nineteenth century. Gallagher and Robinson claim that Britain was not lacking in expansionist tendencies in the mid-century, and that it did extend its influence by pursuing expansion not only of its “formal empire,” but also of its “informal empire,” that is: Countries or regions that were not British colonial territories but were under Britain’s political and economic influence. In the nineteenth century, the British government made use of these direct and indirect means of control, depending on the situations in the regions on which it wanted to steamers might be converted into privateers on behalf of Russia and used against a British merchant fleet, many of which were still sailing ships and therefore vulnerable to such attacks. This was indeed a fear that the Earl of Clarendon raised in Parliament as one of the justifications for the British government’s signing the Declaration of Paris. This concern about commerce raiding by steamers later proved not totally unfounded when a Confederate steamship, the CSS Alabama, succeeded in capturing 71 Union vessels during the American Civil War, even though she was not a privateer but a vessel commissioned to serve in the Confederate navy. By contrast, the activities of the Confederate privateers were brief in this war. However, this was mainly because the signatories to the Declaration of Paris closed their ports to the Confederate privateers (but not to its navy) and deprived them of bases available to replenish and bunker. Lemnitzer, Power, Law and the End of Privateering, 14, 72-73, 130-34; Arne Røksund, The Jeune École: The Strategy of the Weak (Leiden & Boston: Brill, 2007), 18-19. Hence, it could be argued that the advent of the steamship indirectly contributed to the abolition of privateering, but not by rendering privateers obsolete but by increasing its potential threat to British shipping. However, the question of the influence of new technologies on the abolition needs further investigation.

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impose “free” trade. Consequently, Gallagher and Robinson emphasize the fundamental continuity of British imperial and diplomatic policy throughout the century, summarized as follows: “Trade with informal control if possible; trade with rule when necessary.”46 Their argument, although stimulating, has attracted plenty of criticism from other scholars. D.C.M. Platt in particular has strenuously denied that the British government in the mid-nineteenth century had any intention of intervening actively on behalf of British private interests in the politics of those regions categorized as the “informal empire,” such as Latin America, the Levant, and the Far East, areas that were still marginal markets for Britain.47 Their argument has also raised several points of contention, for instance, the degree of the British government’s control of the “informal empire” and the motives behind this government’s promotion of free trade.48 We are not concerned here with the details of this long-standing debate. However, it should be pointed out that the historians involved in this debate seem to have overlooked, or at least underestimated, one important aspect of the movement of free trade in the mid-nineteenth century, namely, the issue of maritime security and freedom of navigation. We should bear in mind that, in the age in which British trade with foreign markets was predominantly conducted by sea and in which international shipping was still vulnerable to attack by private maritime raiders not only in war but also in peace time (mirroring the situation in today’s world), opening foreign markets for British exports by various means, like the conclusion of unequal treaties, did not automatically lead to growth in exports, especially when that trade was with areas remote from Europe. Safety and freedom of navigation were equally significant issues to be considered in the promotion of free trade. As we have seen in the preceding section, the Manchester School, leading proponents of free trade, called for the abolition of privateering so that trade could be conducted safely, even in 46 47

48

John Gallagher and Ronald Robinson, “The Imperialism of Free Trade,” Economic History Review (2nd ser.) 6, no. 1 (1953): 1-15. D.C.M. Platt, Finance, Trade, and Politics in British Foreign Policy, 1815-1914 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968); D.C.M. Platt, “Further Objections to an ‘Imperialism of Free Trade,’ 183060,” in Imperialism: The Robinson and Gallagher Controversy, ed. Wm. Roger Louis (New York: New Viewpoints, 1976), 153-61. P.J. Cain, Economic Foundations of British Overseas Expansion, 1815-1914 (London & Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1980), 40-41; Martin Lynn, “British Policy, Trade, and Informal Empire in the Mid-Nineteenth Century,” in The Oxford History of the British Empire. Vol. III: The Nineteenth Century, ed. Andrew Porter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999; reprint, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 119-20.

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war time. Likewise, the suppression of the maritime raiders in the regions outside Europe was one of the essential conditions for safe and free navigation and consequently for the promotion of free trade in those regions. Nevertheless, it should be emphasized that the reason for promoting free trade in this anti-piracy campaign was not the same as the Cobdenite advocacy of free trade in the campaign against the war on commerce. Cobden saw free trade a means to eliminate brutal and costly war, that would benefit only the landed aristocracy at the expense of the interests of the middle classes. It was also a means to create a peaceful world, in which nations would be mutually linked by commerce. Furthermore, he strongly supported non-intervention in international conflicts and adopted an anti-colonial stance, as he regarded colonies as a burden on the mother country.49 This pacifist, moralistic, and anti-colonial argument for free trade put forward by Cobden was just one such, albeit a very influential, variation in con­­temporary ideas supporting free trade. As many historians have pointed out, another version of the argument or policy for free trade was also current, one that is far closer to Gallagher and Robinson’s concept of the “Imperialism of Free Trade.” The goal of this policy was not to establish universal peace through commerce as Cobden dreamed, but to make Britain the Workshop of the World and turn other parts of the world into markets for British industrial exports, as well as places in which British capital could invest This goal could be achieved by imposing free trade on those regions. Unlike the pacifist Cobden, the proponents of this policy did not hesitate to use military force if necessary to subdue those who obstructed British trade, despite the fact that its supporters did share one point with the Cobdenite doctrine of free trade, in that they also claimed that the promotion of free trade could bring civilization and a better life to people in allegedly “backward” societies. Some contemporary leading British statesmen endorsed this type of a more aggressive free trade policy. In particular, Henry John Temple, third Viscount Palmerston, who played the key role in British foreign policy from the 1830s to 1860s, first as foreign secretary and later as prime minister, understood the value of this policy and often, but not always, supported it. Proponents of this argument were also to be found among some leading parliamentary Radicals. As Semmel states, they could be even more bellicose than those in charge of British foreign policy, like Palmerston, and were willing to exert military force to protect trade, one good example being their defence of the Opium War. 49

Cain, “Capitalism, War and Internationalism,” 233-39; Oliver Macdonagh, “The Anti-Imperialism of Free Trade,” in Great Britain and the Colonies, 1815-1865, ed. A.G.L. Shaw (London: Methuen, 1970), 167-69.

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Commercial and industrial interests, including the cotton manufacturers in Manchester, also supported this policy, if they found it helpful in expanding the market for their products.50 Suppression of indigenous maritime raiders in the early- to mid-nineteenth century should be understood in the context of this contemporary movement for free trade. In the eyes of those who endorsed this aggressive version of free trade policy, maritime raiders in areas outside Europe were an obstacle to free trade and navigation, just as the war on commerce and privateering had been in the eyes of the Manchester School. This view seems to have been shared by some of those actually engaged in the suppression of indigenous maritime raiders. In a memorandum of 1845, referring to indigenous maritime raiders on the northwestern coast of Borneo, James Brooke also describes the suppression of “piracy,” as well as support for the established, stable native governments in those regions, as a necessary means for the extension of commerce.51 Of course, commercial interest was not the only factor that activated the suppression campaign. Political and diplomatic considerations, especially those on local levels, often played an important role too. As Tarling shows, the attempt by the British colonial authorities to halt the expansion of Thai influence in Perak was an important motive behind the suppression of “piracy” in the Malay Peninsula in the late 1820s.52 Nevertheless, it can be argued that support for free trade was an equally significant background to the suppression of indigenous maritime raiders, as in the political campaign for the abolition of privateering. Finally, there is one more point to note in the process of suppression of indigenous maritime raiders, namely, a new usage of the word “piracy.” In his detailed research on the history of the legal concept of “piracy,” Alfred P. Rubin has pointed out the change in the use of the word “piracy” in the late eighteenth century. Before that period, in Britain, the term “piracy” was used mainly in a municipal criminal law and property law sense. From the late eighteenth century, however, the term gradually began to assume political and military implications. In a series of statutes first passed in 1777, American 50

51 52

Bernard Semmel, The Rise of Free Trade Imperialism: The Classical Political Economy, the Empire of Free Trade and Imperialism, 1750-1850 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), 151-54, 157; Cain, “Capitalism, War and Internationalism,” 243; Lynn, “British Policy, Trade, and Informal Empire,” 106-9. Cobden was a fierce critic of Palmerston’s interventionist foreign policy and in 1849 he severely criticized the government’s policy of intervention in Borneo. Macdonagh, “Anti-Imperialism of Free Trade,” 170-71. Nicholas Tarling, Piracy and Politics in the Malay World: A Study of British Imperialism in Nineteenth-Century South-East Asia (Melbourne: F.W. Cheshire, 1963), 126-27. Ibid., 23-26.

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privateers in the War of the American Independence were labeled “pirates,” although nobody was actually executed as a “pirate” under these laws. After the Napoleonic War, the application of the word “piracy” was again expanded both legally and geographically, and armed interference in British shipping beyond the jurisdiction of the British Admiralty Court also began to be regarded as “piracy.” This was reflected in a provision in the Bounty Act of 1825 that granted “head money” to naval officers and seamen who would take or destroy any ships manned by “pirates,” without mentioning how the criminality of the crew of the taken or destroyed ships should be adjudicated.53 By the 1820s, British colonial officials began to use this word to justify a military action short of war against members of foreign societies, including those in Southeast Asia, that would impede British commerce. In the case of the Malay Peninsula and Borneo, some of the sea raiders in these societies were actually worked on behalf of local rulers and nobles, acting with their permission. Nevertheless, in order to avoid the responsibility entailed in formal war, British colonial officials labelled those sea raiders “pirates” and tried to launch military actions against them without declaring war. However, as Rubin has pointed out, this use of the word “piracy” was not based on international consensus, but was merely an interpretation of international law by British colonial officials. Therefore, the legitimacy and appropriateness of military intervention under the name of the suppression of “piracy” was questioned from time to time, even by some of the legal experts, government officials, and the Radicals in the mother country. Moreover, this policy did not always achieve its desired aim. In British involvement in the conflict in the Malay Peninsula in the 1870s, despite the use of the label “pirates,” the British colonial authorities were dragged into the local conflict as a belligerent, a predicament it had been trying avoid, and this ultimately led to the conquest of the sultanates of the Malay Peninsula.54 Therefore, when British colonial authorities launched an attack on indigenous maritime raiders, they attempted to justify their action by stretching the interpretation of the term “piracy” and applying it to those maritime raiders, but refusing to regard the local rulers employing them as political entities with the sovereignty that would give them the status of a formal belligerent. Furthermore, their policy sometimes provoked criticism from the metropolis, and also did not always succeed in stopping Britain from being dragged into a war. 53 54

Rubin, Law of Piracy, 202-3, 205-6. Ibid., 236-37, 249-59; Tarling, Piracy and Politics in the Malay World, 58-59, 125-26, 134-35, 139-40.

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Conclusions

Privateering, attacks on commerce by private individuals carrying the formal permission of their states, was regarded as a legitimate war-time activity by major European maritime powers until the mid-nineteenth century. Privateers were auxiliary naval forces for these governments, and an alternative investment option for merchants whose business had been disrupted by war. In a nutshell, privateering was both a military and an economic activity. Similar features can be perceived in various types of maritime raiding in other regions of the world that are normally labeled “piracy.” However, Euro­ pean privateering was distinct from these in several respects. Firstly, it had the backing of judicial institutions, in the case of Britain, the High Court of Admiralty and the Vice-Admiralty Courts, and was furnished with clearly codified regulations that controlled the activities of those who participated in it and confirmed the validity of captured prizes. Secondly, the British system of prize adjudication was connected to a legal system governing the maritime affairs in other European nations through legal procedures based on civil law. Thirdly, privateering was a part of an inter-state war fought between European states, and each state accepted the reciprocal validity of capture by enemy privateers as long as they acted under the prescribed terms of a commission, and as long as the commission had been issued by an authority recognized as a legitimate sovereign state by other European states. By the early eighteenth century, as had other European maritime states, Britain had turned commerce raiding by private individuals into a highly institutionalized form of plunder backed by judicial institutions and governed by clearly codified regulations. In this respect, it can be said that privateering was distinct from much of the maritime raiding in other regions of the world that was similarly supported by political entities. One good example is maritime raiding in Southeast Asia.55

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This is not to say that those regions did not have codified agreements to arbitrate in maritime conflicts between various political entities or between individuals. For example,  G.J. Resink refers to the Bonggaya Treaty of 1667 as a kind of international law in Indonesia in the seventeenth century. This was a multilateral treaty ratified between Makassar and other political entities in Indonesia and with the Dutch East India Company. It included a clause for arbitration and mediation between them. G.J. Resink, Indonesia’s History between the Myths: Essays in Legal History and Historical Theory (The Hague: W. van Hoeve, 1968), 52-53. I am grateful to Professor James Francis Warren for turning my attention to this point. However, it can still be claimed that European maritime states in the early-modern period were distinctive in that they developed a legal system, not to suppress but to regulate maritime raiding by private individuals in order to utilize it in

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Throughout the eighteenth century, British privateering continued to play an important role in the war on commerce. However, the practice also caused friction with neutrals that were often pursuing war-time trade with Britain’s enemies. Partly because of this friction but also because of the emergence of new views about war and trade, after the late-eighteenth century, interference in seaborne trade in war time became a target of growing criticism. The belligerent’s right to search and capture at sea was severely condemned by the Manchester School led by Cobden that strongly advocated freedom of trade and navigation. This movement contributed to the abolition of privateering by the Declaration of Paris in 1856, although the diplomatic considerations, especially Britain’s fear of American privateers, were an equally important factor in the abolition. This marked the formal termination of the utilization of maritime raiding by private individuals in most European countries. Running parallel with the movement for the abolition of privateering, military actions against indigenous maritime raiders were being carried out in various regions outside Europe. As in the movement against the war on commerce and privateering, the advocacy of free trade was one of the ideological rationales behind this anti-piracy campaign. However, what really promoted this campaign was not Cobden’s moralistic and idealistic argument for free trade, but the more aggressive free trade policy endorsed by some politicians like Palmerston, and by British commercial and industrial interests. In this operation against indigenous maritime raiders, the British colonial authorities tried to dismiss them as mere “pirates” in order to avoid getting involved in a formal war with local rulers, although their policy sometimes attracted criticism from the metropolis, and also it did not always achieve a desired result. From a global perspective, the mid-nineteenth century was the age in which large-scale attacks on seaborne trade by private individuals were finally terminated or suppressed. The two movements against such attacks – campaigns for the abolition of privateering and the suppression of indigenous maritime raiders – shared a common ideological background: The promotion of free trade. These two movements were two sides of the same coin. Both privateers and indigenous maritime raiders became the target of criticism and suppression, primarily because they were the enemies of free trade and free navigation. inter-state war without incorporating those maritime raiders directly into the official naval force.

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Part 2 Contingent Developments in Antipiracy Politics in the Asian Seas

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The Making of the ‘Joasmee’ Pirates

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Chapter 3

The Making of the ‘Joasmee’ Pirates: A Relativist Reconsideration of the Qawāsimi Piracy in the Persian Gulf Hideaki Suzuki

Introduction

The theme of this chapter is an attempt to trace the transition in British understanding of the people they called the “Joasmee” pirates in the Persian Gulf in the period between the late-eighteenth century and the early-nineteenth century. It is also an exploration of the justification of the construction of the “Joasmee” pirates in the minds of the British officials; the majority attached to the Bombay Government and its naval arm the Bombay Marine, who were in charge of British interests in the Persian Gulf. Given a famous remark by the early-nineteenth-century poet and philosopher Samuel T. Coleridge, “no man is a pirate, unless his contemporaries agree to call him so,”1 we should be careful how we deal with people referred to as “pirates” in the documents; all these “pirates” are a construction of someone’s views and the corollary of this is that others, not least themselves, might not have thought about them in the same light. In other words, “pirates” is one of the concepts that only emerges in the context of the relationship between those who name and those who are named. Therefore, one of the focuses of studies on piracy should be the question of how and why others regarded a particular group as pirates, in this instance the Qawāsim (sing. Qāsim) who were based on the western coast of the Musandam Peninsula regarded by the British as pirates. “Joasmee” is usually identified as a corrupted form in English of Qawāsim or Qāsim. Twice British expeditions, in 1809-1810 and in 1819, were mounted to attack their ports. The campaign of suppression was brought to a successful conclusion by the 1820 General Peace Treaty, signed by most of the sheikhs ruling major ports along the Arabian coast of the Persian Gulf. Subsequently, after 1835 several British-led maritime truces were concluded with the sheikhs along the Persian

1 Samuel T. Coleridge, Specimens of the Table Talk of the Late Samuel Taylor Coleridge, vol. 1 (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1835), 16.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004361485_005

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Gulf coast.2 These truces were maintained by a juxtaposition of the British consular system and naval squadrons. Eventually the coast formerly known as the “Pirate Coast” began to be called the “Trucial Coast” in the English literature. This is an unequivocal indication of a transition in the position of the Persian Gulf on the British imperial geo-political map, as various historians have pointed out.3 This transition sent a clear signal about the inception of British supremacy in the Persian Gulf, the so-called Pax Britannica, that continued until the latter half of the following century.4 As a natural consequence of this intervention, the regional political system changed. The British-made Trucial System gradually replaced the protector-protegé network that had been lubricated by tribute and inter-marriage among the local rulers.5 To sum up, the suppression of “Joasmee” piracy was a significant factor in Persian Gulf history during the nineteenth and the following century. In spite of the fact this conventional view is shared by most scholars, there is a contradiction in terms in the interpretations of the behavior of the Qawāsim, namely: Did they or did they not commit acts of piracy? Most of the literature that accuses the Qawāsim of being pirates is in the form of nineteenth-century travel accounts, but this trend did tend to continue among Western travelers and visitors even after World War II. The Sand Kings of Oman, published in 1947, was written by Raymond O’shea, a Royal Air Force officer stationed at Oman at the end of World War II, is one of the most striking examples. He writes as follows;

2 For maritime truces, see John B. Kelly, Britain and the Persian Gulf 1795-1880 (Oxford: Clarendon Press1968), 357-59 and passim. 3 Cf. Husain M. Albaharna, The Arabian Gulf States: Their Legal and Political Status and Their International Problems (Beirut: Librairie du Liban, 1975), 5-6; Kelly, Britain, 166-167; John B. Kelly, Arabia, the Gulf and the West: A Critical View of the Arabs and Their Oil Policy (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1980), 61-64; James Onley, “Britain’s Informal Empire in the Gulf, 18201971,” Journal of Social Affairs 87 (2005): 39-40, 42-43; J.E. Peterson, “Britain and the Gulf: At the Periphery of Empire,” in The Persian Gulf in History, ed. L.G. Potter (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009), 279, 285-86. 4 Cf. Glen Balfour-Paul, The End of Empire in the Middle East: Britain’s Relinquishment of Power in Her Last Three Arab Dependencies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 100; Patricia R. Dubuisson, “Qāsimi Piracy and the General Treaty of Peace (1820),” Arabian Studies 4 (1978): 55; James Onley, “La politique de protection: les dirigeants du Golfe et la Pax Britannica au XIXe siècle,” Maghreb-Machrek 204 (2010): 26-31. 5 For protector-protégé system, see Onley, “La politique,” 20-26; James Onley, “The Politics of Protection in the Gulf: The Arab Rulers and the British Resident in the Nineteenth Century,” New Arabian Studies 6 (2010): 30-92.

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The Persian Gulf was the haunt of pirates until almost the end of the nineteenth century, and the waters around Sharjah and Dubai were infested with these cruel and bloodthirsty sea-brigands, most of whom belonged to the Quasimi [sic] clan […]6 Several examples of scholarly literature can also be included on the list with these travel accounts, since they relied almost exclusively on British sources, and hence basically followed the views contained in these travel accounts and other observations. In the opposite camp, Sulṭān Muḥammad al-Qāsimī devotes most of the introduction of his book entitled The Myth of Arab Piracy in the Gulf to bitterly criticizing British pioneers of Persian Gulf history, notably John G. Lorimer, John B. Kelly and Charles R. Low. His criticism is so aggrieved because this direct descendant of the Qāsim family and current ruler of Shāriqah (Sharjah, one of emirates in the United Arab Emirates) discovered an imperialistic perspective behind their accusations of the Qawāsim as pirates.7 Another current in this subject, found among historians specializing in Persian Gulf history or scholars in related fields, including Arab scholars who regard the past of this gulf as their own history, has emerged since the 1970s.8 In contrast to scholars like Lorimer whom she terms an absolutist, Patricia Risso discerns moral relativism in it.9 She has written one of the earliest prod6 Raymond O’Shea, The Sand Kings of Oman, Being theEexperiences of an R.A.F. Officer in the Little Known Regions of Trucial Oman Arabia (London: Methuen, 1947), 105-6. 7 Sulṭān Muḥammad al-Qāsimī, The Myth of Arab Piracy in the Gulf (London: Croom H., 1986), xiii-xx. He stated, Lorimer was an official in the Indian Civil Service who was commissioned by Lord Curzon to compile a Gazetteer of the Persian Gulf, Oman and Central Arabia as “an apologia for the long history of British colonialism in the Gulf.” (al-Qāsimī, The Myth, xiii). Kelly, the author of Britain and the Persian Gulf, was a long time lecturer at the Institute of Commonwealth Studies, the University of Oxford, and was not therefore an imperial civil servant. Nonetheless, in al-Qāsimī’s view, “in a sense he was more royalist than the king and his adoption of the imperialistic point of view was almost more unquestioning than that of the imperialist functionaries themselves” (al-Qāsimī, The Myth, xiii). Low was the least guilty among these imperial historians in the judgment of al-Qāsimī, who nevertheless does not forget to point out that Low’s History of the Indian Navy was published “to glorify British imperialism” (al-Qāsimī The Myth, xvi). 8 For references to this current, see Muḥammad M. Abdullah, The United Arab Emirates: A Modern History (London & New York: Croom Helm, 1978), 81, n.1; Charles E. Davies, The Blood-Red Arab Flag: An Investigation into Qasimi Piracy 1797-1820 (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 1997), 65-66; Patricia Risso, “Cross-Cultural Perceptions of Piracy: Maritime Violence in the Western Indian Ocean and Persian Gulf Region during a Long Eighteenth Century,” Journal of World History 12, no.2 (2001): 296. 9 Risso, “Cross-Cultural Perceptions,” 295-96.

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ucts of this group under the name of Patricia R. Dubuisson.10 She has tried to revise the established interpretation by making an effort to reveal the Qawāsim’s own view. Her interpretation is that they looked upon their attacks on commercial vessels as a form of warfare.11 Al-Qāsimī takes in the same tack, but in a more radical form. He claims that, “to designate the Qawāsim as pirates was injustice enough thrust upon them.”12 In fact, he points out that the British documents claiming piratical activities pursued by the Qawāsim did not even always produce any unequivocal evidence of their involvement. He asserts “if they (the Qawāsim) were (called as ‘pirates’), that they were involved only to defend themselves against British ‘piracy’.”13 The doubts raised by this group about the discourse on Qawāsimi piracy on the basis of what they have found in British documents has opened the way for them to reconsider the hidden aim of the suppression. In short, they believe that the East India Company (EIC) and Britain used the suppression of piracy as “a tool in commercial competition and in the building of empire”.14 Both Risso’s approach to the Qawāsim’s view of their attacks as warfare and al-Qāsimī’s counter-claim of “British ‘piracy’” are compelling enough to demonstrate the fragile nature of the concept of piracy. However, it is as well to bear in mind that this moral relativist logic also admits the imperial historians’ perspective in the affirmative. Hence al-Qāsimī’s bitter labeling now turns out to be a strong defense of these imperialistic historians because, while in as far as the moral relativists’ view are accepted, focusing on the view of those who were called as “pirates” and claiming that they were not pirates, simultaneously the perspective of those who called them “pirates” should be respected. After all, each party’s interpretations of the Qawāsimi pirates is as it were one side of the same coin. Just as it is impossible for the obverse and the head of the same coin ever to face each other, neither interpretation can ever tally with the other. If it continues to be based on the moral relativist viewpoint, this dichotomous debate will never end.15 However, a fair conclusion can be found in one of the latest works on this subject. After careful investigation of contem10 11 12 13 14

15

Dubuisson, “Qāsimī Piracy.” Ibid., 48. al-Qāsimī, The Myth, xvi. Ibid., 32. Risso, “Cross-Cultural Perception,” 296; al-Qāsimī, The Myth, 32. See also, Albaharna, The Arabian Gulf, 5-6; James Onley, The Arabian Frontier of the British Raj: Merchants, Rulers, and the British in the Nineteenth-Century Gulf (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 44-47. Risso has developed her ideas on this dichotomous debate toward the issue of cross-cultural misunderstanding. See, Risso, “Cross-Cultural Perception,” 319.

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poraneous documents and the modern scholarly literature in both English and Arabic, Charles E. Davies has reached the following conclusion: But what finally of the question which originally sparked off this investigation – were the Qawasim pirates? The simplest answer, if insisted upon, would have to be no, but some of what they did was piracy; but, if nothing else, it is hoped that this work will in the end have demonstrated that this is not one of the appropriate questions to ask.16 While this chapter intends to circumvent this never-ending debate, it still does offer some potential for a further exploration of this topic from the moral relativist approach. Certainly the moral relativists have attempted to make a counter-argument against the imperial or absolutist historians’ discourse of Qawāsimi piracy. And, in doing so, they have successfully clarified the hidden aim of the suppression, but the potential in their work does not stop there. What has not been explored in great depth so far is the background to the British accusations of the Qawāsimi piracy. The obvious importance of tackling this particular subject emerges very clearly when the following two facts are placed together side-by-side: The former is the historical evidence of the British expeditions against the Qawāsim and the latter is, as Davies and al-Qāsimī have ascertained, the truth in the statement that the British officials did not always have solid evidence to accuse the Qawāsim of being pirates. Those who read through British reports on “Joasmee” piracy would agree with them.17 It is difficult to identify always these “Joasmee” with the Qawāsim, the family of the Qāsim. This begs the question: Why did the name “Joasmee” spring so readily to their minds whenever they heard reports of piracy somewhere in the Persian Gulf and off Indian Coast? Why did these officials think it so necessary to suppress the Qawāsim, even though they did not always have solid evidence on which to base their accusations? In other words, we need to find an explanation to bridge the gap between the British officials’ poorly supported accusations and the physical suppression they exerted, a force ultimately strong enough to change the political system in this region. Obviously, their expeditions were not spur-of-the-moment decisions. 16 17

Davies, The Blood-Red Arab Flag, 276. This article refers mainly to photocopied duplications of the Bombay Diaries held in the Arab World Documentation Unit, University of Exeter (hereafter BDUE). These approximately 11,000 duplications cover the period between c. 1790 and 1820. The original diaries are located in the Bombay Record Office of the Central Archival Agency of the Government of Maharashtra, India.

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The first expedition was only decided on more than thirty years after the first recognized piratical incident had occurred. Therefore the challenge is to trace what happened to change the minds of the British officials and to clarify what lay behind it. Few have yet explored in this direction, although al-Qāsimī quite clearly recognizes this gap between the imagination and the behavior of the British officials.18 The weakness of his explanation is that it concentrates on British “false accusations of piracy” founded on a series of their “Big Lies” in order to overthrow “far-reaching trading activities in and out of the Gulf” by the Qawāsim and establish their own political and commercial supremacy in the Persian Gulf.19 His interpretation has been widely criticized and reexamined by recent historians,20 nevertheless, it is still agreed that Qawāsimi trading activity was not a factor that could be ignored in the period covered in this article, and Britain, at the very least, did want to eradicate any potential danger to its commerce and communication out of the Persian Gulf.21 This chapter tries to describe the whole gamut of the process from suspicions to concrete accusation that eventually led to the mounting of a military expedition, and it also tries to disentangle the complicated background to this thought-transition in the minds of British officials. Furthermore, considering that these expeditions to suppress the piracy of the Qawāsim carried the Pax Britannica into the Persian Gulf, something on which historians agree regardless of their interpretation of Qawāsimi behavior, this challenge will contribute to our understanding of the foundation of the Pax Britannica in the Persian Gulf. For this purpose, it is necessary to make a distinction between both the Qawāsim/Qāsim and the “Joasmee”. In this article, the terms the Qawāsim and the Qāsim indicate a physical existence. This group should be distinguished from the “Joasmee” (English spelling of the Qāsim/Qawāsim) who were created in the discourse and imagination of the British officials. This rule of distinction is applied to several other personal and group names. To indicate a particular person or group as a physical existence, the transliteration of their Arabic name is applied; English spelling is used to indicate a particular person or group as these existed in the discourse and imagination of the British officials.

18 19 20 21

al-Qāsimī, The Myth, 33. Ibid., xv-xvi, 32. Davies, The Blood-Red Arab Flag; Risso, “Cross-Cultural Perceptions,” 313-14. For brief summary of al-Qāsimī’s The Myth by Davies, see Davies, The Blood-Red Arab Flag, 64-65. Cf. Bhacker, Trade, 46; Kelly, Britain, 58.

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Following this introduction, the usage of the term piracy in British documents relating to the Persian Gulf in the late-eighteenth and the nineteenth century will be the first matter to be discussed. The transition of the “Joasmee” is traced in the following section. The background to this transition is examined in the third section, and a conclusion will follow. 1

Piracy in the Persian Gulf

The 1820 General Peace Treaty is the first instance in which the English definition of piracy is unequivocally and officially with reference to the inhabitants of the Persian Gulf. It was signed by several Arab sheikhs and Article Two states as follows: If any individual of the people of the Arabs contracting shall attack any that pass by land or sea of any nation whatsoever, in the way of plunder and piracy and not of acknowledged war, he shall be accounted an enemy of all mankind and shall be held to have forfeited both life and goods. And acknowledged war is that which is proclaimed, avowed, and ordered by government against government; and the killing of men and taking of goods without proclamation, avowal, and the order of a government, is plunder and piracy.22 Although the words in the Arabic text corresponding to “plunder and piracy” are “al-nahb wa al-ghārāt (plunder and raids),” the definitions of these words are clearly used with the explicit connotation of illegality.23 Moreover, the illegal activities in these waters are obviously directly associated with the “enemy of all mankind.” However, this definition of piracy does not always correspond to the British officials’ usage in contemporary documents. As it is discussed in greater depth in the following sections, these officials were not equipped to follow the rapidly changing regional politics with any precision, and the political allegiance

22

23

C.U. Aitchison, ed., A Collection of Treaties, Engagements and Sanads: Relating to India and Neighbouring Countries, vol. 12 (Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1909), 172. For the Arabic text of this treaty, see P. Tuson ed., The Records of the Emirates, 1820-1960, vol. 1 (Cambridge: Archive Editions, 1990), 161-63.

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of the local inhabitants remained a profound mystery to them.24 They applied the term pirates or piracy freely to particular groups and individuals, most notably the “Joasmee.” As the above quote clearly demonstrates, while the English term piracy carries the connotation of illegality,25 the Arabic language, the lingua franca in the Persian Gulf, does not really have a word that covers the English term properly.26 Most probably, qurṣān (corsair or pirate) and qarṣana (piracy) are both derived from the Italian word corsaro that does contain this connotation.27 However, despite the fact that both terms had already been introduced into Arabic, they are rarely found in nineteenth-century Arabic texts relating to the Persian Gulf. The difficulty of trying the associate the English term piracy with a particular Arabic term is shown in George P. Badger’s English translation of al-Fataḥ al-mubīn fī sīra al-sāda al-Bū Saʿīdiyīn (True Victory of Autobiography of the Rulers of the Āl Bū Saʿīd) published in 1871, renowned as one of the Arabic chronicles full of rich information on Persian Gulf affairs. Although Badger, a chaplain in the Presidency of Bombay, frequently uses the term piracy in his introduction and notes, he uses it only once in his translation of the text as follows; Moreover, whenever his (Sulṭān b. Ṣaqr b. Rāshid, current chief of the Qāsim) boats are short of water, or meet with bad weather, they run into Fakkān for supplies and repairs, and then set off again to commit piracy and murder on the sea.28 (bracket and italicized by the current author) The corresponding part in the original text says “min-hā ilā fasād al-baḥr bi-alnahb wa al-qatl (from there for maritime depravity with plundering and killing).”29 Although Badger does not mention, or indeed even imply, the reason for this exceptional usage, it should be noted that the underlined part 24

25 26

27 28 29

For example, “Shaikh Gadeef,” sheikh of Bandar-e Lengeh “calls himself, when it suits his purpose a Persian subject, though he obeys no order, but what pleases him.” BDUE SP 171/1805/4341, Seton to Bombay, Muscat, August 14, 1805. See also, Risso, “Cross-Cultural Perceptions,” 298; Davies, The Blood-Red Arab Flag, 64-65. Risso, “Cross-Cultural Perceptions,” 300-2. Contemporary Arab authors usually use several triliteral roots such as gh-ṣ-b (to take away by force), n-h-b (to plunder), gh-z-w (to raid) when they describe the events that English documents condemn as piracy. Risso, “CrossCultural Perceptions,” 300-01. Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Series, vol. 5, 502-9, s.v. Ḳurʿṣān. George P. Badger, History of the Imāms and Seyyids of ‘Omān, by Salīl-Ibn-Razīd, from ad 661-1856 (London: n.p., 1871), 293. Humayd b. Muḥammad b. Ruzayq b. Bakhīt, Al-Fatḥ al-mubīn fī sīra al-sāda al-Bū Saʿīdiyīn, ed. ʿAbd al-Munʿim ʿĀmir and Muḥammad Mursī ʿAbd Allāh (n.p., 2001), 433.

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clearly refers to the behavior of the Qawāsim, or as they were called in contemporaneous British terminology the “Joasmee.” Piracy in British sense was not shared with the locals, and the British usage of piracy in the Persian Gulf tended to accuse a certain “Joasmee” in particular. The question now arising is how this identification of piracy with the “Joasmee” was established. The following sections look at the transition in their perception of the “Joasmee” that took place in the imagination of British officials and its background. 2

From Imagination to Reality

In his examination of the abovementioned British documents, Davies says they claim that at least eighty-seven vessels were suspected to have been captured by the “Joasmee” in the vicinity of the Persian Gulf between the first incident reported in 1797 and the second expedition in 1819. Besides these, some 100 vessels were captured off the coast of India and some twenty-nine vessels off Southern Arabia.30 In some of these incidents, we can conclude that there is reasonable evidence to support British suspicions of “Joasmees” involve­ ment and, in all of them, “Joasmee” is definitely identifiable with al-Qawāsim. The incident in 1778 recorded as the first incident of “Joasmee” piracy is one of these cases.31 A “Joasmee” fleet captured an EIC ship somewhere between Bombay and al-Baṣra, but it was released after a short while.32 The correspondence between the Resident at Bandar-e Būshehr and Shaykh Rāshid of the Qāsim proves that the Qawāsim were indeed involved.33 Therefore, in this case “Joasmee” in the document is identifiable with the Qawāsim. However, this is one of relatively few incidents in which researchers can be sure of having some reasonable evidence to back British suspicions of the Qawāsim. As al-Qāsimī eagerly and repeatedly emphasizes in his book, many of British accusations and suspicions of “Joasmee” involvement are not supported by any kind of solid evidence that proves the Qawāsimi – or even “Joasmee” – involve-

30 31

32 33

Davies, The Blood-Red Arab Flag, 157, Figure 1, 169, Table 1, 170, Table 2. These numbers include the incidents with ships under non-EIC and British flags. al-Qāsimī, The Myth, 32; Kelly, Britain, 106; John G. Lorimer The Gazetteer of the Persian Gulf, Oman and Central Arabia (Calcutta: Superintendent of Government Press, 1908 -1915; reprint, London: Archive Editions, 1986), 634. al-Qāsimī, The Myth, 32. Ibid., 32.

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ment. Davies also admits uncertainty about many of the British accusations of “Joasmee” piracy, especially those related to incidents off the coast of India.34 British officials’ suspicions of “Joasmee” piracy reached two peaks, the first around 1805 and the second after 1808. The first period was remarked on in both the “Historical Sketch of the ‘Joasmee’” by Francis Warden, Member of Council at Bombay Government, and in the “Chronological Table” by Arnold B. Kemball, Assistant-Resident at Bandar-e Būshehr.35 Kemball makes no bones about his belief that Wahhabism was the evil genius behind “Joasmee” piracy, an assertion examined in the following section. The second period was characterized by reduction in the variety of those whom the British officials stigmatized as pirates. The “Uttobee,”36 the “Sweedee” (also spelt “Sevedee,” “Suvdee,” and so forth)37 and the “Chan34 35

36

37

Davies, The Blood-Red Arab Flag, 151-163, Francis Warden, “Historical Sketch of the Joasmee Tribe of Arabs; from the Year 1747 to the year 1819,” in Arabian Gulf Intelligence, Selections from the Records of the Bombay Government, New Series, no. 24, ed. R.H. Thomas (Bombay: Government at the Bombay Education Society’s Press, 1856), 130; Arnold B. Kemball, “Chronological Table of Events Connected with the Government of Muskat from the Year 1765 to 1843; with the Joasmee Tribe of Arabs, from the Year 1765 to 1843…” in Thomas, Arabian Gulf, 303. Cf. BDUE SP 164/1805/317, An Orzee from Mohummed Alli Moonshee, n.p., December 6, 1804. “Uttobee” corresponds to the ʿUtūb. Today there are two ʿUtūbi ruling families in the Persian Gulf, namely: the House of Āl Ṣabāḥ of al-Kuwayt and the House of Āl Khalīfa of Baḥrayn. The ʿUtūb can be understood as a confederation of a number of Arab families. The lack of contemporary written materials is the most serious problem confronting any attempt to discover their earlier history. According to the Ta⁠ʾrīkh al-Kuwayt written by ʿAbd al-Azīz al-Rashīd but based on local traditions in the early-twentieth century, the family of Āl Ṣabāḥ originated in al-Hadār in Najd and they established themselves in alKuwayt in the seventeenth century after their emigration from their homeland in central Arabia. ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz al-Rāshid, Ta⁠ʾrīkh al-Kuwayt, vol. 1 (n.p. [Baghdād?], 1926), 10-11, 13. This term is associated with the Arabic term “suwaydī” (diminutive form of sūdī, plural of aswad in the possessive case, that literally means “black”). Although that it is uncertain whether they were unified as a group at the beginning of the nineteenth century, they set up their base on Ḥormūz Island and “Bur Gutter” (Būr Qaṭar?) Cf. BDUE SP 112/1801/4229, Rejib Crany to Aka Abul Hassein, n.p., May 19, 1801; BDUE SP 116/1801/5900, anonymous to anonymous, n.p., n.d.]; BDUE SP 116/1801/4235, The Governor of Bombay to Seyd ben Mohammed, July 31, 1801. For other reports on their piracy, see BDUE SP 126/1802/46094611 Seton to Bombay, recd. August 27, 1802. Lorimer claims that they had plundered several ships under the British flag. Lorimer, The Gazetteer, vol. 1, 431. This statement corresponds to several entries in contemporary Bombay Diaries. Cf. BDUE SP 112/1801/ 4227-4330, Vishendas to Aka Mahomed, n.p., June 14, 1801; Rejib Crany to Aka Abul Hassein, n.p., May 19, 1801; BDUE P 325/1809/2631, Seton to Malcolm, Muscat, February 16, 1809. At least one incident of plunder is confirmed by a letter in the Bombay Diaries stating that they returned the booty of the British ship after a request from the Sulṭān of Masqaṭ BDUE SP 112/1801/4228-4229, Rejib Crany to Aka Abul Hassein, n.p., May 19, 1801.

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chias”38 do occasionally appear in documents prior to this period, as do the names of some individuals such as “Rehma ben Jaber” who was known as “Shaikh Rehma”39 and another pirate called “Abadella Ben Ahmed.”40 These “pirates” gradually disappeared from, or they were no longer referred to as such, in documents by the middle of the 1810s. The main reason for this decline was the decrease in their influence. Raḥmah b. Jābir, known as “Rehma ben Jaber” or “Shaikh Rehma,” is a good example. His general reputation was as “one of the most turbulent lawless freebooters” in this region and he was frequently mentioned in British documents.41 However, he was defeated by the ʿUtūb in 1811.42 Bruce continues:

38

39

40

41

42

Cf., BDUE SP 177/1806/337-338, Petiton from Shaik Mahomed Subedar, Bombay, January 10, 1806; BDUE SP 178/1806/486-488, Petition from Hurra Sudgoo Cooly, January 15, 1806. See also, Watson, Statistical Account, 87. “Chanchia” derives from the name of a village called “Chanch” on southeast coast of the Kāthiavād Peninsula (Watson, Statistical Account, 87). Cf., BDUE SP 151/1803/7142-7144, the Secretary of Government to the Resident at Bushire, n.p., November 30, 1803; 7147-7149, Statement of Mr. Procter, the Commander of Hector, Bombay, August 20, 1803. He was sheikh of the Jalāhima, one of the ʿUtūbi divisions based in Khūr Ḥasan, the northwest coast of the Qaṭar Peninsula. James S. Buckingham who traveled in the Persian Gulf in the early-nineteenth century, describes him as “the most successful and the most generally tolerated pirate, perhaps, that ever infested any sea.” James S. Buckingham, Travels in Assyria, Media and Persia, vol. 2 (London: H. Colburn, 1830), 121. Cf. BDUE SP 182/1806/2860-2863, Duncan to Shykh Nuser Khan, n.p., March 30, 1806; BDUE P 325/1809/2631, Seton to Malcolm, Muscat, February 16, 1809; BDUE P 325/1809/4234-37, The Governor of Bombay to Seyd ben Mohammed, n.p., July 31, 1801; BDUE P 415/1814/3820, Bruce to Wardern, Bushire, August 7, 1814. Cf. BDUE P 355/1810/2206-2207, Smith to Osborne, Muscat, April 13, 1810; BDUE P 374/1811/ 2856 Bruce to Bombay, Camp near Munshere, April 26, 1811. Even though this sheikh was suspected by some of British officials of committing acts of piracy against ships under the British flag, it is worth noting that some other officials thought he posed less risk to ships under British protection. Warden states “He had always respected the British pass and colours.” Warden, “Sketch of the Proceedings,” 522. When he was reported to have plundered a British ship, the Persian government, accordingly, issued a farmān, a royal prescript, to the prince of Shīrāz requiring him to settle this affair BDUE SP 164A/1805/553-554, Royal Farman to the Prince at Shiraz directing an Immediate Settlement of the Affairs, n.p., July 1804. However, the Indian Navy was not ordered to put down either him or his people. Warden explains that this was because this sheikh had entered into some sort connection with the Wahhabist/Suʿūd and this made British officials hesitant to attack him. Francis Warden, “Sketch of the Proceedings (from 1809 to 1818) of Rahmah bin Jaubir, Chief of Khor Hassan” in Thomas, Arabian Gulf, 522. They were also mollified by his general attitude toward ships under the British flag and British pass-holders. BDUE P 374/1811/2855, Bruce to Bombay, Camps near Munshere, April 26, 1811.

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This action has cleared the Gulf of one of the most tribulent lawless freebooters it had and will, it is expected, to go a great way to restore tran­quility to it. The only tribe that now profess open piracy is a small part of the Joasimees that inhabit the coast and island to the northward of Ras el Khima.43 A report of Raḥmah’s death even circulated among the British officials the following year.44 Actually this report was mistaken and he survived his defeat; however, as Bruce writes, thereafter British officials focused their concern on the “Joasmee,” not Raḥmah, even though they sometimes regarded Raḥma as a part of the “Joasmee.”45 It would seem that by their exploits the “Joasmee” had succeeded in obliterating any other cruel pirates from the minds of these officials. Subsequently, reports on piracy are inclined to attribute it solely to the “Joasmee.” For example, on March 9, 1812, the Political Department of the Government of Bombay read a report from William Bruce, Acting-Resident at Bandar-e Būshehr, that describes an incident in which a country ship, the Moholar, was chased by five large boats near Busheab Island (Lāvān Island). Bruce strongly suspected these boats belonged to the “Joasmee.” However, all the evidence he had to support his suspicion was the information that he had received reporting the departure of the “Joasmee” from the Persian Gulf just prior to the incident.46 On the same day as the report from Bruce was read, another letter from the master of the Moholar was also read by the Political Department of the Government of Bombay. The master, called Alusker, alleges “from what I can learn, Sir, these pirates are lately come over from the Arabian Coast in consequence of a force having gone against them from Muscat, which I think very probable as Ras Alkima (Ra⁠ʾs al-Khaymah, one of the most important bases of the Qawāsim).”47 British documents frequently provide evidence of local suspicions of “Joasmee” piracy.48 Despite the fact that few locals could produce any clear evidence for their accusations,49 British officials tended to 43 44 45 46 47 48 49

BDUE P 374/1811/2856, Bruce to Bombay, Camps near Munshere, April 26, 1811. BDUE SP 385/1811/881, Taylor to Warden, Bushire, April 27, 1812. BDUE P 424/1815/2076, Macdonald to Chief Secretary to Government, Fort St. George, May 4, 1815. BDUE P 383/1812/394, Bruce to Bruce, Bushire, February 1, 1812. BDUE P 383/1812/396, Alusker to Warden, February 9, 1812. Cf. BDUE P 408/1814/1207-1211, Cassee Ghoolab to Nipean, February 27, 1814; BDUE SP 438/1817/2141 [Elwood to Warden, Porebunder, October 27, 1817. See the summary of the “Joasmee” activities off Western India and South Arabia by Davies and the case of the Sylph in 1808. Davies, The Blood Red Flag, 297-320, 100-103.

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believe them as they confirmed their own suspicions. In the next section, the background that fostered these strong suspicions of “Joasmee” piracy among the British officials is examined. 3

The Background

There are three factors behind British officials’ suspicions and their subsequent accusations of “Joasmee” piracy. These can be summed up as follows: the structure of the Qawāsim; the relationship between the Qawāsim and Britain; and the growth of Wahhabist/Suʿūd power. This order does not reflect the importance of each factor as they are all interrelated. (1) Structure of the Qawāsim The English term “Joasmee” is applicable to both Qawāsim and Qāsim. Today, the term Qawāsim is applied to the members of the Qāsim royal family that governs the emirates of Shāriqah and Ra⁠ʾs al-Khaymah as part of the United Arab Emirates. Grammatically “Qawāsim” is indeed the plural form of “Qāsim.” However, this grammatical explanation does not fill in the gap that can be seen in the period with which this chapter is concerned. In other words, if “Joasmee” is equal to Qawāsim, the contemporary British documents alleging the notorious piratical activities of the “Joasmee” give readers the impression that the size of the Qawāsim, the members of the Qāsim family, was quite large; however, at the beginning of the twentieth century, the total number of the members of this family was only sixty.50 It has proved impossible to find any evidence of a huge population decline in this family, even at the time of the putative expeditions. Therefore, if we simply equate “the Joasmee” with “the Qawāsim” limited to the members of “the Qāsim” family, a very large problem arises. In order to clarify who “the “Joasmee” were, the best step would be to begin by examining the relationship between “the Qawāsim” and “the Qāsim.” In the nineteenth century context, the relationship of both terms has to be explained not by recourse to Arabic grammar but to their political structure. In short, the Qāwāsim consisted of the members of the multi-tribal confederation at whose core the Qāsim had situated themselves. Frauke Heard-Bey calls this structure “the multi-tribal Qasimi Empire.”51 The best description of the

50 51

Lorimer, Gazetteer, vol. 2, 1435. Frauke Heard-Bey, From Trucial States to United Arab Emirates (London: Longman, 1982; reprint, Dubai: Motivate Publishing, 2004), 68.

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29

28 27

24 26

25

22

23

12

21

14 17 13 2019 15 18 16

Cape Mussandam

3

8

9 11 10

6 5 4 7

2 1

Abu Zaby

Masqat

0

100km

Sur

Map 3.1

The Persian Gulf with major place names and ports of the Joasmee in 1819

Table 3.1

List of the ports under the Qawāsimī authority in 1819

Number Name of the port as spelt Modern place name on Map 1 in source Ports under direct rule of the Joasmee 1 Khor Fakkan Khawr al-Fakkān 2 Dubba Dibā 5 Ras al-Khaima Raʼs al-Khaymah 6 Hamra Island Ḥamrāʼ 9 Fasht al-Fisht 10 Sharjah al-Shāriqah 15 Bandar-e Kong Bandar-e Gong 19 Mogoo Bandar-e Moghūyeh Ports under either direct or indirect rule of the Joasmee 4 Ramse al-Rams 13 Homeram Kūh-e ʻOmeyrān 14 Bandar-e Mullim Bandar-e Band-e Moʻallem Tribute to the Joasmee 7 Umm al-Qaiwayn Umm al-Qaywayn

Notes

[R] [R] [R] [R] [R] [R] [R] [R]

Pay tribute by 1820

83

The Making of the ‘Joasmee’ Pirates Number Name of the port as spelt Modern place name on Map 1 in source

Notes

8

Pay tribute by 1820 [R]

Ajman

Ajmān

11 Himreeah 12 Luft Ports under rule of other parties 3 Khasab

al-Ḥimrīyah Laft

16 17 18 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

Bandar-e Lengeh Shinas Bastion Sertes Kharg Cheeroo Inderabia Nakheeloo Shitwar Busheab

Bandar-e Lengeh Shenās Bandar-e Bustāneh Bandar-e Ḥasīneh? Bandar-e Chārak Cherūyeh Hendūrābī Nakhīlū Shatvār Lāvān (a.k.a.Būshoeyb)

27 28 29 30

Naabund Aseeloo Tahiri Kangan

Nāy Band Asalūyeh Bandar-e Ṭāherī Kangān

Khaṣab

Shihiriyyin; taken by the Āl Bū Saʻīd in 1747 [R] [C] [C] [C] [C] [C] Shaykh of Cherūyeh (1818)

[M] Yūsuf b. Raḥmah (1818) [C] [C] [C] [C]

Notes: [C] Common descent to the shaykh of Raʼs al-Khaymah; [M] Married with family of the shaykh of Raʼs al-Khaymah; [R] Relative to the shaykh of Raʼs al-Khaymah; name ( ): name of ruler (year of observation) Sources: BDUE SP 171/1805/4341-4342 [Seton to Bombay, Muscat, 14 August 1805]; Taylor, “Extracts,” 7, 8, 18, 19, 21-22, 37; Kemball, “Chronological Tables,” 102, 129, 130, 131; idem., “Memoranda,” 102; idem., “Statistical,” 292, 293, 294; Warden, “Historical Sketch of the Joasmee,” 301, 304

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relationship between the Qāsim and the Qawāsim is found in Lorimer’s Gazetteer: The subjects of the Qāsimi, to whatever tribes they might belong, were generally spoken of as Qawāsim; and it seems possible that, abroad, the name was applied to almost all Arabs hailing from the Western coast of the ‘Omān promontory.52 Both their origin and early history are pretty obscure. Warden regards the “Joasmee” as “a race of Arabs descended from the inhabitants of Nujd [Najd, central Arabia and the coastal region between today’s Bahrain and Kuwait is regarded as the coastline of Najd],”53 but a recent Arab scholar has claimed that the Qāsim had migrated from somewhere near Sāmarrā’ in Iraq.54 Some nineteenth-century contemporaries have recorded some local traditions about the early history of the “Joasmee” in their writings. Whereas Miles wrote that the “Joasmee” originally migrated from the Iranian side of the Persian Gulf in 52 53 54

Lorimer, Gazetteer, vol. 1, 631. Warden, “Historical Sketch of the Joasmee,” 300. al-Jabūrī ʿAbd al-Karīm, al-Qawāsim, wa dawr-hum fī muqāwama al-iḥtilāl al-burīṭānī (n.p., n.d.), 48. However, in the case of the origin of house of the Qāsim, it is possible to put forward the following hypothesis. Samuel B. Miles, who had traveled widely in the Gulf region from the 1840s and compiled a large volume entitled The Country and Tribes of the Persian Gulf, mentions the etymology of the Qāsim. He states that the nisba (attribution of a person; or in this case, it can be understood as family name) of the Qāsim, al-Qāsimī (though he wrote as “the Joasmees”), derives from “Shaik Kasim” who was the grandfather of “Shaikh Rashid bin Muttar.” Samuel B. Miles, The Countries and Tribes of the Persian Gulf (London: Harrison and Sons, 1919), 269. The latter figure can be identified as Rāshid b. Maṭar (r. 1760-1777) by referring to the genealogical table of the Qāsimi sheikhs in ʿAbd Allāh ʿAlī al-Ṭābūr’s ethno-historical work. The genealogical table also cites the name of Raḥmah b. Maṭar (r. 1560-1600), who was a sheikh eight generations prior to Rāshid. ʿAbd Allāh ʿAlī al-Ṭābūr, Julfār ʿabr al-ta⁠ʾrīkh (Dubayy, 1987), 286. The reason for Raḥma’s identification is because he bore the laqab (honorific title given to a ­person describing his personality) of al-Qāsim (literally, divider, distributor) that appears again in the name of his grandson, Raḥma b. Muḥammad b. al-Qāsim (Raḥma, son of Muḥammad, son of al-Qāsim). ʿAbd Allāh ʿAlī al-Ṭābūr, Julfār, 286. For a brief survey of the components of classical Arabic names, see Salahuddin Ahmed, A Dictionary of Muslim Names (New York: New York University Press, 1999), xi-xiii. Therefore it can be assumed that al-Qāsimī, the nisba of the Qāsim family members, derives from Raḥma b. Maṭar’s laqab, and consequently it suggests that this Raḥma was the founder of the house of Qāsim. ʿAbd Allāh ʿAlī al-Ṭābūr, Julfār, 286. See also Zahrī ʿAbd al-Mujīd Sammūr, Ta⁠ʾrīkh sāḥil ʿumān al-siyāsī fī al-niʿf al-awwal min al-qarn al-tāsiʿ ʿashara (al-Kuwayt), vol. 1, 62-63.

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the course of the eighteenth century,55 John Malcolm provides a more detailed account narrated by his Arab servant named Khudādād.56 This is a story of a marriage between a daughter of an Arab fisherman who lived near Bandar-e ʿAbbās and a man of enormous strength who had accidentally been caught at sea in that fisherman’s net. The daughter of the fisherman bore four sons, from whom are descended the four tribes including the “Ben Joassem” (corrupted version in English of “Banī al-Qawāsim” literally children of al-Qawāsim) and those four tribes were collectively known as the “Ben Houl.” Although Kelly treads warily when addressing the question of the early history of the Qawāsim, he also cites a local tradition recorded in a document in the India Office Records that says the Qawāsim originally inhabited Sīrāf, a flourishing ancient port on the Iranian side of the Persian Gulf, and migrated to Ṣūr and Masqaṭ after the decline of this port that had been precipitated by an earthquake (366 ah/976-7 CE). Some of the immigrants moved again from there to Ra⁠ʾs al-Khaymah.57 What these local traditions reflect is a popular perception of the multi-tribal structure of the Qāsimi Empire. Interestingly, they have also not overlooked the network of this empire that tied various ports and groups together. For example, in Malcolm’s version, “Ben Joassem” is lined up alongside three other tribes; whereas the version cited by Kelly describes a kind of diaspora of the Qawāsim, geographically covering the Persian Gulf and the coast of Oman. Their far-flung network was also recognized by British officials as shown in Table 3.1. This table showing the ports under the authority of the “Joasmee” was drawn up on the basis of British observations at the time of the 1819 expedition. Although it will not be the perfect list, it shows at least thirty locations were recognized by the British officials as resorting under “Joasmee” authority.58 Furthermore, their awareness of some marital and tribute relationships among them is also shown on this table. However, the components of this “empire” were very prone to change because of the fragile nature of political relationships in this region. From a political viewpoint, the Persian Gulf was a bewildering web of hostility, 55

56 57 58

Miles, The Countries, 269, 430-31. See also, Farhang Mehr, A Colonial Legacy: The Dispute over the Islands of Abu Musa, and the Greater and Lesser Tumbs (Lanham: University Press of America, 1997), 152. John Malcolm, Sketches of Persia, vol. 1 (London: John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1849), 16. Kelly, Britain, 18. For other tribal names under the “Joasmee,” cf., BDUE SP 171/1805/4341-4342, Seton to Bombay, Muscat, August 14, 1805; BDUE SP 173/1805/5395-5396, Seton to Skinner, Muscat, October 9, 1805; BDUE SP 208/1807/4942-4950, Seton to Bombay Government, Baroda, July 2, 1807.

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amity, and protector-protegé relationships. The harsh natural environment, a combination of sandy soil, searing heat, and limited access to water, caused such unremitting fierce competition among the tribal groups in this region that no single super power succeeded in gaining the upper hand. The upshot was that the protector-protegé relationship was not only subject to change, it was also vague. Small groups needed to choose the best protector and the ability of the latter to provide this protection depended on the situation. The case of the Banū Maʿīn provides a good example. The Banū Maʿīn, who ruled over al-Ḥīra and al-Ḥamrīyah, had once joined the Qawāsim against the Āl Bū Saʿīd. However, in 1807 Saʿīd b. Sulṭān, the ruler of the latter, wrote a letter to the Governor of Bombay stating that the Banū Maʿīn had recently “kissed my threshold, enrolled themselves in the ranks of my subjects became obedient and submissive […] became clothed in the garment of forgiveness and obtained my pardon for their crimes.”59 Despite his protestations, as late as 1854, they were again being recognized as a part of the “Joasmee.”60 When Kemball reported this, he also noted that the Banū Maʿīn were exempt from the payment of tribute; instead, they actually received an annual allowance from the sheikh of the Qāsim.61 The British officials were aware of the fragility of the structure to which even members of the house of Qāsim were no exception. For example, an attack on the EIC brig the Viper has been remarked on as one of the earlier conflicts between Britain and the Qawāsim. In October 1797, there was a skirmish between a fleet led by Shaykh Sāliḥ b. Muḥammad, nephew of Shaykh Ṣaqr of the Qāsim, and the Viper.62 When the British Resident at al-Baṣra inquired about this incident from Shaykh Ṣaqr, this sheikh stated that Shaykh Sāliḥ had been acting independently of his family and had established himself among the Banū Khālid who were extending their authority over the coastline of the region known locally as Najd.63

59 60

61 62 63

BDUE SP 194/1806/1007 [Syyud Saeed to Duncan, n.p., n.d.], read at Bombay Castle, December 5, 1806. Arnold B. Kemball, “Statistical and Miscellaneous Information connected with the Possessions, Revenues, Families, &c. of His Highness the Imaum of Muskat; of the Ruler of Bahrein; and of the Chiefs of the Maritime Arab States in the Persian Gulf,” in Thomas, Arabian Gulf, 294. For ambiguity of the position of “Sweedee,” see Davies, The Blood-Red Arab Flag, 84. Kemball, “Statistical,” 294. For more details about the structure of the Qawāsim, see Heard-Bey, From Trucial States, 68-72, 82-102. Cf. Davies, The Blood-Red Arab Flag, 92-93; al-Qāsimī, The Myth, 35-38. Warden, “Historical Sketch of the Joasmee,” 302.

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Readers of the Bombay Diaries still find just as much difficulty in disentangling this complexity of relationships among parties and individuals as did the British officials.64 Try as they might, they were unable to find any clear borderline to the extent of the Qawāsim because the group was so highly fluid on account of the frangibility of regional politics. On reflection, this meant that British officials had sufficient leeway to push any unidentifiable piratical cases conveniently about within the confines of this vague border. However, such vagueness was not a unique characteristic of the Qawāsim. A similar blurred structure can be recognized among other neighboring parties, especially those around the Strait of Hormūz.65 So, more specific reasons for why British suspicion was concentrated on the Qawāsim have to be explored in the relationship between the Qawāsim and Britain. (2) Relationship between the Qawāsim and Britain Frangibility is a significant characteristic in the web of politics in the Persian Gulf; in other words, it has always contained a high potential for the replacement of old thread by new. However, the hostile relationship between the Āl Bū Saʿīd and the Qawāsim, more precisely the family of the Qāsim, was a relatively stable and strong thread.66 The earliest contact between both parties recorded in British documents is a note on a couple of skirmishes at Buraymī and Khawr Fakkān in 1747.67 This was narrated as a part of the territorial expansion undertaken by Aḥmad b. Saʿīd, the first imām of the Āl Bū Saʿīd, who seized control of Musqaṭ, and took Khawr Fakkān and KhaṢṢab as a consequence.68 They did associate with one another once for a brief joint expedition to Bandar-e ʿAbbās and Bandar-e Lengeh in 1772. The alliance was short-lived and they were again adopting a hostile stance toward each other from 1775.69 The principal policy of the Bombay Government toward local politics in the Persian Gulf was to display neutrality. This decision was clearly manifested by 64 65 66 67

68 69

As far as these officials were concerned, the words of local rulers were often far from those reliable. See BDUE P 355/1810/2049, Manesty to Bombay, Bussora, March 20, 1810. Cf. Lorimer, Gazetteer, vol. 2, 1782-1785. Cf. Ḥusayn Ghabbāsh, ‘Umān, 160-64 Robert Taylor, “Extracts from Brief Notes, Containing Historical and Other Information Connected with the Province of Oman; Muskat and the Adjoining Country; the Islands of Bahrein, Ormus, Kishm, and Karrack; and Other Ports and Places in the Persian Gulf,” in Thomas, Arabian Gulf, 7. Taylor, “Extracts,” 7. Warden, “Historical Sketchof the Joasmee,” 301. See also, BDUE SP 207/18007/ 4368-4369, Seton to Bombay, Bombay, June 17, 1807.

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the Resident at Bandar-e Būshehr when he said that, “I have nothing to do with your quarrels nor will that be a source of displeasure to me; so long as you do not molest English vessles or English property or anybody belonging to the English.”70 Despite its circumspect resolves, in its attempts to establish a strong relationship with the latter Britain inevitably became embroiled in the persistent hostility between the Qawāsim and the Āl Bū Saʿīd; a choice that meant it would be the enemy of the Qawāsim. The origin of British interest in the Omani coast can be traced back to the first half of the seventeenth century, and it arose from an undisguised commercial motivation, rather than from any political or military considerations.71 A significant change occurred around the end of the eighteenth century; an alteration that ran parallel to the transformation of the EIC, namely: The increasing rivalry between Britain and France in the Western Indian Ocean and the expansion of the Wahhabist/Suʿūd into the Persian Gulf.72 As these factors grew in significance, British political and military interest in the geopolitically important Omani coast kept pace with them. The contemporaneous Wahhabist/Suʿūd expansion toward Oman was a particular menace to the Āl Bū Saʿīd and stimulated them seek a strong alliance with Britain.73 Some scholars claim that this relationship was the most obvious reason behind the Qawāsimi attacks on British ships.74 A letter from Ṣaqr b. Rāshid, the father of Sulṭān b. Ṣaqr b. Rāshid and the sheikh of Ra⁠ʾs al-Khaymah prior to his son, to a British official in 1797 clearly states “when my cruiser meets the vessel of my friends such as those belonging to you, to the Arabs in alliance with me, and to the Basra Government, they behave to them with amity, but when they meet 70 71 72

73 74

BDUE SP 232/1808/5838-5839, Smith to Rahma bin Jauber, April 14, 1808. See also, Bhacker, Trade, 55. Badr al-Dīn ʿAbbās ʿAlī al-Khaṣūṣī, Darāsāt fī ta⁠ʾrīkh al-khalīj al-ʿarabī: al-ḥadīth wa al-muʿāʿir, vol. 1 (al-Kuwayt, 1984), 42; Kelly, Britain, 51. Bhacker, Trade, 31-64; Haneda Masashi 羽田正, Higashi-Indo Kaisha to Ajia no umi 東 イ ンド会社とアジアの海 [East India Companies and Asian Seas] (Tokyo: Kodansha, 2007), 292-306; Lorimer, Gazetteer, vol. 1, 169-81; Beatrice Nicolini, Il sultano di Zanzibar nel XIX secolo: traffici commerciali e relazioni internazionali (Torino: L’Harmattan Italia, 2002), 78-108; Patricia Risso, Oman and Muscat: An Early Modern History (London & Sydney: Croom Helm, 1986), 139-57; Malcolm Yapp, “British Policy in the Persian Gulf,” in The Persian Gulf States: A General Survey, ed. Alvin J. Cottrell (London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980), 70-73. Bhacker, Trade, 39-62. ʿAbd Allāh Khalīfa ʿAbd Allāh al-Gānim, Mawlid al-Qawāsim wa ta⁠ʾrīkh basṭ nafūdh-hum al-siyāsī (n.p., 2002), 22; Sālim b. Ḥamūd b. Shāms al-Siyālī, ʿUmān ʿabra ta⁠ʾrīkh (n.p., 1980), 99.

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the vessels of my enemies they attack and destroy them.”75 In another letter to the Resident at al-Baṣra, this sheikh also clearly declares that the Āl Bū Saʿīd were his sole enemy.76 Actually, Shaykh Rāshid explains that the incident in 1778 (the first Qawāsim’s attack on a British ship recognized as such by the British) happened when his fleet “…having fallen in with the vessel taken, she showed the Imam’s colours with whom we being at war.”77 “The Imam” in this quote is none other than the Imam of the Āl Bū Saʿīd. Another factor linked Britain with the Qawāsim even more directly. From a geopolitical viewpoint, the location of the Qawāsimi ports was a consideration that was impossible for Britain to ignore because the British regarded the Persian Gulf as an important part of the route connecting metropolis with India, essential to both communications and commerce.78 Map 3.1 shows the concentration of the “Joasmee” ports around the Strait of Hormūz. That the importance of this strait that has been the focus of various polities throughout history of the Persian Gulf goes without saying.79 Vessels passing through the Strait of Hormūz used to put in to Masqaṭ to pay their taxes to the ruler of this port.80 However, this system was jeopardized by the ʿUtūb’s refusal in 1799, and again at the end of the first decade of the nineteenth century81 by the Qawāsim, who had by then established their governance over the ports around the Strait of Hormūz and had begun to demand British ships pay tax.82 These two factors forced the British officials take the Qawāsim seriously. Qawāsimi control over the narrow entrance to the Persian Gulf directly impinged upon strategic British plans for the Persian Gulf. Because of the power they wielded in this strategic area, the Qawāsim gradually began to assume the guise of a potential enemy in the eyes of the British officials. From being a potential opponent, the Qawāsim now emerged as a full-blown real

75 76 77 78 79

80 81 82

BDUE SP 59/1798/137-138, quoted in al-Qāsimī, The Myth, 35. Warden, “Historical Sketch of the Joasmee,” 302. Quoted in al-Qāsimī, The Myth, 32. For a similar case, see BDUE P 421/1815/1060, Bruce to Warden, Bushire, April 15, 1815. Cf. Bhacker, Trade, 46; Kelly, Britain, 58. For an overview of early history of Hormūz, see Jean Aubin, “La royaume d’Ormuz au début du XVIe siècle,” Mare Luso-Indicum 2 (1972): 77-179; Mohammad Bagher Vosoughi, “The Kings of Hormuz: From the Beginning until the Arrival of the Portuguese,” in The Persian Gulf in History, ed. Lawrence G. Potter (Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), 89-104. Miles, The Countries, vol. 1, 291. Ibid. Warden, “Historical Sketch of the Joasmee,” 306.

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enemy in British minds, particularly when the Wahhabist/Suʿūd absorption of the Qawāsim dawned on them. (3) Influence of the Wahhabist/Suʿūd Alliance In the mid-eighteenth century, Wahhabism, a puritanical religious movement that wanted the purification of Islam and whose followers called themselves muwaḥḥidūn (Unitarians), began to associate with the Suʿūd, a house in Najd, Central Arabia. Subsequently, this alliance exerted an enormous influence on the surrounding regions. The expansion of the influence of this theocracy combined with first and second factors mentioned above were what finally drove Britain to proceed with their expeditions. The Wahhabist/Suʿūd experienced a rapid rise to power and were influential enough to stir up regional politics soon after its followers made their appear­ance in the Persian Gulf. The territory of the Banū Khālid, that once covered a vast area between al-Baṣra and outskirts of Abū Ẓabī, had gradually been encroached upon by them since the mid-eighteenth century (completed c.1790); a part of the ʿUtūb supported by the Wahhabist/Suʿūd regained al-Baḥrayn Island from the Āl Bū Saʿīd (1799) and thereafter this part of the ʿUtūb paid tribute to this power. This religious-cum-polity alliance absorbed the Qawāsim into its own realm (1802) and even the Āl Bū Saʿīd acceded to its demand to pay tribute (1803). All of these events took place around the turn of the century.83 In the eyes of contemporary Europeans the Wahhabist/Suʿūd alliance was both mysterious and powerful. Even though they were not fully acquainted with its doctrine and Central Arabia was one of the black holes in their geographical knowledge, they were acutely aware of the rapid and forceful expansion of this 83

BDUE SP 120/1802/688, Letter to Duncan, Bushire, 26 December 1801; BDUE P 325/1809/2695, Seton to Malcolm, Muscat, February 19, 1809; Ahmad M. Abu-Hakima, The Modern History of Kuwait, 1750-1965 (London: Luzac & Co, 1983), 5; Ahmad M. Abu-Hakima, History of Eastern Arabia 1750-1800: The Rise and Development of Bahrain, Kuwait and Wahhabi Saudi Arabia (Beirut: Khayats, 1965; reprint, London: Probsthain, 1988), 129-44; Humayd b. Muḥammad b. Ruzayq b. Bakhīt, al-Fatḥ, 368-69; George S. Rentz, The Birth of the Islamic Reform Movement in Saudi Arabia: Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb (1703/4-1792) and the Beginnings of Unitarian Empire in Arabia (London: Arabian Publishing, 2004), 213-14; Francis Warden, “Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the Government of Muskat; Commencing with the Year 1694-95, and Continued to the Year 1819,” in Thomas, Arabian Gulf, 167-87, 174; Francis Warden, “Historical Sketch of the Uttoobee Tribe of Arabs; (Bahrein;) from the Year 1716 to the Year 1817,” in Thomas, Arabian Gulf, 366; Francis Warden, “Historical Sketch of the Wahabee Tribe of Arabs; from the Year 1795 to the Year 1818,” in Thomas, Arabian Gulf, 429; Zahrī ʿAbd al-Mujīd Sammūr, Ta⁠ʾrīkh, vol. 1, 79.

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movement, not only in the Persian Gulf but also into Egypt and Iraq where it struck fear into the hearts of the local governments and inhabitants.84 Warden notes that its expedition against Karbalā’, one of the four ʿatābāt (holy places of Shī’ah Muslim), in 1802 was an event that made a deep impression on the minds of people living in surrounding regions.85 Some captured letters from the chief of the Wahhabist/Suʿūd revealed to the British officials the former’s determined endeavor to convert other Muslims into Wahhabists. Furthermore, soon after their appearance in the Persian Gulf, British officials noticed that several “pirates” in this region had also been absorbed by this theocracy.86 The Qawāsim were no exception. In 1808, the Wahhabist/Suʿūd succeeded in taking more effective control of the Qawāsim. They appointed Ḥasan b. ʿAlī, nephew of the incumbent Qāsimi ruler of Ra⁠ʾs al-Khaymah, and some other amīrs, and dispatched them to govern the ports under Qawāsimi rule, including Ra⁠ʾs al-Khaymah. It was not long before these amīrs superseded the former authorities in these ports.87 The British officials discovered that the “Joasmee” were offering the chief of the Wahhabist/Suʿūd one-fifth of their prizes.88 In 1809 Seton reported that the annual amount paid in tribute to the chief of the Wahhabist/Suʿūd by the “Joasmee” had risen from 4,000 to 12,000 dollars, funded by the upsurge in piracy.89 As Seton’s report implies, British officials assumed that Wahhabist/Suʿūd power and “Joasmee” piracy were inextricably linked. In the light of this bond, the Minerva incident in 1808 is remarkable since it made a palpable impression not only on the British officials stationed in the Gulf but also on the British in Bombay, arousing considerable fear. The British officials strongly suspected 84

85

86

87 88

89

Natana J. Delong-Bas, Wahhabi Islam; from Revival and Reform to Global Jihad (London: Oxford University Press, 2004), 224; Kelly, Britain, 49. See also Hanford J. Brydges, An Account of the Transactions of His Majesty’s Mission to the Court of Persia, in the Years 18071811, vol. 2 (London: J. Bohn, 1834), 2, 8-11. Warden, “Historical Sketch of the Wahabee,” 430. For this expedition, see Morikawa Tomoko 守川知子, Shia-ha seichi sankei no kenkyu シーア派聖地参詣の研究 [Shi’ite pilgrimage to the sacred ʿAtabāt] (Kyoto: Kyoto Daigaku Gakujutsu Shuppankai, 2007), 44-45. BDUE SP 120/1802/688, Letter to Duncan, Bushire, December 26, 1801; BDUE 126/1802/4610, Seton to Bombay, read at Bombay Castle, August 27, 1802; BDUE 164/1805/432, Manesty to Wellesley, Bussora, January 2, 1805. BDUE P 325/1809/2695, Seton to Malcolm, Muscat, February 19, 1809. BDUE P 165/1805/898, Resident at Muscat to Bombay, n.p., n.d. read in Bombay Castle, February 26, 1805; BDUE P 325/1809/2626, Seton to Malcolm, Mascat Cove on board the Turnate, February 5, 1809. BDUE P 325/1809/2695, Seton to Malcolm, Muscat, February 19, 1809.

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“Joasmee” involvement in this incident. Bruce received a report from the governor of Bandar-e Būshehr stating that the Minerva “has been captured by the Joasime [sic.] Pirates and every soul killed except the captain, one officer and two Armenians who they have forcibly circumcised and made Mahomedans.”90 The two Armenians will have been the young Armenian wife of Robert Taylor residing in the Bandar-e Būshehr Residency and her infant son. They were taken to Ra⁠ʾs al-Khaymah, and eventually released upon payment of a ransom.91 This incident made sensational news in Bombay, as witnessed by articles in both the Bombay Gazette and the Asiatic Annual Register. Both describe the cruelty and the religious fanaticism of the “Joasmee.”92 From this moment, in the minds of the British officials, “Joasmee” piracy was tinged with a vivid religious hue and this element only exacerbated ideas about their cruelty. In the case of the incident of the Sylph, that occurred a half year after the capture of the Minerva, although there was no clear evidence on which to base accusations against the “Joasmee,” a combination of reports from locals on the scene convinced the officials of their involvement. The minutes in the Bombay Diaries dated November 11, 1808 make an explicit connection between “Joasmee” piracy and Islam. […] Information in a letter written by Mahomed Hussein from Muscat to the President of the pirates having exulted and even performed a religious ceremony in thanks for their having had an opportunity to put so many Christians to death […]93 This conviction of the connection between “Joasmee” piracy and a sort of religious fanaticism also appears in James R. Wellsted’s travel account. He describes: After a ship was taken, she was purified with water, and with perfumes; the crew were then led forward singly, their heads placed on the gunwale, and their throats cut, with the exclamation used in battle of ʿAllah akbar!’–God is great!94 90 91 92 93 94

BDUE SP 336/1809/7344, Bruce to Edmonstone, Bushire, June 30, 1809. Davies, The Blood-Red Arab Flag, 105. Both are quoted in al-Qāsimī, The Myth, 95-97. BDUE SP 251/1808/13005, Minutes dated November 11, 1808. For another statement, see BDUE P 420/1815/441, Elwood to Carnac, Porebunder, January 31, 1815. James R. Wellsted, Travels to the City of the Caliphs, along the Shores of the Persian Gulf and Mediterranean, vol. 1 (London: Henry Colburn, 1840), 101. See also, William Heude, A Voy-

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As the minutes of the Bombay Diaries relating to the Sylph incident imply, local perception supported the British officials’ understanding of the coin­ cidence between “Joasmee” piracy and their acceptance of Wahhabism.95 A biography of Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb, the founder of Wahhabism, entitled Lamʿ al-shihāb fī sīra Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb (The Brilliantly Shining Shooting Star of the Paths of Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb) by an anonymous author records one particular episode. On the occasion of a visit by Sulṭān b. Ṣaqr, the then ruler of the Qawāsim, to Shaykh ʿAlī b. Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb, son of the founder of Wahhabism who had succeeded his father, this sheikh warmly welcomed Sulṭān and his Qawāsim followers and, during their stay, he ate only the gifts they had brought, “because whatever the people of Ra⁠ʾs al-Khaymah have plundered is sweeter than mother’s milk.”96 Whatever the accuracy of this episode, it does reveal the local perception of the relationship between Qawāsimi piracy and Wahhabism. Furthermore, the Lamʿ al-shihāb was most probably compiled at the request of the British Resident.97 This implies that the British officials were able to confirm their under­standing using this episode as it had been written down by a local. The British officials were never short of this sort of information to convince them of the causality between “Joasmee” piracy and the latter’s espousal of Wahha­ bism. Information like this substantiated the “Joasmee” metamorphosis. The “Joasmee” were no longer just a potential enemy of Britain, the officials could now confirm that they were a universal enemy, not only of theirs but also of Christians and even non-Wahhabist Muslims. In 1809 the Bombay Government ordered an expedition to Ra⁠ʾs al-Khaymah. This expedition destroyed the settlement but it did not lead to the conclusion of a treaty with the Qawāsim that had been its initial aim. Saʿīd b. Sulṭān, the ruler of the Āl Bū Saʿīd, joined this expedition in the hope of retaking his territories, but this also failed because the British officials were afraid to launch a direct confrontation with the Wahhabist/Suʿūd; had Saʿīd b. Sulṭān retaken Ra⁠ʾs al-Khymah, the main body of the Wahhabist/Suʿūd would have inevitably become embroiled into this conflict.98 The Indian Navy officers and civil offi-

95 96 97 98

age up the Persian Gulf and a Journey Overland from India to England in 1817 (London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, & Brown, 1819), 36. See an Arabic letter cited on Davies, The Blood-Red Arab Flag, 131. Lamʿ al-shihāb (OIOC, OC Add. 23346), ff.247-248. Michael Cook, “The Provenance of the Lamʿ al-shihāb fī sīrat Muḥammad ibn ʿAbd al-Wahhāb,” Journal of Turkish Studies 10 (1986): 79-86. Cf. BDUE P 355/1810/2202-2203, Malcolm to Osborne, Camp near Bushire, March 30, 1810; BDUE 361/1810/4770-4771, Duncan to the Imaum of Muskat, n.p., September 13, 1810; BDUE 375/1811/3125-3126, Board’s Resolutions, Minutes, June 7, 1811.

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cials in the Persian Gulf were anxious not to offend the main body of the Wahhabist/Suʿūd whose military potential neither they nor the Bombay Government underestimated. They were very keen to maintain a good relationship with the main body of the Wahhabist/Suʿūd, despite the fact they were still looking for an opportunity to suppress “Joasmee” piracy and that both parties were firmly bonded in their minds.99 Entangled in the toils of the half-hearted strategy, Saʿīd b. Sulṭān’s territorial ambitions were doomed to failure. The Bombay Government was determined to tread warily, even after the first expedition, so as not to offend the main body of the Wahhabist/Suʿūd. In 1811 Charles Sealy, commander of the HC (Honorable Company) cruiser the Benares, received his instructions for his posting to the Persian Gulf from the Bombay Government as follows: It is known that the Joasmees are under the general protection of the Wahabee power which is supposed to keep them in a state of unwilling subjection, however, that may be you are to cause it to be understood that the British Government have no quarrel with Saood (Suʿūd), the Present Chieftain of the Wahabees but desire on the contrary to cultivate with him the relations of amity in the manner already communicated in a letter written to him by the Hon’ble the Governor […] 100 The links between the “Joasmee” and the Wahhabist/Suʿūd theocracy forced the Bombay Government to tread on eggshells in its dealings with “Joasmee” piracy. Even though it looked upon this alliance as an engine for the former to commit more piracy, it was being extremely careful not to provoke the main body of the Wahhabist/Suʿūd. Therefore the Bombay Government decided to suspend further operations against “Joasmee” piracy until the second expedition in 1819, when the situation had changed, largely to its advantage.

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BDUE SP 220/11808/1683-1691, Sauoodibn Abdul Azeez to Smith, recd. Bushire, December 16,1807; J.A. Saldanha, The Persian Gulf Précis, vol. 5 (Calcutta and Simla, 1903-8; reprint, Gerrards Cross, Buckinghamshire: Archive Editions, 1986), 7. BDUE P 371/1811/1498-1499, Hamilton to Sealey, Bombay, March 25, 1811. See also, BDUE P 355/1810/2202-2203, Malcolm to Osborne, Camp near Bushire, March 30, 1810; BDUE 375/1811/3125-3126 , Board’s Resolutions, Minutes, June 7, 1811.

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Conclusion

The second expedition was launched in November 1819. This time, British officials had been busy making thorough preparations since the beginning of the year, without having to worry too much about the intentions of the main body of the Wahhabist/Suʿūd, because their capital had fallen to İbrahim Paşa, Viceroy of Egypt and the Sudan, in September 1818.101 The Bombay Diaries reveal that British officials in the Gulf and the Bombay Government kept a careful check on the progress of İbrahim Paşa’s expedition.102 As İbrahim Paşa seized the advantage in the war, the British officials began to receive various letters from the sheikhs of the Qawāsim begging forgiveness,103 but these supplications did not check their preparations for accomplishing the noble cause of suppressing this universal enemy. Although the expedition did destroy the settlement of Ra⁠ʾs al-Khaymah, it did not stop the piracy in this and neighboring regions but the extent to which it was practiced certainly shrank.104 The best outcome of the campaign was that Britain had demonstrated its military potential effectively enough assume the position of the protector of this region. Be that as it may, in many of the cases that the British officials suspected the “Joasmee” and accused them of piracy it is impossible to judge whether the Qawāsim were really involved. However, the vague boundaries of what constituted the Qawāsim, the political relationships in the Persian Gulf that were subject to rapid change and never less than extremely complicated, the continuous hostility between the Qawāsim and the Āl Bū Saʿīd in which Britain was reluctantly involved and the visible integration of the Qawāsim into the Wahhabist/Suʿūd were factors enough for British officials to use their suspicions of “Joasmee” piracy as an excuse to mount naval expeditions against the Qawāsim.

101 102 103

104

Warden, “Historical Sketch of Wahabee,” 436. Cf. BDUE P 310/1819/279-312; BDUE P 311/1819/941-948, BDUE P 312/1819/949-1013. For example, in 1817, Sulṭān b. Ṣaqr, the shaykh of Shāriqah wrote to the Resident at Bandar-e Būshehr that (…) the past offence occurred without my authority and sanction for as Saood had then established his supremacy over my subjects, I lost the power of restraint, and punishment. I still feel myself bound by the treaty established between us, and the sincerity of my friendship remains unchanged (…) BDUE P 312/1819/1059, Sooltan ben Suggur to Bruce, n.p., 2 suffer 1232 ah Cf. OIOC IOR/R/15/1/143/132-134, Hamerton to Kemball, Zanzibar, February 10, 1854; MAHA PD 159/1860/190-191, Rigby to Anderson, Zanzibar, March 28, 1860.

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Archival and Manuscript References

BDUE Bombay Diaries held at the Arab World Documentation Unit, University of Exeter, UK MAHA Bombay Record Office, of the Central Archival Agency of the Government of Maharashtra, India OIOC Oriental and India Office Collection, British Library, UK Lamʿ al-shihāb fī sīra Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb, OIOC, OC Add. 23346

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Chapter 4

Petitions and Predation: The Politics of Representation in Northwest India at the Turn of the Nineteenth Century Lakshmi Subramanian

Introduction

Recent scholarship on piracy in the Indian Ocean has emphasized the blurred distinctions between privateering and piracy on the one hand and the idea of legal pluralism on the other.1 In one sense the ambiguity was part of the early colonial state’s unwillingness to share control over the sea as far as patrolling and policing were concerned. However, this attitude was not always consistent – the actuality of politics in India’s western littoral in the second half of the eighteenth century complicated the exercise of representing coastal society’s response to the changes that came in the wake of the growing expansion of the English East India Company. A key constituent in the apparatus of colonial power was the technology of representation.2 Who the pirate was, whose pirate he was, whether he was an individual agent, a lone-ranger of the sea given to spasmodic action, or whether he abided by a political conception of rights and entitlement grounded in existing traditions of natural law and custom were the questions that made up the exercise of representation; questions that were asked and answered, not always in a systematic or even a nuanced manner. That maritime violence was often unambiguously slotted under the category of illicit predation and that such a discursive exercise was part of the politics of representation is only now being acknowledged and understood. What also needs to be acknowledged is the challenges presented by the colonial archive, 1 Anna Neill, “Bucaneer ethnography: Nature, Culture and Nation in the Journals of William Dampier,” Eighteenth Century Studies 33, no. 2 (2000): 165-80. Also Lauren Benton, “Legal Spaces of Empire: Piracy and the Origins of Ocean Regionalism,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 47, no. 4 (2005): 700-24; Patricia Risso, “Cultural Perceptions of Piracy: Maritime Violence in the Western Indian Ocean and Persian Gulf Region during a Long Eighteenth Century,” Journal of World History 12, no. 2 (2001): 293-319. 2 Lakshmi Subramanian, “Of Pirates and Potentates: Maritime Jurisdiction and the Construction of Piracy in the Indian Ocean,” in Culture of Trade: Indian Ocean Exchanges, ed. Devleena Ghosh and Stephen Muecke (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2007), 19-30.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004361485_006

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of the reading strategies that we need to adopt if we are to read along the grain and make sense of the form that archival representation adopted. This paper is an attempt in that direction: to read the archive on piracy in late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth century India in order to achieve a better understanding of the dynamics of coastal politics contended between the English East India Company and its principal rivals, notably the shadowy Maratha presence along the western littoral. It will specifically look at petitions – undertaking the taxonomy of these petitions to try to problematize the category of predation in greater depth by subjecting the East India Company discourse to greater scrutiny. 1

Towards a Political Geography

As a starting point, let us briefly attempt a political geography of the region that forms the spatial unit of this paper. We shall be focusing on the CutchKathiawad section of the western littoral, referred to as the “Northward” in the latter decades of the eighteenth and early-nineteenth century when predation and acts of violence at sea (along the coast and on the high seas) increased and attracted the attention of the English East India Company stationed in Bombay, but also with a major settlement at Surat. The Northward was organically linked to the trade of south Gujarat and Bombay, supplying a range of staples, most notably cotton and textiles, and actively participating in the trade with West Asia. Politically Kathiawar came under the loose Maratha sphere of influence from the middle of the eighteenth century, when bands of Maratha warriors led by chieftains such as the Gaekwad organized tribute-extracting expeditions in the course of which they established a loose foothold and imposed tribute arrangements on local and regional power-holders. Kutch, on the other hand, was relatively isolated from these political changes even as its Rajput chiefs struggled to maintain their influence over the larger confederacy or bhyad. Kutch and Kathiawad were connected by marriage alliances between Rajput households whose presence also testified to older patterns of migration and settlement.3 What characterized the political history of the Northward were two striking trends: one was the emergence of middling and small independent states with 3 Howard Spodek, “Urban Politics in the Local Kingdoms of India: A View from the Princely Capitals of Saurashtra under British Rule,” Modern Asian Studies 7, no. 2 (1973): 255-57. Also see Howard Spodek, “Rulers, Merchants and Other Groups in the City States of Saurashtra, India, around 1800,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 16, no. 4 (1974): 448-70.

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Bhuj

Ahmedabad

Mandvie Cambay

Nawanagar

Baroda

Okhamandal

Junagadh

Bhavnagar Surat

50 miles

Map 4.1

The epicentre of predation

Gujarat

a maritime orientation that laid claims to sea space and cartaz politics,4 imitating the practices of Maratha coastal chiefs in the Konkan, and the other was a consolidation of specific coastal communities in strongholds like that of Okhamandal,5 that adopted predation as a political resource and even offered its services to rulers inland. In part this tendency could be attributed to the pressure that the Maratha revenue missions put on local rulers, who responded by taking recourse to a variety of extractive mechanisms, and in part to the pretensions of the English East India Company and the inefficacy of its convoy arrangements, that added yet another element to the scale of predation.

4 H. Wilberforce-Bell, The History of Kathiawad from the Earliest Times (London: W. Heinemann, 1916; reprint, New Delhi: Ajay Book Service, 1980), 135-48. 5 H. Wilberforce-Bell, The History of Kathiawad, 142-43. Alexander Walker’s correspondence reveals important genealogical details of the chieftaincies in Okhamandal. See National Library of Scotland, Walker of Bowland Papers, MS.13691. Miscellany of Memoranda, 1807-8 giving details of the genealogical connections between the rulers of Bate, Aramra, and Positra. The chief of Dwarka was Moloo Manke of the Wagher tribe.

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And yet the politics of representation chose to frame the story quite differently, choosing to overemphasize the predatory nature of coastal politics that seemed to have no intrinsic ideological rationale. For the most part, official chroniclers, even those with the advantage of hindsight, referred to the earlyeighteenth century exploits of the Company’s naval force, the Bombay Marine, against the pirates of the Konkan (the Angrias) as enemies of mankind, just as in later times they represented their adversaries, the Cooleys and Sangarians of the Northward, as even more ruthless predators. Both Charles Low and John Biddulph writing on the Bombay Marine and the pirates of Malabar reflect on the greater resolve the Company decided to demonstrate against Indian pirates, especially as by the 1740s European piracy had been contained and undermined.6 The tendency to see Indian privateering and predation in even harsher and more reductive terms increased, albeit on the grounds that the politics of the Bombay Marine and the nature of engagement with Indian states, especially those that claimed a maritime profile, made the issue of representation more complex and compromised the Company’s stand in several ways. 2

Politics, Ethnography, and the Littoral: The Company Offensive

From the 1740s when the Company settlement of Bombay decided to take the offensive in defining its jurisdiction and rights over the littoral through the enforcement of the Company pass system and the provision of a convoy service for local shipping, lines were drawn between smaller coastal powers and the Company over the question of jurisdiction. The Company insisted that it was responsible only for those merchants who availed of themselves its colors and, therefore, would take up their cause when attacked by other powers. However, in fact, the Company was not particularly meticulous in extending its convoy services, thereby forcing merchants to ask for the services other colors as well. Under the circumstances, the rhetoric of unfair aggression or indeed of its own self-definition as a responsible and benign guardian of fair trade were exposed as hollow gimmicks. Equally flawed was the exercise of defining a miscellany of coastal powers as pirates. In the majority of cases these were privateers, whose operations were part of a complex coastal economy that absorbed and distributed cargoes ranging from cotton to arms, from sugar to parts of a salvaged ship. A careful look at the available material therefore 6 C.R. Low, History of the Indian Navy, 1613-1863 (London, 1918); John Biddulph, The Pirates of Malabar (London: Smith Elder & Co., 1907).

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suggests an altogether different picture – one of complex and confusing intersections between coastal officers, merchants, marine men, and maritime labor that doubled up as lascars and seamen, as pirates and mercenaries, working for coastal chiefs, all of whom participated in a local market and economy in which arms were bought and sold, ships were wrecked and salvaged for later operations, licenses to trade between differently administered territories were bought and sold, and in which piratical ventures were also organized to pay off debts. Furthermore, it is also important to tease out differences even within the Company’s official discourse. Not only was this layered as a result of the incremental nature of the ethnographic project, it was also inflected by the individual attitudes of administrators and Residents, and of military surveyors and top officials, not to mention their native informants. Colonel Walker, for instance, by and large tended to be suspicious of the interpretations of military officers and to be more sensitive to the local economy of predation and its dynamics. Like many of his other contemporaries, he too tended to isolate states in the region, including that of Okhamandal, on which treaty obligations could be imposed and to identify communities that lived and abided by codes that were completely rationally constituted, even if these proved incomprehensible to the Company officials. Walker’s ethnography did not necessarily find favor with the top officials and the tendency to look at pirate states and at allegedly “criminally disposed” communities only reinforced the discourse on the hierarchy of piratical violence. The victories of the Bombay Marine against coastal powers along the southern stretch of the littoral were followed up by a more vigorous inset of the Company’s convoy as well as of the imposition of the Company’s pass and colors over local shipping.7 Technically the Company was responsible only for those merchants who had accepted its protection but, in fact, the reality on the ground posed both challenges and contradictions. One important factor was that a series of informal private arrangements between naval officers and coastal interests, in conjunction with the financial constraints on the Bombay Marine preventing it from deploying adequate convoy services, made it impossible for the Company pass to circulate as the only legitimate and admissible instrument of control. Under the circumstances, there was a tacit admission of multiple circulating passes and this encouraged coastal chiefs along the littoral to continue exercising the right to issue cowls or safe-conduct passes that they saw as a customary entitlement. At the same time, the Company’s military campaigns against coastal polities had the effect of pushing littoral peoples 7 Lakshmi Subramanian, Indigenous Capital and Imperial Expansion: Bombay, Surat and the West Coast (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996).

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farther toward the north, especially toward Okhamandal, the northwestern promontory of Kathiawad, making it the epicentre of piracy by the latter decades of the eighteenth century. Nevertheless, neither of these developments persuaded the Company to adjust and fine-tune its rhetoric on piracy nor did it produce a clear notion of what the Company regarded as its sovereign rights to the seas or of a universal law of the sea in the context of non-European waters such as the Indian Ocean. For the most part the Company insisted on its supreme right to issue passes, on never to accept those issued by others, and on the absolute denunciation of theft whether on land or at sea. Here, the Cooleys of the Northward were subjected to special scrutiny, especially from roughly the closing decades of the eighteenth century when merchants complained about their increasing violence and petitioned the Company authorities for redress. By this time, the Company was making steady inroads into South Gujarat where it already had a foothold in the old trading city of Surat and enjoyed powers of arbitration and of adjudication. Also the Company had contracted important treaty arrangements with neighboring kingdoms like those of Cambay and Bhavnagar, both of which were committed to the elimination of piracy and privateering and this led in turn to claims and counterclaims that the Company had to deal with. 3

Classifying and Reading Petitions

Petitioning the Company was neither new nor exceptional. As early as the lateseven­teenth century, local merchants in Bombay and Surat had been accus­ tomed to use the arbitration channels provided by the East India Company. The growing presence of the Company and the formal acceptance of its protection by substantial sections of the local population made petitioning even more rampant, with the result that merchants and rivals had learned to articulate their claims and what they considered to be their rights and be very clear about the Company’s responsibilities. The petitions that we shall study fall into three broad categories: (1) Those from merchants addressing the risk of piracy and the lack of effective safeguards; (2) those from coastal interests and chiefs who objected to and debated the Company’s policy of undermining their rights and entitlements; (3) those from pirates themselves, mostly in the form of depositions that spoke of their life experiences and intentions. The first category of petitions involved Indian merchants as well as European traders and agency houses in Bombay, all complaining about the inadequate convoy facilities set up by the East India Company and the escalating violence of the Northward pirates. The charges did not always identify the specific

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pirates and their patrons but did emphasize the escalating scale of piratical operations sponsored by a variety of agents. What is especially striking in the merchant petitions is the insistence on restitution, that as English subjects they saw as their lawful right. The Company did not disavow this obligation; in fact, it insisted on restitution as a precondition for any negotiation with local chiefs, especially those of Okhamandal, the principal nucleus of pirate politics. Therefore, on March 15, 1796, the English Chief’s letter to the Okha chieftain mentions that an English vessel named the Fatty Islam had been obliged by inclement weather conditions to take shelter on the coast where it had been unfairly seized. In spite of constant demands, the vessel had not been restored. This was unacceptable; as the chieftain had no claims whatever on a vessel of ENGLISH subjects.8 The Company was equally vigilant about resisting any demands that the Marathas made regarding salvage and right to shipwrecks. A letter from the Surat Chief in 1796 makes the point that, The Marathas seize on every vessel belonging to the English that is apparently or actually in distress near their ports as KarvaKiatty (Kathiawar?) therefore, lawful property of their sarkar and the difficulty ruinous which always attends recovery of such as are detained under those circumstances it becomes necessary to guard against any instance recurring of aggression on the part of our merchants invalidating our claims to restitution which an uncontrolled use of armed vessels may endanger as it is we understand very difficult to discriminate friends from foes, where vessels are so much upon the same construction and there remains no doubt of pirates fitting out from Maratha ports.9 Also it was able to demarcate certain territorial limits within which it had supe­rior rights and other claimants could not exercise the same rights of surveillance. Merchant petitions were also critical of the laxity of the convoy arrangements and of the arbitrary exactions demanded by Company officers. For example, in 1800, it was brought to the attention of the Surat Council that the commodore of the Company’s vessel at the Surat bar had lately introduced a new custom of recovering fines from passenger merchants amounting to one rupee on each head upon their coming down from Bhavnagar to proceed to 8 Public Department Diary of the Bombay Government (hereafter PDD) of 1796, 51: “Letter from Surat dated March 15.” 9 PDD of 1796, 361: “Letter from Surat accepting the Board’s arbitration of the Cooley boats affair dated February 9, 1796.”

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Bombay and, conversely, from Bombay to Bhavnagar.10 This additional levy was very hard on them. While such cases were not new and in fact quite frequently resorted to in the 1750s and 1760s, the Company authorities were quick to condemn them after 1800 when a more systematic campaign against predation was stepped up. What also emerges from these petitions is the ad hoc nature of the Bombay Marine’s politics that almost encouraged client merchants to opt for a variety of strategies that included acceptance of multiple passes, private security arrangements, and that in turn rendered the theoretical position of illegitimate trading untenable. Therefore in 1790, we come across a petition from a Parsi inhabitant of Bombay complaining about the losses he had suffered in Cooley attacks and also how the Company did not organize effective and regular convoys, and how he like many others used Maratha convoys when they had to. Three years later, serious charges were leveled against the Company’s negligence and the exactions of the officers, but also against Maratha commanding officers, forcing merchants to arm their vessels and make private security arrangements.11 Not only do these instances indicate the hollowness of the Company’s rhetoric about policing and protecting merchants on the sea, they also raise the larger issue of what constituted rights on the sea, and whether these were negotiable. These observations are important in that they highlight how merchants were put in a position to negotiate the situation and choose their options judiciously. They participated in a situation in which there was a market for arms and ships and for passes. We come across several representations that suggest how merchants too fitted out piratical expeditions to service old debts, to procure cargoes for a grey market, and also how they dealt in passes that were bought and sold. Evidently this was a consequence of a situation in which legal and police controls were still fluid and opaque and, while rhetorically the English Company maintained the sacrosanctitiy of its legal position, in fact, besides policing the seas and claiming universal rights to its sovereignty, it was participating in a situation in which local practices, customary rights, and economic compulsions intersected to complicate the idea of legitimacy and predation. What was really at stake was the question of the assuming the right to punish theft. Who had this right? Was it permissible to attack enemy ships in wartime? What gave the Company the sole and undisguised authority to intervene in maritime politics? There were no easy answers, especially as the Company emphatically insisted on confining its benevolence and protection only to those merchants who formally accepted 10 11

PDD, No. 146 of 1800, 43: “Petition from merchants dated January 10, 1800.” PDD, No. 9 of 1790: “Consultation meeting of the Bombay Council of January 19, 1790” and also PDD of 1793 : “Consultation meeting of March 1, 1793.”

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its protection. The complexities were revealed when the Company authorities undertook more comprehensive ethnographic exercises, especially that conducted by Colonel Alexander Walker, when a more layered appreciation of coastal politics and the rationale that drove them was recorded. The second category of petitions that we have referred to, give us a sense, albeit incoherent, of what coastal chiefs saw as their legitimate sphere of influence. We need to keep in mind that, until the end of the first quarter of the nineteenth century, the Company’s offensive, a mixture of force and diplomacy, did not yield immediate results because, notwithstanding professions of peace and obedience, there was an escalation in maritime violence. How do we categorize these events? Are we to see them simply as random expressions of predation? Or are we to see them as part of an older conception of rights and entitlements that might have emerged out of a process of dispossession and displacement? Should we perhaps see them as a corollary of very specific instances of state formation in the region in which privateering and the use of maritime mercenaries were an established and effective strategy? To answer some of these questions, we need to refer to two kinds of material: the first the responses of coastal chiefs to the Company’s policies and the second depositions that pirates came up with when caught and interrogated. Even a cursory look at some of these petitions suggests that the rajas of Bhavnagar, the nawab of Jungadh, and the sultan of Porbandar, heads of the principal chiefdoms in Kathiawad, saw maritime authority and the proceeds from trade and licenses as important accessories to their political profile. Of the three, from the very beginning Bhavnagar adopted a pro-Company stance, allowing the Company to enforce its control over the littoral and accepting its overall patronage. The nawabs of Junagadh and the sultan of Porbandar did not exhibit the same enthusiasm for the Company connection and were found to claim control over specific stretches of coast and also to direct private individuals to attack shipping. In 1797, a deposition by Cooley prisoners stated that the nawab of Junagadh had some gallivants that were employed for piracy, but that the raja of Porbandar was more of a trader than a pirate.12 What subsequent reports and petitions also established is that the Maratha presence in Gujarat from about the early eighteenth century was so minutely worked into the revenue arrangements of even coastal principalities, that the idea of clearly articulated rights to the sea were inextricably tied up with other political arrangements. Recall how a letter written by the descendant of the Mughal admirals of Surat (known as the Sidis, an ethnic group settled along 12

PDD, No.124 of 1797: “Letter from Police dated February 14, 1797” containing the depositions of cooley prisoners.

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the western coast of India) to the English Chief of Surat in 1798 drew attention to the nature of shared authority in Goga and Bhavnagar. It is unquestionable that the above mentioned vessel is employed in the trade of Gogo a port of the Peshwa and also that she belongs to D. Bhagwan inhabitant of Bhavnagar but sir the Raja having 2 years ago caused a breach in friendship and understanding with NawabYacoos Khan by plundering 4 villages (loss being 50,000 Rs.) several times I wrote to the raja for making good the losses which he agreed to do but never actively obliging. It is for this reason I plundered the above vessel as an indemnification, you further write that the vessel had English pass and colours but neither of them were shown to Commander of the fleet the people on board said she belonged to Bhavnagar – merchants have a custom of telling falsities.13 What the petition suggested was that merchants were no innocent bystanders and participated in the politics of maritime competition and inter-pass rivalries, shrewdly adjusting their operations to a complex and layered political economy that had emerged along the littoral. None of the participants, however, spoke of their rights in universalistic terms, not even the English and, although the question of mare librum had been given up as early as the fifteenth century by the Portuguese, the definition of the other in legal terms had not framed in clearly articulated terms of Christianity or civilization. One appreciable shift in the register of representation happened at the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth century, when the Company authorities dispatched several surveying expeditions to the northwestern littoral, Okhamandal in particular, whose petty chiefs were major patrons of small-time predation and operated within a larger economy of maritime protection, and whose politics extended into the mainland as well. These early visits generated scattered information about the region and its political profile and were followed by the Company’s decision to contract treaty arrangements with the petty states and chieftains so as to put an end to certain kinds of piracy.14 The confederacy of Okhamandal, constituted by the chieftains of Bate, Dwarkla, Aramra, and Positra, was traditionally understood as a base to provide for the dreaded Sangodhar pirates and described as such by Alexander Hamilton in the very first years of the eighteenth century. By the end of the 13 14

PDD, No. 131 A of 1798, 312: “Letter from the Sidi to the Chief of Surat (n.d.).” Subramanian, Indigenous Capital.

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century, the region was associated with organized piracy that accommodated a subset of functions ranging from privateering to random predation, from expeditions organized by local Bania merchants and political bosses to random predatory attacks by individuals. Politically and demographically, the region represented a curious mix of coastal peoples (Sanganians, Wadellas, and Kharwas) and of migrant groups with a complex relationship with Rajput lineages. Not surprisingly, colonial ethnography focused special attention on the pirate states in this region and the complex political economy in which they functioned. Depositions and petitions referred to the passes that these states enforced and also to the fact that the chiefs of Okhamandal treated the Company pass with disdain. On February 14, 1797, in the wake of the Bombay Marine’s action against the Cooley pirates, it was brought to its attention that the rajas of Dwarka and Gomtee were employing sepoys doubling up as pirates, who received Rs2 per month as a wage in addition to some millet. They were supplied with vessels and gunpowder. The raja of Dwarka personally owned a gallivant and a number of dinghies, while the raja of Bate fitted out five six vessels along with private individuals to cruise both the littoral off Bombay as well as off Muscat. It also maintained good relations with the rulers of Porbandar, who also deployed armed vessels to safeguard trade. Other petitions also referred to the expeditions that merchants sponsored in Okhamandal, either independently or in association with the rulers of Cutch and Kathiawad.15 The self-representation of the Okhamandal chiefs, and occasionally of their crews, came into greater focus in the wake of a major ethnographic survey undertaken by Colonel Alexander Walker, the Resident of Baroda, who was personally given the charge of pacifying the region in 1807. Unlike his superiors, who chose to see all maritime action as predatory, he chose to make a distinction not so much between piracy and privateering as between those states and chiefs who participated in actual attacks on sea and those who allowed individual predators or groups to fit out voyages from their ports. He was equally mindful of the consequences of military action in the region that had dispersed coastal groups and forced them to opt for violence and piracy. Under the circumstances, there was no question of subscribing to the idea of the “unreasonable pirate.”16 As the Resident saw it, there was no real alternative to effective, even if expensive, military action but, failing this, there could only be a pragmatic resolution of the question by allowing claimants to retain some of their entitlements. He therefore made it a point to identify instances in which local chiefs forswore attacks on English property and to demonstrate 15 16

PDD, No. 124 of 1797, 343-44: “Letter from Police Superintendent dated February 14, 1797.” Walker of Bowland Papers, MS13674: “Letter from Walker, December 29, 1807.”

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how local chiefs had no sense of being obliged to restore goods taken, particularly as they had had no such demands made on them in the past and also because they could legitimately invoke the benefits of the customary pardon or muluksharista.17 Walker’s observations clearly reveal the antecedents and historical preconditions of coastal and maritime violence and questioned, albeit indirectly, the received wisdom of the Cooley rover and the savage northern pirate. Time and again, the Okha chiefs insisted that they be given the right to issue cowls and that their politics was fueled by livelihood issues. None of these exhortations cut any ice with his superiors in Bombay, who argued that compensation for their clients had to be secured. They insisted the governments of the piratical states were in “every view of reasonable construction equally answerable to other nations.” In Walker’s eyes this was political suicide – enforcement of compensation claims would only perpetuate the cycle of piracy. He also made the point that many of the outstanding claims were obscure, ill-defined and/or the parties either unknown or so vaguely specified that it would be “impossible to fix on the actual thief.” The financial circumstances of the pirates were in any case embarrassed. Most of them were in debt and their revenues were precarious. The Resident was doubtful if the rajas of Beyt or Dwarka had actually attacked Company-protected shipping and furthermore acknowledged their efforts to try and expel from their domain various piratical groups who then fled to Jackoo in Kutch. This port now began to emerge as the new epicentre of piratical activity and recruitment. Therefore, Walker assumed not only were the profits of the pirates wildly exaggerated, it was also important that the Company at least initiate a dialogue and begin an engagement that gave the states and chiefs an opportunity to enter into an agreement, perhaps even accept a British agent. Forcing chiefs to pay back was not an option and would, according to Walker, drive them to desperation. In subsequent suggestions he made the point that, failing full military action, pirates would have to be allowed to issue passes or cowls to those merchants not subject to the Company and that this had been a traditional practice to which they had been accustomed. Furthermore, merchants – both Arabs and Sindians farther north – were also used to it.18 In fact, as late as 1817, Walker was still sticking to this point as he wrote that the granting of protection to pirates might also be a useful strategy as it would give them some kind of compensation in lieu of their

17 18

Walker of Bowland Papers, MS13674: “Walker to Bombay, December 29, 1807.” Walker of Bowland Papers, MS13674: “Bombay to Walker, February 4, 1808.” Also see MS13675: “Walker to Bombay dated January 23, 1808.”

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relinquishment of claims to the ownership of wrecks and vessels stranded on their coasts, adding that this was a common practice of most nations. Here it would appear that Walker was taking a position similar to that attributed to such thinkers as Antequil and Burke about non-European nations also having laws of nations and notions of legality, in short a multiplicity of legal orders that the British had to acknowledge. Where the similarity ended was that Walker had no hesitation in recommending military force to quash piracy, whether it was organized by a state or was an expression of random violence. The representations of both the “states” and their wandering “subjects” who participated in the loose circulating networks that connected Okhamandal with Cutch reveal not so much an understanding of rights or even the law of the seas as of older entitlements and adherence to customary practices of protection and privateering, including pardon and restitution. To this were added instances of spontaneous defiance that were typical constituents of piracy. Interrogations of intercepted crews invariably cited concrete material reasons for their choice – large-scale dispossession in the wake of protracted maritime conflicts and resentment against the immediate political dispensation. These factors, combined with an understanding of grey markets, had prompted various individuals to opt for predation. However, material considerations were not the sole determinants – the nature and timing of various campaigns as recorded in the depositions raise questions about the moral economy of predation. Just how these acts of defiance might be characterized is an important challenge, raising as it does the possibility of error in reading a fragmented archive of translated depositions. 4

Resistance and the Limits of Representation

This brings us to the last category of petitions and representations, namely: The depositions of pirates captured and interrogated by the police authorities of the East India Company. Like the petitions, these too bear conventional marks of style and address, details, and emphases that are important not merely to mining the details of the social world of piracy in the western littoral, but also to inferring the logic the Company adopted in its technology of representation. What was it the Company wished to foreground in its agenda? Was it littoral piracy or was it a ruse to obfuscate its real intentions in Cutch and Sind? These are questions that still might need to be asked, even as we persist in understanding the phenomenon of escalating piracy in the first quarter of the nineteenth century.

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The depositions under consideration are those of the Nackwa brothers, Jech Nackwa and Kassa Nackwa, both of whom were intercepted in 1813. The depositions are full of fascinating detail with allusions to their everyday practices that help us reconstruct a life story of a “pirate” who doubled up as navigator, mercenary, and local contact and whose politics was both autonomous and part of a collective. My tentative argument is that the representation of someone like Jech Nakhwa, or indeed of other nameless predators, reveals the complexity of coastal life in the early-nineteenth century that neither law, nor discourse, nor military action could completely explain and eliminate. Was it that maritime communities such as those to which pirates belonged were not entirely amenable to the politics of representation and repression? In that case, the logical consequence is that the mode of representation in terms of its stylistic markers, repetitive inflections, and presentation of the same details, has to be subject to greater scrutiny. This exercise is not to make any confident generalizations but to explore the very inconsistencies in the Company’s understanding and its political and ideological position. It is with this in mind that I shall try here to dwell a bit on the depositions themselves and demonstrate, how by reading the archive along its grain, we can gain partial access to the complex world of coastal society and its agents and revisit the Company’s position on maritime authority. Both Jech Nackwa and Kassa Nackwa19 described themselves as pirates, born into a family of seasoned pilots, who doubled up as expert navigators when the season was fair and resorted to piracy in times of stress. They enjoyed a certain degree of physical mobility as their depositions track their adventures all along the littoral, moving fairly easily between the creeks in Kathiawad and Cutch, negotiating with a number of fairly influential dignitaries like the governors of Mandvie in Cutch, and mobilizing personnel for some of their coastal expeditions. They were part of a social network constituted by their community of muallims (religious teachers) and tindals (seamen), of local pirs (Sufi masters) and fakirs, who occasionally interceded on their behalf, and of local merchants whose commercial interests brought them into contact with the pirates working in the grey market. Their skills and connections were principally deployed by the amirs of Sind and officials in Cutch, although the 19

These men were identified as being among the most daring of the pirates and they were captured in 1813. Their depositions were recorded before General Macmurdo. For a full account of their depositions, see Secret and Political Department Diary of the Bombay Government, No. 284 of 1813: “Consultation of August 18, 1813” and “Letter from MacMurdo dated May 18, 1813.”

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alliances they contracted did not always endure. Both men referred to the acquiescence and encouragement of local officials and merchants for acts of piracy and provided details of the various individuals engaged in these operations. The following extract from one of these petitions makes this amply clear. My family are originally natives of Bate, but have resided for about 20 years in Mandavee. My forefathers were all Pirates, and my father is the only exception in the family for 7 generations – He navigated a boat belonging to a merchant in Mandavee until his death. I became a pirate and joined Jecha Nakwa many years ago, we used to carry most of our Pirates to Verawal and the parts on that coast. At length the English came and interfered after which those places would not receive us – I was in Mandavee living quietly where a dispute broke out between that place and Bhooj, and the jumadar Futteh Mohamad sent for and fined me at 5 cories per day – I remained in his service with little interruption for about 4 years from 1808 till 1812 during which I made many captures from Mandavee for Bhoo – I found, however, that Futteh Mohamad always took the plunder, and I got the blame – on one occasion I plundered a large bag of dollars, and gave me a Pair of gold bracelets – he said he was written about the plunder by the English – I therefore resolved to leave him; people of my cast came and persuaded me to return, home where I was entertained by Jokursa [?] who was then in charge of Mandavee and in whose service I made one mercantile trip to Bombay.  On Jokursa’s seizure and minister Sheoraz would not pay me my arrears of 9 months and I threatened to plunder a Mandavee vessel, he would not listen to my complaint. I therefore in company with Jea Pattan, a resident of Moondra, seized pattamar in Mandavee creek and carried her away; but landing about 4 coss from the port I sent back the pattamar to Sheoraj and not knowing where to go, was found and carried to Mandavee where I was kept in irons for about 2 months – at length my cast interfered, and became security for my good conduct upon which I was released, and having no means of getting food I resolved to go to Bhooj, where I remained more than 2 months on 2 cories per day from the jumadar.  On my release from irons, I went to Joonagarh to visit a peer, and as I had formerly much intercourse with the ports belonging to the Nawab I went to Verawil where I met an old friend named Abla or Abdulla Mukadum and his brother Hussan Mukaddam, the principal of the seafaring boat in that port – these too urged me to pirate, and offered to receive any plundered property that I might bring they also desired me to send my family, whom

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they would protect – I refused these offers and embarked on a Porebunder boat, but falling in with a Mandavee vessel, went on board, and soon as I landed in Kutch proceeded to Bhooj, where I remained, as I said before more than 2 months of Hussunia Neriadee having brought some rich plunder to Bhooj, I was led away to attempt piracy after I had so long given it up – I therefore took with me the following people and arrived at Mandavee about the time the English gentlemen sailed – my companions were 1. Desil a langa or trumpeter of Bhooj 2. Poonja a Rajput of Bhooj 3. Natha a shara scindee of Bhooj 4. Allah Rakah a Nova scindee of Bhooj and 5. Momia a meanee of Bhooj With these five me and a Seeden servant I embarked in the boat of a Buddulla of Aramind [?] named Bhooja Sedee, and landed on the east side of Bate, whence we took a small boat that was lying on the shore, and rowed alongside a kumballia vessel at anchor boarded her, sent the boatmen below, got under weigh, and next morning being off the Chiga hills, we landed the crew, together with one of my men who was in the habit of stealing everything he saw. This was the meana.20 A careful reading of this deposition along with that of his fellow mate immediately suggests the long-term consequences of coastal politics that put pressure on local society, one manifestation of which was predation. At every point, the pirates were quick to point out how the presence of the Company forced their immediate patrons to go underground and encourage clandestine trading – made possible by the topographical context. The narrative therefore time and again stresses how local chiefs who contracted their services never fulfilled their side of the bargain – they were robbed of virtually all incentive and, as they had not been given a fair share of the plunder, forced to strike out on their own and commit acts of depredation targeting Company vessels and Cutchi shipping. The narrative is one of reclaiming the seas and their traffic as a mark of protest against the new dispensation of the Company that had dispossessed coastal groups, and against the immediate sense of deprivation that local bosses did little to alleviate. This is not to suggest subaltern politics of protest or resistance but merely to draw attention to the strains that the larger political economy of the region was subjected to in the final years of the transition to 20

Secret and Political Department Diary of the Bombay Government, No. 284 of 1813: “Consultation of August 18, 1813” and “Letter from MacMurdo dated May 18, 1813.”

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Company rule and that was expressed in sustained piratical operations. The narrative does not invoke traditional rights or claims but signposts the extensive support and intelligence from political bosses and merchants alike on which they could draw. For the Company authorities, by now resolute in their intention to eliminate piracy, there was no longer any question of viewing the depositions as an extension of an alternative conception of rights or practice. If Walker had spoken of piracy as the gift of Krishna and had attempted to understand the distinctions between episodic and random attacks of individual pirates, Mcmurdo now faithfully recorded the culpability of these dangerous men who were exploited by the perfidious rulers of Cutch and Sind and whose incarceration was the only answer to the problem. The interrogations that followed focused more squarely on the chicanery of Fateh Muhammad of Bhuj and the rulers of Sind, and not so much on the rights of sovereign nations to the seas. In any case, what the Company envisaged was the commitment of all the smaller states in Kathiawar and Cutch to jettison piracy and relinquish all claims to shipwrecks. On the discursive level, the representation of piracy as more savage and ruthless became even more pronounced leading up to the campaigns against the Joasmis (Al Qasimi tribes) of the Persian Gulf.

Concluding Observations

In conclusion, this essay has been an attempt to come up with a historical ethnography of the figure of the northern pirate and detect within it multiple elements of representation and possibilities of exploring other modes of resistance than we have so far tended to associate with protest in British India. It would seem that, on one level, the incidence of maritime violence was structurally linked to the politics of warfare and dispossession as well as to the pass politics institutionalized by Europeans along the coast and adopted and expanded by the Marathas. It would also appear that piracy was a part-time occupation in that it commanded skills that could equally be deployable in other maritime activities and also in that it was resorted to by groups that found themselves out of employment in certain seasons. However, this was not all because it is equally clear that Okhamandal became a nucleus of disaffected maritime communities that found employment and whose activities were an integral part of the sub-region’s political profile as well as of its local economy. Within this larger circuit, we also have instances of individual agency, of actors who broke free from the shackles of the existing political set-up to sail out with a few faithful friends and attack ships on the high seas. Unquestionably, as well

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as drawing on an older repertory of ideas about entitlement, they had at their disposal skills, intimate geographical knowledge, and the technical competence to operate arms and overpower the Company vessels. Note how Nackwa Kassow and Jeah Nackwa describe their decisions to attack and speak of their ability to negotiate in markets and with rulers and how the displacement caused by war and English military campaigns left them with little choice but to plunder. Under the circumstances, they did not take refuge in an ideology of rights but merely relied on a tradition of support and networks of solidarity that had converged spatially. Even if Walker spoke about piracy as the gift of Krishna, for the pirates themselves, it would appear to have been not only an old and familiar line of activity but one that was actively endorsed by merchants and rulers alike. It had even developed into a specialized occupation based in Okhamandal, occasionally moving farther up the littoral, but drawing on the former’s history and traditions. By 1806, the fiction of representation was complete as the Company authorities sat in council to meditate measures against the northern pirates. There was an inevitable tendency to compare them with the more benign pirates of Malabar (the very same group that had been denounced as treacherous and savage in the 1720s and 1730s) and to advocate a policy of ruthless suppression. Consequently, even as the superintendent of the Marine stepped up measures to intercept the Jackwa pirates and use pirates-turned-approvers to scour the networks of small creeks, the language of representation changed. Admittedly, in contrast to the Angrias, in terms of political status and location, the northern pirates represented a very different social formation but were they formally attached to a political confederacy, as the Angrias and other Maratha coastal chiefs had been. They were in a sense loners and, as a senior official commented “they lived in a loose state of society where the most solemn engage­ments had no significance.” They were more ferocious, more ruthless, and more barbarous. The rhetoric had turned full circle and with it the geography of predation too moved farther northwest to converge with the politics of Sind and the Trucial Coast.

Primary Sources

Walker of Bowland Papers, MS.13691. National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh

Public Department Diaries of the Bombay Government, Maharashtra State Archives, Mumbai

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Chapter 5

Trade, Piracy, and Sovereignty: Changing Perceptions of Piracy and Dutch Colonial State-Building in Malay Waters, c. 1780-1830 Ota Atsushi

Introduction

The principal theme of this chapter is a discussion of the intertwined relationship between trade, piracy, and sovereignty in Malay Waters in the transition period from the rule of independent sultanates to colonial rule. It focuses on political developments in the coastal parts of West Kalimantan and the Riau-Lingga Islands (Map 5.1). These areas were interrelated by strong social, economic, and political ties extending across the sea, bringing them into contact not only with the local people but also with the Dutch colonial administration. During the period of under study, trade, migration, and piracy were active in the Malay Waters, and they played a crucial role in the political developments in both indigenous and Dutch colonial states. Focusing on their changing perceptions of piracy, state, and territories among Company and colonial officials of various ranks, local rulers, traders, elites, and their men, the chapter argues that these perceptions changed as a consequence of the interactions between European and local agents occasioned by piracy issues, and these interactions led to the formation the new ideas of sovereignty and colonial state-building. In the following sections, I shall explain the background to the region during the period under study, before discussing the divergent perceptions of piracy held by the Dutch East India Company (VOC) officials and the local rulers and elites before the inception of the Dutch colonial rule in 1818-1819. Having set the scene, I examine the shifting attitudes of Dutch officials toward piracy in the early colonial era, with a focus on their attempts to impose their concept of state on the local politics. My purpose is to argue that the Dutch sense of state and sovereignty was consolidated through their antipiracy policies in Malay Waters, and these developments also encouraged local rulers to adopt new perceptions of piracy and territory.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004361485_007

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Japan Sea

Hôki

Chikuzen

Chikugo

Bingo Bicchu Aki Sanuki Suô Awa

Buzen

Hizen

Chugoku

Higo

Iyo

Shikoku

Tosa

Kyushu Satsuma Sendai

Satsuma

Map 5.1

1

Kagoshima

Malay waters

Background

Trade had been pursued in Malay Waters since ancient times, but a really strong upsurge in trade became perceptible in the mid-eighteenth century. This expansion was closely connected to the increasing Chinese interest in Southeast Asian products. Not only did the growing population in China need rice from the Chao Phraya and Mekong deltas, people in more economically advanced regions such as the Yangzi delta and the Beijing region were

Osaka Sakai

Seto In

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developing an increasing taste for such Southeast Asian exports as edible marine products like sea cucumbers and shark’s fins, as well as an interest in such forest products as rattan, plus tin, pepper, and birds’ nests. In this varied selection, the luxury foodstuffs were probably related to the growth of the food service industry. In eighteenth-century Qing China, the imperial cuisine had begun to trickle down to the wider strata of the society. Rattan was used for many kinds of furniture, while tin was used for a variety of purposes such as tea caddies and “paper” money burned in rituals. In short, these demands were the outcome of the growing economy and the developing consumer culture.1 Responding to the growing demand in China, the trade in tropical products boomed in Southeast Asia. Although Chinese traders sailed to a number of ports, they preferred those outside the Dutch sphere of influence, undoubtedly because they disliked Dutch customs and intervention and, more importantly, because the Dutch were not interested in collecting these kinds of goods. To a certain extent the market had also been cornered by British country traders who operated their businesses to the east of India with the permission of the East India Company and had been frequent visitors in Southeast Asian ports since the mid-eighteenth century. Keen to facilitate the British tea trade in Canton (Guangzhou), the only port open to Western traders in Qing China, they also collected products in demand in China in Southeast Asia. To ensure these outside traders were supplied with Southeast Asian products, Bugis, Malay, and other Southeast Asian traders collected them in the various places in which they were produced and brought them to transit ports. As harbors frequented by Chinese, British, and Southeast Asian traders, various ports such as Bangkok, Saigon, and Sulu, developed into transit ports for the transaction of items destined for the China market. In Malay Waters, Riau, the capital of the Johor sultanate, developed into a most important hub in the mid-eighteenth century. Since the 1660s Riau had been receiving waves of Bugis migrants, who fled their homeland, South Sulawesi, to many places in the Indonesian Archipelago in the wake of their repeated wars with the VOC. Friction arising from this significant Bugis migration had caused long struggles with the Malay royal family of the Johor sultanate in Riau, but around the 1760s 1 Anthony Reid, “A New Phase of Commercial Expansion in Southeast Asia, 1760-1850,” in The Last Stand of Asian Autonomies: Responses to Modernity in the Diverse States of Southeast Asia and Korea, 1750-1900, ed. Anthony Reid (Basingstoke & London: Macmillan Press 1997), 57-81; Anthony Reid, “Chinese Trade and Southeast Asian Economic Expansion in the Later Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries: An Overview,” in Water Frontier: Commerce and the Chinese in the Lower Mekong Region, 1750-1880, ed. Nola Cooke and Li Tana (Singapore: NUS Press; London: Rowman & Littlefield, 2004), 21-34; Leonard Blussé, “The Chinese Century: The Eighteenth Century in the China Sea Region,” Archipel 58 (1999): 107-29.

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both parties put an end to the struggles by establishing a dual system, under which the Malay royal family assumed the hereditary position of the sultan, whereas the influential Bugis families filled that of the raja muda (viceroy). This system brought political stability to Riau and fast on its heels a trade boom. Bugis migrants played an important role in collecting China-demanded products from the eastern part of the Indonesian Archipelago, making use of their age-old trade networks and their excellent skills in maritime navigation.2 With the boom in the Sino-Southeast Asian trade, the West Kalimantan coast experienced a social transformation, largely the result of active migration. Since around the mid-eighteenth century, migrants from various places in Insular Southeast Asia, such as Riau, Siak (East Sumatra), and Sulu, had come to settle on the coast, especially around Sukadana, the most important coastal port of the sultanate of Matan. Many of them were militant groups that were actively seeking economic opportunities in the trade boom. They were usually engaged in the exportation of marine and forest products from the inland region, but once in a while they resorted to piracy. Importantly, in wartime when requested they put their ships and crews at the disposal of the local rulers to fight against their neighboring rivals. Raja Ali, an influential Bugis leader, was among those who frequently visited and sojourned in Sukadana for purposes of trade.3 In the early 1780s, in the reign of Raja Haji, the fourth raja muda, Riau reached its zenith. The high-ranking VOC officials were irritated by the prosperity of Riau, that had posed a long-standing threat to their trade centered on Batavia. In 1784, when a conflict erupted about the cargo of a stranded ship, the VOC and Raja Haji fought a full-scale war, and the VOC finally conquered Riau, with help of the Dutch navy. Sultan Mahmud of Riau was obliged to conclude a humiliating treaty with the VOC, stipulating that he would expel important Bugis members of the community and allow VOC troops to be stationed in Riau. After the VOC conquest of Riau, Raja Ali, who had immediately assumed the title of the raja muda from Raja Haji who had been killed in the war, took refuge in Sukadana with his Bugis followers. When Sukadana began to gain importance as a trade port under Raja Ali, entering into an alliance with the neighboring sultanate of Pontianak, a rival of Sukadana, the VOC attacked and conquered it in 1786. Raja Ali and his followers fled to Siantan Island, while the sultan of Matan, who happened to be in Sukadana, fled into the inland taking 2 Carl A. Trocki, Prince of Pirates: The Temenggongs and the Development of Johor and Singapore, 1784-1885 (Singapore: NUS Press, 2007). 3 Ota Atsushi, “Pirates or Entrepreneurs? Migration and Trade of Sea People in Southwest Kalimantan, c. 1770-1820,” Indonesia 90 (2010): 67-96.

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most of the town’s residents with him. The sultan settled in Gayong, a Dayak village in the inland region, and made it his new capital.4 The Dutch dominance in Malay Waters was ephemeral. In 1787, Sultan Mahmud of Riau, aided by Iranun pirates who had been roaming around nearby waters, surprised the Dutch garrison in Riau and successfully expelled it from the island. However, dissatisfied with their reward from the sultan, the Iranun soon left Riau. Fearing possible Dutch reprisals, Sultan Mahmud took refuge in the Lingga Islands, and other influential members of the sultanate moved to other places in Malay Waters. Meanwhile, faced with mounting problems – their defeat in the Fourth Anglo-Dutch War (1780-1784), deteriorating VOC finances, and finally the British occupation of Dutch possessions in Asia because of the political turmoil in their homeland – the Dutch were also gradually disappearing as a presence in Malay Waters. The VOC withdrew from Pontianak, its only post in Kalimantan, in 1791.5 Previous studies have generally assumed that the Malay Waters first suffered a period of decline and stagnation between the VOC-Johor wars in 1784-1787 and the establishment of British Singapore in 1819. This period in the doldrums was followed by skyrocketing trade and the development of British and Dutch colonial empires.6 Elsewhere I have discussed the fact that, although a certain level of trade downsizing was perceptible in this transition period, trade and migration actually burgeoned under the weakened state control and the absence of European powers. After the fall of Riau, trade was pursued with farflung places, ranging from Siak in East Sumatra and Terengganu on the east coast of the Malay Peninsula, and with West Kalimantan ports including Simpang, Ketapang, Kendawangan, and the Karimata Islands. Migrants played a pivotal role in this commerce in the collection and trade of China-demanded products.7 The Dutch returned to Riau and West Kalimantan in the years 1818-1819. After the end of the Napoleonic Wars in Europe, the Dutch returned first to Java in 1816. Not long afterward, aware that the British were attempting to establish 4 Reinout Vos, Gentle Janus, Merchant Prince The VOC and the Tightrope of Diplomacy in the Malay World, 1740-1800 (Leiden: KITLV, 1993); Raja Ali Haji Ibn Ahmad, The Precious Gift (Tuhfat al-Nafis). An Annotated Translation by Virginia Matheson and Barbara Watson Andaya (Kuala Lumpur & New York: Oxford University Press, 1982); Ota, “Pirates or Entrepreneurs?” 5 Vos, Gentle Janus; J. van Goor, “Seapower, Trade and State Formation: Pontianak and the Dutch,” in Trading Companies in Asia, 1600-1830, ed. J. van Goor (Utrecht: HES, 1986), 83-106. 6 P.J. Veth, Borneo’s Wester-afdeeling, geographisch, statistisch, historisch, voorafgegaan door eene algemeene schets des ganschen eilands (Zaltbommel: Joh. Noman en Zoon, 1854-1856). This work is still influential over a number of works today. 7 Ota, “Pirates or Entrepreneurs?”

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a new foothold in Malay Waters, the Dutch approached Raja Ja⁠ʾafar, the Bugis viceroy of the Johor sultanate based in Riau in 1818, only a few months after the British had attempted to conclude a commercial treaty with him. Finding the conditions offered by the Dutch more favorable, he decided to cooperate with the Dutch and allowed them to reoccupy a part of Riau. Although Sultan Abdul Rahman in Lingga claimed nominal authority, the viceroy Raja Ja’afar in Riau was the real power behind the sultanate, and now the Dutch were staking their right to these islands.8 The founding of Singapore in 1819 was a direct British reaction to this development. Thomas Stanford Raffles concluded a treaty with Tengku Hussain, a brother of Sultan Abdul Rahman of Lingga, and enthroned him as sultan of Singapore, attracting a shower of fierce Dutch objections on his head. The direct result of this contention was that the British obtained permission to build a fort there. The Dutch were also looking for a chance to return to West Kalimantan, because they had noticed the penetration of British influence into North Borneo. A request from the sultan of Sambas asking them to attack his rival Pontianak in 1818 gave them the perfect excuse. The Dutch government in Batavia immediately dispatched an expeditionary fleet to Pontianak in August 1818. However, when they arrived there, they lost no time in sealing a peace agreement with Sultan Kassim of Pontianak. As this sultan had also specifically requested his Dutch “brothers” and “friends” to return, the Dutch had no reason to attack Pontianak. Strangely enough, because of this agreement the Dutch fleet now turned to Sambas, and attacked its port. After these events, all the parties agreed that the Dutch colonial official Georg Müller would be appointed Resident of Sambas and C.L. Hartman Resident of Pontianak and Mempawa.9 If the Dutch were to counter the British advance into North Borneo, they knew it was important to make their presence felt, but they were neither strongly motivated to exert their influence exhaustively nor to exploit new ter8 Ota Atsushi, “The Business of Violence: Piracy around Riau, Lingga, and Singapore, c.18201840,” in Elusive Pirates, Pervasive Smugglers: Historical Perspectives on Violence and Clandestine Trade in the Greater China Seas, ed. Robert Antony (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2010), 127-41. 9 P.H. van der Kemp, “De vestiging van het Nederlandsch gezag op Borneo’s Wester-Afdeeling in 1818-1819,” Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië, tijdschrift van het Koninklijk Instituut voor de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië 76 (1920): 117-61; Mary Somers Heidhues, “The First Two Sultans of Pontianak,” Archipel 56 (1998): 289-93; J.N.F.M. à Campo, “Zeeroof: Bestuurlijke beeldvorming en beleid,” in Zeeroof en zeeroofbestrijding in de Indische archipel (19de eeuw), ed. G. Teitler, A.M.C. van Dissel and J.N.F.M. à Campo (Amsterdam: De Bataafsche Leeuw, 2005), 41.

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ritories by developing agriculture or other industries. The restrictions placed on their financial resources and manpower, as they were busy in dealing with rebellious Java during the 1820s, compounded by the lack of interest of the Batavian government in these regions, meant the Dutch remained pretty indifferent to them.10 Under the circumstances the Dutch authorities established only nominal rule, and did their best to maintain a cordial relationship with cooperative local rulers both in Riau-Lingga and West Kalimantan throughout the 1820s. It was only after 1833 that the Dutch organized their own expeditions against pirates in Malay Waters. Before then they had been very reluctant to mount antipiracy expeditions, both costly and unpromising, that would probably stir up trouble with the British.11 2

Different Perceptions of Piracy in the Pre-colonial Karimata Sea

The VOC officials in West Kalimantan specifically declared two figures notorious “pirates”: The aforementioned Raja Ali from Riau and Gusti Bandar, a migrant leader settled in Sukadana. Gusti Bandar was a brother of the king of Mempawa in West Kalimantan,12 and by 1768 he had won widespread notoriety as the leader of a large pirate band of various origins based on Pulau Payong in the Riau Islands. Probably he had first acquired fame as an outstanding pirate leader in the Riau Islands and had consequently attracted many followers from different places. In 1768 he migrated to Mempawa, possibly in search of better opportunities. A VOC report states that he lived by piracy (van den Roof leefden13) in river tributaries in the vicinity of Mempawa, “flying a black flag.” Several years later he moved to Sukadana with his followers, where he succeeded in establishing a close link with the royal family of Matan. He married his daughter to Mohammad Jamaluddin, who later became the sixth ruler with the title Sultan Mohammad Jamaluddin of Matan. Slowly but surely Gusti Bandar built up an important position in the sultanate of Matan, and later he 10

11 12

13

Nationaal Archief (National Archives of the Netherlands), het Archief van de Ministerie van Koloniën (hereafter MK) 2828: 111-12, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “in rade,” June 26, 1829, No. 5. Ota, “The Business of Violence.” Nationaal Archief, het Archief van de Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie (hereafter VOC) 3624: 3-4, Walter Marcus Stuart en Jacob Klaagman, Pontianak to Governor-General and the East Indies Council in Batavia (hereafter Batavia), January 10, 1782. Dutch words roof and rover mean robbery and robber respectively in English. However, as is clear in this case, the VOC officials often used these words with the meanings of “piracy” and “pirates.”

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strengthened his position to the point that a VOC official noted he was virtually the ruler of Sukadana.14 It is not clear what sort of piratical activities Gusti Bandar pursued under his black flag in Mempawa. A VOC report in 1778 says that, after he moved to Sukadana, he attacked the Chinese gold-mining district in Landak upstream from Pontianak. Resident Nicolaas Kloek, in charge of the VOC factory in Pontianak, suggested to the Governor-General in Batavia that, as Gusti Bandar and his men were disrupting the life of the Landak people, the Company should take some measures to bring peace to the district.15 Initially the phrase “to bring peace” seems to suggest that the Dutch intended to secure public law and order, but in fact at that time the Dutch were much more deeply interested in the trade in gold, supposedly from Landak, to Pontianak via the Landak River. Meanwhile, the people in Landak were irritated by the meager payments they received from the Sultan and traders in Pontianak. The VOC officials noted that their annoyance was causing a decline in the gold trade in the upstream regions, and that the majority of people now preferred to take their gold to Mempawa that enjoyed a close relationship with Matan.16 As gold was the most important trade item for the VOC factory in Pontianak, and its officials worried about the damage their gold trade might suffer from Gusti Bandar’s attacks, looking back on his career in his Mempawa period, they called him a “pirate.” Whatever they might have thought of him, the local people in Sukadana most probably did not regard him as a pirate. The aforementioned Georg Müller compiled the first detailed report on West Kalimantan societies, based on his field research in 1822, and in this report he notes that, in the 1780s, Gusti Bandar was the most important Malay chief and, as was Raja Ali, was closely linked to the royal family of Matan.17 Referring to his activities, Müller only remarks that he began rice cultivation on a large scale near the port of Sukadana.18 Müller collected his information by interviewing members of the royal family and other people in the sultanate of Matan. The absence of any remarks about Gusti Bandar as a pirate in his report in all likelihood reflects 14

15 16 17

18

VOC 3524: 16, Nicolaas Kloek from Pontianak to Batavia, August 31, 1778; G. Müller, “Proeve eener geschiedenis van een gedeelte der weskust van Borneo, Matan en andere etablissementen op de westkust van Borneo,” De Indische Bij 1 (1843): 343-45. VOC 3524: 16-17, Nicolaas Kloek to Batavia, Pontianak, August 31, 1778. VOC 3598: 31-32, W.M. Stuart and J. Klaagman in Pontianak to Batavia, October 4, 1781. The term “Malay” was also used broadly to address maritime migrants, whose ethnicities actually included Javanese, Malay, Bugis, the Orang Laut, and others, but lived a seafaring life in the coastal areas. Müller, “ Proeve,” 343-45.

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the local perception of Gusti Bandar as an important member of the court circle of Matan, but not as a specifically a piratical figure. The divergence in the perception of local pirates between the Dutch and the local people is even more obvious in the case of Raja Ali. As mentioned above, Raja Ali had commenced his trading business in Sukadana before the fall of Riau in 1784 and, after this event, he settled in Sukadana. The VOC officials at the Pontianak factory specifically called him “Pirate Raja Ali” (Zee Rover Radje Alie) during his residence in Sukadana. Interestingly, they were apt to call him such when they reported to their higher authorities in Batavia that they had not been able to receive tin from upstream because, they claimed, “Pirate Raja Ali from Riau invaded and settled in Sukadana, and is blockading the river there (de rivier daar geslooten hout).”19 It is not clear what his blockading of the river meant exactly, but undeniably it seems that Raja Ali was disrupting the VOC tin trade. Probably this was the principal reason these Dutch officials called him a “pirate.” The Bugis people saw the same situation in a totally different way. In the 1860s Raja Ali Haji Ibn Ahmad, a member of the Bugis family of the Johor sultanate, compiled the dynastic chronicle, the Tuhfat al-Nafis. The chronicle describes Sukadana during the period in which Raja Ali took refuge there as follows: Raja Ali moved to Sukadana where he built a settlement, complete with palace, audience hall, and fortifications and promoted trade. The country prospered with kapal, wankang and many other kinds of perahu coming to business.20 As far as the Bugis were concerned, Raja Ali was engaged in trade promotion and as a result Sukadana prospered. The author of the chronicle emphasizes the aspect of commercial prosperity and Raja Ali’s peaceful, business-oriented leadership, without mentioning any sign of piracy. The local people also benefited from the settlement there and business ventures embarked on by Raja Ali and his followers. On the basis of his field research, Müller describes Raja Ali’s relocation and the situation in Sukadana after his settlement in his report as follows.

19 20

VOC 3581, no pagination, W.M. Stuart, J. Klaagman in Pontianak to Batavia, September 26, 1780. Raja Ali Haji, The Precious Gift, 187. Kapal and wangkang are particular types of local ships, that were generically known as prahu.

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After being driven out [of Riau] and roaming around friendless, Raja Ali finally received a letter from his relative Endra Laya, the sultan of Matan. The sultan granted him a piece of land in the southwest corner of Sukadana near Telaga Tuju. Raja Ali, his family members, and his followers settled down there and began cultivation.  Then Sukadana began to flourish again: fields were cultivated; trade revived [with ships coming] from all corners, especially from newly established Pontianak. A number of industrious residents settled there.21 Here again the author emphasizes the prosperity of Sukadana, attributing it to the trade and agriculture promoted by Raja Ali and his Bugis followers. This description is probably genuine reflection of the perception of the local people whom Müller interviewed in the early 1820s. To balance the picture it would be good to refer to a third party’s view of the same situation. The British traveller John Leyden, who visited a number of ports in Kalimantan in 1810, notes about Sukadana in the 1780s: In 1786, they [the Dutch] attacked Sacadina, then governed by Raja Ali, who had abandoned Rhio or Riauw. Sacadina at this time was a place of considerable trade, and though frequented sometimes by Dutch vessels, it had long been a subject of jealousy to that nation, from being the principal haunt of the English and French traders on the island of Borneo.22 Leyden also makes no bones about the trade prosperity of Sukadana under Raja Ali’s leadership. The Dutch jealousy he diagnoses is a very convincing explanation of the reason they attacked Sukadana, a rival attracting not only local ships but also English and French country traders. These sources leave no doubt that only the Dutch had a very different perception from others. The Bugis, Sukadana, and British people considered Raja Ali to be a business-oriented leader, capable of successfully promoting trade. In a nutshell, Raja Ali was a rival for the trade of the VOC, and therefore its officials in Pontianak chose to stigmatize him as “Pirate Raja Ali.” Sultan Mahmud of Johor also attacked passing ships in Malay Waters after he took refuge in the Lingga Islands in 1787. In their musings on this development, Dutch and local sources again show interesting different perceptions of piracy. From his base in Lingga, he and his followers launched attacks on 21 22

Müller, “Proeve,” 346. John Leyden, “Sketch of Borneo,” Verhandelingen van het Bataviaasch Genootschap voor Kunsten en Wetenschappen 7 (1814): 27-28.

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European and indigenous ships, seized their cargoes, and sold them. A number of those who left Riau after the 1784-1787 wars and settled around the nearby waters came under the protection of the sultan, and joined his raids.23 The VOC records were, of course, never hesitant to describe Sultan Mahmud and his followers in very negative terms. Dutch officials noted that these people were guilty of “plundering” (plundering), and therefore they were “itinerant pirates” (zeerovers rondzwerven).24 In its descriptions of similar maritime raid, the Johor chronicle the Tuhfat al-Nafis makes a distinction between those mounted by the ruler and those for which other people were responsible. Writing of the time at which Malay and Bugis princes of the sultanate commenced raiding, the author says: [T]he Malay and Bugis princes had all gone, some to Trennganu, others to Pahang or Kelantan and some had settled around the Bugis Straits, living from hand to mouth, although a large number had turned to piracy (kebanyakan merompak) in search of immediate return.25 Here the chronicle’s author uses the term merompak, literally “to plunder.” This verb can be used to refer to any acts of plundering, but it is often used in the meaning of “to commit piracy.” Another version of the same chronicle uses the phrase “many pirates” (perompak perompak) in describing the same event. Perompak is likewise literally a “plunderer,” but it often also refers to “pirates.” In this instance, the chronicle’s author uses rather negative terms in his recounting of their maritime raids. This is unusual as the author because, as a rule, he carefully avoids such negative terms to describe similar raids mounted by the sultan. Although the author does admit that the sultan did lead raids,26 he explains why the sultan organized raids as follows: He [Sultan Mahmud] remained there [Lingga] with the Malays and locally born Bugis, unceasingly trying to find a livelihood for his peo23 24 25 26

Vos, Gentle Janus. VOC 3812: no pagination, E.G. Baamgarten in Melaka to Batavia, May 29, 1787; VOC 3761: 103-104, P. Walbeeck in Palembang to Batavia, July 8, 1787. Raja Ali Haji, The Precious Gift, 187; For the Malay version, Raja Ali Haji, Tuhfat al-Nafis (Kuala Lumpur: Yayasan Karyawan dan Dewan Bahasa dan Purtaka, 1998), 434. According to Tuhfat al-Nafis, the governor of the VOC Melaka factory told a Johor envoy to urge Sultan Mahmud “to forbid these evil acts of piracy (Sultan Mahmud hendaklah dilarangkan perkara yang jahat-jahat daripada perompak).” Raja Ali Haji, The Precious Gift, 187; Raja Ali Haji, Tuhfat al-Nafis, 452.

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ple (memikirkan pencarian (segala) orang-orangnya), both Malays and Bugis.27 Here the maritime raids under the command of the sultan are justified as providing a means of livelihood for his people. By putting this interpretation on events, the chronicle’s author circumvents having to cast the sultan’s raids in a negative light. Reynout Vos remarks that the British sources recount that the sultan attracted various groups of people through the success of his raids, and gained prestige as the “great” and “genuine king of all the Malays.”28 In BugisMalay society, a ruler’s ability to organize successful raids was highly esteemed and it was an important source of his charisma. 3

Colonial Rule, Piracy, and State in West Kalimantan

The inception of colonial rule marked a turning-point in the Dutch perception of piracy in West Kalimantan. As I briefly explained earlier, their nominal colonial rule began when Dutch Residents were appointed in Sambas, Mempawa, and Pontianak in 1819. In the same year, the Dutch government in Batavia produced a document entitled “reasons for the possession of Borneo,” addressed to the government of the homeland. This short document consists of only three sentences: A. To hoist the Dutch flag in the lands (landen) whose rulers request Dutch protection B. To suppress pirates to promote trade, and to bring peace and order to the regions (gewesten) in which evil robbers and murderers have tortured weak people. C. To impose burdens (lasten) that are not onerous on them.29 This document was most likely compiled as a justification defending its advance into Kalimantan by the Batavian government to its home government. Therefore Article A states that the Dutch would advance only when requested to do so by local rulers. This would enable the Dutch to avoid costly military operations. Article C notes that it was planning to impose taxes and 27 28 29

Raja Ali Haji, The Precious Gift, 194; Raja Ali Haji, Tuhfat al-Nafis, 447. Vos, Gentle Janus, 192-93. MK 3081, 58-128: 3-4, Aantekeningen over het Eiland Borneo, no author, November 25, 1819.

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obligations, what the Dutch term lasten usually meant in the East Indies, on the ordinary people. This is therefore a declaration that they were now penetrating into Kalimantan for different purposes than they had previously done. They were now going to exploit, albeit in moderation, the people in a certain territory by the imposition of taxes and obligations. This type of territorial rule was a new idea previously never contemplated by the Dutch East India Company, as its goal had always been to profit from the trade or the cultivation of certain cash crops. The Dutch advance in the East Indies had now entered a new phase, that of colonial rule. It should be noted that one article out of the only three in this document specifically refers to piracy. Suppression of piracy was therefore certainly one of the pressing reasons for their plans for colonial rule. The suppression of piracy was, they argued, essential to the promotion of trade and instituting peace and order. In their view the suppression of piracy as an important step, above all as this act was an obstacle to the promotion of trade, that was emerging as an integral element in empire-building in the era of the early-imperial period. The suppression of piracy was equated, as Article B suggests, with bringing peace and order, a symbol of civilization as long as this auspicious situation was established using Western ideas, systems, technologies, and military power, just as the Dutch were planning to do. Piracy was now seen to be an obstacle to trade and an enemy of civilization. By claiming their intention to eliminate piracy, the Dutch were able to justify their colonial advance into Kalimantan. What is missing in this document is just as worthy of attention. When its Dutch compiler refers to the land of Kalimantan, he never uses terms such as state and territory. Instead he opts for vague words such as “lands” (landen) and “regions” (gewesten), that do not necessarily mean a country in which any type of state existed. Dutch colonial officials never imagined that, around this time, a state as a solid political community could exist in West Kalimantan, totally overlooking the indigenous sultanates. I shall get back to this issue later. In order to deal with piracy, that had now become a critical issue in Dutch colonial state-building, the Batavian government decided to conduct some research on pirates. In 1818 it ordered Commissioner Herman Warner Mun­ tinghe, who had been dispatched to Palembang and Bangka for negotiations with the sultan of Palembang, to compile a report about pirates, their lairs, and their (possible) alternative livelihoods in the surrounding waters. Muntinghe obtained information about these things from Raja Akil, an influential local

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chief in the Karimata Islands, who happened to be staying on Bangka when Muntinghe visited it.30 Muntinghe’s piracy report, completed in 1818, contains interesting information, but here it suffices to point out the following remark that Muntinghe, who had become the most knowledgeable expert on Malay pirates, made in another report in 1821. I take this opportunity to make the following points to Your Highness, in order to urge you to consider curbing piracy: a. To expand the government’s influence in the fight against piracy, for which purpose, [it is important] to make an alliance with some small independent states (onafhankelijke Staten), [between the places] to the north of Sambas and to the south of Pontianak, that often provide hidingplace for pirates […]31 (emphasis added) Here Muntinghe suggests that the Batavian government make an alliance with independent states. This is a very different attitude from the aforementioned Dutch reasons for taking possession of Borneo in 1819. Now colonial officials had begun to conceive the idea that, if they were to combat pirates, they should make alliances with independent states. In order to tackle the pirates, they would need local counterparts because they realized that the Dutch colonial government had neither the power nor the capacity to accomplish this task. Their counterparts had to be states, probably because at that time the Dutch people had begun to place much greater weight on the state than ever before. The Dutch East India Company, previously the Dutch highest authority active in Asia, had been bankrupted in the late-eighteenth century and in their homeland the Dutch Republic had disappeared in 1795. After being occupied by the French, they had obtained independence at the end of the Napoleonic Wars, and had established the United Kingdom of the Netherlands, that was to be their nation-state, in 1815. In Europe, nation-states were emerging as the main players in international diplomacy and the only legitimate political bodies to claim sovereignty over territory. Therefore, legally speaking, for the Dutch, who had just obtained their own nation-state and were introducing a new type of territorial rule to Kalimantan, those who were to be responsible for combatting piracy in a certain territory had to be local states. 30 31

Nationaal Archief, de Collectie van Anton Reinhard Falck 94: 1r, H.W. Muntinghe in Palembang to Batavia, May 25, 1818. MK 359, 108: no pagination, Memorie van den Heere Raad van Indië H.W. Muntinghe over Borneo, Batavia, August 31, 1821.

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In preparation for their search for local counterparts, Dutch officials had in fact begun to look for indigenous states. As said above, in 1822 Georg Müller was dispatched to make a report on West Kalimantan before the launch of fullscale colonial rule. His report, the first information source about this region for most Dutch people, consists of eight chapters. After the introductory three chapters, three are dedicated to descriptions of two states, Simpang and Matan, while the remaining two chapters are about two regions, Sukadana and the Karimata Islands; indicating Müller had attempted to organize the information on a geographical basis.32 He had a strong interest in states, reflected in the minute detail with which he describes borders. Nevertheless, he undeniably understood that West Kalimantan was not clearly divided into independent states. For example, he explains that Simpang was a fief of the Matan sultanate but it was gradually becoming independent of it, and in another place he notes that the states of Simpang and Matan both claimed rights to the Karimata Islands. Pertinently he clearly understood that the border between a fief and a state was blurred, and that the sovereignty of two states could overlap in the same territory. He also explains that, although Sukadana was a part of Matan, it had a quite different history from the other parts. His analysis shows that he obviously had clear idea about the complicated political landscape in West Kalimantan, nevertheless he still presented it as if it consisted of states in the European sense, demarcated by clearly delineated borders. The next step in the Dutch advance into West Kalimantan was to approach some state rulers, in this instance those of Simpang and Matan. The Dutch colonial government concluded treaties with the panembahan (the title of the ruler) of Simpang and the sultan of Matan in 1822 and 1823 respectively, clearly stipulating that they were obliged to suppress piracy.33 Now the state rulers were underlined as local counterparts, who were responsible for the suppression of piracy. What is not clear is how far the Dutch colonial officials were convinced of the effectiveness of these treaties. They were well aware that the power of these rulers was too small to curb piracy effectively, and that in fact they surreptitiously protected pirates in return for a share in their booty.34 If the truth be told, they probably wanted to leave the responsibility for the suppression of piracy to indigenous rulers, purely as a cost-saving measure. 32 33 34

Müller, “Proeve.” The first three chapters are a general overview of Kalimantan, the history of Dutch intervention in Kalimantan, and his trip. MK 2477: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “buiten rade,” July 20, 1824, No. 8; Barth 1897: 11-12. MK 2787: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “in rade,” March 8, 1825, No. 30; Müller, “Proeve,” 306.

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Because of their limited financial and human resources, it was impossible for the colonial authorities in West Kalimantan to mount effective antipiracy campaigns. Their most important goal in concluding antipiracy regulations with indigenous rulers was to show the home government that they were taking steps to combat piracy. 4

Piracy Control and Non-state Figures

As Dutch rule gradually penetrated West Kalimantan, the ineffectiveness of their antipiracy policy working in collaboration with local state rulers became a more serious issue. Consequently, collaboration with influential non-state figures presented itself as a feasible option. Raja Akil, Muntinghe’s informant for his piracy report, became the most trusted collaborator of the Dutch colonial authorities in West Kalimantan from around 1820. Raja Akil was a son of Raja Musa, the leader of the Malays who had migrated from Siak on the east coast of Central Sumatra, and settled in the Karimata Islands. Raja Musa was a son of Sultan Mahmud Shah of Siak. He was driven out of Siak by internal conflicts, and he and his followers took the seas living from piracy. After years of roaming nomadic existence, they finally arrived in the Karimata Islands in 1765. They established a settlement called Negorij Nieuw-Siak (probably Negeri Siak Baru in Malay) on Selutu Island, while Raja Musa himself settled in Kampong Serunai on Karimata Besar, both in the Karimata Islands. Around these islands they exacted tolls with menaces from passing ships.35 In short, Raja Akil was a scion of a pirate family active throughout the Malay Waters. By 1813 Raja Akil had become the new leader of the Siak community-in-exile in Karimata. In this year it is known that he provided the British with military assistance. The Malay chronicle Sejarah Bangka narrates that when the Dipati of Belitung attacked an English ship, killed its captain, and sold his crews into slavery in Belitung in 1813, Raja Akil led a punitive expedition against the Dipati on behalf of the British.36 It is not clear whether the expedition was undertaken at the request of the British or whether it was a spontaneous initiative by Raja Akil. In any event, this case shows that Raja Akil, the leader of a militant 35 36

Müller, “Proeve,” 357-58, 365-72; Raja Ali Haji, The Precious Gift, 23; Ota, “Pirates or Entrepreneurs?” E.P. Wieringa, Carita Bangka, Het Verhaal van Bangka: Textuitgave met Introductie en Addenda (Leiden: Vakgroep Talen en Culturen van Zuidoost-Azië en Oceanië, Rijksuniversiteit te Leiden, 1990), 31.

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group active throughout the entire expanse of the Malay Waters, not hesitant to cooperate with European powers. Provision of military assistance was a well-established custom among the maritime migrants in West Kalimantan; after all his father had done the same for the sultan of Pontianak in the 1770s.37 As briefly noted earlier, Herman Warner Muntinghe came to Palembang in 1818 with a brief to negotiate with the sultan. The negotiations broke down, and the Dutch launched a war against Palembang the next year. In his efforts to cope, Muntinghe, now the Acting-Resident of Bangka, requested Raja Akil for military assistance. The latter responded favorably to this request, and at the head of his followers, he contributed to the Dutch victory. After this victory, in reward for his trust and diligence, in 1820 the Dutch government granted Raja Akil the naval rank of majoor and other chiefs were given lower-ranking titles such as kapitein and 1ste luitenant.38 Besides organizing the granting of these titles, in June 1820 Muntinghe decided that he would assign five prahus (local ships) belonging to Raja Akil to serve under him in Bangka, and that the Dutch office in Bangka would pay the cost of the maintenance of the prahus, 40 guilders per month each.39 The duties assigned to these Bangka-based prahus are not clear, but it is known that Raja Akil and his followers, probably in these very prahus, again joined a Dutch military operation against Palembang in 1822. Raja Akil played a major role in the battles in Muntok, fighting alongside the Dutch authorities and the Bangka people, leading them the victory once again.40 He had provided military assistance, in the time-honored custom of the maritime migrants in West Kali­mantan, but this time he had done so within the framework of the Dutch colonial administration, equipped with a naval rank and a stipend. Muntinghe and the Batavian government were pleased to be able to make use of the military power and skills of Raja Akil. He had a reputation not only for his knowledge of piracy but also for his personal involvement in it.41 It seems that early Dutch colonial rule was not always opposed to piracy; to the extent it sometimes incorporated piracy into its system. However, this collaboration was not yet highly institutionalized, but based on the personal ties between Muntinghe and Raja Akil. After Muntinghe was called back to Batavia in 1823 37 38 39 40 41

Ota, “Pirates or Entrepreneurs?” MK 2454: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “buiten rade,” June 23, 1820, No. 7; Müller, “Proeve,” 372. The government in Batavia immediately approved this decision. MK 2450: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “buiten rade,” October 20, 1819, No. 21. Wieringa, Carita Bangka, 31. Müller, “Proeve,” 373.

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to be promoted to being a member of the Indies Council, Raja Akil and his Malay followers returned to Karimata from Bangka. Without wasting any time, the Dutch authorities in West Kalimantan again approached Raja Akil. In 1823, Commissioner J.H. Tobias was sent to Pontianak to be the highest authority in West Kalimantan, taking over C.L. Hartman, who had been recalled to Batavia. Tobias was well aware of the necessity to curb piracy, but he also realized that the Pontianak office did not have the financial resources to achieve this goal. He had also been unable to obtain Batavia’s approval to build military posts, that he thought would be effective in checking pirates, at Sukadana and Karimata. In his dilemma, Tobias found in Raja Akil a counterpart with whom he could collaborate, because “he had already abandoned his piratical life through his collaboration with the Dutch.”42 The Dutch office in Pontianak arranged that Raja Akil should be institutionally incorporated into its administrative system, following the example of Muntinghe at the Bangka office a few years earlier. Deliberating on the Pontia­ nak office’s request, the Batavian government went accord that it would pay the costs of establishing and maintaining a fleet under the command of Raja Akil. As a first step, in June 1823 the government paid him 480 guilders to repair his twelve ships.43 In September of the same year, it was decided that Raja Akil’s ships should be sent to Batavia for repair, and the budget for maintaining his fleet consisting of six prahus was expanded to 35,460 guilders a year.44 The fleet was assigned to patrol the coast of West Kalimantan, paying special attention to the Karimata Islands, but it was allowed to sail independently, without being placed under a superior (Dutch) naval command.45 Therefore, although Raja Akil’s fleet was placed under the Dutch administrative system, it was not completely incorporated into the Dutch navy, in spite of the naval rank he held. In September 1823, the Dutch Pontianak office, observing how poorly equipped his fleet was, decided to appoint Raja Akil the Regent (local ruler) of Karimata.46 Given the circumstances, this probably means that the Dutch officials arranged for him to obtain an income from this land and people. Obviously they had decided that his first duty was to combat pirates. The Batavian 42 43 44 45 46

J.P.J. Barth, “Overzicht der afdeeling Soekadana,” Verhandelingen van de Bataviaasch Genootschap van Kunsten en Wetenschappen 50 (1896): 12. C.L. Blume, “Toelichtingen aangaande de nasporingen op Borneo van G. Mueller,” De Indische Bij 1 (1843): 127-28. MK 2472: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “buiten rade,” September 14, 1823, No. 1. Ibid. Ibid.

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government approved these decisions.47 At this point the Dutch colonial authorities made Raja Akil the local ruler of a certain territory, probably a Dutch measure to save the cost of paying him a stipend. Instead he was given the right to extract income from his land and population. They might also have had in mind giving him a sound basis for legitimacy in the local politics. Opinion about Raja Akil was very divided among Dutch officials. LieutenantGovernor Hendrik Merkus de Kock in Batavia rated Raja Akil’s fleet so highly that he stated (even a little) downsizing of it would see a rampant upsurge in piracy.48 Conversely, Müller’s estimation of him was extremely low. When he headed for Sambas as the commissioner with a remit to negotiate with the Sultan in July 1823, Raja Akil provided two prahus and their crews to join Müller’s convoy. During the voyage Müller frequently complained about the poor quality of the equipment and crews of his ships. He carped that the crews were always gambling and smoked opium on board. Müller even went so far as to say that they were thugs and the worst kind of people.49 His remark is not surprising, as there is no denying that they were indeed maritime warriors and pirates, who must have looked like thugs. Therefore, although the top end of the government had a high opinion of Raja Akil, the lower-ranking officials, who had personal contact with him – apart from Muntinghe – did not. On balance, Raja Akil certainly did contribute to the Dutch antipiracy policy, but not in a straightforward manner. He did sometimes successfully suppress pirates, for example, when he attacked a pirate ship off Sinkawang with fifteen men on board, and sank it in April 1825.50 However, successes were rather rare, and some Dutch officials had their doubts about Raja Akil’s efficacy. Commissioner Diard, sent from Bangka to Pontianak, was a strong opponent of the idea of making use of Raja Akil. In 1827, Raja Solong, one of Raja Akil’s sons, was arrested because he had been caught loading plenty of weapons and ammunition but only a scant amount of merchandise in his ship, contradicting the information on his pass issued by the government for his trade between Pontianak and Lampung. Diard firmly believed that Raja Solong was going to sell the weapons and ammunition to pirates. He accused Raja Solong of having been involved in piracy in and around the Bangka Strait, and he also pointed out that Raja Akil provided some of the ships in Raja Solong’s fleet. Therefore 47 48 49 50

Ibid. MK 2476: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “buiten rade,” April 17, 1824, No. 7. Blume, “Toelichtingen,” 127-28. MK 2484: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “buiten rade,” June 25, 1825, No. 1.

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he demanded that Raja Solong be sent to Batavia for interrogation, and that Raja Akil also be investigated. He went a step farther and suggested that Raja Akil’s fleet be disbanded. However, the Resident of West Kalimantan, Van der Durgen Gronovius in Pontianak, vehemently opposed Diard. He claimed that neither of these two men had ever been involved in piracy and did not need be investigated. The Batavian government finally approved Van der Durgen Gronovius’ claim, “in order to maintain a good relationship with Raja Akil.”51 The principal reason behind this government decision was unquestionably its reliance on Raja Akil’s network with and influence on the pirates. For example, in February 1828, Van der Durgen Gronovius decided to make use of Raja Akil to resolve the turmoil in Siak, where the famous pirate leader Raja Orang Timer Datu Sankus from Tampasuk in Sarawak had settled and begun to stir up trouble. On this occasion Tungku Soling, a renowned pirate leader based on Reteh on the east coast of Sumatra, and a nephew of Raja Orang Timer Datu Sankus, requested Van der Durgen Gronovius allow him to settle in Pontianak under the protection of Raja Akil, and that he be granted an amnesty for his previous piratical behavior. As Raja Akil agreed to stand as a guarantor for Tungku Soling, Van der Durgen Gronovius gave him permission to settle in Pontianak and granted him an amnesty.52 He probably expected that Tungku Soling would abandon piracy after he settled in Pontianak under Raja Akil’s protection, and that consequently the waters around Reteh would be free of the depredations of the notorious pirate leader. Before this period, the Dutch authorities had never directly dispatched their own fleet to tackle the pirates as the task was beyond them. Making use of collaborative local elites was the only possible measure they could take to deal with piracy problems. The Dutch attack on Matan in 1828 was a turning-point in local politics in West Kalimantan. In December 1827, the sultanate of Matan and the Batavian government had been plunged into a conflict about the cargo of a Dutch ship stranded near Karimata. Sultan Mohammad Jamaluddin of Matan claimed his right to the cargo, as was the local custom. However, when the sultan attempted to seize the cargo, the leader of the Orang Laut community in Karimata, Batin Galang, opposed to him. Several years prior to this event, Batin Galang had 51 52

MK 2803: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “in rade,” July 3, 1827, No. 3; July 6, 1827, No. 2; July 31, 1827, No. 16. Tungku Soling relied on Raja Akil, because another of his uncles, Raja Mangsur, a member the Siak community in exile in Karimata, was the best and most reliable follower of Raja Akil. MK 2812: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “in rade,” April 18, 1828, No. 9; MK 2812: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “in rade,” April 29, 1828, No. 45.

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become “a reliable servant for the Dutch government” by “abandoning his pirate life” after he had met Raja Akil in Karimata. The real motive behind his subjugation to the Dutch authorities is dubious, but it is feasible that he chose to secure his position by placing himself under the protection of the Dutch government. Batin Galang refused to hand over the cargo to the sultan, trying to protect Dutch rights to it. Infuriated the Sultan sent a fleet consisting of twenty-two prahus, killed Batin Galang and his brother, and forcibly seized the cargo, including merchandise and weapons, and took these to his capital, Gayong.53 This development gave the Batavian government a good reason to intervene. Upon hearing the news, Commissioner-General Léonard Du Bus de Gisignies of the Batavian government immediately dispatched a fleet consisting of one frigate, two schooners, and three gunboats, to Gayong in July 1828. On the instructions of the Batavian government, Raja Akil’s fleet of nine prahus accompanied this expedition. After their arrival at Gayong the fleets found that the sultan had already fled to the inland. Profiting from the opportunity, during expedition the Dutch fleet also destroyed pirate lairs and a large number of their ships.54 Even before the expedition to Matan, in April 1828 Du Bus de Gisignies had conceived a plan to dethrone Sultan Mohammad Jamaluddin of Matan, who “disturbed trade and peaceful local people,” and put Raja Akil, who “can secure increasing tranquility and peace” in the region, on the throne instead, as the Sultan of Matan and Simpang, a “feudal lord” loyal to the government.55 Although the government proposed that Raja Akil be given the title of sultan, his position was that of its vassal, probably to allow the government to exert stronger influence over him. However, in December 1828 the Dutch authorities changed their minds. Du Bus de Gisignies explained that the enthronement of Raja Akil in Sukadana was a strategic measure to counter Sultan Mohammad Jamaluddin of Matan and his sons, who had hidden themselves in the inland.56 Having made various

53 54 55 56

MK 2515: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “buiten rade,” April 23, 1828, No. 1; Barth, “Overzicht,” 12-13. MK 2515: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “buiten rade,” April 23, 1828, No. 1; MK 2820: December 5, 1828, No. 38; Barth, “Overzicht,” 12-13. MK 2515: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “buiten rade,” April 23, 1828, No. 1. MK 2820: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “in rade,” December 5, 1828, No. 38.

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arrangements,57 on September 3, 1829 the government finally officially installed Raja Akil as ruler of the newly established state of Nieuw Brussel, although local people never referred to it the state by this name. He chose to call himself Sultan Abdul Jalil Syah of Sukadana, the name that local people always used. The territory of his state was confined to only a part of the sultanate of Matan, consisting Sukadana (the town Sukadana and its surrounding area), Simpang, and the Karimata Islands.58 Unlike other local states, this state created by the Dutch authorities had clearly defined borderlines, as are described in the 1832 report of E.A. Francis.59 As usual with other local rulers, the Dutch government concluded a treaty with Sukadana, stipulating that the sultan would be responsible for the suppression of piracy and the slave trade, the protection of trade, and the promotion of industry.60 Here again the government considered the suppression of piracy to be one of the most important responsibilities of a state ruler. Interestingly, in the case of Sukadana, the Dutch colonial government even created a state, and gave its ruler the responsibility of suppressing piracy. Indeed on several occasions the government ordered Raja Akil to organize expeditions against piracy, although their results were not always satisfactory.61 At this stage, the Dutch colonial officials began to form a different image of local states. In the 1820s and 1830s, they had several maps made of West Kalimantan. What is fascinating is that, apart from the location of big rivers and sizable towns, these maps clearly indicate the territories of local states delineated with unrealistically clearly defined borderlines (Map 5.2). However, when we read the reports of Müller and Francis these borderlines do not seem to have had any function in checking the movement of people and goods.

57

58 59 60 61

Raja Akil was first temporarily enthroned as the sultan of Matan on December 1828, with remarks about possible later arrangements. On December 23, 1828, the Batavian government proclaimed that Raja Akil had been raised to be sultan of Matan, Simpang, and the subordinate areas. MK 2820: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “in rade,” December 5, 1828, No. 38; MK 2820: no pagination, besluiten van de GouverneurGeneraal “in rade,” December 23, 1828, No. 20. MK 2515: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “buiten rade,” April 23, 1828, No. 1; Barth, “Overzicht,” 13. E.A. Francis, “Westkust van Borneo in 1832,” Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsch-Indië 4 no. 2 (1842): 1-34. Barth, “Overzicht,” 16. Information about further antipiracy campaigns conducted by Raja Akil is found in: MK 2812: no pagination, besluiten van de Gouverneur-Generaal “in rade,” April 29, 1828, No. 6; Barth, “Overzicht,” 25-27.

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Map 5.2

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Sketch of the interior of the Island of Borneo, 1835

These efforts in cartography were instead a reflection of the Dutch concept of a state, that should be equipped with clearly delineated state borders. 5

Changing Perceptions of Piracy and Sovereignty in Riau-Linnga

An interesting point about the Tuhfat al-Nafis is that it repeatedly states that the rulers of the Johor sultanate, that is, the raja muda at Riau and the sultan at Lingga, sharpened their desire to suppress piracy and they did indeed carry out antipiracy expeditions repeatedly after 1823. Their attitude was very

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different to that of their predecessors, who had done very little in this direction. Although the Tuhfat al-Nafis is a source created in the 1860s, its descriptions of incidents of piracy after 1823 certainly carry different overtones to those before this year. Phrases such as “[the rulers attempted] to eradicate pirates” (membuang perompak; hapus perompak-perompak) rarely appear with reference to these events in this source before 1823.62 This change in the local rulers’ attitude was in all likelihood an outcome of their shifting relationship with the Dutch. One turning-point was a military crash between the Bugis and Dutch soldiers in Riau in 1820. After Dutch soldiers killed a member of the Bugis elite, Daeng Ronggik, who ignored their order to leave his keris (dagger) behind when he visited the Dutch Resident in his office, 400 Bugis soldiers attacked the Dutch revenue office, and later barricaded themselves inside a fort. The Dutch army, reinforced by warships from Malacca, arrested the culprits and expelled them from Riau. Immediately after this incident, after consultations with Sultan Abdul Rahman at Lingga, Raja Muda Raja Jafar in Riau discussed ways of repairing the relationship with the Dutch with principal members of the Riau community. At this moment, they decided to focus on “a matter about which the Dutch government had constantly complained – ‘the extermination of the piracy’ (membuang perompak) in their state.”63 This change seems to suggest that the Johor rulers wished to repair worsening of their relationship with the Dutch and therefore began to tackle piracy seriously. The antipiracy campaigns organized by the Johor rulers targeted local minor chieftains and their followers. The Tuhfat al-Nafis states that, whenever piracy was unearthed, the chiefs of the guilty parties were dismissed, replaced, or even arrested and taken to Batavia, accused of not stopping their men from committing acts of piracy.64 In other words, the chiefs were considered responsible for checking the piracy resorted to by their followers. By emphasizing the severity of the penalties handed down to the people proved to have been involved in piracy, the chronicle obliquely implies that piracy was an evil act. Nevertheless, the frequent mentions of piracy conducted by local minor chieftains and their followers in the Tuhfat al-Nafis does not mean that the hands of the Raja Muda and the Sultan were not besmirched by piracy. The opposite was true. The Dutch authorities repeatedly accused them of supporting minor 62 63 64

Raja Ali Haji, Tuhfat al-Nafis, 348, 367, and passim. Raja Ali Haji, The Precious Gift, 229-31, 387; E. Netscher, “De Nederlanders in Djohor en Siak 1602 tot 1865,” VBG 35 (1870): 260-61. Raja Ali Haji, The Precious Gift, 243-44, and passim thereafter.

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piratical chieftains in return for a share in their booty. The Dutch Resident of Riau, Cornets de Groot, even claimed that, were they to destroy pirate lairs, the sultan would lose a major source of income.65 In this way matter least, the rulers’ attitude toward piracy had not changed from that held by their predecessors, although, perhaps unsurprisingly, the Tuhfat al-Nafis never mentions this connivance of the Johor rulers with the piratical chiefs. Ignoring the involvement of the Johor rulers in piracy, the Tuhfat al-Nafis emphasizes that the rulers were firmly resolved to suppress piracy. When this source narrates the exploits of previous great rulers such as Raja Haji, Raja Ali, and Sultan Mahmud, its author proudly describes their promotion of trade and victories in wars, but it never mentioned any sort of antipiracy campaign they had mounted. The suppression of piracy was not considered for the task of rulers as they sat on their thrones. However, in its narrative of events after 1823, the author of this source does emphasize the suppression of piracy as an important part of rulers’ achievements. The change in the Johor rulers’ perception of piracy also brought about a change in their concepts of their territory. In 1836, Raja Muda Raja Abdul Rahman ordered his younger brother to mount an antipiracy expedition. According to the Tuhfat al-Nafis, the expedition was carried out with serious intent and achieved certain results. Raja Abd al-Rahman sent his younger brother Raja Ali Engku Kelana to inspect the seas for pirates and trouble makers. He had orders to eradicate piracy (menghapuskan pekerjaan rompak itu) throughout Riau and Lingga’s subject territories (segenap rantau jajahan Lingga dan Riau). […] [The Convoy] toured all the Riau and Lingga domains (segala jajahan itu), visiting both good and bad sea-people. […] The law for miscreants was applied and people were arrested and taken to Riau. All their resources which had been used for their illegal activities (berbuat jahat itu), their heavy artillery and large perahu, were confiscated. Some of the chiefs were dismissed because their crimes were so blatant.66 (emphasis added) In this passage it is possible to catch a glimpse of how the Johor rulers consolidated their concept of territory (jajahan) through their antipiracy operations. 65

66

For example, J.R. Logan, “The Piracy and Slave Trade of the Indian Archipelago,” Journal of the Indian Archipelago and Eastern Asia 4 (1850): 157; Captain Koopman’s remark in June 1835 and Cornets de Groot’s remark in October 1835, quoted in Folio 401: 3 in Raja Ali Haji, Tuhfat al-Nafis, 397. Raja Ali Haji, The Precious Gift, 268; Raja Ali Haji, Tuhfat al-Nafis, 277-78.

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As the text shows, they imagined a particular area of the sea, throughout which they would conduct tours to eradicate “illegal” piracy, to be their “territory.” However this maritime “territory” might have not been delineated with fixed borders, in the way European administrators conceived of these boundaries. However different it was from the western concept, it should be noted that their concept of “territory” was consolidated through the indigenous rulers’ antipiracy expeditions. Specifying piracy as an “illegal” activity, the chronicle’s author claims that its suppression was an honorable act of the rulers, although their real purpose in mounting the expeditions was to create a better relationship with the Dutch authorities. At this point, through their antipiracy expe­ditions, local rulers seem to have recognized their sovereignty over particular areas of sea.

Conclusion

Perceptions of piracy in Malay Waters between the Dutch and the local people before European colonization diverged sharply. VOC officials were quick to label their trading rivals pirates, even when no other party saw them as such. They needed to call particular groups of people pirates, because they needed scapegoats to explain their poor trade performances to the home government as a result of “their obstructions.” The Bugis author of the Johor chronicle the Tuhfat al-Nafis, probably as many other contemporary locals did, took a negative view of piracy as forcible plunder at sea, but he did not hesitate to justify a state ruler’s plunder as an honorable measure that provided his people with a livelihood. When the Dutch attempted to establish their colonial rule, they focused on piracy, because the eradication of piracy, that would benefit trade and bring “peace and order,” was a justification for their advance into the territory of others. Piracy now assumed a new meaning as an obstacle to trade and an enemy of civilization. At this stage, the Dutch colonial officials had no anachronistic conception of indigenous states as territorial political bodies. In their efforts to claim sovereignty over Kalimantan, the Dutch officials felt their actions vindicated if they could find local rulers to negotiate with and local people to impose taxes on. However, aware of the weakness of their government, Dutch officials had to rely on local counterparts to tackle piracy. Initially, strapped for resources, the Dutch officials thought that local states should be responsible for the suppression of piracy. If they were to find such rulers, they needed to look for local states in the European sense and therefore they called various kinds of local political entities “states.” True to their European political conceptions, the

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Dutch imagined local states as territories with clearly defined borderlines, and represented them as such in their reports and on maps. Although the Dutch officials concluded treaties with state rulers and requested that they eradicate pirates, they soon realized that the local rulers were also weak and had no firm resolve to combat piracy. Consequently they looked for a more feasible course of action, collaboration with such non-state figures as Raja Akil, expecting him to collaborate the suppression of piracy. Although the collaboration was not always effective in eradicating piracy and lower-ranking Dutch officials were well aware of its shortcomings, their superiors in Batavia continued to rely on him, probably because collaboration with him was cost-effective and seemed enough to convince the home government that they were making efforts to suppress piracy. Eventually the high-ranking Dutch officials in Batavia enthroned Raja Akil as Sultan of the newly established state of Nieuw Brussel (Sukadana). By this action, they did indeed create a state in their sense. The non-state piratical figure Raja Akil was now elevated to ruler of a state conceived of in the European fashion. He made shrewd use of Dutch support to underpin his authority. His state was properly defined with clearly delineated borders to separate it from its neighbors and, the irony of the situation completely escaping them, the new sultan was assigned to the task of suppressing piracy. Feeling under increasing Dutch pressure, the sultan and raja muda (viceroy) of the Johor sultanate began to think that they too should suppress piracy, by so doing hoping to improve their relationship with the Dutch authorities. In order to justify their suppression of piracy as one of the honorable duties of a ruler, they emphasized the illegality of piracy. They also launched antipiracy patrols, and the space within which they conducted these tours was considered their territory. Hence their claim to sovereignty was now even more strongly connected to the idea of territoriality. In the following decades, the rulers of the Riau-Lingga Islands lost their independence, in spite of their cooperation in the suppression of piracy. Pirates were still rampant, profiting from the almost non-existent border control throughout the Malay Waters. State control of the border and piracy was still only a fiction.67 Nevertheless, it still should be noted that the concept of state and sovereignty had been consolidated through the ideas and practices adopted by the Dutch officials and local rulers to deal with piracy issues in Malay Waters. 67

More effective border control only began to take shape after the late-nineteenth century, as Eric Tagliacozzo has discussed in the Anglo-Dutch border in their colonies in Southeast Asia. Eric Tagliacozzo, Secret Trades, Porous Borders: Smuggling and States along a Southeast Asian Frontier, 1865-1915 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005).

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Through their confrontations, negotiations, and compromises, not only the Dutch officials but also the local rulers began to conceive and put into practice the idea that a state should be responsible for the eradication of piracy in its territory. Piracy became the enemy of all. This new perception emerged in Malay Waters in the period under study: for Dutch officials it justified their colonial rule, and for local state rulers a chance to survive under Dutch authority.

Primary Sources

Koloniën / Kaarten en Tekeningen (MIKO), Nationaal Archief (National Archives of the Netherlands) Archief van de Ministerie van Koloniën (MK), Nationaal Archief Archief van de Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie (VOC), Nationaal Archief

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Chapter 6

In the Name of Sovereignty: Spain’s Tackling of ‘Moro’ Piracy in the Sulu Zone, 1768-1898 James Francis Warren 1

Trade for Bullion to Trade for Commodities: Sulu and China

As the British demand for Chinese tea grew in the late 1700s, country traders based in India looked for alternatives to silver to pay for the tea. Selling Indian opium to the Chinese provided part of the answer, but these traders also exploited the great demand in China for the sea and jungle products of the Malay Archipelago. Therefore, on their way to China the country traders could stop at Jolo and exchange opium, fire arms and Indian textiles for pearl-shell, tripang, bird’s nest, and other local products that they could sell in China. Soon, Chinese traders based in Manila and Singapore as well as Bugis traders from the south also began to arrive. However, the sea and jungle products that were traded at Jolo needed to be harvested. The key to my argument in this paper is that Sulu’s booming economy depended on the labour of people captured by Iranun and Balangingi raiders, who were put to work in the zone as slaves. In short, the people collecting tripang, pearl-shell and other products in various parts of the Sulu zone were part of a larger economic system that also included the sultan and his chiefs, slave-raiders, powerful merchants in London and India, country traders, and consumers of opium and fine food in China. Indeed, these “new” products helped to redress the British East India Company’s adverse trade balance with China. Furthermore, by fitting into the patterns of European trade with China, the sultanate established itself as a powerful commercial centre. As the sultanate organized its economy around the collection and distribution of marine and jungle produce, there was a greater need for large-scale recruitment of workers to do the labour-intensive work of procurement. Therefore, slaving activity developed to meet the accentuated demands of external trade and Jolo became the nerve centre for the coordination of long-distance slave-raiding. By the 1780s, maritime raiding or “piracy” in Southeast Asian waters – although common in the past – had begun to occur far more frequently than colonial authorities cared to admit. The regularity of the Iranun sweeping the

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004361485_008

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seas led the authorities in Singapore and other Straits settlements to refer to the months of August, September, and October as the musim lanun.1 Driven by the desire for wealth and power, the Iranun and Balangingi Samal surged out of the Sulu Archipelago in search of slaves and within three decades (17681798) their raids encompassed all of insular Southeast Asia. Their well-armed 1 James Francis Warren, The Sulu Zone, 1768-1898: The Dynamics of External Trade, Slavery, and Ethnicity in the Transformation of a Southeast Asian Maritime State (Singapore: NUS Press, 1981), 154; Owen Rutter, The Pirate Wind Tales of the Sea-Robbers of Malaya (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1986).

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prahus scoured the coasts of the Indonesian world and sailed northward into the Philippines. In the course of these raids, they joined with other Iranun and Samal speakers living at satellite stations on the coasts of Borneo, Celebes, and Sumatra. Navigating with the monsoon, their prahus returned to Jolo loaded with captives to be exchanged for rice, cloth, and luxury goods from the Taosug. The raiding system enabled the sultanate to incorporate vast numbers of people from the Philippines and eastern Indonesia into the Sulu population. Traffic in slaves reached its peak in Sulu in the period from 1800 to 1848 and, as I explained earlier, was founded on the basis of trade with China and the West. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, the Jolo market offered Britishmanufactured brassware, glassware, Chinese earthenware and ceramics, fine muslins, silk and satin garments, Spanish tobacco and wines, and opium from India. There was a constant increase not only in the variety but in the quality of these objects of trade. These luxury goods for personal adornment and pleasure and for the household were translated into power and prestige symbols by the Sulu aristocracy to form the material basis of their social superiority. It is in this sense that external trade became a vital element in the overall functioning of the Sulu social system. In the context of the world capitalist economy and the advent of the China trade, it should be understood that the slave-raiding activities of the Iranun and Balangingi, so readily condemned in blanket terms as “piracy” by European colonial powers and later historians, was a means of consolidating the economic base and political power of the sultan and Taosug coastal chiefs of Sulu, and that functioned as an integral, albeit critical, part of the emerging statecraft and socio-political structure(s) of the zone. 2

Containment

European traders joined with Taosug datus to spark one of the largest population movements in recent Southeast Asian history in which hundreds of thousands of individuals were sent into slavery within the zone. The turnover in Iranun-Samal slave trafficking was in excess of several million dollars a year: Human cargo and Chinese tea were as profitable as drugs and guns. Hence, all these commodities became inextricably entangled in a deadly global trade. One of the most intractable problems facing the Southeast Asian world in both the eighteenth and the nineteenth century was connected with the huge number of captive people being taken to the Sulu Zone, destined never to return to their original homes.

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Iranun-Balangingi maritime raiding and the Malay Archipelago in the first half of the nineteenth century

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From the end of the eighteenth to the middle of the nineteenth century, in pursuit of captives the Iranun and Balangingi, crewing well-organized fleets of large, swift prahus, earned the reputation of being daring, fierce marauders who jeopardized the maritime trade routes of Southeast Asia and dominated the capture and transport of slaves to the Sulu Sultanate. The biggest Iranun slave raids, however, were directed against the Philippine Archipelago. The annual reports of the alcaldes mayores and friars on these “moro” raids, and the ruins of stone towers and forts built as far north as Ilocos, in northwestern Luzon, are fearful reminders of the power of the slave-takers in this period. Problems of distance and communication posed grave difficulties for the Spanish, who could not prevent the Iranun from ranging over the poorly defended coasts and straits of the archipelago. The Spanish were, in fact, too weak to prevent the inland seas of the central Philippines from becoming a “Muslim lake.” Control of these waters by the Iranun and Samal Balangingi enabled them to penetrate up to 20 miles upriver to attack villages in the hinterlands of Leyte, Panay, and Negros.2 This relentless aggression was to be the root cause of the migratory movement of Filipinos between Negros, Panay, and Cebu for over half a century. The Iranun and Samal Balangingi confronted the frontier villages of the southern Visayas and Mindanao with some of their greatest demonstrations of force. In 1770, the provincial of the Recollects wrote that no part of the Visayan Islands had been left unscathed that year. In his province, the Iligan presidio had staved off an attack by 180 prahus,3 but the besieged defenders were helpless to prevent the raiders from burning the surrounding villages and churches as they withdrew.4 After examining parish documents in 1779, the bishop of Cebu stated that slave raids were the basic reason for declining parish enrolments and the continued poverty of the churches in Caraga, Iligan, and Panay.5 The raids continued and the Filipinos’ condition grew worse throughout the 2 AGI, no. 46, GCG a Senor Secretario de Estado, Filipinas 490, 32. 3 The figures reported by friars and officials on the overall size and composition of raiding flotillas can be deceptive. The Spanish terms vinta, panco, or joanga were frequently used to refer to any raiding craft (between 30 and 90 feet in length), irrespective of its construction and use. The largest raiding flotillas rarely exceeded forty vessels. Their numbers were often inflated because each vessel either carried or towed an auxiliary dugout canoe for inshore operations. These craft were labeled kakap, baroto, or vinta by astute Dutch and Spanish observers. Hence, forty prahus with their tenders becomes eighty plus. 4 AGI, El Provincial de Recollectos, a vuestra Magestad, June 5, 1771, Filipinas 685. 5 AGI, El Obispo de Zebu, a su Magestad, December 21, 1779, Filipinas 1027.

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Visayas and northern Mindanao. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, it was only at great risk that the hapless villagers could fish, cultivate their fields, and communicate with neighbouring communities and provinces.6 The success of the slave-raiders of the Sulu Sultanate was due in part to the deteriorating financial and military situation in the Philippines in the eighteenth century. Iranun marauding imposed a tremendous burden on the treasury and the Filipino people, for the construction of coast-guard fleets and the maintenance of forts, troops, and cannon.7 The government was forced to solicit funds from religious corporations, private institutions and wealthy individuals to meet the persistent expenditure for the defence of the archipelago. In this period, financial constraints and the advent of maritime trade between Manila and Jolo prevented the Spanish from undertaking large-scale campaigns against the Sulu Sultanate.8 In desperation, friars in coastal villages were forced to mobilize the inhabitants of several settlements to build and arm their own fleets of barangayan to defend themselves.9 The most notable example was Father Julian Bermejo, the friar of Boljoon on southern Cebu. From 1804 to 1836 he established a line of baluartes, small forts, that ran from Tanog to Silbonga; created an early warning system that used flags to alert villagers to the approach of Iranun-Samal vessels; and organised rendezvous points from where villagers could defend themselves. He also organized the inhabitants of Argao, Dalaguete, and Sibonga to construct a fleet of ten barangayan, that were ready to put to sea at a moment’s notice.10 The scheme was so

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AGI, no. 4, July 5, 1814, Filipinas 510. AGI, no. 234, GCG a Senor Secretario de Estado, December 12, 1772, Filipinas 493; AGI, no. 265, GCG a Senor Secretario de Estado y del Despacho Universal de Marina y Indias, January 12, 1773, Filipinas 493. AGI, no. 7, GCG a Senor Secretario de Estado, June 4, 1806, Filipinas 510. The barangayan were similar to Iranun raiding prahus or pancos, and constructed in the same manner, but they did not exceed 55 feet in length, or 14 feet at the beam. See Emilio Bernaldez, Resana historico de la guerra a sur de Filipinas, sostenida por las armas Espanoles contra los piratas de aquel archipielago, desde la conquista hasta nuestras dias (Madrid: Imprenta del Memorial de Ingenieros, 1857), 44. For a brief sketch of his life, see Elviro J. Perez, Catalogo bio-bibliografico de las reliogiosos Augustinos de la provincia del Santisimo Nombre de Jesus de las islas Filipinas desde su fundacion hasta nuestros dias (Manila: Santo Tomas, 1901), 376-78; José Montero y Vidal, Historia general de Filipinas desde el descubrimiento de dichas islas hasta nuestras dias, vol. 2 (Madrid: M. Tello, 1984), 501-4.

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successful that by 1830 the Filipinos of southern Cebu and Bohol employed seventy barangayan11 to protect their villages and tripang fisheries.12 Friars, such as Bermejo, played a critical role in preventing the Iranun from establishing unconditional dominion over the coasts of southern Luzon and the Visayan Islands. The friars were at one and the same time priests, soldiers, and technical advisers, skilled not only in the use of artillery but in boatbuilding, navigation, and first aid. At the same time, the threat of slave raids sig­nificantly enhanced the friar’s authority and prestige, enabling him to foster village dependence on the church and its representatives. The actual implementation of village defenses rested almost entirely on the Filipinos themselves as the Spaniards had few resources to spend on protecting communities.13 Village curates and town friars were expected to organize parishioners to build their own coastal defences – castillo and baluarte – and fortify them from village donations and religious coffers. The conscripted villagers acted as telegrafistas, built and staffed the baluartes, and served on coast-guard vessels against Muslim raiders. Forty-six out of sixty-five villages in the bishopric of Cebu had a baluarte and/or fort and the Filipinos had built all of them. Once erected, the watchtowers, earthworks, and palisades were also at the mercy of the elements.14 Gale force winds on southern Luzon not infrequently left trails of disaster that swept away watchtowers and stockades, 11

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On the whole, it is clear that well-organized and -equipped barangayan fleets were capable of defending themselves and defeating the Iranun-Samal raiders in coastal waters. The division that was commanded by D. Pedro Esteban of Tabaco in Albay province was much respected by the raiders for its courage. At the age of eighty, the embattled veteran came out of retirement to capture nine pancos and sink eighteen smaller boats in 1818. Estaban’s career in the coast-guard spanned thirty-six years: in 1782 he was given the rank of provisional captain in the light navy for having captured two Muslim pancos; in 1788 he was placed in command of the vinta squadron for Albay province; in 1796 he destroyed thirty-seven pancos near Bacacay. Since that time he had lived quietly until he abandoned his fields to command the squadron once more in 1818. See PNA, no. 8, Ereccion del Pueblo Albay, 1772-1831. MN, Coleccion Enrile, Tomo XVII, documento 16; MN, Coleccion Guillen, Tomo XIII, Francisco Osario, a GCG, August 3, 1834, Ms. 1740, 132. Notes translated from the Spanish relative to the pirates on Mindanao, PRO, Admiralty 125/133. There are ample references to the destruction of coastal defenses by natural forces. For earthquakes, see HDP, Historical Data on Oslob, Cebu; HDP, Historical Data on Pasacao, Camarines Sur, 4; by volcanic eruption, HDP, Historical Data on Libog, Albay; by typhoon and hurricane, AHN, no. 27, GCG a Senor Secretario de Estado, December 5, 1844, Ultramar 5157; AHN, no. 11, GCG a Presidente del Consejo de Ministros, February 11, 1852, Ultramar 5163. Notices of the rebuilding of watchtowers and baluarte were sometimes placed in the

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leaving coastal settlements defenceless, while torrential rains rusted cannon and dampened what little gunpowder the villagers possessed.15 How to resume their original way of life without risking attack and enslavement in the future was a dilemma that faced stricken villagers in the aftermath of a large-scale slave raid. Some went to live in larger villages; some looked for new village sites, often on elevated ground; others abandoned the coast altogether for an equally harsh life in the “illegible, non-state spaces” of the mountain fastness of the interior in which they were sometimes reduced to eating tubers and grass to survive.16 The Spanish labeled these peripheral people who were beyond the pale of Spanish authority remontados or “dangerous fugitives.” To the Spanish, the Iranun, were also considered dangerous, and far worse. Irrespective of whether there was war or peace around the globe, the Iranun were simply the arch-enemy – “moros,” “piratas” and “contrabandistas.”17 Between 1762 and 1848, no one living in the coastal stretches of the Philippines was safe. A Spanish writer described the wholesale misery inflicted by the Iranun on the inhabitants of the archipelago over those eighty-six years, as a chapter in the history of Spain in the Philippines “written in blood and tears and nourished in pain and suffering.”18 In the last quarter of the eighteenth century, the paucity of the scale of the effort that the Spanish devoted to antipiracy operations against the Iranun reflected the lack of resources at Spain’s disposal and the priorities of those in power in both Madrid and Manila. But the ideological message was always clear in both the clarion call for political action to contain the Iranun and the fervent Christian desire to eradicate Islamic “despotism,” “piracy,” and “slavery” from Sulu. The ultimate agenda was to reform and civilize the “moro” character in the image of the culture of Catholic Spain. Before 1793, direct Spanish intervention to stem the rising wave of slave-raids was virtually impossible. The low point in

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Manila newspapers: “A telegrafo has been built in the pueblo of Lingayen, Pangasinan province to replace the one destroyed in a storm,” Estrella de Manila, July 15, 1848. MN, Coleccion Enrile XIII, Documento 9. James Scott, “The State and the People Who Move Around,” International Institute Asian Studies Newsletter 19, no. 3 (1999): 45. See James Francis Warren, “Moro,” in Encyclopedia of Asian History, vol. 3, ed. Ainslie T. Embree (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1988), 39; Charles O. Frake, “The Genesis of Kinds of People in the Sulu Archipelago,” in Language and Cultural Description (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1980), 314-8; Francisco, S.J. Mallari, “Muslim raids in Bicol, 15801792,” Philippine Studies 34 (1986): 257. Fernandez, History of the Church in the Philippines, 1521-1898, 203.

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Spanish fortunes against the Iranun in the eighteenth century seems to have been reached around 1789. The two enemies had come to realize the impossibility of entirely driving the other out of the archipelago. But, the ferocity of the incessant slave-raiding had ushered in a new era, taking on a permanent and sinister character in which the Iranun usually arrived in the Luzon region a month or two after the rice harvest ended and remained in neighboring waters for up to six months. According to the detailed regional studies of Norman Owen, Luis Camara Dery, and Francisco Mallari, the Iranun sunk or captured boats, raided coastal towns, pillaged the villages of Southern Luzon, and seized the cattle and people unfortunate enough to be living there. However, in a cruel irony, they did not harry to death the defenceless survivors who fled to the hills in order to encourage them to return and replant crops, in time for the next annual raid.19 At this point, it seems that the Spaniards would have settled merely for a truce and the cessation of Iranun raiding, in order to reduce the strain on the treasury and the widening gulf and influence, from their standpoint, between barbarism and civilization. Spain chose to wage a defensive “sea-war” in Philippine waters. The official assumption of the containment policy was that cruising, the construction of a coastal defense network, and the local building of vintas and barangayanes would deter slave-raiding. Hence, in this period, there was a proclamation that the coast-guard flotillas be maintained at all cost and more vessels and coastal fortifications built. From 1778 to 1793, the Spanish spent over a million and a half pesos on establishing fleets of vintas and cannon-launches to patrol the seas principally near Manila, but very little was spent on community defense systems. The most obvious “solution” to the slave-raiding problem would have been to launch a major offensive against the principal centres of Iranun marauding and to occupy Jolo. But this pre-emptive strategy was apparently not in the best interests of the administration in Manila that was in the ironic position of developing a lucrative regional trade with Sulu – a trade that was inadvertently predicated on the “piracy” it so religiously decried. In the 1780s and 1790s, towns and villages throughout the Philippines experienced some of their worst crises, as various governors-general of the Philippines, including Basco y Vargas and Marquina, attempted to turn their attention to the Iranun and Samal Balangingi, who now posed a major threat to the economy and population of the Philippines. New coastal fortifications were built, town walls restored, and cruising prahus constructed all along the coasts of Luzon and the Visayas, at the behest of the government and the friars. But the Spanish, and their terrified colonial subjects, still relinquished long 19

Owen, Prosperity without Progress, 26.

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Map 6.3

Spanish colonial and community coastal fortifications in the Philippines

stretches of shoreline, the lower reaches of rivers and small coastal islands to the Iranun and Samal Balangingi. 3

The Antipiracy Crusade and the Destruction of Balangingi

By the 1840s the Spanish had adopted a far more aggressive policy towards the Muslim south. To protect Spain’s claim to sovereignty over the Sulu Archipelago from political interference by other European powers, Narcisco Clavería (Governor-General of the Philippines) authorized a punitive expedition against Balangingi in 1845, and established a small fort and naval base on Basilan.20 Although the expedition had been ill-prepared – lacking sufficient troops, artillery, and scaling ladders – and ultimately failed, the Spanish managed for the first time to reconnoitre the Samalese group of islands, and form a

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PNA, Expediente 12, Jayme Simo, subteniente de Marina Sutil, a GCG, February 17, 1845, Mindanao/Sulu 1836-1897; PRO, J. Farren to the Earl of Aberdeen, March 22, 1845, FO, 72/684, 184-6; Bernaldez, Resana historica de la guerra a sur de Filipinas, 151-53; PNA, Expediente 7, Gobierno Militar y Politico de Zamboanga a GCG, August 27, 1846, Mindanao/ Sulu 1838-1885; PRO, Farren to Palmerston, December 27, 1849, FO, 72/761.

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detailed picture of the topography, defences, and population of Balangingi.21 Armed with this information, Clavería devoted several years to organizing a formidable naval expedition comprised of the best-trained and -equipped colonial troops – an expedition that his honor and patriotism demanded he command himself. As part of his programme to strengthen the military, he ordered several steam vessels from the English, that were to prove indispensable in the upcoming campaign against Balangingi. The governor’s expedition, consisting of three war-steamers, schooners, transports, brigantines, a detachment of the Marina Sutil (a light, maneuverable naval force), and 500 troops, was fitted out in secret and left Manila for Zamboanga on January 27, 1848.22 An auxiliary force of Zamboangueños joined the expedition before the attack. At dawn on February 16, 1848, Clavería ordered that no quarter be given as the steamers approached Balangingi Island. The Balangingi were unprepared for the attack, with more than half their warriors away on slave cruises. Those remaining were terrified by the kapal api (steam gunboat) with its superior firepower and facility of movement. Nevertheless, they fought ferociously, and at Sipac drove the attackers from the walls three times before the Spanish were able to penetrate the outer defences of the kota under cover of artillery fire.23 Once inside, the Spanish found Balangingi males, who expected no quarter, killing the women and children in desperation. The slaying stopped only after the Spanish commander promised clemency – the men then put down their blood-soaked arms and surrendered.24 The Balangingi who died in the battle totalled 450, and another 350 men, women, and children were taken prisoner. The Spanish liberated over 300 slaves from the Philippines and the Dutch East Indies.25 In the week following the assault, the attackers razed to the ground the forts, seven villages and 150 vessels, as well as 7,000-8,000 coconut palms, and left Balangingi a wasteland, unfit for habitation.26 In the aftermath of the battle, the Spanish systematically transferred entire Samal populations to the Cagayan Valley in the interior of northern Luzon. The 21 22 23 24 25 26

PNA, Expediente 12, Sobre haber salido la expedicion contra Balangingi, February 17, 1845, Mindanao/Sulu 1836-1897. PRO, J. Farren to Viscount Palmerston, January 10, 1848, FO, 72/749; Bernaldez, Resana historica de la guerra a sur de Filipinas, 155. PRO, J. Farren to Viscount Palmerston, February 29, 1848, FO, 72/749; Bernaldez, Resana historica de la guerra a sur de Filipinas, 156-62. Bernaldez, Resana historica de la guerra a sur de Filipinas, 156-62. Ibid., 163; Extract from the Straits Times, March 7, 1848, in PRO, J. Plumridge to H. Ward, March 24, 1848, Admiralty 125/133. Extract from the Straits Times, March 7, 1848.

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first group of exiles deported to Luzon after the destruction of Balangingi numbered 350. In 1858, the Spanish seized hundreds of additional Balangingi women and children (from neighboring islands that had been resettled), while the remaining men were away on slaving expeditions. When the Samal raiders returned with their prahus filled with Filipino captives, they were suddenly forced to send negotiators to Zamboanga to arrange for the possible release of their families. It was through a false promise of immunity that Julano Taupan, a leading Balangingi chief, was persuaded to come to Zamboanga to claim his family. The Spanish reneged on their promise for safe passage and he was imprisoned. The women and children were now restored to their families upon unconditional obedience to the Spanish crown; many Samal-Balangingi were obliged to settle in or near Zamboanga under the watchful eye of the authorities. The major chiefs, Taupan, Dando, and Tumungsuc, and their families were sent to Cavite and later transferred to Fort Santiago in Manila. They were kept under close surveillance in prison for some time before the Governor-General decided to relocate them to Echague (formerly Camarag) in Isabella Province. For the forcibly displaced Samal slave-raiders, the trauma of the 1848 conquest of Balangingi was immense, but its immensity was not adequately understood by them until 1858. The primary message of the deportation sought to invalidate the totality of the Balangingi way of life and replace it with Spanish-Christian values – largely by under duress. They were to practice the agriculture and arts of civilized “man” and learn to worship the true God. Islam, that sanctioned slavery, was to be replaced by Catholicism. At the same time, traffic in men, women, and children, the basis of the wealth of Sulu’s market, was to be replaced by the lucrative profits derived from the surplus value of the deportados labour for the tobacco monopoly in the Philippines. Clavería’s midcentury decision to discipline and punish the slave raiders with kapal api “fire ships” had marked the beginning of a new era of conflict with the Iranun and Balangingi; an era which would signal the end of their way of life in less than twenty-five years. This was the defining moment at which the slave-hunters became the hunted. 4

Spanish Recovery and Expansion

By 1850, the European powers had begun to play a more direct role in the affairs of the Taosug state. Sulu was still a major port sultanate, but increasingly wedged between conflicting colonial interests. The sultanate was entering a perilous period in its history, marked by exposure to superior Spanish naval

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strength, fractious diplomacy with Manila, and a developing trade with Spain’s principal colonial rival – Britain. Fearing possible English or Dutch intrusion into the Sulu Archipelago, Spain adopted a hard-line approach along the borders of its southern frontier and, in 1848, had destroyed the Iranun and Samal “pirate nests” on Balangingi with steam gunboats. This act visibly weakened the Taosug and convinced them of the necessity of English friendship and trade. The sultanate severed its longestablished commercial tie with Manila and welcomed the assistance of James Brooke, the politically ambitious governor of Labuan, who sought to protect Sulu from the Spanish embrace. A Treaty of Friendship and Commerce between Britain and Sulu was negotiated by Brooke when he visited Jolo in May 1849. The Treaty was sent to England, approved, and ratified by the Queen on October 31, 1849. However, Brooke’s absence from Labuan inadvertently postponed its formalization. The delay proved costly for the Sulu Sultanate. The English government, under increasing pressure from the Spanish ambassador at the Court of St James, sent instructions to Brooke not to proceed with the exchange of ratifications.27 England’s temporary loss of official interest and continued Dutch designs on the northeast coast of Borneo prompted the Spanish to take decisive measures against the sultan for repudiating Spain’s claim of sovereignty.28 In November 1849, slave raids conducted by the dispersed Samal Balangingi provided the new governor of the Philippines, Don Antonio Urbiztondo, with the pretext to invade Jolo and claim a monopoly on Sulu’s trade.29 The assault 27 28

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CO, Bulwer to the Earl of Carnarvon, May 9, 1874, 144/42. In 1849, Baron van Hoevell drew the attention of his compatriots to the immediate importance of James Brooke’s activities at Sulu and the trade of the northeast coast of Borneo. Van Hoevell outlined Sulu’s tributary relationships with the various districts, listed their products, and pointed out that Sandakan Bay would be the best place to establish a settlement when they took possession of the coast. The Spanish could not allow the Dutch Government to coerce the sultan into a treaty that would effectuate Van Hoevell’s views. See W.R. van Hoevell, “Laboean, Serawak, de Noordoostkust van Borneo en de Sulthan van Soeloe,” Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsch Indie 11, no. 1 (1849): 66-83. IOL, Governor of the Straits Settlements to the Sec. to the Government of India, April 4, 1851, F/4/2450 (13571), 10-11; Saleeby, History of Sulu, 104. At Bulan the Spanish troops burned 250 houses and twenty vintas. The Samal of Bukutua surrendered and promised to remain loyal to the Spanish Crown. After a series of skirmishes on Tunkil, about 1,000 houses and 106 boats were put to the torch. See Najeeb N. Saleeby, History of Sulu (Manila: Filipiniana Book Guild, 1963), 104-5. Contributions toward the expenses of the expeditions from the ayuntamiento, or municipal government of Manila, the religious orders,

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on Jolo began on the morning of February 28, 1851.30 The fortifications and villages in the vicinity of Jolo were razed within forty-eight hours. But the Spanish troops, hampered by dysentery, were unable to leave their garrison to occupy the destroyed town. The result was a treaty concluded between the military governor of Zamboanga and the sultan and his principal datus. If this treaty had been observed it would have made the Sulu Sultanate and its dependencies an integral part of the Spanish colony of the Philippines.31 As it transpired, it nullified the Brooke agreement and stated that no foreign vessel would be allowed to trade in the Sulu Archipelago except at a Spanish port properly opened for foreign commerce. The treaty called for the establishment of a trading factory and naval station at Jolo to protect Spain’s commercial interests and prevent future traffic in munitions.32 But neither side upheld the provisions of the treaty. The sultanate continued to trade in arms, opium, and textiles with other colonial powers, but especially at Labuan and Singapore. Consequently, by mid-century the Spanish had formulated a strategic plan to occupy key positions in the Iranun and Balangingi heartlands. The theory now expressed by naval experts, knowledgeable about Iranun and Balangingi slave-raiding, was to control “piracy” at the source, or at least check slaving by establishing forward bases for Spanish naval operations and as places of refuge for victims of Iranun and Balangingi predation. The sultan’s stubborn assertion of autonomy had induced Spain to take ever stronger measures to restrain the commercial activities of foreign nations with Sulu. In 1855, when London’s protests were not yet firm enough to protect the interests of the Straits traders, the Spanish had established an open port at Zamboanga and issued a decree that all vessels engaged in trade with the Sulu Archipelago must first call at the Spanish presidio.33 The arrival of the first trading prahus at Labuan just after the establishment of Zamboanga’s customs house was more than coincidental. The introduction of the customs house and the differential duties not only drove away English and American whalers but

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and private individuals amounted to nearly 10,000 pounds. See CO, Farren to Palmerston, March 16, 1856, 144/8. CO, Enclosure 2, no. 10, in Farren to Palmerston, March 16, 1856, 144/8. In the treaty of April 19, 1851, the sultan and his datus recognized Spain’s sovereignty, promised to assist in eradicating piracy, to fly the Spanish flag exclusively, and not to trade or use fire arms without the permission of Spain. The Spanish promised to respect Taosug customs and religion, to confer royalty on them, to confirm rights of succession upon reigning families, to secure the authority of the sultan, and promote trade to the Spanish ports. They allowed the sultan to issue passports and agreed to pay him 1,500 pesos yearly. CO, Bulwer to the Earl of Granville, December 29, 1871, 144/35. FO, H.M. Consul Farren, Circular to Manila merchants, June 6, 1855, 72/876.

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also most Taosug and Samal prahus that had formerly visited Zamboanga.34 The Spanish established a garrison on Balabac Island in 1858 as a countermeasure to Labuan aimed at preventing the growth of the Sulu prahu trade that was beginning to reach the English settlement.35 Spanish gunboats began to divert all craft sailing to Labuan and Brunei. In spite of their efforts, ever larger numbers of Taosug trading boats visited Labuan every year.36 The occupation of Balabac did little to change Zamboanga’s situation. Sulu rather than Zamboanga would remain the important centre of foreign trade in the region, while the Taosug would continue to act as regional distributors of imports to their neighbors on Mindanao and elsewhere. 5

Cruising and Dispossession: The Blockade

The southerly shift of Samal migratory-raiding activity was intensified by the destruction of Balangingi and the advent of flotillas of war-steamers in Philippine waters. In 1860, under Governor-General Norzagaray, eighteen prefabricated steam gunboats (canonero), were sent from England (around Cape Horn) and assembled en masse at the Cavite shipyards. With the arrival of the fleet of steam gunboats the Spanish Navy abandoned cruising among the islands, and deployed the steamers in key straits in the archipelago through which the Balangingi passed, and at several stations in the Sulu Sea.37 The English vice-consul at Iloilo reported: Of the steam gunboats which are replacing throughout the Archipelago the heavy sailing boats (faluas) previously employed, Yloilo has been supplied with two. These have in some measure promoted … communication with neighbouring islands and provinces, and occasionally with Manila, and are likely to prove much more effectual in repressing piracy than the former gunboats. Recently they have had several encounters with the pirates of the Sooloo Sea, in the immediate neighbourhood of Yloilo, and have brought in five pirate pancos and other smaller boats, making away

34 35 36 37

CO, Bulwer to the Earl of Granville, December 29, 1871, 144/35. CO, Bulwer to the Earl of Carnarvon, September 30, 1874, 144/43. FO, Spenser St. John to the Earl of Malmsbury, May 31, 1859, 12/26. AHN, no. 229, GCG a Ministro de Guerra y Ultramar, June 20, 1860, Ultramar 5179; Concas y Palau, “Nuestras relaciones con Jolo,” 203-5.

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with between two hundred and fifty to three hundred of these habitual depredators of the Philippine coasts.38 The speed, firepower, and manoeuvrability of the canonero stemmed Samal slaving. After 1860 their raiding prahus no longer prowled unchallenged. Samal losses mounted. In less than three years, four flotillas were destroyed by the steamers in the Visayas alone.39 When the canonero were encountered in open sea, the Balangingi were annihilated: In the channel between Tawi-Tawi and Borneo fifteen pancos were sighted. Their numbers, movements, and course appeared suspicious, and the Taosug on board, who were experienced in such matters, felt they were Balangingi. The canonero Samar began pursuit. The chase lasted two hours during which time the pirates made strenuous efforts to reach the security of the Tawi-Tawi coast. When unable to do so, because we had placed ourselves between them and the shoreline, the pancos hove to as a group to fight. I then gave the order to sink them; a half an hour was all that was necessary to accomplish it, during which time the ram and cannon worked in unison to destroy them…. I continued steaming on course towards Borneo amidst the debris and bodies that covered the sea.40 The port of Isabella on Basilan was fortified by the Spanish and became their principal steamship post in the south. From there and Balabac, nine or more gunboats regularly patrolled the Sulu Sea. The appearance of steam gunboats in the Visayas and the Sulu Sea and a series of expeditions conducted by the Spanish Navy against Samal settlements on Tawi-Tawi from 1860 to 1864,41 forced the Balangingi to shift their predatory activities away from Philippine 38 39 40 41

PRO, Loney to Farren, July 10, 1861, FO, 72/1017. AHN, no. 236, GCG a Ministro de la Guerra y de Ultramar, August 17, 1861, Ultramar 5182; see also AHN, no. 192, July 2, 1861; AHN, no. 164, June 5, 1861, Ultramar 5182. AHN, no. 3, El Comandante de la Goleta, Santa Filomena, a Commandancia General del Apostadero de Filipinas, July 23, 1862, Ultramar 5190. AHN, El Comandante de la Goleta, Santa Filomena, a Commandancia General del Apostadero de Filipinas, July 18, 1862, Ultramar 5190; AHN, GCG a Senor Ministro de la Guerra y de Ultramar, September 4, 1862, Ultramar 5290; AHN, El Sultan de Jolo a D. Vincente Roca, September 21, 1862, Ultramar 5193; AHN, GCG a Senor Ministro de la Guerra y de Ultramar, October 25, 1862, Ultramar 5192; AHN, GCG a Senor Presidente del Consejo de Ministros, May 20, 1863, Ultramar 5194; PRO, Colonel Cavanagh to Sec. to the Government of India, January 28, 1863, FO, 71/1.

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waters, but Negros Oriental and Surigao suffered attacks along their coasts till 1875, and desultory raiding was still experienced in various parts of the Philippines on the eve of the twentieth century.42 The Sulu Sultanate had become especially important to Britain during the 1860s because, in the hands of a strong power, the Sulu Archipelago would have commanded the southeastern flank of the route between Singapore and China, and because it was the mainstay of the commercial prosperity of Labuan. The sultanate’s trade with Labuan and Singapore and a change of policy on the part of the British Foreign Office toward North Borneo and Sulu forced Spain to strengthen its position.43 A hard-line attitude prevailed in Manila, especially in naval circles, that war with the Sulu Sultanate was inevitable. Spanish leaders wished to delay no longer before a new sense of imperial interest also provoked other powers to intervene.44 They were strengthened in their determination by the British naval survey of the Sulu Sea begun in 1870.45 In November 1871, Spain renewed in earnest its efforts to conquer Sulu. Spanish gunboats bombarded Samal villages in the Tawi-Tawi group and blockaded Jolo. As the war in the waters of the Sulu Archipelago escalated, the sultanate came to rely almost exclusively on Singapore’s market for assistance. Although the movement of foodstuffs was initially disrupted, the Taosug managed to obtain a steady supply of arms and provisions from the blockade runners of the Labuan Trading Company. This Singapore-based firm managed by Carl Schomburg and William Cowie (ex-admiral of the sultan of Riau Lingga’s fleet and a Sumatran coal prospector) established a lucrative business running munitions from Labuan to Sulu.46 After an ineffectual bombardment of Jolo in February 1872, the blockade was temporarily suspended in favor of a more calculated and harsher policy.47 It was at this time that a small book written by Santiago Paterno, a naval commander, first appeared. With insight into the sultanate’s economy and society, 42

43 44 45 46 47

PRO, Mr. Ricketts to the Earl of Clarendon, June 17, 1870, FO, 72/1246; PNA, Gobierno Politico y Militar de la Isla de Mindanao a GCG, 28 July 1872, Pirates (1); PRO, Ricketts to the Earl of Derby, January 28, 1875, FO, 72/1423; PNA, no. 179, Gobierno Politico y Militar de la Isla de Mindanao a GCG, December 2, 1877, Mindanao/Sulu 1858-1897; PNA, no. 34, Gobierno Politico y Militar de Misamis a Gobernador Politico y Militar de Mindanao, November 19, 1880, Mindanao/Sulu 1860-1898. Leigh R. Wright, The Origins of British Borneo (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1970), chap. 2. AHN, no. 41, GCG a Senor Ministero de Ultramar, February 1, 1873, Ultramar 5217. CO, Bulwer to the Earl of Granville, June 12, 1872, 144/37. St. John Hart, “The strange story of a little ship,” in The Wide World Magazine (1906): 350-1. CO, Bulwer to the Earl of Granville, June 12, 1872, 144/37.

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Paterno made fifteen recommendations to reduce the Taosug to submission and gradually convert them from a trading aristocracy to peasant agriculturalists.48 Central to his thesis was the crucial role of the prahu both for pearl-fishing and the redistributive economy of the Sulu Sultanate. Paterno argued that, if Spain wanted to ensure its occupation of the Sulu Archipelago, it would have to make greater use of steam power and introduce a cruising system that would eliminate Sulu craft and the villages that built them once and for all.49 Shortly after the appearance of Paterno’s book, Rear-Admiral Juan Antequera published a series of regulations for a systematic campaign to destroy all Taosug shipping and, with it, a long tradition of seafaring and commerce. A fleet of gunboats, that was insufficient to maintain a permanent blockade but could wreak havoc and fear by destroying everything it encountered, began to cruise the waters of the Sulu Archipelago. Whenever a trading, fishing, or passenger prahu was encountered, the boat was seized and the crew sent to Zamboanga or Manila to labor in irons on public works.50 Traders, fishers, or passengers found armed were tried by military courts.51 On occasion no quarter was given and prahus were simply rammed or sunk by gunfire. Punitive expeditions were also undertaken against coastal villages on Jolo and TawiTawi. Cruisers shelled the villages before dawn, drove their inhabitants inland, and burnt whatever remained to the ground.52 In this manner, Balimbing, Ubian, and other villages built close to the sea were destroyed.53 From its inception, the blockade had prevented Taosug merchants at Jolo from leaving for Labuan, but the usual number of prahus from southern Palawan and Cagayan de Sulu continued to arrive at the British settlement.54 The largest amount of trade came from the boats of Maliud, Datu Kassim’s community. But the Palawan prahus began to meet stiffening resistance from the Spanish in 1873. The new strategy of relentless cruising that was employed by the steam gunboats succeeded within two years in preventing most of these trading boats from reaching Labuan. 48

49 50 51 52 53 54

D. Santiago Paterno, Sistema que conviene adoptar para acabar con la pirateria: que Los Mahometanos de aa Sultania de Jolo ejercen en el Archipielago Filipino por el capitan de la armada D. Santiago Paterno (Madrid: Imprenta de Miguel Ginesta, 1872), 39-42. Ibid., 9. CO, Bulwar to the Earl of Carnarvon, September 30, 1874, 144/43. CO, Bulwar to the Earl of Kimberley, November 7, 1873, 144/41. Capt. Knorr to Imperial Admiralty, Berlin, May 24, 1875, in CO, Earl of Derby to Lord Odo Russel, February 12, 1876, 144/46. Statement of Datu Jemulano, January 10, 1875, in CO, Report of Commander Buckle on the State of the Sulu Archipelago, 144/45. CO, Bulwer to the Earl of Carnarvon, September 30, 1874, 144/43.

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No trade voyages could now be made from Maliud, on Palawan’s southeast coast, without fear of encountering the Spaniards.55 One of the cruisers attacked the prahu of Datu Kassim, as he was taking his wife from Maliud to Sambilong on the east coast of Borneo; they had barely reached the safety of the shore before the Spanish destroyed the datu’s boat. To escape the vigilance of Spanish cruisers in the Sulu Sea, prahus now only dared sail along the coast at night and fishing was necessarily confined to the shelter of mangroves. Trading boats from the western side of Palawan could still reach Labuan by standing straight out to sea, but were unable to take advantage of the coastal route that was the safest passage in the southwest monsoon.56 Haji Mansur of Cagayan de Sulu, another leading trader, was also attacked by the Spanish. In July 1875, he left for Cagayan de Sulu in two prahus that had been awaiting his return from a pilgrimage to Mecca in Labuan harbor.57 It was after calling at one of the trading villages located at the southern end of Palawan that his prahus ran into the Spanish war vessel The Santa Lucia, on its way to Zamboanga. Contrary to the terse account that appeared in El Commercio reporting the “total destruction by grape-shot of two native vessels,” Haji Mansur managed to survive the encounter but almost his entire family perished in the brutal incident.58 Although the cruising system destroyed many of the Sulu prahus that could trade with Labuan, the ability of the Taosug to wage a defensive war against the Spanish remained undiminished, as long as foreign trading vessels were able to import munitions to the sultanate. The Spanish blockade force was inadequate for the task. The squadron was small: A corvette, The Santa Lucia, plus four steam gunboats, concentrated around Jolo Island; only once a fortnight were gunboats able to visit adjacent islands such as Siassi or Lapac.59 Inadequately maintained, it had been labeled a paper blockade by an English observer. 55 56 57 58

59

Ibid. Ibid. CO, Acting Consul General Low to the Earl of Derby, January 3, 1876, 144/46. The translation of the paragraph from the Manila newspaper Comercio reads: “We are informed that, during the voyage, the said vessel [Santa Lucia] fell in, near Baneuran Island with two piratical prahus manned by forty men altogether, whom she exterminated with grape-shot, but not without their returning the fire although without causing any loss or damage to our vessel.” Cutting from Overland edition of the Singapore Straits Times, December 11, 1875, in CO, Acting Consul Gen. Low to the Earl of Derby, January 3, 1876, 144/46; Haji Mansur’s trading activities are briefly discussed by William Pryer in 1879 when the headman of Cagayan de Sulu visited Elopura. See CO, Diary of William Pryer, August 11, 1879, 874/69. CO, Commander Buckle to Vice-Adm. Ryder, February 28, 1875, 144/45.

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Nevertheless, the development of the cruising system and blockade had major impacts upon the Taosug economy and society. When the blockade was first established, there was a severe rice shortage in Sulu, because the Taosug had previously concentrated their activities and labor in the fisheries of the archipelago, hence most of their paddy was imported and paid for with tripang and mother-of-pearl shell. In their extreme need, a basket of pearl-shell worth about $50 was exchanged for a bag of seed paddy worth about one-tenth that sum,60 and when mother-of-pearl shell sold for as much as $250 per ton at Singapore in the 1870s, the cargo of Straits-based vessels was often composed of little else.61 For Sulu, whose fate was now precariously tied to the international economy of Singapore, it was a cruel sort of trade.62 Cruising made it impossible for many communities to fish for pearl-shell and gather tripang on the shoals and reefs except at the risk of their lives; yet Straits traders insisted on being paid in shell.63 The sultan took a defiant stance against Spanish pretences by issuing hundreds of passes for the procurement of pearl-shell to armed prahus. To Sulu, pearl-shell became the mainstay, or life-blood of commercial activity with the Straits traders.64 Upon it rested the very survival of the state. While the Taosug depended on these merchant-adventurers for munitions and trade goods they could not realistically expect them to supply staples on a large scale. A major shift occurred in the internal economy of the sultanate in order to correct the long-standing ecological imbalance – namely, from being a rice-deficit region towards self-sufficiency in grain production. This process, that had begun some time earlier when Sulu was denied regular access to Manila’s rice trade after 1848, received a boost in the 1860s when the concerted action of steam gunboats made it all but impossible for most Taosug to promote raid-related activities any longer. Many coastal communities now turned toward their island hinterlands and, under the guidance of their datus, moved into agriculture to fill the gap in rice production. 60 61 62

63 64

Ibid. Hart, “The strange story of a little ship,” 352. Datu Harun al Rashid observed: “The people of Sulu are very much in want of cloth, opium, and Chinese tobacco which articles the ‘Toney’ takes them, but will receive nothing in exchange but pearl shell, which the Sulus are obliged to go out and procure. This is the reason that so many of them are captured.” CO, Statement of Datu Harun al Rashid in Report by Commander Buckle on the State of the Sulu Archipelago, 144/45. CO, Bulwer to the Earl of Carnarvon, September 30, 1874, 144/43. PNA, Expediente 6, Secretaria de la Sultania de Jolo a Gobernador Militar y Politico de Mindanao, February 27, 1867, Mindanao/Sulu 1839-1898.

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This important process of economic transformation and environmental change was briefly noted in the Diario de Manila. Obviously, the Spanish were pleased with the success of what they considered the necessary adjustment of the Taosug from a maritime to a sedentary way of life that had resulted from the concerted actions of their steam gunboats: Since 1861 … a degree of peace and prosperity has been maintained in the Sulu archipelago thanks to the small squadron of gunboats stationed there … their piratical expeditions have met with so many checks that the people numbering in Sooloo and the adjacent islands upward of 200,000 … have to a considerable extent turned [to] labour and agriculture.65 Nevertheless, despite this transition, the Taosug still did not cultivate sufficient rice to cope with the basic needs of their society. The onset of the blockade had denied them access to their traditional sources of rice and sago – the northeast coast of Borneo, Palawan, Cagayan de Sulu, and Mindanao – and intensified their drive to grow rice on volcanic hillsides; more and more acreage was brought under cultivation with the wholesale clearing of forests. Less than a decade later, Siassi Island was described as “scarcely wooded” – “From the sea until the top of this mountain the land has been completely denuded by the natives whence they cultivate their rice and Chinese yams.”66 In just five years, the feat of sustainability had been more or less accomplished. By 1875, an English naval officer could write: When the blockade was first established, the people were in great want and misery… now the people have abundance of padi, fruit, [and] vegetables … having been compelled from necessity to cultivate their land, and rely on their own resources.67 By 1875, the Governor Captain-General Jose Malcampo felt the occupation of Jolo Island was an absolute necessity, if Spain was to establish its claim to actual possession of the Sulu Archipelago.68 On February 30, the Spaniards attacked and destroyed the town of Jolo from the land and sea, and in ensuing weeks reduced the settlements of Maimbung and Parang, as well as Taosug 65 66 67 68

Translation from the Diario de Manila in CO, Bulwer to the Earl of Granville, December 29, 1871, 144/35. Alfred Marche, Luzon and Palawan (Manila: Filipiniana Book Guild, 1970), 272. CO, Commander Buckle to Vice-Adm. Ryder, February, 28, 1875, 144/45. CO, Ag. Consul-General Low to the Earl of Derby, February 29, 1876, 144/46.

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strongholds on Tapul and Lapac, to ashes.69 The Spanish, this time committed to the occupation of the part of Jolo Island they had conquered, established a garrison and several forts, and began to rebuild Jolo along European lines as a walled city. They remained there until 1899. The sultanate’s continued survival beyond the pale of the Spanish Philip­ pines was in part attributable to the rivalry between the colonial powers – Spain, Great Britain, and Germany. But by 1877, the interest of Germany in the area, a more dangerous power than Spain in the opinion of the British Foreign Office, made it seem imperative to Britain that the Spanish should be allowed to occupy the Sulu Archipelago.70 The combination of Berlin’s strong representations to the Spanish government over the illegal seizure of their trading vessels and Britain’s interest in bolstering the legitimacy of Spanish sovereignty in Sulu resulted in the Protocol of 1877. London and Berlin insisted that the Sulu Archipelago remain open to world trade, and the Spanish had to give way to the demands of British and German commerce and raise the blockade. In return, the two powers signed the Protocol which in effect meant they recognized Spain’s occupation of Jolo.71 The signing of the Protocol in a distant European capital was a significant turning-point in the history of the Sulu Sultanate. It did great disservice to the Taosug and the integrity of their state. After several centuries of inconclusive conflict, Spain finally had secured international recognition of its claim to the Sulu Archipelago and was now free to pursue its war without fear of foreign intervention. Consequently the fate of the sultanate and its relationship to the Philippine Archipelago was fixed in the modern world system dominated by western imperial interests. In 1878, negotiations were begun with the Spanish governor of Sulu when Datu Harun al Rashid convinced Sultan Jamal ul-Azam to end formal resistance and restore peace in order to save the sultanate from ruin.72 In the treaty of July 20, 1878, the sultan and his datus acknowledged Spanish sovereignty. He agreed to assist the Spanish authorities to suppress piracy and was authorized by them to collect duties on foreign vessels in Sulu’s ports occupied by Spain, to issue passports, and provide licenses on muzzle-loading cannon. The sultan 69 70 71 72

Ibid. May 26, 1876. FO, Report by Consul Palgrave on the Island and Archipelago of Sulu and their relations with Spain, 24 Jan. 1877, 572/4. For a copy of the text of this Protocol, see Saleeby, History of Sulu, 239-41. Saleeby, History of Sulu, 124; Cesar A. Majul, Muslims in the Philippines (Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 1973), 242-98; Nicholas Tarling, Sulu and Sabah: A Study of British Policy towards the Philippines and North Borneo from the Late Eighteenth Century (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1978), 95-143.

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also agreed to use the Spanish flag. While the treaty stressed the submission of Sulu to Spain, some Taosug never considered it more than a modus vivendi with the Spanish and were to test the limits of the treaty constantly. 6

The Cant of Conquest

For several centuries, the Sulu-Mindanao region has been known for “piracy”; in the early-nineteenth century, entire ethnic groups specialized in state-sanctioned maritime raiding – Iranun and Balangingi – attacking Southeast Asian coastal settlements and trading vessels sailing for the fabled Spice Islands, or for Singapore, Manila, and Batavia. When people think of slavery in Southeast Asia, they rightly imagine tens of thousands of peoples stolen from their villages across the region and sent directly to work in the large fisheries and wilderness reserves of the Sulu Sultanate. The alleged battle between savagism and civilization, with glory for the Spanish and ultimately, tragedy for the Iranun and Balangingi as its inevitable outcome, formed a major motif and metaphor of much of the official record and the literature – published and unpublished – depicting the “Guerras Piraticas” and “Malay Piracy” in the period under consideration here. The Samal slave-raiders had suffered heavy losses with the large-scale introduction of war steamers to the Philippines and had been driven from their strongholds on Balangingi. They would never be able to regain their former dominance in the face of the major defeat and entrapment that had taken place. But the Balangingi were not totally prepared to succumb to the threat the steamship posed to their future, or to the colonial frame of mind that created and maintained that threat, portraying them as “savages” and “wildmen,” who stood in the way of Christianity, progress and free trade. The Spanish proponents of deportation and forced resettlement argued that Spanish progress in the Philippines and their “manifest destiny” were dependent upon the removal of the Balangingi as Muslim “savages” from the pathway of Spanish civilization. The distant tobacco plantation in the Cagayan Valley would serve not only as an economic outpost of empire, it was also meant to be an agent of change among the banished seafarers. Farming was to be encouraged and Christianity taught in order to acculturate and assimilate the Balangingi mariners. The Spanish were determined to break down the social structure, culture, and religion of the Samal slave-raiders, thereby transforming them in the process into “Filipino” farmers and colonial subjects indistinguish-

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able from their Yoggad neighbors, the original inhabitants of Isabella.73 United with like-minded reformers and officials in Madrid, Spanish officers in Manila quickly pushed through the removal policy designed to educate the Balangingi in Christian beliefs and civilized ways, and erase any memory of “their bloody occupation … [so they would] become docile Christian and peaceful subjects.”74 These events surrounding the subjugation, surrender, and removal of the Balangingi provide deep insight into Spanish attitudes and policy and clearly displayed their ethnocentric approach to the Balangingi and long-held antagonism toward Islam.

Conclusion

The second half of the nineteenth century proved to be a critical turning-point in the history of the Sulu Sultanate, as it was in the history of the rest of the non-western world. Everywhere challenges arose to confront the Sulu state’s ability to survive. With increased cooperation among western colonial navies and more effective use of steam vessels, the Sulu world began to shrink. The destruction of Balangingi and Jolo by the Spanish between 1848 and 1852 placed serious constraints on the ability of the Taosug to retain control over their principal source of slaves, the Iranun and Balangingi Samal. The western grooved cannon and gunpowder, that had first attracted the Iranun and Samal Balangingi to Jolo as clients and suppliers of captives, were now operating to drive them apart. There was a progressive fragmentation of Samal groups because of Spanish incursions and a corresponding disruption of the Taosug economy. No longer could their swift fleets expect to find distant coasts unprotected and towns defenceless: The era of long-range slave raiding in insular Southeast Asia was over. After the destruction of Balangingi in 1848, the Spanish initially used Samal women and children as hostages to force their husbands and kindred to surrender and make peace. After a short time, the Spanish deported the Balangingi to northern Luzon. They then assembled their steamers and regularly swept the Visayas and the Sulu Archipelago from one end to the other. The scale of the effort that Spain devoted to antipiracy operations against the remnant, dispersed Balangingi reflected the imposing resources at its disposal and the new 73 74

Margarita de los Reyes Cojuangco, Kris of Valour the Samal Balangingi’s Defiance and Diaspora (Manila: Manisan, 1994), 137. PNA, El Gobernador Capitan General a el Alcalde Mayor de Tondo, June 15, 1859, Mindanao/Sulu 1859, uncatalogued bundle.

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priorities of those in power in Manila, following the destruction of Balangingi. Constant punitive campaigns ended with a series of sea battles off the coasts of Samar and Mindanao and attacks on Balangingi bases to the south. Prior to 1848, Spanish policy against the Iranun and Balangingi had been based on principles of containment; periodic naval expeditions had been dispatched to destroy the shipping of the slave-raiders and their Taosug patrons. However, by the mid-nineteenth century, the Spanish authorities had decided to annex a number of the Muslim sultanates in the south, including Sulu. This major shift in strategic thinking and foreign policy was meant to prevent the British, Dutch, and Germans from expanding their colonial positions and ­territorial interests in the Philippine Archipelago and adjacent areas. The mari­time raiding activities of the Balangingi would be severely curtailed by the advent of steam gunboats but, in 1848, the Spanish also used slaving and the destruction of the raiders’ forts on Balangingi as a pretext to declare war on the Taosug and force the sultan of Sulu to sign a treaty acknowledging Spanish sovereignty.75 By the 1860s, a Spanish fleet of war steamers remained on station in key straits throughout the Philippines, putting a decisive end to the seasonal raiding activities of the Balangingi slavers. Spain was bent on reducing Sulu’s thriving commercial empire, but the sultanate did not succumb easily. For the sultan, the trade in natural commodities was the source of guns and munitions provided by the English and German private traders; loss of the trade would result in a decline in his authority and eventually conquest by Spain. The Spanish considered all Taosug who cooperated with the private traders, or contrabandistas, to be either “smugglers” or “pirates.” From 1871 to 1879 the Spanish navy’s gunboats periodically blockaded Jolo and patroled Sulu waters, destroying all vessels sailing across the Sulu Sea to and from Jolo and other islands in the archipelago. This systematic search-and-destroy campaign waged by navy warships against both local and inter­national shipping and coastal settlements led to the Spanish conquest of Jolo in 1879, but Sulu’s autonomy in trade was to last till almost the end of the Spanish regime in 1898. The Spanish naval campaign of the 1870s and the large-scale immigration of Straits Chinese provided the necessary formula for the economic and political collapse of the Sulu trading-raiding sphere. The Spanish conquest of Sulu and the advent of steam-shipping lines on the eve of the twentieth century introduced a new era in which much of the commercial life and trade passed into the hands of immigrant Chinese.

75

Warren, The Sulu Zone, 1768-1898, 105-6.

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List of Depositories

AGI AHN CO FO HDP IOL MN PNA PRO

Archivo General de Indias, Seville Archivo Historico Nacional, Madrid Colonial Office, London Foreign Office, London Historical Data Papers, Republic of the Philippines, Bureau of Public Schools India Office Library, London Museo Naval, Madrid Coleccion Enrile Colleccion Guillen Philippine National Archives, Manila Public Records Office, London Admiralty

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Part 3 Piracy and State in East Asia

∵

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Piracy Prohibition Edicts

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Chapter 7

Piracy Prohibition Edicts and the Establishment of Maritime Control System in Japan, c. 1585-1640 Fujita Tatsuo (translated by Ota Atsushi)

Introduction

Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the second great unifier of Japan, proclaimed the following edicts known as the “Piracy Prohibition Edicts,” on July 8, 1588 (hereafter the 1588 Edicts). In these edicts he strictly prohibited piracy within a very large area, in fact probably all the territory under his influence.1 Three major points were: 𐆑𐆑 [Hideyoshi] was angered to hear that, in spite of his strict prohibitions of piracy on the seas in various provinces, it had been perpetrated near Itsuki Island between Bingo and Iyo provinces. 𐆑𐆑 The local officials in various provinces were to interrogate ship’s captains and fishermen, and make all of them sign a written oath that they would never perpetrate piracy. The daimyos (feudal lords) in each province were to collect their papers and submit them [to Hideyoshi]. 𐆑𐆑 If any person perpetrated piracy, evading the eyes of his master, [Hideyoshi] would punish the latter. The domains of his master will be permanently confiscated.2 The first sentence confirms that this set of Edicts was not the first prohibition of piracy, as previous studies have assumed. Nor should it be thought that piracy disappeared completely after these Edicts were issued. It was an uphill battle to enforce strict obedience to the ban on piracy, especially in wartime. It 1 The fact that the first two edicts especially refer to “various provinces” suggests that they were issued with a specific eye to the regions under Toyotomi’s influence. 2 Oumi Mizukuchi Kato-ke Monjo 近江水口加藤家文書 [Documents of the (Oumi Mizukuchi) Kato family], Waseda Daigaku 早稲田大学. This set of edicts was written on paper called “Otaka danshi” of 46 × 65 centimeters in size, in the typical style of Hideyoshi’s vermilion-seal paper in his Kanpaku period. Several versions of the Hideyoshi’s Piracy Prohibitions with a similar content were preserved among the feudal lords in Western Japan, including the Shimazu, Otomo, Kato, Tachibana, and Kobayakawa families.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004361485_009

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was obvious that, if it was to succeed in keeping maritime order in peace or war, the Toyotomi regime and the daimyos would need to set up a certain number of official maritime checkpoints. Although the decrees did not make the existence of the individual pirates themselves illegal, they did impose a strict ban on piracy, narrowly defined here as attacks on ships that did not pay their tolls and the expropriation of their cargoes.3 Although in medieval times it had been a legal right of pirates to establish checkpoints in order to demand tolls from passing ships, after the Edicts were promulgated, the setting up of private checkpoints was strictly illegal.4 Previous studies have focused on the 1588 Edicts and their limited efficacy, but they have not discussed these documents fully as a part of the gradual formation of the piracy prohibition policy under the Toyotomi regime.5 In fact, 3 See Fujita Tatsuo 藤田達生, Hideyoshi to kaizoku daimyo 秀吉と海賊大名：海から見た戦 国終焉 [Hideyoshi and pirate daimyos: the end of the Sengoku Period in a maritime perspective ] (Tokyo: Chuo Koron Shinsha, 2012). 4 In order to emphasize this point, this chapter uses the term “piracy prohibitions,” instead of the more customary “pirate prohibitions.” 5 It is noteworthy that, in the pre-war period, Tsuji Zennosuke stated that Hideyoshi proclaimed the piracy prohibition in June 1588, when he issued an order to expel the Christian missionaries in Hakata during his military campaign against the Kyushu daimyos. Unfortunately few scholars have referred to this point since. Tsuji Zennosuke 辻善之助, Zoho kaigai kotsu shiwa 増補海外交通史話 [Historical episodes of international exchange: Enlarged and revised edition] (Tokyo: Naigai Shoseki, 1930), 262. Works referring to Hideyoshi’s piracy prohibitions include Fujiki Hisashi 藤木久志, Toyotomi heiwa-rei to sengoku shakai 豊臣平和令と戦国 社会 [Toyotomi peace ordinance and the Sengoku Period society] (Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1985), especially chap. 4; Fujita Tatsuo 藤田達生, “Kuniwake to shiokirei: Toyotomi seiken no toitsu seisaku” 国分と仕置令：豊臣政権の統一政策 [Division and punishment: Unification policy of the Toyotomi regime], Fubito ふびと 46 (1994): 1-17; Yamauchi Yuzuru 山内譲, “Kaizoku-shu no tasogare: Kaitaiki no Noshima Murakami-shi 海 賊衆のたそがれ：解体期の能島村上氏” [Piracy in twilight: The Noshima Murakami family in the dissolution period], Social Research ソーシャルリサーチ 20 (1994): 31-44; Miki Seiichiro 三鬼清一郎, “Kaizoku kinshirei o megutte” 海賊禁止令をめぐって [About the Piracy Prohibitions], Nagoya Daigaku Bungakubu Kenkyu Ronso 名古屋大学文学部研究論 叢125 (1996): 209-220; Fujita Tatsuo 藤田達生, “Kaizoku Kinshirei no seiritsu katei” 海賊禁 止令の成立過程 [Formation process of the piracy prohibitions], in Shokuho-ki no seiji kozo 織豊期の政治構造 [Political structure of Japan in the Oda-Toyotomi period], ed. Miki Seiichiro 三鬼清一郎 (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 2000), 286-308, later also included in Fujita Tatsuo 藤田達生, Nihon kinsei kokka seiritsushi no kenkyu 日本近世国家成立史の 研究 [A history of the state formation in early-modern Japan] (Tokyo: Azekura Shobo, 2001), 153-76; Kishida Hiroshi 岸田裕之, “Umi no daimyo noshima Murakami-shi no kaijo shihaiken no kozo” 海の大名能島村上氏の海上支配権の構造 [Structure of the maritime rule of the maritime daimyo Noshima Murakami family], in Daimyo ryokoku no keizai kozo 大名領

Piracy Prohibition Edicts

Map 7.1

173

Japan around 1600

国の経済構造 [Economic structure of daimyo domains] (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2001), 365-91; Yamauchi Yuzuru 山内譲, Setouchi no kaizoku: Murakami Takeyoshi no tatakai 瀬戸 内の海賊村上武吉の戦い [Pirates in the Seto Inland Sea: The battles of Murakami Takeyoshi] (Tokyo: Kodansha, 2005); Nakano Hitoshi 中野等, “Iwayuru ‘kaizoku kinshi rei’ no igi ni tsuite” いわゆる「海賊禁止令」の意義について [Meanings of the so-called ‘piracy prohibitions’], in Higashi Ajia kaiiki ni okeru koryu no shoso: Kaizoku, Hyoryu, Mitsuboeki 東ア ジア海域における交流の諸相：海賊・漂流・密貿易 [Aspects of exchanges in maritime East Asia: Piracy, drifting, and smuggling], ed. The Kyushu University 21 Century COE Program 九州大学21 世紀COE プログラム (Fukuoka: Kyushu Daigaku, 2005); Fujita, Hideyoshi to

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the Toyotomi regime launched its piracy prohibition policy, that was closely linked to its ambition to establish a new type of state, before the Edicts had even been formulated. This chapter explores the purpose for which the Toyotomi regime issued a series of minor piracy prohibitions prior to their culmination in the 1588 Edicts, what effect they had on the Seto Inland Sea, and the consequent transformation of the maritime control system at the turn of the seventeenth century. This chapter focuses on Japanese pirates in the waters around Japan, because these were the people against whom the antipiracy policies of the Toyo­tomi regime were directed. Maritime violence perpetrated by the Portu­guese and other foreigners on Japanese ships near Nagasaki and outside Japanese waters was to become a crucial security issue for the Tokugawa regime. However this does not fall within the scope of this chapter because the Tokugawa’s maritime control system was established for fear of possible attacks by foreign ships and a recurrence of another Christian rebellion after the suppression of the Catholic Rebellion of Amakusa and Shimabara (1637-1638). Consequently, it was not a reaction to Portuguese and other foreigners’ piratical attacks in and outside Japan. In order to deal with this sort of threat, the Toyotomi and Tokugawa regimes attempted the series of edicts of what was known as the seclusion (sakoku) policy in the 1630s, the last of which (1639) specifically mentions the expulsion of the Portuguese.6 1

The Division of Shikoku and the Murakami Pirate Family

(1) Enforcement of Punishment The year, in which the 1588 Edict was issued, falls in the middle of the process of unification by Toyotomi Hideyoshi. After the death of his former master Oda Nobunaga in 1582, Hideyoshi took over the former’s uncompleted project to unify Japan that had been split up into the large and small domains of numerous warlords (sengoku daimyo) for about hundred years. By defeating some daimyos in battle and forcing others to accept his authority in a series of highhanded negotiations, Hideyoshi expanded his influence from the Kinki kaizoku daimyo; Kuroshima Satoru 黒嶋敏, Umino bushidan: Suigun to kaizoku no aida 海の 武士団：水軍と海賊のあいだ [Samurais on the sea: between navy and pirates] (Tokyo: Kodansha, 2013). 6 For the conflicts between Portuguese, the Dutch, and the Tokugawa authorities over maritime violence in early-seventeenth-century Japan, see Adam Clulow, The Company and the Shogun: The Dutch Encounter with Tokugawa Japan (New York: Columbia University Press, 2014), 128-42.

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(Kansai) region around Kyoto to the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu regions in the west, and to the Kanto and Ouu regions in the east and the northeast. In 1590, having been sworn the oath of loyalty by all the influential daimyos, Hideyoshi finally unified Japan except for Ryukyu (present-day Okinawa) and Ezo (present-day Hokkaido). After the division (kuniwake) of Shikoku in 1585, imposed after his military conquest of this region, Hideyoshi granted the whole of Iyo province, that has the longest shoreline on the Seto Inland Sea, to Môri Terumoto, the most powerful daimyo in the Chugoku region. Terumoto appointed his uncle, Kobayakawa Takakage, ruler of the province. Meanwhile, Ankokuji Ekei and the brothers Tokui Michiyuki and Kurushima Michihusa, all of whom had collaborated with Hideyoshi, were granted domains in Wake and Kazahaya counties respectively. In a nutshell, all of Iyo province was granted to daimyos who had pledged themselves to Toyotomi.7 Hideyoshi’s grant of Iyo to these daimyos was in fact an implementation of his policy for dealing with newly conquered territories, that he had adopted from Nobunaga, who first seized control of the Kinki region and thereafter attempted to expand his authority to other regions. Before the regimes of these two men, it had been the custom that, when a ruler of a certain region was defeated in a war, as long as he acknowledged his subjugation and swore his loyalty to his victor, he was allowed to keep his castle, domain, and retainers. The Oda and Toyotomi regimes rejected this custom and confiscated the castle and domain of the losing party that they would then assign to their own retainers or to other daimyos who had collaborated with them. Their purpose was to exert their control more firmly over newly conquered territories. Hideyoshi also strengthened his control over his new territories by issuing “punishment orders” (shiokirei; Hideyoshi’s term kuniokimoku). Their principal purpose was twofold: the destruction of the castles of former rulers (shirowari) and the surveying and measuring of arable lands (kenchi). The former was an attempt to pre-empt the possibility of former rulers fomenting rebellions; while the latter was to determine the exact area of the arable land and the yield it could be expected to produce. Hideyoshi was especially concerned about the latter as these data would allow him to calculate the economic strength of each daimyo by assessing his resources. In future under the watchful eye of the ruler, the daimyo would unable to accumulate secret power using the profits obtained from crops grown on unregistered lands. All in all, it seems feasible to conclude that Hideyoshi’s “punishment orders” were just one of the instruments he 7 See Fujita, Nihon kinsei kokka seiritsushi.

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Eba Jima

Shimonoseki

Nojima

Hiuchi Nada Itsuki Nada Kurushima Kurushima Chanl. Kazahaya Wake Nii Ôshima Yuzuki (Dôgo) Kutsuna

Aki Nada

Genkai Nada Kaminoseki Kafuri

Takehara Itsuki Jima

Tachibanayama Hakozaki Hakata

Yashiro Jima Iyo Nada Islands

Ôtsu Uwa l nne Cha go Bun

Kurose

Tawaraishi

Map 7.2

The western part of the Seto Inland Sea

wielded in his grand design of creating a new centralized power, definitively ending the earlier dismembered state. Another purpose of the kenchi system was to clarify the statuses of people properly. Before this time, the lives of a great number of people had been occupied by a great number of roles, in which they would be warriors, farmers, fishermen or whatever else the times required. The Toyotomi regime feared that these part-time warriors/farmers/fishermen might take up arms and raise a revolt or resort to piracy in the slack seasons of their legitimate economic pursuits. When they were registered by officials during a census, they had to make a choice of one of the occupations to define their social and economic status, and consequently many of them in coastal areas were registered as farmers. On August 14, 1585, Hideyoshi ordered Hachisuka Masakatsu and Kuroda Takataka, the commanders of his Shikoku regional army, to sequester the castles in Iyo from their former masters and see they were handed over to Takakage as soon as possible. They were also required to take hostages from the former rulers who were to be transported to his castle in Osaka as a pledge of the latter’s loyalty. On 18 August, when he gave him the command to sequester the castles in Iyo, Hideyoshi also handed Takakage the authority to issue “punishment orders.” In spite of Hideyoshi’s rigid attitude, the new ruler, Kobayakawa Takakage, who took possession of Yuzuki Castle and formally commenced his rule in

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September 1585, was circumspect in his treatment of the previous rulers and the influential members of the Iyo elite. Because the Kôno family, the former rulers of Iyo (Iyo Shugo) and the Saionji family, the rulers of Uwa county, acquiesced in the new regime and had not taken up arms against Takakage, he did not relocate their domains to other places. Kôno Michinao surrendered his castle at Yuzuki and retired to the castle town of Dôgo, and Saionji Kimihiro was allowed to continue to live in his castle at Kurose. Apparently Takakage treated Michinao and Kimihiro as guest military commanders. Michinao’s retainers were allowed to remain in Yuzuki Castle from where they supported Takakage’s rule of Iyo. Important members of Kimihiro’s entourage were also not evicted from their castles. In his strategy behind the implementation of these policies, Takakage was probably offering them a chance to regain their daimyo status sometime in the future, depending on their conduct.8 It seems to have paid off because, when Takakage joined Hideyoshi’s expedition to Kyushu, the Kônos supplied him with reinforcements and also mobilized Saionji Kimihiro‘s retainers. In contrast to his careful attitude toward the Kôno and Saionji families, Takakage did not hesitate to impose “punishment orders” strictly in other places in Iyo. He requested Murakami Takeyoshi and his son, Motoyoshi, who were retainers of the Kônos, to surrender their Mushi and Nakato Castles, located at the strategic points on the Kurushima Channel, in November 1585.9 Although the Noshima Murakami family based on Noshima Island (hereafter the Murakami family) had maintained a good relationship with the Môri family, Takakage was unyielding in his imposition of their “punishment order”, probably bearing in mind that the Murakamis were the most formidable pirates in the Seto Inland Sea. Takakage also took rapid and strong measures to implement the shirowari, not only with respect to the castles of the local elites loyal to the Chôsokabe family based in Tosa, the strongest daimyo family in Shikoku before Hideyoshi’s expedition, but also not sparing those of the Kôno and Murakami families. By the spring of 1586, with only ten castles remaining, the shirowari had been almost fully implemented. 8 This is an educated guess on the grounds that Kobayakawa Takakage in fact thanked the Kôno family for its support during Hideyoshi’s military campaign in Kyushu in 1587, and he did indeed mobilize the troops of Saionji Kimihiro and his commanders from the Hoketsu and Doi families during the same campaign. 9 Murakami-ke Monjo 村上家文書 [Documents of the Murakami family], 76, in “Miyakubocho shi” 宮窪町史 [A history of Miyakubo town], unpublished documents housed at the Yamaguchi-ken Monjokan 山口県文書館. Hereafter the information from the Murakami documents is indicated by the archival numbers of “Miyakubo-cho shi.”

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After this had been accomplished, between 1586 and 1587, the Môri and Kobayakawa families acted jointly to carry out the kenchi and reshuffle the domains in Iyo. Tamaki Yoshiyasu, a retainer of the Môris, presided over the kenchi there. On the basis of his kenchi report, Kobayakawa Takakage went ahead with the implementation of the shirowari. For example, on 1 September 1587, he ordered that Azuma Ukonnosuke, one of the principal retainers of the Murakami family, be dispossessed of Nii Ôshima Island and that henceforward he be granted 40 kan of land in the vicinity of Yugeiwa Castle of the Kurushima family instead.10 Situated on Nii Ôshima was Ôshimaura, an important transit port in which vessels could wait for wind and tide and, moreover, also probably a typical gateway port (fudaura) with a checkpoint. In all likelihood, Takakage’s hidden agenda was to confiscate the island in order to seize the port and the checkpoint. In spite of the strict attitude adopted by the Môri and Kobayakawa families toward pirates-related local elites, the principal castles on the sea lane along the Iyo coast (Iyo Jinori Kôro), such as Nii Ôshima Castle, were left alone and continued to function as private checkpoints (bansho), even after the 1588 Edict. A checkpoint had been established on Nii Ôshima Island during the rule of Fukushima Masanori in the late sixteenth century, and it even retained this function during the Edo period. In view of the important role of Masanori in the Japanese invasion of Korea, the checkpoint had probably been built with war in mind. These checkpoints were important places from which to keep a look-out for deserters in the Seto Inland Sea, and the one on Nii Ôshima was probably manned by pirates. I shall come back to this point later. (2) Pirates Hideyoshi’s shirowari orders issued after his division of Shikoku affected not only the bona fide castles of daimyos, but were especially directed toward those used as pirate bases. This would seem to indicate that the Toyotomi regime already had concrete plans to eradicate piracy by the time of the Shikoku division, when it incorporated the Seto Inland Sea into its territory. How did the Murakami family, the most influential pirates in the Sea, react to this policy? Murakami Takeyoshi and his son, Motoyoshi, acquiesced in Takakage’s request to abandon their castles at Mushi and Nakato. Their compliance was 10

Previous studies have considered different years to have been those of the kenchi in Iyo. See, for example, Doi Akitomo 土居聡朋, Murai Yuki 村井祐樹, and Yamauchi Harutomo 山内治朋, ed., Sengoku ibun: Setouchi suigun hen 戦国遺文：瀬戸内水軍編 [Docu­ments in the Sengoku Period: Navies in the Seto Inland Sea] (Tokyo: Tokyodo Shuppan, 2012).

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probably linked to the fact that Kurushima Michifusa, a family member and strong rival who had deserted them to collaborate with Hideyoshi, had returned to reside in Kurushima Castle that was at rather too close quarters for their ­liking. It seems likely that Takeyoshi and Motoyoshi were now ready to ack­ nowledge that Michifusa had established his position as a daimyo under the Toyotomi regime. Nevertheless, this did not stop them from making frequent piratical raids from their base in Noshima Castle. The following Portuguese text vividly describes how the Jesuit missionary P. Gaspar Coelho and his party, who visited Noshima Castle in 1586, observed their piratical activities: After departing from Muro, the Vice-Provincial [Coelho] continued his journey, and his party arrived on an island. Japan’s largest pirate group lived on the island, where they had built a large castle, [and they were] possessed of a number of followers and ships and large amounts of land. [From this island] they frequently attacked [their prey]. [The leader of] the pirates was Senhor [Lord] Noshima [Murakami]. Because he had formidable power, [people in the] coastal areas paid him annual tribute, [as they were] afraid of his assaults and depredations.  [Our fellow] priests and monks have to pass through the sea with many islands on ships, hence they are constantly exposed to the danger of piratical abduction. Therefore the Vice-Provincial considered that they should negotiate with the person [Lord Noshima] about the issuance of a pass, with which they would be able to avoid depredations and damage when captured by his piratical followers.  As we were about two miles away from his castle, on the way to Iyo, the Vice- Provincial ordered one of the Japanese monks to visit him [Lord Noshima] with presents [to open] negotiations, in order to request that he treat them generously so that they could pass freely with his signed pass. He [Lord Noshima] received him warmly in his castle showing great respect. He said, with some hesitation, probably in order to sell his favor highly, “You missionaries won’t need the goodwill of a humble man like me, when you visit the ruler Kanpaku [Hideyoshi] enjoying his favor.” However, after the monk’s repeated entreaties, he presented him with a silk flag with his family crest and signature. This was the greatest favor that he could bestow on the monk.11

11

Luís Fróis, Historia de Iapam, vol. 5, trans. Matsuda Kiichi 松田殻一 and Kawasaki Momota 川崎桃太 (Tokyo: Chuo Koronsha, 1977-1980), 198-99.

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This text leaves no doubt that the Murakami family still retained the right to issue a pass (in this case a pass-flag), an indication that they still maintained power and authority as the largest pirate group in the Seto Inland Sea, despite the fact they were gradually being more subjugated by the Môris, and, indirectly, subject to the Toyotomi regime. If the truth be told, it seems almost impossible that the Môri family could have prohibited the Murakamis from carrying out piratical raids, because they were greatly in the latter’s debt. The Môris had encouraged the Murakamis to participate in a number of wars holding out promising of suppressing their rivals, the Kurushima family. Nevertheless, they eventually acceded to Hide­ yoshi’s request to allow the Kurushimas to return. However, this situation changed rapidly after Hidehoshi’s division of the Kyushu region in 1587. 2

Unification of Western Japan and the Piracy Prohibition Edicts

(1) The 1587 Edict The Toyotomi regime launched its full-scale military campaign against Kyushu in 1586. Although Hideyoshi attempted to use the Môri family as his vanguard, bombarding them with a host of orders, he also interfered in their rule of their territory, especially those aspects to do with eradicating piracy. Hideyoshi’s letter of April 10, 1587 addressed to Môri Terumoto is an important piece of evidence, as it has a strong bearing on his idea of prohibiting piracy. In this letter he explicitly orders that maritime checkpoints in the Seto Inland Sea be abolished.12 Accordingly, the Môris issued regulations on 1 June of the same year; the first edict of which reads “the abolition of checkpoints,” both on land and at sea in the Chugoku region.13 The dating would seem to suggest that the Môris’ efforts to prohibit piracy in the Seto Inland Sea were almost certainly a response to Hideyoshi’s pressure. It is known for certain that Hideyoshi did exert increasing pressure on the pirates in the Seto Inland Sea to stop their depredations after his division of Kyushu in 1587. The following letter from Hideyoshi addressed to two of his reliable retainers, Asano Nagayoshi (later Nagamasa) and Toda Katsutaka, on June 15, 1587, illustrates just how seriously Hideyoshi took the prohibition of piracy.

12 13

Môri-ke monjo 毛利家文書 [Documents of the Môri family], 949. Migita Môri-ke monjo 右田毛利家文書 [Documents of the Migita Môri family], no. 1006, in Murai et al., Sengoku ibun, 358-59.

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[I] assure you of the following. As [I] ordered, not only castles but also smaller residences and buildings in Chikuzen, Chikugo, and Hizen provinces should be destroyed without exception. Although [I] have ordered that no piracy and banditry be perpetrated in [these] provinces, [I] have heard that Fukabori Sumimasa, a felon living on the coast of Takaki county in Hizen province, has been attacking commercial vessels, be they Chinese, European, or [Japanese]. A hostage should be taken from the Fukaboris and their residence should be destroyed as soon as possible. Their lands should be given to the [new] master [Ryûzôji Masaie] (italics by the current author).14 The italicized parts make no bones about the fact that Hideyoshi had already issued certain piracy prohibition edicts before this particular one (hereafter the 1587 Edict). The Fukabori Sumimasa mentioned in the above letter was a pirate leader based at Tawaraishi Castle in Nagasaki, from where he was carrying out indiscriminate assaults on passing vessels. The Toyotomi shirowari orders likewise obtained to this castle.15 The above-mentioned Portuguese text also touches upon Sumimasa and the 1587 Edict. A person talking about us to the Kanpaku [Hideyoshi] also said that the great pirate leader called Fukabori near Nagasaki was raiding for plunder, [and] inflicting enormous damage on the people in Nagasaki. [So that] he [Hideyoshi] immediately sent a letter to the ruler of Hizen province, ordering him to destroy [Fukabori’s] castle, to take a hostage from him, and to impose a strict penalty on him.16 This letter removes any doubts that the 1587 Edict was issued after Hideyoshi had heard about the damage caused by the Fukaboris in and around Nagasaki. The Edict forced the Fukabori family not just to hand over a hostage and to acquiesce in the shirowari, it also had to abandon its independence by subjugating itself to the Ryûzôji family. 14

15

16

Kobayakawa-ke monjo 小早川家文書 [Documents of the Kobayakawa family], 1-286. In fact, Hideyoshi issued the shirowari order to the entire Kyushu region, with the exception of Satsuma, in May 1587. Although the Fukabori family was in danger of forfeiting its family status as well as its lands, it did manage to hang on to them by the skin of their teeth through the mediation of Nabeshima Naoshige, and it kept the status of a principal subject of the Nabeshima domain in Saga under the name of the Fukabori-Nagashima family during the Edo period. Fróis, Historia de Iapam, vol. 1, 309.

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(2) Piracy Pursued by the Murakamis Immediately after the division of Kyushu, the Toyotomi regime and the Murakami family clashed. In the aftermath of a piracy incident that contravened the 1587 Edict, pirates in the Seto Inland Sea were forced to change the nature of their pursuits decisively. The following letter of 8 September 1587 from Hideyoshi addressed to Kobayakawa Takakage mentions the incident and the penalty he imposed. [I] heard that the Noshima [Murakamis] have recently carried out piratical raids. Because this is an inexcusable crime, in principle [I] should punish them. However, as it took place in your domain, you are undoubtedly the person to do this. Should there be any mitigating circumstances, Murakami Motoyoshi should come to Osaka immediately in order to ­convey these [to him]. If you are unable to deal [with the Murakamis], [I] shall send troops.17 It is noteworthy that Hideyoshi not only states quite unambiguously that piracy was “inexcusable,” but he also orders Murakami Motoyoshi to present himself before Hideyoshi if he had any mitigating circumstances to offer, and declares he will send a detachment of his troops if Takakage does not punish him. Hideyoshi was now determined to suppress piracy by tough measures. For his part, between July and September 1587, in an effort to appeal for more lenient treatment, Murakami Motoyoshi attempted to negotiate with Hideyoshi’s immediate retainers, including Asano Nagayoshi, Masuda Naga­ mori, Toda Katsutaka, and Fukushima Masanori. When Motoyoshi received a letter from Asano Masakatsu on July 8 announcing that they had mounted an exhaustive search for the alleged pirate leader Seiuemon-i, a retainer of the Murakami family who was missing,18 Motoyoshi presented Nagayoshi with 200 moku silver and a sword. Masakatsu received four silver coins.19 The Murakamis seem to have spent considerable amounts of money and treasure in their attempts to alleviate their situation. The Murakamis feigned ignorance of the piracy in their domain. As they did not reply to their questions about incidents of piracy, Masuda Nagamori and Toda Katsutaka sent a letter on July 27, warning them that, if they discovered proof of the Seiuemon-i’s involvement in the piratical incidents, the punishment would affect not only him but would also extend to Motoyoshi himself. 17 18 19

Kobayakawa-ke monjo, 1-286. Murakami-ke monjo, 104. Ibid. 105.

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They also urged the Murakamis to punish the “felons” before Hideyoshi found out about them, and to maintain peace at sea.20 In short, the Toyotomi regime threatened the Murakamis, who pretended ignorance, insisting that they should take tough measures against the pirate Seiuemon-i. Within the space of a month, the situation had deteriorated even further. In spite of Motoyoshi’s attempts to deal with the problems without fuss, the incident was reported to Hideyoshi by Asano Nagayoshi and Masuda Nagamori.21 The letter from him on September 8 quoted above was his response.22 Nagamori and Fukushima Masanori both sent letters to Murakami Motoyoshi on September 30, advising him to make the excuse that he had done nothing criminal.23 Unfortunately, whether Motoyoshi did actually go to Osaka to see Hideyoshi still remains a mystery. This piratical incident that occurred immediately after the issuance of the 1587 Edict was the probable reason for the Piracy Prohibition Edicts in 1588, discussed at the beginning of this chapter. The repeated issuance of piracy prohibition edicts was unquestionably an inextricable part of Hideyoshi’s deter­mination to achieve the unification of Western Japan, the theme of the next section. (3) New Stage of Hideyoshi’s Rule of Western Japan In order to understand the background to the abovementioned piratical incident in early July 1587, the activities of the people involved in June and July 1587 immediately after Hideyoshi’s division of Kyushu deserve some attention. After Hideyoshi heard the news of the surrender of Shimazu Yoshihisa, one of the most influential daimyos in Kyushu, in Satsuma Sendai on May 3, he decided to grant him an amnesty. He moved his troops up north on May 18, and arrived in Hakozaki on June 7. In this place he carried out the final division of newly conquered Kyushu, and set to work to restore Hakata in order to make it into a military base for his expedition to China.24 20 21 22

23 24

Ibid. 180. Murakami Motoyoshi often contacted Asano Nagamori and Toda Katsutaka, about efforts to deal with the matter of piracy without making any fuss. Murakami-ke monjo 181. Nagayoshi and Nagamori had expected that their report of the piratical incident to Hideyoshi would not create a serious problem. The result was contrary to their expectations, however, and Hideyoshi sent the abovementioned letter to Kobayakawa Takakage. Murakami-ke monjo, 247, 203, 179. For Hideyoshi’s division of Kyushu, see Fujita Tatsuo 藤田達生, “Toyotomi seiken to tennosei: Kyushu kuniwake kara Juraku gyoko e” 豊臣政権と天皇制：九州国分から聚楽 行幸へ [The Toyotomi regime and the Emperor system: From the Kyushu division to

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In his letter on June 15, 1587, Hideyoshi ordered Asano Nagayoshi and Toda Katsutaka to execute the shirowari in Kyushu. These two men had also played a central role in the handling of the piratical incident in the Murakami territory. Moreover, again it was these two men who were dispatched to Iyo in mid-August and mid-July of the same year as the officials in charge of overseeing the kenchi. It is important that, on this occasion, Toda Katsutaka was specifically sent to the islands in Kazahaya county, including the Kutsuna Islands – the base of pirates operating between Aki Nada (the open sea) and Iyo Nada. He supervised the shirowari and kenchi of those maritime castles there that were pirate bases. Immediately afterward, he was appointed daimyo of South Iyo, and took possession of Otsu (later Osu) Castle. Hence, Toda Katsutaka, one of Hideyoshi’s most trustworthy retainers, was assigned his most important task – to curb the power of the pirates in his new domain in South Iyo. This shows how seriously and scrupulously Hideyoshi made attempts to suppress piracy and to maintain safety on the seas. Around the same time, the Môri family was also caught up in the Toyotomi regime’s reshuffle of the daimyos in Western Japan. After the surrender of the Shimazu family, Hideyoshi asked Môri Terumoto and his uncle, Kobayakawa Takakage, if they were willing to move to Northern Kyushu. They naturally expressed some hesitation about leaving their home domains. Accordingly Hideyoshi sent them each a different letter. In his letter to Terumoto, Hideyoshi declared that he would confiscate his domains of Bingo and Iyo provinces and a part of Bicchu and Hôki provinces, and grant him Buzen, Chikuzen, Chikugo, and Higo provinces in Kyushu instead.25 In his letter (presumably) to Takakage, Hideyoshi suggests that, instead of Iyo, he should take possession of Chikuzen and Chikugo provinces and part of Higo province.26 Obviously, in spite of their resistance, Hideyoshi was urging one of these two men from the same family to agree to a relocation from his old domains to newly conquered Kyushu. Finally, Takakage chose to sacrifice himself and to move there. This reshuffle was a part of the Toyotomi policy devised to restore order to the newly conquered regions. Hideyoshi attempted to persuade either the Môris or the Kobayakawas to go to Northern Kyushu and, in return, expected them to function as his intermediaries with other Kyushu daimyos. This follows the same pattern as his order to Tokugawa Ieyasu to move to Edo

25 26

Emperor’s visit to Juraku], Rekishigaku Kenkyu 歴史学研究 677 (1995): 17-32, later included in Fujita, Nihon kinsei kokka seiritsushi no kenkyu, 58-86. Môri-ke monjo, 955. Ibid., 951.

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(present-day Tokyo) in 1580 after his conquest of the Kanto region (the region around Edo), from where he expected Ieyasu to intermediate between him and daimyos in the Kanto and Ouu (the Northeastern region). The installation of these families in the newly conquered regions was expected to work in tandem to ensure the stabilization of either end of the Japan Archipelago under the Toyotomi rule. The most important feature of the division of Kyusyu is that Hideyoshi did not interfere in the territories of incumbent influential daimyos like the Shimazu. His circumspection was prompted by fears of a prolonged war and concomitant complicated postwar settlements. Therefore, the most difficult part of his program was the dividing up of Chikuzen, Chikugo, Buzen, and Higo provinces, over which the Ôtomos, Ryûzôjis, and Satsumas, the most influential Kyushu daimyos, had been unable to assert their authority. Hideyoshi took the bold step of placing the Môris and the Kobayakawas in these provinces. Replicating the rapid relocation of the Kobayakawas from Iyo to Northern Kyushu, the Murakami family was likewise moved to Northern Kyushu, adroitly detaching them from the Seto Inland Sea, their traditional sphere of influence. A letter from Kobayakawa Takakage to Murakami Takeyoshi and Motoyosi on July 24, 1587 indicates that, by that date, the Murakamis were obliged to have moved their base to Suô Yashiro (Ôshima) Island that was a part of the territory of the Môris in the Seto Inland Sea. Takakage also noted in the letter that he was busy building his new base at Tachibanayama Castle,27 probably an excuse for his turning a blind eye to the relocation of the Murakamis. Takakage, who had narrowly avoided the Môris’ move to Kyushu, probably had had his hands tied in this affair. Aware of this situation, Hideyoshi would have had no compunction in implementing a high-handed policy toward the Murakamis. The next year the Murakamis were moved again to Chikuzen Kafuri, on the coast of Genkai Nada, in Takakage’s territory. Records of the Môri domain note that Hideyoshi forbade the Murakamis to live on the shores of the Seto Inland Sea. Hideyoshi’s order that the Murakamis move to Chikuzen in 1588 was the nail in the coffin of their influence in the Seto Inland Sea. In conjunction with the move of the Murakami family, the eclipse of the Kôno family also deserves examination, because the Murakamis were originally retainers of the Kônos, the previous rulers of Iyo, as noted above. In July 1587 Kôno Michinao left his place of retirement in Dôgo to travel to Aki Takehara, to see Hideyoshi on the latter’s return journey to Osaka after his victory in Kyushu. It is very likely that Michinao attempted to establish a master-retainer relationship with Hideyoshi and thereby be reinstated as the 27

Murakami-ke Monjo, 33.

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ruler of Iyo. At this moment he still had two alternatives. The first was to move from Iyo to Chikuzen under the protection of Takakage; the second was to obtain the position of the ruler of Iyo after Takakage had vacated it. He chose the second, staking his family’s fortune on this gamble. All came to naught as Kôno Michinao died on 9 July. One accepted view is that he died of an illness. However, as Nishio Kazumi has discussed, it is unlikely that Michinao would have traveled from Dôgo to Takehara if he had been seriously ill.28 At the time Môri Terumoto must have been afraid that Michinao’s direct appeal to Hideyoshi would ruin the results of their difficult diplomatic negotiations that had just managed to avoid the relocation of the Môris to Kyusyu in exchange for Takakage’s surrender of Iyo. As Nishio has suggested, Hideyoshi’s letter addressed to Terumoto and Takakage on 8 July, in which he urges the two men to be “resolute” in their rule of the Chugoku region, must have also affected Terumoto’s decision.29 Several documents from the Edo period do in fact suggest that Michinao committed suicide. All things considered, it is highly likely that Michinao was forced to commit a suicide, as a consequence of a conspiracy engineered between Hideyoshi and Terumoto during their political negotiations. It is also likely that Terumoto deserted the Murakamis, prioritizing the survival and prosperity of his family. It was very opportune for him that the abovementioned piratical incident had taken place in Murakami territory. He probably decided to incorporate the Murakamis, who had just lost their masters the Kôno, into the Môri navy. It was also a very significant step for Hideyoshi not to allow the Kôno family, a typical medieval daimyo clan that had ruled their territories for centuries, to reinstate themselves in Iyo, a strategic place in his plans to rule Western Japan (Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu). As he himself mentions in his letter, he considered Iyo to be geopolitically important as it was strategically placed to keep a watch on both Shikoku and Kyushu. Iyo has a long and heavily indented coastline that faces the sea from Hiuchi Nada in the east to the Bungo Channel in the west. From Iyo it was also possible to maintain a watch on the neighboring provinces of Sanuki, Awa, and Tosa in Shikoku. 28

29

Nishio Kazumi 西尾和美, “Kôno Michinao no shi to Toyotomi seiken” 河野通直の死と 豊臣政権 [The death of Kôno Michinao and the Toyotomi regime], Matsuyama Shinonome Joshi Daigaku Jinbun Gakubu Kiyo 松山東雲女子大学人文学部紀要 10 (2002): 144-64, later included in Sengoku-jidai no kenryoku to kon’in 戦国時代の権力と婚姻 [Power and marriage in the Sengoku Period] (Osaka: Seibundo, 2005), 260-96. Nishio is also the scholar who has determined the date of the death of Kôno Michinao on July 9. Môri-ke monjo, 953.

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Another reason that Hideyoshi was averse to seeing any revival of the fortunes of the Kôno family was that it seemed an obvious conclusion that, under their rule, their retainer Murakami family would also go from strength to strength as pirates in the Seto Inland Sea. Hideyoshi must have reasoned that, if he allowed this to happen, his settlement of the strategic areas around the Seto Inland Sea would be doomed to total failure. Another important medieval family, the Saionji, that had been allowed to remain in its Kurose Castle in the Uwa area as mentioned before, also had its power destroyed when Toda Katsutaka assassinated Saionji Kimihiro in December 1587. Clearly, medieval daimyos and the rulers in Iyo were faced with a serious crisis of survival after Hideyoshi’s division of Shikoku. Hideyoshi did not allow many of them to retain their old power. Toyotomi regime’s in Western Japan now entered a new stage. Once he had decided to eradicate the medieval powers like the Kônos and Saionjis, he appointed the Môris, who were transformed into a daimyo clan under his influence in the process of unification, to assume the role of watching the daimyos of Western Japan. Hence, the Môris were transformed into one of the powerful clans that supported the Toyotomi regime. These strategic plans spelled the end of the Kôno family, and its navy (the Murakamis) was incorporated into the sphere of influence of the Môris.30 3

From Maritime Castle to Maritime Watch-house

(1) Invasion of Korea After the unification of Japan, leaving aside Ezo and Ryukyu, in 1590, Hideyoshi set as his next goal in the conquest of Chosŏn Korea and Ming China. He dispatched his forces to Korea in 1592-96 and 1597-98. Although the Japanese forces initially occupied large parts of Korean Peninsula, including the capital Hanseong (present-day Seoul), they soon had to withdraw to the southernmost part of the Peninsula because of the arrival of Ming reinforcements, disrupted supplies, and the guerilla warfare waged by Korean militias. Soon after Hideyoshi died in 1598, the Japanese forces entirely withdrew without any territorial acquisitions or any changes in the diplomatic relationship with Korea, although they did take a number of Korean craftsmen to Japan by force. 30

See also Fujita Tatsuo 藤田達生, Tenka toistsu: Nobunaga to Hideyoshi ga nashitogeta “kakumei” 天下統一：信長と秀吉がなし遂げた「革命」[Unification of early-modern Japan: “Revolution,” achieved by Nobunaga and Hideyoshi] (Tokyo: Chuokoron Shinsha, 2014).

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Fujita

This section examines how the Toyotomi regime established official watchhouses (bansho) in order to effectuate its maritime control after its leader’s unification of Japan. The watch-houses in Kaminoseki and Shimonoseki in Suô province, important nodes in the Seto Inland Sea, will serve as examples. Murakami Takemitsu, a member of the Murakami pirate family, had established a checkpoint near his castle at Kaminoseki before September 1588. From this stronghold he exacted tolls from passing ships.31 It was at this watch-house Takemitsu welcomed Shimazu Yoshihisa, the daimyo who had sworn his ­loyalty to the unifier, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, on his way back from Kyoto in Septem­ber 1588. From this it can be inferred that, by then, this Kaminoseki watch-house had become an official checkpoint acknowledged by the Shimazus (and indirectly by the Toyotomi regime). It is a known fact that the Toyotomi regime did manage official watch-houses, making interesting use of the pirate network, in the period before and during its invasion of Korea. The following letter written by the lord of Kai province, Kato Mitsuyasu, during the first invasion of Korea in 1592-1593, indicates that watch-houses played an official role in the Seto Inland Sea. When he dispatched a messenger from Korea to his home province, he had the messenger carry this letter addressed to the guards at the checkpoint in Shimonoseki, requesting them to allow him safe passage. I am sending this person to Kai province as my messenger. (…) Please examine this letter, and let him pass through the checkpoint without any hindrance. (…) From now on, when I send messengers I shall always use this seal only. Please let them pass [whenever you see them carry a letter bearing this seal].32 This letter is evidence that official checkpoints in the Seto Inland Sea were being used to check people arriving from Korea in wartime. The following letter signed by Hideyoshi during his first invasion of Korea clearly indicates that he also attempted to keep a look-out for deserters from the battlefields in Korea in the Seto Inland Sea. He ordered daimyos to distinguish between deserters and the messengers sent by daimyos in Korea to their home territories, by issuing official transit passes.

31 32

In September 1588, Murakami Takemitsu welcomed Shimazu Yoshihisa in his castle in Kaminoseki on the latter’s way back from Kyoto. Osu Kato-ke Monjo 大洲加藤家文書 [Documents of the Ôsu Kato family], Tokyo Daigaku Shiryo Hensanjo 東京大学史料編纂所.

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I order you all most strictly [that], if you find any deserters among my men, inform them that they will be punished as soon as they arrive at any place. If daimyos’ men are upon some business in their home territories, the daimyos should send them with transit passes. I strictly adjure all lords not to shelter any deserters.33 Letters with a similar content are found in the records of various different daimyos. They seem to indicate that desertion from the battlefields in Korea among the followers of daimyos was a serious problem for the Toyotomi regime. As said, these cases are evidence that a number of official checkpoints were operating at nodal points in the Seto Inland Sea, from where they kept a look out for suspect ships and for army deserters. Interestingly, these checkpoints were manned by erstwhile pirates after they had been promoted to obanshu (watch-house officials) on the government side. Asked to assist in organizing a powerful navy, the daimyos of Western Japan who were required to mobilize men for the invasions of Korea showed a marked preference for ex-pirates. For example, on his way to visit Kato Yoshiaki to request his protection, Aoki Rihei, an ex-retainer of the Murakamis, was invited by Kuroda Takataka to take charge of his crewmen. Apart from Rihei, about another twenty members of the Murakami entourage were taken on as retainers of the Kurodas at one time.34 It takes little stretch of the imagination to understand that the sudden increase in the sea traffic between Hizen Nagoya and Korea must have occasioned a strong demand among daimyos for expirates in their capacity as expert seamen.35 33 34 35

Mizukuchi Kato-ke Monjo 水口加藤家文書 [Documents of the Mizukuchi Kato family], Tokyo Daigaku Shiryo Hensanjo 東京大学史料編纂所. Kuroda kashinden ryaku 黒田家臣伝略 [Summarized records of the Kuroda retainers], Fukuoka Kenritsu Toshokan 福岡県立図書館. Having discussed late medieval Japanese piracy, Peter Shapinsky argues that “Hideyoshi and other early modern Japanese authorities shaped their governance by revitalizing agricentric, terracenric ideologies.” Putting this plan into effect, according to Shapinsky, “Hideyoshi articulated a vision of maritime sovereignty couched in the ancient, Ritsuryô conception of the seas as territories inseparable from the lands of the domains and provinces under the control of political center.” Peter D. Shapinsky, Lords of the Sea: Pirates, Violence, and Commerce in Late Medieval Japan (Ann Arbor: Center for Japan Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 2014), 248. It is true that Hideyoshi gave some pirate lords territorial domains and placed others under land-based daimyo, but this policy does not seem to have incorporated pirate lords immediately into the terracentric political order. Hideyoshi and West Japan daimyos were well aware of the usefulness of pirate lords

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For their part, the pirates had a chance to gain large benefits as they had official permission to loot the battlefields in Korea. Supplied with this new source of income, they would no longer have had to resort to piracy in Japan, thereby running the risk of severe punishment. Engaging in battles in a foreign country was a wonderful opportunity to plunder at will, free from the constraints of state control. For example, a record of the investigation that Chinese officials in Zhejiang province carried out into Shimazu activities in the region includes the following interesting information. As a part of the post-war arrangements, on the orders of Tokugawa Ieyasu the Shimazus were put in charge of the repatriation of Chinese captives. According to the Chinese captive Mao Guoke, endorsing his claim that pirates had prevented them from going back home, Ieyasu and Shimizu Yoshihiro had captured the pirates and sent eleven of them to China as a token of their respect for the Ming dynasty.36 This seems to suggest that, during the Japanese invasions of Korea, a considerable number of pirates (including non-Japanese) were busy plying their nefarious trade. Not to put too fine a point on it, the invasions of Korea provided pirates, who had been badly hit by the strong prohibition on piracy since 1585, with a wonderful opportunity. Under Toyotomi influence, the daimyos of Western Japan recruited pirates either as crewmembers or as their ship’s masters for their invasions of Korea. The upshot was that these pirates were detached from their old masters and hometowns. This change ushered in a new dawn for pirates. They now became a part of the samurai class, shedding their former mixed status as fishermen supplemented by various other sidelines. (2) The Battle of Sekigahara As soon as Hideyoshi died in 1598, Murakami Takeyoshi and his son, Motoyoshi, returned to the Seto Inland Sea. They initially based themselves on Eba Jima (island) near the Môri’s castle in Hiroshima, but soon afterward moved to Takehara in Aki province and made Chinkaisan Castle their base. These relocations were probably facilitated by the death of Kobayakawa Takakage in 1597 and the end of the invasions of Korea the next year.

36

and their retainers, and this is why the former employed the latter in their forces dispatched to Korea. The incorporation of ex-pirates into the land-based political order could not be accomplished overnight. It was done by absorbing them as crewmembers or their ship’s masters under daimyos, as discussed in the following section of this chapter. “Ti bao woshi songhuan chaguan qingzhi kan chu shu” 題報倭使送還差官請旨勘處 疏, in Fuzhe zou shu 撫浙奏疏, ed. Liu Yuanlin 劉元霖, Toyo Bunko 東洋文庫. A version edited by Watanabe Miki 渡辺美季 is accessible online http://nippon.zaidan.info/seikabutsu/2005/00340/contents/0006.htm (accessed on August 10, 2017).

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In September 1600, not long after the return of the Murakamis to the Seto Inland Sea, the Battle of Sekigahara was fought between those daimyos under the leadership of Ishida Mitsunari who attempted to uphold the Toyotomi regime, and those daimyos who were dissatisfied with Mitsunari’s leadership, and united under Tokugawa Ieyasu, both sides competing for the hegemony in the central politics of Japan. Among the daimyos in Iyo, Tôdô Takatora and Kato Yoshiaki joined on the Tokugawa side, while Ankokuji Ekei, Ikeda Hideuji, Ogawa Suketada, and Kurushima Yasuchika, who had taken over command from his father, Michifusa, after the latter’s death in the second invasion of Korea, joined the Ishida-Toyotomi side. The Môris, who entered Osaka Castle in support of the Ishida-Toyotomi side also sent their troops to Awa, Sanuki, and Iyo provinces, in order to regain control of the Seto Inland Sea areas and assume the mantle of champions of Western Japan under the Toyotomi regime.37 Under the banner of the resurgent Kônos, in the absence of Kato Yoshiaki, the Môris attacked Masaki Castle. Murakami Motoyoshi was appoint­ed to the vanguard in the recovery of the Kôno’s former territory of Iyo, but he was killed in a fierce battle, in an attack by led by Tsukuda Kazunari, who was defending the castle in the absence of Yoshiaki. As a result of their defeat at the Battle of Sekigahara, the Môris were harshly punished by having to cede a large part of their territory, the provinces of Aki, Suô, Nagato, Bingo, Izumo, Oki, Iwami, and a half of each Bicchu and Hôki, retaining only the two provinces of Suô and Nagato. In the wake of the expropriation of their territory, the Noshima Murakami and In’noshima Murakami families were unable to preserve their family structure and were disbanded. As a part of the postwar settlements, the territories of the Iyo daimyos on the Ishida-Toyotomi side were confiscated. Only Kurishima Yasuchika escaped this appropriation because of the mediation of his wife’s uncle, Fukushima Masanori, and of Ieyasu’s aide, Honda Masanobu. He was relocated to the mountainous Bungo Mori in Kyushu. Table 7.1 shows the movements of the family members and the retainers of the Murakamis who were forced to find new masters immediately after the Battle of Sekigahara. After the Division of Shikoku, although the Murakamis had been recognized as the navy of the Môris, they in fact enjoyed a large degree of autonomy. After the Battle of Sekigahara, however, the Murakamis served the Hosokawas, the Tôdos, and Kishu Tokugawas as crewmembers. The Noshima Murakamis had to accept a large reduction in their territories, and thereafter they served the 37

Mitsunari Junji 光成準治, Sekigahara zenya: Seigun daimyo tachi no tatakai 関ケ原前 夜：西軍大名の戦い [Eve of the Battle of Sekigahara] (Tokyo: Nippon Hoso Kyokai, 2009).

192 Table 7.1

Fujita Those hired by other feudal lords among the family members and the retainers of the Murakamis

Name

Origin

New Master

Murakami Mototake

The head of the Noshima Murakami family

The Môri family. Mototake founded the Murakami Zusho family with the stipend of 1,500 koku rice. The Môri family. Kagechika founded the Murakami Ichigaku family.

Murakami Kagechika

A member of a branch family of the Noshima Murakamis Kurushima Yasuchika The head of the Kurushima Yasuchika became the first lord of Noshima family the Bungo Mori domain, which produced 14,000 koku rice. Murakami Yoshisuke → (son) The head of the In’noshima Murakami Zusho family subject to Murakami Motomitsu Murakami family the Môri family Murakami Kihei Motoyoshi A member of the The Môri family In’noshima Murakami family Shima Matabei and his Members of the In’noshima Mori lord of Bungo with the stipend younger brother, Shima Murakami family of 400 koku rice Zenbei Murakami Kagehiro → (son) Members of the Kasaoka The Hosokawa family of the Buzen Murakami Kagenori Murakami family under the Kokura domain Noshima family Murakami Yoshikiyo A member of the KuruLord of Wakayama with a stipend of shima Murakami family 4,220 koku rice A member of the KuruLord of Wakayama after serving Murakami Yoshitsugu → shima Murakami family Kobayakawa Hideaki and Hosokawa (grandson) Murakami Tadaoki Kagefusa Retainers of the Kurushima Hagiyama Sobe’e, Yamashita Tôdô lords Murakami family Kisaburo, Yamasita Kansuke, Honjo Sin’uemon, Kanda Denzaemon, Kanda Kizaemon, Hagita Ichisuke, Tamiya Chohachi, Honjo Sakichi (each with the salary around 100 koku rice)

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Môris as ship’s masters. Their relatives and retainers were disbanded and served the Môris and the Mori lord of Bungo. Nevertheless, pirates were still rampant in the Seto Inland Sea, even in the early seventeenth century. This is made quite clear in a letter written from Môri Terumoto addressed to Murakami Mototake and his uncle, Kagechika.38 The purport of this letter is that Terumoto ordered these two men to make a thorough investigation of the piratical incident that had taken place off Suô Yashiro Island, insisting that the incident was “a matter of grave concern.” The letter makes it obvious that, piracy was considered a crime and it was still rampant in the early-seventeenth century. Therefore the Môris expected the Murakamis to patrol the seas in order to suppress any outbreaks of it. There is absolutely no doubt that piracy did not disappear with the issuance of Hideyoshi’s Piracy Prohibition Edict, and maritime peace was still far from being accomplished. (3) Establishment of Watch-houses As the Tokugawa regime consolidated what had been an official checkpoint system under the Toyotomi regime was transformed into a new maritime surveillance network. The trigger was the Catholic Rebellion of Amakusa and Shimabara (1637-1638), that led to the strict prohibition of Christianity and the trade ban on all foreigners except the Dutch and the Chinese. In 1640, the government official Kagatsume Tadasumi executed all the members of the Portuguese embassy who had been sent to request the lifting of the trade ban issued the previous year. Soon after this execution, he summoned the Kyushu daimyos to Shimabara and Kokura, and ordered the erection of ocean watch-houses (tômi bansho) to monitor the arrival of foreign ships. He gave the same order to the daimyos in the vicinity of Murotsu in Harima province. After this, maritime defense facilities like ocean watch-houses were established in ever-growing numbers in the coastal areas of Western Japan, including Kyushu and the Seto Inland Sea region.39 Furthermore, in 1667 the government conducted a survey of coastal villages in nine provinces in Kyushu and the Seto Inland Sea region. The survey col38

39

“Murakami-ke monjo|” 村上家文書 [Documents of the Murakami family], in Murakamike monjo chosa hokokusho: Imabari-shi Murakami Suigun Hakubutsukan hokan 村上家文 書調査報告書：今治市村上水軍博物館保管 [Report of the documents of the Murakami family: Held at the Murakami Navy Museum] (Imabari: Imabari-shi Kyoiku Iinkai, 2005), 67. Fujita Tatsuo 藤田達生, “Mura no samurai to heino bunri (jo), (ge)” 村の侍と兵農分 離：伊賀の事例を中心に（上）（下） [Village samurai and the warriors-farmers separation in Iga Province, pt. 1-2], Jinmin no rekishigaku 人民の歴史学 133 (1997): 1-10; 134 (1997): 22-32.

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lected all kinds of information related to maritime defense, registering ocean watch-houses, lighthouses, as well as the number of ships and captains in each village. In Iyo, for example, the survey was carried out from April 1 to May 13, and it recorded eighteen ocean watch-houses, forty ship watch-houses, two allnight lighthouses, 2,687 ships and 8,328 crewmembers (Table 7.2).40 This evidence shows that a very extensive maritime defense system had been successfully established in a very short time. Clearly the government was attempting to establish a workable system of maritime control for fear of possible attacks by foreign ships and a recurrence of a Christian rebellion. Furthermore, it was also grappling with the tense international situation in the wake of the collapse of the Ming dynasty. This presented the daimyos of Western Japan, who had been appointed to take charge of the maintaining this system, with a very onerous political task. They had the responsibility for setting up an effective defense system. If they were to succeed, they had to mobilize all the upper- and lower-class samurais (hanshi and goshi respectively) and conscript farmers (nôhei). Furthermore, they had to organize a construction program to build yet more ocean watch-houses.41 In the Wakayama domain, the daimyo had first undertaken a number of attempts to establish the maritime defense system in 1644. He had constructed ocean watch-houses, signal-fire beacons, and all-night lighthouses at the nodal points in the coastal areas. He had organized coastal villages into forming defense units and created units of conscripted farmer (between the ages of 15 and 60) for maritime patrols. Villages were under an obligation to provide soldiers for the defense of their land.42 In the Tosa domain, under the leadership of the prime minister (roju), Nonaka Kenzan, goshis were mobilized for the maritime defense at the same time as the construction of the ocean watch-houses in Kashiwajima, Asizuri, Yozu, and Tsuro in 1644. Just as in the Wakayama domain, Kenzan made enthusiastic use of goshis, as he judged that the defense of the long coastline relying only on hanshis would be impossible.43

40

41 42 43

“Saikai junkenshi” 西海巡見志 [Record of a survey in western provinces], in Saikai junkenshi, Yoyou Jinkaishu 西海巡見志・予陽塵芥集 [“Record of a survey in western provinces” and “Topography of Iyo province”], ed. Iyo Shidan Kai 伊予史談会 (Matsuyama: Ehime Kenritsu Toshokan, 1985). See note 39 and Fujita, Hideyoshi to kaizoku daimyo. Fujita, Hideyoshi to kaizoku daimyo. Ibid.

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Piracy Prohibition Edicts Table 7.2 Maritime control system in Iyo in 1667

Territory of Hitotsuyanagi Naoharu, the Lord of Komatsu Facilities Number Remarks Seki ships (medium-size warships) Kohaya ships (small warships) Cargo ships Horse ships Crewmembers

1 3 2 4 30

Territory of Matsudaira Sadafusa, the Lord of Imabari Facilities Number Seki ships 16 Kohaya ships 4 Cargo ships 2 Crewmembers 40

30 rowers 6-10 rowers 10 tan sail and 11 tan sail

Remarks 18 rowers 4-8 rowers 9 tan sail and 10 tan sail

Territory of Matsudaira Yasuhisa, the Lord of Matsuyama Facilities Number Remarks Seki ship 1 42 rowers Seki ship 1 40 rowers Seki ships 29 38-66 rowers Kohaya ships 41 8-30 rowers Small ships 11 Water ships 35 Cargo ships 18 5-18 tan sail Lighters 25 Crewmembers 372 Territory of Kato Yasuoki, the Lord of Ôsu Facilities Seki ship Seki ships Kohaya ships Cargo ships Crewmembers

Number 1 10 9 7 162

Territory of Date Munetoki, the Lord of Uwajima Facilities Number Seki ships 26

Remarks 46 rowers 34-62 rowers 4-20 rowers 70-700 koku loads

Remarks 38-77 rowers

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Table 7.2 Maritime control system in Iyo in 1667 (cont.)

Kohaya ships Cargo ships Crewmembers

40 15 218

14-30 rowers 10-17 tan sail

Territory of Date Sôjun, the Lord of Yoshda Facilities Seki ships Kohaya ships Cargo ships Small ships Crewmembers

Number 10 8 4 2 100

Remarks 20-64 rowers 8-20 rowers 10-15 tan sail

The Entire Province of Iyo Facilities Ocean watch-houses Ship watch-houses Lighthouses Ships Crewmembers

Number 18 40 2 2,687 8,328

Remarks

In the Iga territory of the Tôdô domain, in spite of its mountainous location, a system to mobilize goshi in cases of emergency was up and running by 1646.44 These examples show quite clearly that the national defense system in the mid-seventeenth century consisted of the general mobilization of able-bodied men, including conscripted farmers, both on the coast or in mountains, in Western Japan. In fact, if the maritime ban were to have any effect at all, it was essential to establish a military system that could respond to any emergency. Aware of the problem, the feudal lords in Western Japan devised the policy of a general mobilization in case of a national emergency. This was their response to the Tokugawa policy of organizing the national defense system as quickly as possible in the 1620s and the 1630s. It is noteworthy that, in order to consolidate the defense system, the government also ordered daimyos to compile a Shumon Aratame cho (registration of religious institutions), to provide maps, 44

“Shoho san-nen shogatsu nanoka-zuke Nagayaza okite” 正保三年正月七日付長屋座 掟 [Regulation of Nagayaza dated January 7, 1646], in Iga-koku Ahai-gun Kawahigashimura “Kasuga Jijja shozo monjo” 伊賀国阿拝郡川東村「春日神社所蔵文書」 [Documents of Kasuga Jinja, Kawahigashi Village, Ahai County, Iga].

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and to construct ocean watch-houses and inaugurate a goshi mobilization system in the most influential domains in Western Japan. The exercise of rigid control of land and people was an indispensable adjunct to the establishment and maintenance of the national defense system. These policies led directly to a thorough prohibition of piracy. As noted above, piratical incidents did still occur in the Seto Inland Sea in the earlyseventeenth century, but by the mid-seventeenth century there are no longer any records of pirate raids; one successful outcome of the consolidation of the maritime defense in the domains in West Japan on the orders of the Tokugawa government.

Conclusion

On the evidence of what has been discussed in it, this chapter concludes that the piracy prohibition policy of the Toyotomi regime was carried out in stages, and the 1588 Edict was not one single watershed, as has been assumed. The piracy prohibition only came fully into effect at the turn of the seventeenth century, after having passed through the following four stages: The first was the slighting of the castles of the former rulers (shirowari) and the surveying of arable lands (kenchi) in 1585. Maritime castles were slighted, coastal lands were measured, and pirates were forbidden to establish maritime checkpoints at will. At the same time, those fishermen who were also involved in piracy were registered as farmers in coastal villages. The second stage was the repeated issuance of piracy prohibition edicts in 1587 and 1588. As a result, the Murakamis who were pivotal in piracy were relocated away from the Seto Inland Sea, banished to Chikuzen in Kyushu, a sign that the Toyotomi regime was successful in expelling pirates from the Seto Inland Sea. The third stage was Hideyoshi’s invasion of Korea. Pirates were signed up as maritime experts, in order to keep a look-out at official maritime checkpoints for battlefield deserters. Some of them also served daimyos when requested, lured by the promise of a generous remuneration. The fourth was the Battle of Sekigahara. Murakami Motoyoshi, a well-known pirate leader, and his retainers were killed in the battle. During the postwar settlements, the Tokugawa regime confiscated the territories of those Iyo daimyos who had participated on the Toyotomi-Ishida side, and Kurushima Yasuchika, the only influential pirate leader who escaped the appropriation, was relocated to Bungo Mori in Kyushu. Others suspected of being under the

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influence of the Murakamis were placed under other daimyos like the Moris as crewmembers or their ship’s masters. During the Edo period the status of a naval sailor was accorded only to crewmembers belonging to each feudal lord. In peacetime, the maritime control system was left in the hands of the hanshi (upper-class samurai), goshi (lowerclass samurai), and the farmers in coastal areas. The piracy prohibition edicts were issued in this period in which the maritime control system underwent a transformation from one in which pirates controlled checkpoints, to one in which they were turned into official checkpoints, supported by the system of ocean watch-houses. Piracy finally disappeared in the mid-seventeenth century, when the maritime control system had been established on a national level.

Primary Sources

Kobayakawa-ke monjo 小早川家文書 [Documents of the Kobayakawa family]. Kuroda kashinden ryaku 黒田家臣伝略 [Summarized records of the Kuroda retainers], Fukuoka Kenritsu Toshokan 福岡県立図書館. Môri-ke monjo 毛利家文書 [Documents of the Môri family]. Mizukuchi Kato-ke Monjo 水口加藤家文書　[Documents of the Mizukuchi Kato family], Tokyo Daigaku Shiryo Hensanjo 東京大学史料編纂所. Murakami-ke Monjo 村上家文書 [Documents of the Murakami family], in “Miyakubocho shi” 宮窪町史 [A history of Miyakubo town], unpublished documents housed at the Yamaguchi-ken Monjokan 山口県文書館. Osu Kato-ke Monjo 大洲加藤家文書 [Documents of the Ôsu Kato family], Tokyo Daigaku Shiryo Hensanjo 東京大学史料編纂所. Oumi Mizukuchi Kato-ke Monjo 近江水口加藤家文書 [Documents of the (Oumi Mizukuchi) Kato family], Waseda Daigaku 早稲田大学. “Shoho san-nen shogatsu nanoka-zuke Nagayaza okite” 正保三年正月七日付長屋座掟 [Regulation of Nagayaza dated January 7, 1646], in Iga-koku Ahai-gun Kawahigashimura “Kasuga Jijja shozo monjo” 伊賀国阿拝郡川東村「春日神社所蔵文書」 [Documents of Kasuga Jinja, Kawahigashi Village, Ahai County, Iga]. “Ti bao woshi songhuan chaguan qingzhi kan chu shu ” 題報倭使送還差官請旨勘處 疏 [Report on a Requested Investigation by a Chinese Official Returning from a Mission to Japan Accompanied by a Japanese Ambassador], in Fuzhe zou shu 撫浙 奏疏 [Memorials to the Emperor by the Governor of Zhejiang Province], ed. Liu Yuanlin 劉元霖, Toyo Bunko 東洋文庫.

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Chapter 8 Toyooka and Murakami

The Suppression of Pirates in the China Seas by the Naval Forces of China, Macao, and Britain (1780-1860) Toyooka Yasufumi and Murakami Ei

Introduction

Owing to the trade in tea, porcelain, raw silk, silver, and opium, the China Seas has been an important maritime area in the world’s economy since the sixteenth century. In the 1780s, trade in the South China Sea was threatened by pirates from the war-torn area known later as Indochina, who battled against both the Qing maritime forces and Macau warships. Piracy continued until the 1860s, when the British Royal Navy suppressed pirates operating on and around the Chinese coast. This chapter describes piracy and its suppression on the Chinese coast by the Chinese and European authorities between 1780 and 1860. The word “piracy” in this chapter refers to the unauthorized threats, violence, murder, robbery, and kidnapping perpetrated on boats, either at sea or off the coast. In this research, Chinese, Portuguese, and English sources have been used. In the European sources, pirates, as a matter of course, were also called “freebooters” and “ladrones.” On the other hand, there was no exact equivalent in traditional Chinese for the terms “pirate” or “piracy.” In traditional Chinese sources, there is no specific term indicating violence committed in or on Chinese waters. Regardless of whether they operated at sea or on land, bandits were refered to as bandits in traditional Chinese thought. When it was necessary to emphasize that the violence was perpetrated not on land but on water, the Chinese character indicating “ship” or “sea” was used along with the character indicating bandits (e.g. boat bandits 艇盜, sea bandits 洋盜).1 There­ fore, “pirates” is used as a comprehensive phrase in this chapter. As discussed in other chapters of this volume, from the eighteenth century on, the Western powers aggressively suppressed the people called pirates in the Atlantic Ocean, the Indian Ocean, and maritime Southeast Asia. This happened at a time when Great Britain was also extending its influence into the China Seas. In this case, was the situation in the China Seas the same as in 1 A term “haidao 海盗” in contemporary Chinese was created to translate a “pirate” in English.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004361485_010

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other areas? The stated aim of the historical study of the Guangdong area by Dian H. Murray describes this situation before 1820. Murray explains that at this time, pirates evolved in war-torn Annam, and European fleets had been unable to suppress the more powerful among them. She claims that the “invincible” pirates finally voluntarily surrendered to the Qing authorities in Guangdong.2 Japanese, Taiwanese, and Chinese scholars have also analyzed piracy before 1820 using Chinese sources; these scholars have recognized the piracy problem as a rebellion against the Qing dynasty during the first half of the nineteenth century.3 Looking at the European side, Fox has analyzed the post-1830s suppression of the pirates by the British Royal Navy.4 Concentrating on one particular place, Fairbank has described the piracy problem around Ningbo 寧 波in great detail.5 In general, previous works have claimed that the sledgehammer pirates of the 1810s were comprehensively defeated by the British Royal Navy. The deficiency in this fragmented story of Chinese pirates is that it does not really reveal who these pirates were, or what piracy suppression meant in the China Seas at the nineteenth century. Another note of caution: Chinese pirates before 1820 and after 1830 have been investigated in strikingly different contexts. The former have been treated as a regional activity in late-imperial China, while the latter have been a part of Sino-British diplomatic history after the Opium War. So far, it is still not clear how the British influenced the socioeconomy of the south-eastern Chinese coast. In this chapter, we shall investigate long-term piracy and its suppression throughout the nineteenth century, the relationship between socio-economic conditions and piracy on the China coast, the role of the Qing central 2 Dian H. Murray, Pirates of the South China Coast, 1790-1810 (Stanford: Stanford University Press,1987). 3 Katsuta Hiroko 勝田弘子, “Shindai kaiko no ran” 清代海寇の乱 [Pirates in the Qing era], Shiron 史論 19 (1968): 27-49; Su T’ungping 蘇同炳, “Haidao caiquan shimo” 海盜蔡牽始末 [A story of the pirate Cai Quan], Taiwan Wenxian 臺灣文獻 25, no. 4 (1974): 1-24; 26, no. 1 (1975): 1-16; Zhang Zhongxun 張仲訓, “Qing Jiaqing nianjian Minzhe haidao zuzhi yanjiu”| 清 嘉慶年間閩浙海盜組織研究 [A study on the organization of the pirates in Zhejiang and Fujian during the Jiaqing period], in Zhongguo haiyang fazhan shi lunwen ji bianji weiyuanhui 中國海洋發展史論文集 [Essays in Chinese Maritime History], vol. 2, ed. Zhongguo haiyang fazhan shi lunwen ji (Taipei: Zhongyangyan jiuyuan sanmin zhuyi yanjiusuo, 1986), 161-98; Zheng Guangnan 鄭廣南, Zhongguo haidao shi 中國海盜史 [History of Chinese pirates] (Shanghai: Huadong ligong daxue chubanshe, 1998). 4 Grace Fox, British Admirals and Chinese Pirates 1832-1869 (London: Kegan, Paul, Trench & Trubner, 1940). 5 John K. Fairbank, Trade and Diplomacy on the China Coast: The Opening of the Treaty Ports, 1842-1854 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1953).

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Beijing Tianjin

Shanghai

Jiangsu

Ningpo

Qing

Zhejiang Wenzhou Quanzhou (Jingjiang)

Fujian Yuegang

Guangdong Guangzhou Vietnam (Annan)

Amoy

Shipu Yushan Fuqing Meizhou

Taiwan1

Xiangshan

Macao

Lingding

Map 8.1 Coastal areas of China

government, Chinese local authorities, and Western powers – the Macau government, the English East India Company (EIC), the British government, and the Royal Navy, in the restoration and maintenance of public order in coastal areas. Through this investigation, we hope to show how the various authorities engaged in the suppression of pirates to protect commercial interests. 1

The Area without Pirates: Qing Maritime Administration Up to the Eighteenth Century

Before the emergence of the pirates in Annan during the last decade of the eighteenth century, traders and fishermen on the Chinese coast had enjoyed an era of public security under the rule of the Qing authorities. This period of calm had been created by resolving the issue of the wokou 倭寇, that can be

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directly translated as “Japanese bandits.” Rather misleadingly in fact, as these pirates were armed merchants engaged in the Sino-Japanese silver smuggling trade. Ming officials recorded that the “Japanese bandits” actually included few Japanese.6 This implies the smuggling crews were composed of both Chinese and Japanese, and moreover that at least the majority of smugglers on China coast were Chinese. The trade in Japanese silver was illegal because of a strict prohibition issued by the Ming dynasty (1368-1644), anxious to place severe restrictions on private foreign trade in a determined bid to maintain security on China’s maritime border.7 Paradoxically, smugglers supplying silver in Ming territory, in which silver was used as currency, were armed to fight against Ming authorities, if need be.8 At the beginning of the Sino-Japanese silver trade during the first half of the sixteenth century, the local Ming authorities conspired with the silver traders, but by the latter half of the 1540s, the Ming central government looked upon smuggling as a problem for national security, and began to destroy the bases of this Sino-Japanese trade in Zhejiang 浙江. Smugglers resisted the attacks of the government and, as a result, beginning in 1553, the wokou wrought violence in the Ming coastal regions. It was the ban on maritime trade that created the wokou; hence, the lifting of that ban eliminated the need for smugglers. When the Ming government partially lifted the maritime ban in the Fujian port of Yuegang 月港 in 1567, the activities of the wokou immediately dwindled.9 On the East Asian seas, maritime violence was tightly intertwined with commercial interests. One successor of the wokou was the Zheng 鄭 family. In the late 1620s, Zheng Zhilong 鄭芝龍 (1604-1661), a south Fujianese armed merchant, was leader of the Sino-Japanese maritime traders based in Hirado, Nagasaki. Fluent 6 Ming shizong ( Jiajing) su huangdi shilu 明世宗（嘉靖）肅皇帝實錄 [Veritable records of the Jiajing emperor of the Ming], vol. 350, renshen [5th day] of the 7th lunar month of 28th year of Jiajing [July 28, 1549]. 7 Danjo Hiroshi 檀上寛. “Mindai kaikin gainen no seiritsu to sono haikei” 明代海禁概念の 成立とその背景：違禁下海から下海通番へ [The formation and background of the Ming cynasty’s concept of maritime exclusion: From a prohibition on voyages in foreign waters to a prohibition on voyages for trading with foreigners], Toyoshi Kenkyu 東洋史研究 63, no. 3 (2004): 421-55. 8 Ueda Makoto 上田信, Umi to teikoku 海と帝国 [Sea and empire] (Tokyo: Kodansha, 2005), 90-91. 9 Okamoto Takashi 岡本隆司, Kindai Chūgoku to kaikan 近代中国と海関 [China and the maritime customs system in modern times] (Nagoya: Nagoya Daigaku Shuppannkai, 1999), 47.

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in the south Fujianese dialect, Mandarin, Japanese, Portuguese, and Dutch, he monopolized Sino-Japanese trade by ruling the Fujian coastal area in the vicinity of Yuegang. Zheng Zhilong’s power expanded in the upswing in economic prosperity of the early seventeenth-century East Asian maritime world. In 1628, he “surrendered” himself to the Ming Fujian authorities and was given the rank of a military officer, a sign that the Ming government was tolerant of Zheng’s maritime control. Zheng Chenggong 鄭成功 (1624-1662), a son of Zhilong also known as Koxinga, inherited his father’s maritime resources and entered into competition with another beneficiary of the silver-based economic heyday in Northeast Asia, the Manchurian Qing.10 The Qing government responded by labeling Koxinga a “haizei” 海賊, meaning “traitor on the sea.” Koxinga drove the Dutch East India Company out of Taiwan and founded the Dongning 東寧 kingdom there in 1661. Koxinga’s kingdom was more than just a pirate family; it was a properly functioning state that promoted the development of Taiwan, and encouraged trade with Japan, Southeast Asia, and China. However, the Qing dynasty’s own maritime ban weakened the Koxinga kingdom’s trading activities and these successors of the wokou were eventually obliterated by a Qing military campaign in 1683.11 The Qing’s maritime ban meant the stoppage of silver imports that ushered in a deflationary recession in China.12In a nutshell, the Qing eradicated the successor of the wokou by imposing oppressive measures that adversely affected the Qing economy. With Koxinga out of the way, the Qing government decided that the Ming dynasty’s strict maritime ban was to blame for the smuggling by pirates. The Qing therefore moved to abolish the ban, establishing four maritime customs organizations in the coastal provinces for the collection of taxes in the 1680s. Only a few goods were prohibited from export, including gunpowder, sulfur, armaments and timber.13 The government’s intention was simply to levy taxes, rather than control trade through an adjustment of tariffs. Now governmental obstacles to the silver trade with foreign states had been removed, smuggling did decrease, but not necessarily because of the Qing policies alone. As there were no highly profitable contraband goods available at that time, 10 11 12 13

Kishimoto Mio 岸本美緒, Higashi Ajia no kinsei 東アジアの「近世」 [“Early modern period” in East Asia] (Tokyo: Yamakawa Shuppansha, 1998). Hayashida Yoshio 林田芳雄, Teishi Taiwan shi 鄭氏台湾史 [History of Taiwan in ­Koxinga dynasty] (Tokyo: Kyuko Shoten, 2003), 159-217. Kishimoto, Higashi Ajia, 241-44. Qinding daqing huidian zeli 欽定大清會典則例 [Qing collected regulations], vol. 114, 35-36, 1768.

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there were no special incentives to participate in smuggling or piracy in East Asia. This situation persisted until the emergence of cheap opium smuggling in the 1820s. The Qing dynasty’s domination of the Chinese coast at the end of the seventeenth century had eradicated all economic reasons for large-scale piracy but, as said, this situation would change by the end of the eighteenth century. 2

Pirates from Annam, the Depression, and Qing Maritime Forces

In the latter half of the 1790s, pirate groups from northern Annam suddenly appeared in Chinese waters. It was well known that many Chinese people had emigrated to Annam and become involved in the commercial and agricultural development of the Mekong Delta.14 Fishermen and seamen also lived on the Vietnamese coast. Therefore the pirate groups were a mixed bag consisting of Chinese fishermen and seamen living on the Vietnamese coast, Chinese pirates on the southern China coast, and a handful of Vietnamese. The outbreak of the Tây Sơn Uprising in 1771 and the civil strife that came in its wake prompted each side to mobilize Chinese fishermen as naval forces.15 These ad hoc forces were given weapons and ships but fatally underpaid, and the results could be described as predictable. They began to raid ships in Chinese waters, especially on the western side of the Leizhou Peninsula 雷州 半島 at the end of the 1780s.16 From 1794, pirates from Annam began to venture to the eastern side of the Leizhou Peninsula and attacked ships in Guangdong waters. In 1795, they reached Zhejiang waters and began to cooperate with local pirates. Consequently, piratical activities created disturbances along the entire southeastern coast of China.17 In 1802, the civil war in Vietnam ended with the victory of Nguyễn Phúc Ánh, the first emperor of the Nguyễn dynasty of Vietnam. The pirates subsequently lost their bases and moved to Guangdong and Fujian. After 1805, the 14

15 16 17

Li Tana, Peasants on the Move: Rural-Urban Migration in the Hanoi Region (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1996); Sakurai Yumio,“Eighteenth-Century Chinese Pioneers on the Water Frontier of Indochina,” in Water Frontier: Commerce and the Chinese in the Lower Mekong Region, 1750-1880, ed. Nola Cooke and Li Tana (Singapore: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2004), 35-52 Yano Jin’ichi 矢野仁一, “Kakei-jidai no Teitō no ran ni tsuite” 嘉慶時代の艇盗の乱に ついて [Pirates in the Jaqing period], Rekishi to Chiri 歴史と地理 18, no. 2 (1926): 1-6. MQSLGB, vol. 2, 180, Memorial of Fukanga 福康安, QL56.3.22. Katsuta, “Shindai Kaikō no ran,” 27-49.

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1841

1836

1831

1826

1821

1816

1811

1806

1801

1796

1791

1786

1781

1776

1771

1766

1761

1756

1751

1746

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0

Figure 8.1 Revenue of Fujian customs 1736-1841 (tael). Source: Huang Guosheng, Yapian zhanzhengqian de dongnan sisheng haiguan (Fuzhou: Fujian Renmin Chubanshe, 2000), 419-442.

pirates in Guangdong frequently attacked merchant ships and villages along the coast,18 and local pirates from Fujian even landed in Taiwan and besieged its capital.19 It is important to note that these pirates were “professional pirates,” who made money by plundering and/or extortion of protection fees from merchant ships and no longer the armed merchants of the seventeenth century.20 At this time, the violence spilling over from Annam was causing chaos in the China’s coastal region. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the intrusion of pirates caused a remarkable commercial downturn in Qing coastal areas, and concomitantly the circulation of commercial goods along the Fujian coast declined rapidly after 1793. Figure 8.1 indicates the annual revenue of the Fujian Maritime Customs. As mentioned above, the Qing maritime customs were organizations designed for tax collection, therefore the revenue of Fujian Maritime Customs was related to the amount of coastal trade in Fujian.21 This revenue decreased by 40 percent between 1793 and 1795. The Zhejiang Maritime Customs also experienced a 18 19 20 21

Murray, Pirates of the South China Coast, 80-98. Su, “Haidao caiquan shimo.” Murray, Pirates of the South China Coast. Fan I-Chun, “Long-distance Trade and Market Integration in the Ming-Ch’ing Period, 1400-1850” (PhD diss., Stanford University, 1992), 239-41.

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similar trend during this decade. The situation became so bad that Kuilun 魁倫, 22 the superintendent of the Fujian Maritime Customs reported that the number of merchant ships entering the harbor of Fujian in 1795 was reduced by half from the previous year because of the presence of a pirate fleet from Annam.23 As merchants were apprehensive about their ships being attacked by pirates, they abstained from shipping their goods. In other words, the commercial distribution on the Chinese coast was severely hit by pirates from Annam. These circumstances greatly affected maritime circulation, and were the cause of a serious economic depression in the coastal areas, that in turn aggravated the problem by driving more people into piracy. The difficulty was compounded because the local Qing authorities often requisitioned large merchant-ships to convert them into warships, another blow to the local economy. Yang Xingfeng 楊幸逢, a contemporary Taiwanese tourist, has left a description of the situation along the Fujian coast: Magistrates and even local authorities cannot fight against the pirates; moreover, they are demanding that merchants pay bribes or additional taxes on merchant ships. This malady is increasing. In Fuzhou, the capital of Fujian, merchants who own ships do not use them to trade. Twenty shipping agents in Xiamen (Amoy) have already gone bankrupt, and only a few agents now remain. Some still use ships to trade, but they will want to give up their ships if the ships break, because keeping ships brings immeas­urable loss to them. Eventually, no one will want to construct new ships. If the authorities cannot make a decision on the present pirate problems, the government will have no way to recover the revenue of maritime customs, and people cannot earn a living. In consequence, it is inevitable that more and more people are going to throw themselves into piracy.24 Piracy was destroying the area’s economy, forcing the local Qing authorities to tackle the problem: Maintaining security and protecting local commerce was one of the orthodox raisons d’être of these authorities.25 Of the two, security 22

23 24 25

Kuilun, Nayanceng 那彦成, and Wesibu 倭什布 (see below) were Manchu bannermen. The ethnic identity of Qing’s governors in China proper was not an important factor in decision making at the time. ZPZZCZ, No. 0358-017, Memorial of Kuilun, QL60.3.14. JJDLFZZ, No.3-166-8964-20, Petition of Yang Xingfeng, JQ12.9. Ota Izuru 太田出, Chūgoku kinsei no tsumi to batsu: hanzai, keisatsu, kangoku no shakaishi 中国近世の罪と罰: 犯罪・警察・監獄の社会史 [Crime and punishment in early

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was more important than economic protection, therefore the Qing authorities often charged additional taxes and commandeered merchant ships to suppress pirates to raise sufficient revenue to be able to provide it.26 Although Qing officials claimed that the protection of trade was the norm, the measures that they enacted sacrificed commerce to security. In their dilemma, the authori­ties irrevocably knew that they had to tackle the piracy problem; but, the execution of this policy ultimately hindered commercial activities on the China coast.27 In the early 1800s – several years after the intrusion of pirates from Annam – local Qing authorities finally launched a serious campaign for the suppression of the pirates. During the last five years of the 1790s, the stock of silver owned by the Qing central government’s Board of Revenue had been almost entirely depleted, bled to provide the expenses incurred in suppressing the rebellion of the White Lotus Society in Sichuan, Shaanxi, and Hubei.28 Their dire straits compelled the local authorities to find financial resources and prepare armaments. In Zhejiang, Ruan Yuan 阮元, the governor of Zhejiang, and Li Changgeng 李長庚, its admiral, utilized local funds to construct new warships and organize a local army in order to fight against the pirates (commencing in 1800). In Zhejiang and Fujian, Cai Qian 蔡牽 was the most notorious pirate leader and he just happened to hail from the same region as Li Changgeng. Li’s struggle and death in battle with Cai have been described in romantic terms by contemporary writers.29 In Guangdong, after 1804, the governor-general of Guangdong and Guangxi, Nayanceng, called for (semi-coerced) contributions from privileged salt-traders to prepare maritime military equipment. Nayanceng also led local villages in organizing vigilante committees to pass on the costs for local security and defense against pirates to the private sector.30 Around 1810, the local Qing coastal authorities did finally manage to destroy major pirate groups in the coastal areas, either by armed suppression or by negotiations for the pirates’

26 27

28

29 30

modern China: A social history of crime trends, police, and prisons] (Nagoya: Nagoya Daigaku Shuppannkai, 2015). JJDLFZZ, No.3-166-8964-20, Petition of Yang Xingfeng, JQ12.9 Jennifer W. Cushman, Fields from the Sea: Chinese Junk Trade with Siam during the Late Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries (Ithaca, NY: Southeast Asia Program, Cornell University, 1993), 124. Shi Zhihong 史志宏, Qingdai hubu yinku shouzhi he kucun tongji 清代戸部銀庫收支 和庫存統計 [Statistics of silver flow and the stock of the Board of Revenue in the Qing period] (Fuzhou: Fujian Renmin Chubanshe, 2009), 116-280. Zhao Lian 昭槤,“Lizhuanglie zhanji” 李壯烈戰蹟 [Li Zhangkeng’s struggle], Xiaotingzalu 嘯亭雜錄[Miscellaneous recordings at the Whistles Pavilion], vol. 3 (ca. 1825). NWYGZY, vol. 11, 40-48.

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surrender. It was a situation in which the Qing had not lost effective maritime forces against piracy, and the pirates’ leaders had failed to win the support of the general public who had been disenchanted by the former’s indiscriminate plunder. Consequently, before the outbreak of the Opium War, local Qing authorities had not yet lost either their grip on their financial resources or the military competence to suppress pirates or rebellions in order to maintain public security.31 3

Pirates on the Pearl River and the “Europeans”

The Qing government was the only organization with the authority to exercise force to maintain local public security of the Chinese waters. However, in the smaller area of the Pearl River Delta, the situation was different. There, the Portuguese Residents of Macao and other Europeans were able and willing to participate in the suppression of piracy as well. Macao, a Portuguese settlement, had been established as a base for the Portuguese Empire’s China Sea trade in the sixteenth century. Qing and Macao authorities first entered into diplomatic relations in 1651 when the Qing conquered Guangdong. The “procurador” (procurator) of the Macao senate and the magistrate of Xiangshan 香山, as representatives of their respective governments, negotiated many subjects on numerous occasions,32 and the topic of the suppression of pirates had already been raised. In 1793, the Xiangshan magistrate requested that Macao collaborate in the suppression of the pirates encroaching from Annam.33 However, this collaboration failed to bear fruit. Irritated because Macao had asked for a reduction in its rent for the Macao Peninsula and also by the arbitrary attacks Macao made on “suspect” merchant ships from Fujian, the Qing local authorities in Guangdong halted negotiations with it.34 Granting a remission in rent for Macao was beyond the competence 31 32 33 34

Ruan Heng 阮亨, Yingzhou Bitan 瀛洲筆談 [A chronological record of Ruan Yuan], vol. 1 (1820), 1-4. A.M. Vale, Martins do, Os Portugueses em Macau (1750-1800): Degredados, Ignorantes e Ambiciosos ou Fiéis vassalos d’El-Rei? (Macau: Instituto Português do Oriente, 1997), 67-98. DAM, Cx.19, doc. 22, 48. COT, vol. 1, No. 157, 159. QAZD, vol. 1, No. 933, 934. Anders Ljungstedt, A Historical Sketch of the Portuguese Settlements in China, and of the Roman Catholic Church and Mission in China; a Supplementary Chapter, Description of the City of Canton (Boston: James Munroe, 1836; reprint, Hong Kong: Viking Hong Kong Publications, 1992), 131-33; Huang Qinghua 黃慶華, Zhongpu guanxi shi, 1513-1999 中葡關係 史 (1513~1999) [History of Sino-Portuguese relations, 1513-1999] (Hefei: Huanhshan Shushe, 2005), 465-66.

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of local authorities so, if the local authorities had intended to continue with the negotiations, they would have had to inform the Qing central government to solicit its approval. This would have been out of the question because the Qing central government had placed a blanket prohibition on collaboration with foreign powers, on the grounds that the Qing was the “most powerful celestial dynasty” and would not make any compromises with “barbarians.”35 In other words, the Guangdong authorities could not inform Beijing about the real situation in their cooperation with Macao and other European forces. In 1804, the Macao and Guangdong local authorities again recommenced discussions on collaborating to suppress pirates. The influx of straggler pirates from Tây Sơn into the Pearl River Delta posed an increased critical danger to Macanese security. The pirates constructed their bases offshore of the Macao Peninsula, just at a time at which Macao was taking in many poor Chinese immigrants as dockworkers. This upsurge in immigrants was caused by population pressures that had been growing in the Qing territory since the middle of the eighteenth century. The poor Chinese in Macau and the pirates were both seen as potential threats, and the Macao authorities were apprehensive that the “Chinês maus” (Bad Chinese) among the Chinese immigrants would conspire with the pirates to ruin their city.36 In the spring of 1804, the Macao authorities began to work in tandem with the local Qing army. They used a ship named the The Nancy, that had been purchased from the EIC. They were also armed with funds collected by the contributions made by Macanese merchants, the sale of opium, and even a public lottery.37 To strengthen its position with the local Qing authorities, the Macao government withdrew its claim for the remission of rent. The residents and merchants of Macao were unanimous in their support of the government’s efforts to protect their lives and property. The Qing Guangdong local authorities constructed a complex arrangement with Macao, but this was not widely known at the time. For instance, Wesibu, the governor-general of Guangdong and Guangxi, reported to the Qing central government in Beijing that the Guangdong authorities had rejected the proposal to cooperate to suppress piracy in Macao.38 Wesibu’s report actually meant no more than that the Guangdong authorities had refused to transmit Macao’s request to Beijing. The involvement of Beijing severely disrupted the 35 36 37 38

MQAWDW, No.415, Edict of the Jiaqing emperor 嘉慶帝, JQ10.12.7. Ángela Guimarães, Uma relação especial: Macau e as relações luso-chinesas, 1780-1844 (Lisbon: Centre de Invesstigação e Estudos de Socciologia. 2000), 123-25. DAM, No.1104, Cx. 24, Doc.32. DAM, No. 1348, Cx. 29, No. 31. MQAWDW, No. 414, Memorial from Wesibu, (responded in JQ13.3.3).

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discussion between the Qing local authorities and the Macao government. At the same time, “real” reports from local authorities about negotiations with foreigners caused the Qing central government acute embarrassment. In its official statements, the Qing dynasty portrayed itself as the strongest dynasty. The upshot was that all Qing authorities recognized that information about the local authorities’ negotiations with Macao was beyond the pale. Before 1808, although the anti-piracy collaboration between Macao and the Guangdong authorities was maintained, they had been unable to find a solution to the problem. Meanwhile, another menace had appeared on the scene to challenge the Macao and Guangdong authorities and the British forces. In the Pearl River Delta, a select committee of supercargoes of the EIC, that had the largest share in the Canton trade, also made an attempt to participate in clearing the seas of pirates. One particular incident lay behind their efforts. On December 6, 1806, John Turner, the chief mate of the country-trader’s ship The Tay, was captured by pirates off Macao, and his captors demanded that a ransom be paid for his release.39 After reporting to Bengal that Turner had been captured, the Canton Committee insisted on mounting a military expedition to China for three reasons: Their first point was that the Qing authorities lacked both the consistent will and the adequate equipment that would be needed to suppress the pirates. The second matter it raised was that the Portuguese in Macao were also deficient in the equipment necessary to confront the pirates. Their third point was that fierce pirates often attacked coastal villages in the “hinterland of the trade” to disrupt supplies.40 The reports of John William Roberts, the president of the Committee of Canton Factory of the EIC, insist that pirates were “the most serious additional risk to the lives and property of every European visiting China in the future.”41 In spite of these reasons, George Hilaro Barlow, who was the Acting-GovernorGeneral of the Presidency of Fort William in Calcutta, rejected the proposal for an expedition to the Pearl River for the following reasons: The pirates did not disturb the Company’s trade; maintaining local security was the duty of the Chinese authorities; and no expeditions were permitted unless there had been a request from the Qing authorities.42 After the release of Turner on May 22, 1807, the Canton Committee agreed that Chinese pirates were not harming the 39

40 41 42

J. Turner, “Account of the Captivity of J. Turner, Chief Mate of the Ship Tay, Amongst the Ladrones,” Naval Chronicle 20 (1808): 456-72; IOR/F/4/216/4750, J. Roberts to Barlow, April 29, 1807, 4. IOR/F/4/246/5559, J. Roberts to Barlow, March 9, 1807, 16-19. IOR/F/4/216/4750, J. Roberts to Barlow, April 29, 1807, 5. IOR/F/4/216/4750, Barlow to J. Roberts, April 23, 1807, 34.

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EIC’s commercial activity on the South China coast. Nevertheless, it submitted further requests, asking that a squadron from India be dispatched for the purpose of suppressing piracy. Again this was rejected by Barlow.43 Having continued to submit request until the winter of 1807, the Canton Committee decided to stop its petitions. Barlow’s response was an embodiment of the EIC’s view of security on the Chinese coast. The EIC recognized that what should be protected by the British forces was only the Company’s trade, not the local people or other Europeans, including the Macanese. Their belief was that the local pirate problem should be solved by the local Chinese government or the residents of Macao, a signal that the EIC was not willing, or indeed able, to intervene in local situations on the Chinese coast. In fact, the annual financial reports of the Canton Factory show that the EIC suffered no remarkable losses in its Chinese trade after 1800 (Figure 8.2),44 largely because the pirate groups operating in Chinese waters simply did not possess ships that were either large or efficient enough to capture European vessels. This begs the question: Why did the select committee of the supercargoes of the EIC at Canton, contrary to the guidelines of the EIC, request an expedition from India? The answer can be found in the process of the request for the occupation of Macao by the British Royal Navy in September of the following year. The Canton Committee requested that the governor-general of India send a squadron to offer protection against a possible attack by France, Britain’s enemy during the Napoleonic Wars, in the spring of 1808. At that time, the Canton Committee asserted that the Qing government would accept the occupation of Macao by the Royal Navy, as long as the Royal Navy helped in the suppression of pirates.45 In other words, the suppression of pirates was not the purpose of the Canton Committee; instead, the Canton Committee only needed a naval expedition to occupy Macao. Another factor also prompted the Committee to seek an expedition under the pretext of suppressing pirates; the Macanese merchants, who were significant competitors of the Committee in the gradually expanding opium trade (Figure 8.3). Opium was one of the most important commodities handled by the Canton Committee of the EIC and it encouraged country traders to bring opium from India (as a means of payment) to secure silver. Indian opium was the 43 44 45

IOR/F/4/246/5559, J. Roberts to Barlow, August 25, 1807, 1-19. Earl H. Pritchard, “The Struggle for Control of the China Trade during the Eighteenth Century,” Pacific Historical Review 3, no. 3 (1934): 280-95. Hosea B. Morse, The Chronicles of the East India Company Trading to China, 1635-1834, vol. 3 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1926-1929), 86.

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14000000 12000000

■Import to China

10000000

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Figure 8.2 Total transaction amount of the EIC’s Canton Trade (tael). Source: Pritchard, “The Struggle for Control of the China Trade,” 280-95; Hosea B. Morse, The International relations of the Chinese Empire, vol. 1 (Shanghai: Kelly & Walsh, 1910), 92. 14000 12000 10000

… The EIC comprehended ― Passed Macao customs

8000 6000 4000 2000

1784 1785 1786 1787 1788 1789 1790 1791 1792 1793 1794 1795 1796 1797 1798 1799 1800 1801 1802 1803 1804 1805 1806 1807 1808 1809 1810 1811 1812 1813 1814 1815 1816 1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828

0

Figure 8.3 Opium import to China (chest). Source: Vale, Os Portugueses em Macau, 132; Morse, The International relations of the Chinese Empire, vol. 1, 210.

monopoly of the EIC that set an upper limit of 4,800 chests in a number of sales to maintain the price floor in 1801. Because the Qing government prohibited the import of opium, the EIC did not officially trade in opium; however, the country traders used EIC as a remitter. In other words, there was a trade triangle whose sides were composed of opium, Chinese commodities, and

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silver. The Macanese merchants had handled the opium that was exported by local Indian kings to China and Macao since the 1760s; hence these Macanese merchants were the rivals of the country traders who were deeply implicated in the EIC and the Chinese opium trade. Moreover, the Portuguese government of Macao was determined that opium should be taxed, and that opium in Macau must be handled by the Portuguese merchants in 1802. This meant that the opium that was handled by country traders was taxed by the Macau government and was commissioned by Macanese merchants. All this blew up at an unfortunate moment at which the Qing authorities strengthened the ban on the opium trade because the new emperor, Jiaqing, had initiated his own direct rule in 1799 and ordered a strict ban on the export of silver.46 Macao was an exception to the ban and was therefore the only route through which to import opium into China. The disappointed country traders were unable to make the profits that had earlier been predicted. The upshot was that the interests of the Canton Committee suffered because of the Macao government and the Macanese merchants. At that moment, Roberts, the president of the Committee, chose to mediate the opium trade, in the context of the request by the Canton Committee for the expedition from India. Why did the Committee not set this conflict with Macao before the governor-general in Calcutta? In Europe, Macao was recognized as a legitimate Portuguese colony, and Portugal was an exceedingly important ally of Great Britain against France. Occupying the colony of an ally for the purpose of destroying the commercial activity of the citizens of that ally because they were business competitors was not considered an appropriate action by the British government authorities. The Committee therefore changed its tactics in the spring of 1808 and requested an expedition for the suppression of pirates and for protection against a possible attack by France.47 This time the Earl of Minto, the new governor-general of India, decided to dispatch an expedition to Macao.48 A British Royal Navy squadron from India commanded by Rear-Admiral William O’Brien Drury landed in Macao and occupied forts on the Macao Peninsula in September 1808, but was met with fierce opposition from both the Macao and Guangdong authorities and, as a consequence, the squadron 46

47 48

Inoue Hiromasa 井上裕正, Shindai ahen seisakushi no kenkyū 清代アヘン政策史研究 [A study for anti-opium policy of the Qing government before the Opium War], (Kyoto: Kyoto Gakuzyutsu Shuppannkai, 2004), 35-41. Morse, The Chronicles, vol. 3, 86. IOR/H/60/84. Papers concerning the Portuguese; Memoirs dealing with the Portuguese Settlement in India and China, their occupation by British troops and the British expedition to Macao. Dispute between the British and Portuguese at Macao. 1807-09, 607-09.

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retreated in December.49 Hence this pretentious attempt by the Committee was unsuccessful, and the brains-behind this attempt, Roberts, was dismissed as president of the Committee in 1809. Following this abortive mission, the EIC scrapped any naval expeditions to China from its agenda. When an officer on a country ship was captured by pirates in September 1809, the EIC paid his ransom immediately. This time, there was no discussion about the possibility of participating in the suppression of pirates. Although in 1809 and 1810, the Qing Guangdong authorities sounded out the Hong merchants (merchants authorized by the Qing government to handle foreign trade) about possible British participation in the suppression of pirates,50 the Canton Committee adopted a passive stand. Consequently, no British power involved itself in the suppression of pirates on the Pearl River before the 1840s. Regardless of the British occupation of Macao from September to December 1808, piracy depredations on the Pearl River continued in the 1800s. As mentioned above, the piracy problem on the South China coast did not damage EIC trade. Although it went unscathed, both Macao and the Qing Guangdong authorities had a common enemy in the region’s largest pirate group, commanded by Zhang Baozai 張保仔, that frequently raided coastal villages and small ports on the Pearl River Delta since the beginning of 1809.51 Macao and the Qing local authorities decided to collaborate against this foe; they reached an arrangement regarding expenditure and the terms of cooperation for the suppression of the pirates in November 1809.52 This venture was successful, and they defeated the pirate group on the Pearl River on December 11.53 As Macao and the Qing local authorities had negotiated many issues, including pirate suppression, it was not difficult for the parties to achieve a settlement when the appropriate conditions were met. In January 1810, the second largest pirate group, commanded by Guo Podai 郭婆帶, surrendered to the Qing Guangdong authorities.54 In the same month, Zhang Baozai was once again defeated by a united Qing-Macao squadron. By 49 50 51

52 53 54

IOR/R/10/32, Narrative of the Proceedings of the Select Committee on the Arrival of a Detachment of British Troops at Macau, 1808. FO1048/9/9, Order to linguists from acting Canton prefect, JQ13.8.4. FO1048/9/11, Order to Hong merchants from the acting Canton prefect, JQ13.8.4. Yuan Yonglun 袁永綸, “Jinhaifenji” 靖海氛記 [An account of the suppression of piracy in the Guangdong Waters] (ca. 1820), in Tian ye yu wen xian: Hua’nan yanjiu ziliao zhongxin tongxun 田野與文獻: 華南研究資料中心通訊, ed. Xiao Guojian 蕭國健 and Bo Yongjian 卜永堅, 46 (2007): 6-29. Murray, Pirates of the South China Coast, 133. Guimarães, Uma relação especial, 145-46. Murray, Pirates of the South China Coast, 139.

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the end of January, Zhang had asked the Macao authorities and Miguel de Arriaga, the “ouvidor” (the chief justice of Macao), who was in charge of negotiations with foreign parties, to mediate in the negotiation of the conditions of his surrender. Meanwhile, the Qing Guangdong local authorities were seeking a way to negotiate with Zhang through the offices of an opium trader in Macao named Zhou Feixiong 周飛熊.55 Zhou was an influential person in the Macao Chinese community, and he had connections with the Macao government. Zhou and Arriaga had probably made a connection, and therefore both the Qing authorities and the pirate groups looked forward to negotiations mediated by the Macao authorities. On February 21, representatives of all three groups (Zhang, Macao, and Guangdong) held a meeting about the conditions of surrender, but they failed to reach an agreement. Even when Zhang resumed his attacks on coastal ­villages, he continued to negotiate with the authorities.56 Eventually, a final arrange­ment between the pirate and the Macao and Guangdong authorities was concluded in April.57 Zhang surrendered on the coast of Xiangshan prefecture, and later participated in a campaign for the suppression of pirates along the western coast of Guangdong.58 “Pacifying” by persuading a bandit to surrender and giving him an official post in exchange, was a common ploy of the Qing government in its efforts to rein in the cost of the suppression of a predator. During the negotiations on the Pearl River in the spring of 1810, the Qing local authorities offered both Zhang and Guo official military posts. In return, the Qing authorities required them to destroy other pirate groups, and to do this under the supervision of the Qing authorities. Zhang and Guo had been defeated by the Qing-Macao united squadron, so they had no other option but to fight against the pirates who had not yet surrendered. By adopting this tactic Zhang and Guo survived. Wushier 烏石二, a former Annam Navy general, and the leader of the last major pirate group on the West Guangdong coast, was arrested by the combined Zhang, Guo, and Qing Navy on June 14, 1810. In the battle, the actual fighting was done by former pirates only, with the Qing Navy acting as an invigilator. Many famous pirate groups on the Fujian and Zhejiang coasts had already been destroyed by the Qing authorities, and some pirate leaders had surrendered to the Qing authorities before the end of 1809. With Wu’s capture, the 55 56 57 58

Yuan, “Jinhaifenji,” 8-24. Murray, Pirates of the South China Coast, 141. Guimarães, Uma relação especial, 146-56. ZPZZJW, No. 04-01-03-0044-007, Memorial from Bailing, JQ15.6.7.

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piracy problem along the South China coast finally came to an end.59 Reports of damage caused by piracy on the China coast rapidly decreased after 1810.60 As mentioned above, maintaining security and protecting local commerce was one of the orthodox raisons d’être of these authorities. Therefore the Qing authorities were responsible for the suppression of pirates along the entire south-eastern coast of China. Although Macao did collaborate with the Qing authorities, it limited its activities to the waters in its vicinity. As said, the EIC had no influence on the suppression of the pirates at that time, even on the Pearl River where it had a vested interest. Generally speaking, foreign influence was limited on the China coast before the 1810s. The Qing dynasty was the only authority that maintained local security and still succeeded in suppressing pirates during the first decade of the nineteenth century. The Qing dynasty ambition to maintain public order was not the only factor involved in the disappearance of pirates from southeastern Chinese waters in the early 1810s. A far more significant factor was that there were no incentives to continue pirate activities at that time, and, in the 1820s, the pirates had begun to take up a much more profitable business – opium smuggling. 4

Opium Trade and the Rise of Piracy

By 1810, piracy in South China had ended but its eclipse did not mean that the Qing Dynasty had recovered complete control of the coastal areas. The primary factor that undermined its success was the advent of opium. At the end of the eighteenth century, the opium trade around Guangzhou began to expand. The mouth of the Pearl River, that functioned as the center of the opium trade, was also where pirates of the Jiaqing period pursued their depredations. Fishermen who joined the pirates also began to participate in the opium trade. According to a proclamation by the Governor of Guangdong in 1826, small, fast ships, called fast crab boats, that carried many oars and were well-armed, were conducting the opium trade around Lingding, located at the 59

60

Wen Chengzhi 溫承志, “Ping hai jilue” 平海紀略 [Record of pacifying the sea], in Zhaodai congshu: Kui ji cui bian, 昭代叢書：癸集萃編, vol. 10, comp., Shen Maode 沈楙悳 (1849). Toyooka Yasufumi 豊岡康史, “Shindai chuki Kanton enkai jumin no katsudo” 清代中期 広東沿海住民の活動,1785~1815 年 [Activities of maritime people on the Cantonese coast in mid-Qing China, 1785-1815], Shakai Keizai Shigaku 社会経済史学 73, no. 3 (2007): 303-20.

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mouth of Pearl River. The bulk of these piratical activities were carried out by these fast ships;61 pirates became increasingly engaged in smuggling and only tended to resort to other activities when smuggling did not bring in enough. Joining the economic trend, some of the residents in the coastal areas of South China made a career change from being pirates to being opium smugglers. The opium trade continued to expand until the 1830s. However, during 18361837, large-scale regulations were implemented against opium in Guangdong and along the coastal areas of China. After Commissioner Lin Zexu had ordered the confiscation of opium owned by foreign merchants, the British government retaliated and the First Opium War broke out. The First Opium War ended in a bitter, unilateral defeat for the Qing. Taking advantage of the conflict, piracy had begun to rise again; for example, pirates were running rampant in southern Fujian.62 As the war caused havoc, people turned to piracy on a large scale. After the war, instead of decreasing, the frequency of piratical activity along the coast intensified. Zheng Gaoxing, the Admiral of the Qing naval force in Fujian, observed that people who constituted the pirate bands were composed not only of fishermen who had been struggling to make a living but also of seamen who had lost their jobs and resorted to robbery;63 obviously, in their battle to survive lower-class people in the coastal areas became pirates when faced with economic hardship. The composition of the pirate bands had not changed drastically from what it had been in the Jiaqing era, the majority were from the coastal trades of fishermen and seamen. Looking at their geographical origins, according to the memorial that reported the arrest of pirates along the coast of Fujian on July 1, 1847, the pirates were reported to have come from Tongan 同安, Maxiang 馬巷, Jingjiang 晉江, Nanan 南安, Fuqing 福清, Huian 惠安 in Fujian Province, and from Jiaying 嘉應 prefecture in Guangdong Province.64 In short, most pirate bands were composed of Fujianese (mainly from southern Fujian) and Cantonese pirates. Moreover, as will be discussed later, Portuguese, British, and American people were also members of these pirate bands. Why was there a rise in the number of pirates during this period? The answer might lie in the changing composition of the people who were trading. It is important to note that Western ships had now begun participating in the

61 62 63 64

The Chinese Courier (Canton), vol. 2, no. 5, September 1, 1832. JJDLFZZ, 3-64-3951-41,42, DG26.6.22, Memorial of Yiliang 怡良. GZDXF, vol. 4, 700 (002026), Memorial of Zheng Gaoxiang 鄭高祥, XF2.4.11. GZDDG, vol. 19, 556-60 (010507), Memorial of Xu Jishe 徐繼畬, DG27.6.27.

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coastal trade, and their role in the China-Southeast Asia route was growing.65 Moreover, because of the impact of the Great Depression throughout China,66 the volume of trade did not immediately increase after the treaty ports opened. The upshot of this was that the commercial opportunities available to Fujian and Cantonese ships substantially decreased. It seems reasonable to assume, that having to contend with these dwindling trade opportunities, the seamen to turn to piratical activities. However, it is even more important to examine the changes that occurred in trade at this time. On March 26, 1844, Liu Yunke 劉韻珂, the governor-general of Fujian and Zhejiang, pointed out the declining role of smuggling in the small ports around Amoy.67 The fact that trade was becoming increasingly concentrated in and around the treaty ports caused a decline in the function of small ports, whose volume of trade had been growing from the beginning of the nineteenth century at the expense of main ports such as Amoy, where the opium trade had flourished until just before the First Opium War. Therefore, it is feasible to assume that people living in coastal areas who were unable to enjoy the profits gained through trade in the small ports either engaged in trade in the treaty ports or became pirates. As mentioned above, pirates also joined the opium trade and, because opium-smuggling boats were armed, it was easy for them to become pirates. By this time the pirates were becoming a major impediment to trade in the region as they did not have the power to maintain order or stability. Moreover, Western countries such as Britain utterly refused to submit to the pirates’ rules. Faced with such a precarious economic situation, controlling the pirates became a significant issue for both the local Qing authorities and the foreign powers. Suppressing this new generation of pirates proved to be an insurmountable challenge for the Qing naval forces. Before the First Opium War, the Qing naval squadron’s ships in Fujian had not been built and repaired as the regulations required.68 Zhang Jixun 張集馨, who arrived in Zhangzhou 漳州 as the daotai 65

66 67 68

Miyata Michiaki 宮田道昭, Chugoku no kaiko to enkai shijo: Chogoku kindai keizaishi ni kansuru ichi shiten 中国の開港と沿海市場：中国近代経済史に関する一視点 [The open­ing of China and the market in the coastal area: A perspective on the economic history of modern China] (Tokyo: Toho Shoten, 2006), 87-88 Lin Man-houng, China Upside Down: Currency, Society, and Ideologies, 1808-1856 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center), 124-33. YZDS, vol. 7, 410, Memorial of Liu Yunke, DG24.2.8. Zhou Zifeng 周子峰, “Yapian zhanzheng zhiqian Fujian haifang jianlun” 鴉片戰爭之前 福建海防簡論 [A study on the coastal defense of Fujian before the Opium War], in Yapian Zhanzheng zairenshi 鴉片戰爭的再認識 [A reappraisal of the Opium War], ed.

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(circuit intendant) of Tingzhou 汀州, Zhangzhou, and Longyan 龍岩prefectures after the fall of Amoy on August 26, 1841 during the Opium War, reported that the Qing naval forces in Fujian considered business their primary mission and did not bother to suppress piracy. Furthermore, the naval forces were not very different from the pirates because, when the naval forces recruited soldiers, pirates would immediately enroll.69 The First Opium War made the situation worse. The British reported that they captured twenty-six war junks of the Qing naval forces carrying more than 128 cannons in Amoy. They seized more than 500 guns in total.70 The already lackluster Qing naval forces in Fujian were heavily damaged by the British Army’s occupation of Amoy. Subsequently, their post-war ability to suppress pirates was fundamentally crippled. The upshot was a reversal in the power of the naval forces and the pirates. In July 1847, a report by Layton, the British Consul in Amoy, states that within the previous three years, Lin Kan 林坎, a Fujianese pirate, had sent several written challenges to the admiral of the Qing naval force in Fujian, Dou Chenbiao 竇辰彪, and had personally attacked the admiral’s flagship.71 This seems to suggest that, by then, the Qing naval forces had lost their authority completely. Pertinently, if the naval forces and the pirates had engaged in a direct confrontation, there was a strong possibility that the navy would have been defeated. According to the British consul’s report in 1849, some of the Qing naval forces had actually been defeated by the pirates near Yushan 漁山 in Zhejiang province.72 Because the Qing naval forces were virtually powerless, their chances of playing a major role in restoring order in the coastal areas would have been very slim indeed. At this critical juncture, the Royal Navy decided to intervene. Although the navy had played an active role in subduing the pirates during the Opium War, afterward it had adopted a noninterventionist policy. This policy had eventually to be abandoned because of pirate attacks on foreign ships, particularly attacks on vessels involved in the opium trade. The worst incident took place on February 7, 1847 in Shenhu 深滬 Bay, approximately 60 km from Amoy. Two ships belonging to a British firm were attacked by Cantonese pirates. The

69 70

71 72

Lin Qiyuan 林啟彦 and Zhu Yiyi 朱益宜 (Hong Kong: Zhongwen daxue chubanshe, 2003), 142. DXHJL, 63. William D. Bernard, Narrative of the Voyages and Services of the Nemesis, from 1840 to 1843; and of the Combined Naval and Military Operations in China, vol. 2 (London, Henry Colburn, 1844), 124, 134. FO228/71, Layton to Davis, No. 63, July 24, 1847. FO228/98, Layton to Bonham, No. 13, June 9, 1849.

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opium and the proceeds on board were plundered, and more than thirty crewmembers were murdered.73 Some Qing officials were suspected of having been involved in the incident. Perhaps because of their collusion, the Qing investigation into this matter made little headway. Consequently, the British decided to employ their own warships to suppress the pirates in the vicinity of Amoy. In March 1847, in an attempt to suppress the pirates around Amoy, the sloop, HMS Scout, seized three pirate ships and captured eighty-nine men. Eighty-six of the captives were handed over to the Qing government, of whom eighty were sentenced to be beheaded. This suppression of the pirates was welcomed by the merchants and citizens of Amoy.74 Local Qing officials also repeatedly expressed their gratitude.75 In 1848, the British Admiralty became aware of the outrages perpetrated by the pirates along the Chinese coast. The reports that reached its ears decided it to change its policy, and instead of the previous ad hoc measures, it recommended the consistent suppression of pirates in collaboration with the British consuls and Qing officials. Dealing with the pirates had become an officially endorsed pursuit; the suppression of any piratical activity would be rewarded by the British Exchequer.76 It would mean Britain joining continuous efforts to suppress piracy along the Fujian coast. Meanwhile, in Amoy, the alliance between local Qing officials and the Royal Navy continued to strengthen. In response to a request from the British consul, the provincial government agreed that, in cases in which the owner of a pirate ship was unidentifiable and her cargo was captured by a Royal Navy ship, the government would convert the cargo into cash and give it to the officers, men and marines of the British warship.77 The alliance between the Royal Navy and the Chinese merchants in Amoy also continued to flourish. In June 1849, HMS Pilot, that was suppressing piratical activities on the western coast of Taiwan, was able to continue her activities after following a lead obtained from a merchant junk.78 A sure sign that Chinese merchants were willing to help the British suppress pirates in the area. 73 74 75

76 77 78

Fairbank, Trade and Diplomacy, 243-46; FO228/70 Layton to Davis, no. 15, February 9, 1847. FO228/70, Layton to Davis, no. 38, March 29, 1847. FO663/52, Heng Chang, The Taotai to Layton, British Consul, DG27.6.12; FO663/52, Heng Chang to Layton, DG27.7.21; FO663/52, Heng Chang to Layton, DG27.10.28; FO663/52, Heng Chang to Layton, DG28.5.28. Fox, British Admirals, 101-05, 137. FO663/52, Heng Chang to Layton, DG27.12.29. FO228/98, Encl. No. 11 in Layton to Bonham, No. 13, June 9, 1849.

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A clear pattern had developed; the Qing officials (local civil officials and officers in the naval forces) and the merchants of Amoy forged an alliance with the Royal Navy, its object to combat the Fujianese and Cantonese pirates. Although this pattern of confrontation between the pirates and the alliance of Qing officials and merchants had existed since the end of the seventeenth century, now the involvement of the Royal Navy strengthened the official-merchant side. The impact of the Opium War might have lain behind this desire for regional cooperation: Officials and merchants in Amoy had been forced to recognize the power of the Royal Navy, while the British wanted to secure the area against piracy to ensure safe passage for their trade, making an alliance a logical development. Because the Qing government was unable to deal with the resurgent pirates on its own after the Opium War, it worked together with merchants to aid the Royal Navy based in Amoy and succeeded in both eliminating the large-scale pirate fleets along the Fujian coast by the end of the 1840s and in suppressing the pirate bands, relying on the superior skill of the seamen and the modern technology that improved the efficacy of ships and equipment. How did the Fujianese and Cantonese pirates react when they were faced with suppression by the Royal Navy? 5

Rise of the Cantonese Pirates and the End of the Pirate Era

During the first half of the 1850s, after an uprising by the Xiaodaohui 小刀會 (Small Sword Society) in Amoy in May 1853, the coastal people of Fujian and Guangdong provinces revolted in Shanghai and Guangdong. Because Fujianese and Cantonese pirates participated in these rebellions and all the revolts erupted around treaty ports, it was assumed that the forces that had been excluded from trade were now attempting to capture the treaty ports in which trade had become more concentrated. Of these revolts, the uprising of the Small Sword Society in Amoy is particularly instructive in mapping the movements of Fujianese and Cantonese pirates. The Small Sword Society in Amoy was a rebel group led by the Singaporean Chinese. These rebels occupied Amoy and formed the core of the revolt,79 that 79

For details on the Small Sword Uprising in Amoy, see Sasaki Masaya 佐々木正哉, “Kanpō san nen Amoi Shōtōkai no hanran” 咸豊三年厦門小刀会の反乱 [The revolt of the Small Sword Society in Amoy in the third year of Xianfeng], Tōyō Gakuhō 東洋学報 45, no. 4 (1963): 87-112; Huang Jiamo 黃嘉謨, “Yingren yu Xiamen Xiaodaohui shijian” 英人 與廈門小刀會事件 [British and the incident of the Small Sword Society in Amoy],

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was supplied with men and goods from Singapore and aided by piratical forces.80 The revolt depended on its sea power, that essentially consisted of Fujianese pirates. This posed a problem for the Qing government. Because the Small Sword Society rebels obtained their supplies by sea, the government made the strategic decision to impose a blockade. Aware of his fleet’s limitations, the admiral of the Qing naval force in Fujian proposed a joint attack on the rebels and a collaborative recovery of Amoy to the British consul.81 His suggestion fell on deaf ears as the Royal Navy chose to observe neutrality on the grounds the Small Sword Society did not oppose Britain. Therefore, the Qing officials had to try to end the rebellion without the Royal Navy’s assistance. As the Qing lacked the necessary naval power to expel the rebels from Amoy itself and the British were unwilling to help, the Qing turned to other measures. With their backs to the wall, the Qing naval forces chose to use west-coast boats, Cantonese pirates, to assist in quelling the revolt.82 On account of the involvement of the Cantonese pirates, the siege of Amoy made headway both on sea and on land in October. On November 11, the Small Sword Society’s fleet escaped from Amoy, that could then be occupied by the Qing army.83 Viewed from one particular angle, the defeat of the Small Sword Society can be considered a victory by the Cantonese pirates over the Fujianese pirates. After losing its base and being dispersed, the Small Sword Society faced a stark choice: Either plunder along the coast or die. Its exigencies sealed its fate because it now became a target for the Royal Navy, that had originally observed neutrality. In November 1853, immediately after the fall of Amoy, ships belonging to the Small Sword Society were deemed pirate ships and were suppressed by the Royal Navy.84 Therefore, although the Royal Navy refrained from ejecting the Small Sword Society from Amoy, it did contribute to suppressing the latter’s remaining forces before they could become a major piratical concern.

80 81 82 83 84

Zhongyang yanjiuyuan jindaishi yanjiusuo jikan 中央研究院近代史研究所集刊 7 (1978): 309-54; Murakami Ei 村上衛, Umi no kindai Chugoku: Fukkenjin no katsudo to Igrisu/Shinchō [Maritime history of modern China: Local Fujian actors and British and Chinese Empires] 海の近代中国：福建人の活動とイギリス・清朝 (Nagoya: Nagoya Dai­­gaku Shuppankai, 2013), 248-55. CM 9. 443, August 11, 1853, 130. FO663/56, Admiral She to the British Consul, XF3.5.4; FO228/155, Encl. No. 2 in Backhouse to Bonham, No. 38, June 18, 1853. FO228/155, Backhouse to Bonham, No. 60, August, 31, 1853. FO228/155, Robertson to Bonham, No. 93, November 14, 1853. FO228/155, Robertson to Bonham, No. 103, December 1, 1853.

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With the assistance of these activities, the Qing government was able to gain an advantage over the rebels, and the remnants of the Small Sword Society fled to Southeast Asia. The Fujianese pirates were finally weakened not only because of the more consistent suppression of piracy by the Royal Navy but also because of their defeat by the alliance of Qing naval forces and Cantonese pirates as well as the expansion of the latter. At this point, the influence of the Fujianese pirates, who had played a major role along the coast of China ever since the Song period, began to decline drastically. In contrast to the decline of the Fujianese pirates after the fall of Amoy, the Cantonese pirates saw a gradual increase in the power, largely attributable to their relationship with westerners after the opening of the treaty ports. The Cantonese pirates, who had maintained relations with westerners even before the opening of the treaty ports, could boast superior western technology and were supplied with western munitions. For example, the west-coast boats captured at Meizhou Island 湄洲島 in September 1858 were equipped with cannons made in Britain.85 At this point the Cantonese pirates gained undeniable superiority over other groups because of their access to advanced western equipment. The westerners did more than supply the Cantonese pirates with their technology and goods, they also sometimes sailed on Cantonese pirate ships. For instance, British and Germans were among the crew of the pirate ships suppressed off Meizhou Island in July 1860.86 This was not an isolated incident; there were many cases of Westerners sailing on such pirate ships. Moreover, there were some cases of Portuguese ships indulging in piracy alongside the west-coast boats.87 The situation became even more complex because the Cantonese pirates occasionally disguised their ships as western ships and would fly the Union Jack for this purpose.88 Because they employed these methods to disguise the nationality of their ships, they were able to some extent to avoid becoming targets of the Royal Navy. Forging a relationship with the foreigners also enabled the Cantonese pirates to secure their safety of their bases. On December, 2 1851, Yurui, the governor-general of Fujian and Zhejiang, pointed out that Macao and Hong 85 86 87 88

ADM125/3, Vansittart to Seymour, October 5, 1858. FO228/285, Encl. No. 1 in Gingell to Bruce, No. 68, September 6, 1860. Fairbank, Trade and Diplomacy, 341-42. Gerald S. Graham, The China Station: War and Diplomacy 1830-1860 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978), 284.

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Kong in Guangdong as well as Shipu 石浦 and Wenzhou 溫州 in Zhejiang, served as bases for the pirates.89 Of these locations, Macao and Hong Kong were particularly well-known lairs, and it was there that the Cantonese pirates made contact with westerners. Shipu and Wenzhou were also notable because they were situated between the treaty ports of Ningbo and Fuzhou. The dispersion of their locations meant that the Royal Navy, based in the treaty ports, was faced with a difficult task when it wanted to reach these lairs and suppress piratical activities. The situation worsened when Ningbo, itself a treaty port, became a pirate base after the opening of the treaty ports because the Qing local authorities was not equal to the task of controlling the Portuguese and Cantonese.90 Another key element in the expansion of the Cantonese pirates was their careful manipulation of their relationship with the Qing officials. The Canton­ ese pirates and the officials might have forged an alliance because many officers in the Qing naval forces in Fujian, including the admirals, were Can­ tonese. For example, Dou Chenbiao, who was originally a pirate and later served as an admiral of the Fujian naval force, that he entered in 1841, for nine years, was Cantonese.91 Zheng Gaoxiang 鄭高祥, who succeeded Dou as admiral, was from Chaozhou in Guangdong province.92 Their shared heritage might have made these officers more receptive to the prospect of cooperating with the Cantonese pirates. Consequently, the increase in the number of Cantonese in the naval force in Fujian was probably connected to the simultaneous expansion of the Cantonese pirates along the coast there. These pirates actively participated in crushing not only revolts such as that of the Small Sword Society in Amoy, discussed above, they also had a hand in putting down major insurrections like the Taiping Rebellion. Furthermore, by the beginning of the 1850s, the west-coast boats were being used in various locations as a countermeasure to piracy. In Amoy, because of the continued deterioration of the Qing naval forces, these boats were also used to suppress pirates even after the defeat of the Small Sword Society.93 The Cantonese pirates were happy to pursue their own piratical activities while helping the authorities suppress non-Cantonese pirates. To cut a long story short, the Cantonese pirates shrewdly took complete advantage of their relationships with both westerners and local Qing author­89 90 91 92 93

GZDXF, vol. 3, 473-77 (001377), 2, Memorial of Yurui 裕瑞, XF1.10.10. Fairbank, Trade and Diplomacy, 343-46. QGLDQ, vol. 2, 666. GZDXF, vol. 4, 501-02 (001916), Memorial of Ji Zhichang 季芝昌, XF2.2.21. FO228/171, Parkes to Bowring, No. 61, September 21, 1854.

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ities. As a result, they were able to establish secure bases in treaty ports and perpetrate piratical activities throughout a wide-ranging area along the coast. Needless to say, this situation could not continue as long as the Cantonese pirates suppressed other pirates with official endorsement but continued to pursue their own piratical activities. They also became quite expensive partners. According to a report by Henry Smith Parkes, a British consul, in December 1858, the crews of west-coast boats and the mixed force of Qing naval forces as well as those on the west-coast boats employed by the government were demanding almost the same amount of money from merchants.94 The inevitable conclusion has to be that the naval forces not only employed Cantonese pirates, they also acted like pirates themselves by demanding payment for protection backed by the threat of force (a protection racket). Furthermore, on February 13, 1855, Winchester, a British consulate interpreter in Amoy, was told that a squadron of west-coast boats formerly employed by the circuit intendant of Amoy had set sail eight days earlier and had captured two Taiwanese and two Quanzhou junks.95 It seems that no sooner had the Cantonese pirates been dismissed from official service than they immediately returned to piratical activities. In short, the Cantonese pirates were increasingly obstructing trade in the treaty ports. A report from the captain of a ship owned by Jardine, Matheson & Co. states that two fleets of vessels in a convoy that departed from the Gulf of Quanzhou were captured off Meizhou Island by a piratical fleet composed of heavily armed west-coast boats and Quanzhou junks.96 Against such large numbers of well-equipped opponents, it was difficult to ensure the safety of the junk trade even in groups formed into convoys. In the mid-1850s, the piratical activities of the Cantonese pirates had reached their zenith and had spun almost completely beyond the control of authorities. The Qing government, recognizing the problem but unable to tackle the pirates alone, looked for other measures. After the enthronement of the Xianfeng Emperor in March 1850, the Qing central government adopted a more anti-foreign stance, and consequently its relationship with Britain deteriorated. Consequently, the cooperation between the Royal Navy and the local Qing government was no longer reported to the Qing central government by the governor-general or the governor in Fuzhou. This situation did not necessarily deter cooperation on the local level. Even in provincial capitals such as Fuzhou and Guangzhou, local Qing authorities 94 95 96

FO228/171, Parkes to Bowring, No. 86, December 12, 1854. FO228/188, Winchester to Bowring, No. 30, February 13, 1855. JM/B7/5, Millar to JM, November 28, 1853.

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and the Royal Navy did work together. In Amoy, an alliance between local Qing authorities and merchants and the British Consul and the Royal Navy had already been formed against the pirates, as discussed above, and in the 1850s it was reinforced. The local Qing officials, unable to control the Cantonese pirates, responded positively to proposals from the British consul and Royal Navy seeking cooperation against the pirates. On March 30, 1857, when the circuit intendant of Amoy was informed that a fleet of junks carrying rice from Taiwan had been captured by west-coast boats near Amoy, he requested the dispatch of British warships to help. George Morrison, the British consul in Amoy, complied with this request, and the sloop HMS Camilla set sail to take charge of searching for and suppressing the pirates.97 This sends a clear signal that a cooperative relationship had been formed, linking Chinese merchants and British warships through local Qing officials and the British Consul. The Cantonese pirates were dealt a serious blow by this systematic cooperation between the Royal Navy and local Qing authorities. This local system then combined for the suppression of pirates in the seas off Guangdong following an alliance between the Royal Navy and local Qing authorities around Hong Kong during the mid-1850s.98 Furthermore, during the Arrow or Second Opium War, when the Royal Navy was deployed on a large scale along the coast of China, Admiral James Hope, Commander-in-Chief of the East Indies and the China Station, allowed his subordinates to suppress the pirates via the British consuls.99 All these cumulative efforts led to a decline in the activities of the Cantonese pirates during the second half of the 1850s. In 1860, the Qing forces expelled the Cantonese pirates from the vicinity of Fuzhou because the former had clashed there with the local Fujianese.100 Then, on November 19, 1860, a fleet of west-coast boats tried to invade Fuzhou but were defeated and suffered great losses.101 This series of defeats and humiliations sealed the decline and marked the end of the golden age of Cantonese pirates in the coastal area of Fujian. Subsequently, although Cantonese pirates remained active along the coast of Guangdong and Zhejiang, Royal Navy suppression expanded. In June 1860, HMS Encounter, with other British ships, French warships, and the Qing army, 97 98 99 100 101

FO228/233, Morrison to Bowring, No. 20, April 3, 1857. Graham, The China Station, 285-86. ADM1/5735, Hope to ADM (Paget), No. 254, December 27, 1859. GZDXF, vol. 26, 107-9 (012597), Memorial of Qingrui 慶瑞, XF10.6.25. GZDXF, vol. 27, 660-63 (013345), Memorial of Qing Rui XF11.10.24;” FO228/289 Incl. 1 in Medhurst to Bruce, No. 95, November 23, 1860.

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attacked Cantonese pirates assembled in Zhoushan and burned 200 junks.102 During the first half of the 1860s, Cantonese pirates’ activities in Zhejiang were also suppressed. Thereafter, although some piratical activity did continue in Guangdong, large-scale Cantonese pirate groups had virtually disappeared from the seas. The activities of the Royal Navy had a large beneficial influence on the regional order. It became critically important that British warships be anchored in treaty ports because they were a substantial deterrent to pirates. In fact, the pirates did not even attempt to capture Amoy when a warship was stationed there, realizing it would have been an impossible task. A naval presence ensured the security of the treaty port of Amoy. The presence of the Royal Navy meant that pirates were unable to disrupt trade by foreign ships in the treaty ports. Ships involved in the opium trade moved to the treaty ports and their neighboring areas, thereby establishing a concentration of foreign vessel trade in the treaty ports. This signaled the end of the decentralization of trade in southern Fujian, which had begun at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Although the treaty ports provided safe-havens, the pirates who attacked Chinese junks in the vicinity of Amoy had not yet been eliminated. Because the Royal Navy could only suppress piratical activities on the high seas and could not encroach on the territorial waters of China, the Qing government was responsible for maintaining public peace in its territorial waters. A report by the British consul Morrison in May 1859 indicates that the depredations of piratical villages continued unchecked. Local Qing authorities had asked the consul to cooperate in suppressing this piracy, but he declined because the Royal Navy was not permitted to pursue its activities in “inland seas.”103 Despite all the efforts of the Qing and British alike, the suppression of piracy was far from complete. The question that now arises is why the Qing local authorities did not do more to eliminate the pirates around Amoy. Simply put, once the trade in the treaty ports had been stabilized and become concentrated there, the rebellion suppressed, and the Cantonese pirates restrained, these small-scale pirates no longer posed any great threat to local Qing authorities in Amoy. Consequently, they were content to tolerate these pirates to some degree as a local nuisance. Finally, by the end of the 1850s, the Qing government was able to restore public order in southern Fujian, in some ways analogous to the order established at the end of the seventeenth century. This was accomplished by 102 103

ADM1/5790, Incl. in Hope to Paget, No. 409, October 24, 1862. FO228/265, Morrison to Bruce No. 6, May 30, 1859.

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concentrating trade in Amoy and employing various methods to eradicate large-scale piracy. It was difficult for the Qing authorities to intervene any more deeply in local matters because they had insufficient military forces to back them up. Furthermore, at this point in time the priority of the suppression of pirates was quite low. The Qing Empire was now having to confront major rebellions that threatened the stability of the state as a whole. Although there was a time lag, similar restorations of public order were achieved in other treaty ports after the 1860s. The Qing government was obliged to cooperate with Britain in suppressing piracy because of the Treaty of Tianjing (Tientsin) and the Convention of Beijing that concluded the Arrow War. The terms of this treaty can be understood as a ratification of the ongoing cooperation between local Qing authori­ties and the British on the local level as they existed in Amoy, and the expansion of this system of cooperation to all treaty ports. During the 1860s, the age of pirates, that had begun at the end of the eighteenth century in the coastal areas of South China, came to an end, succumbing to the increasingly effective suppression of large-scale piratical activities. The centralization of trade and the development of the system based on the Foreign Inspectorate of Customs in the treaty ports ushered the coastal area in a new age. At the same time, the British Royal Navy acted with more restraint. After 1868, Britain began to rein in British military intervention104 and after 1869 the number of overseas stations was reduced.105 However, just at this juncture, in 1868, as the construction of China’s first steam gunboat at the Jiangnan Arsenal and Dockyard illustrates, the modern Chinese navy had begun to take shape.106 This development gave the Qing government the capacity to restore order in the coastal areas of China on its own. The new order forged in this process was more stable than that of the early Qing period, mainly because of the technological superiority of the modern naval forces and the introduction of the maritime customs system.

104 105

106

Fox, British Admirals, 67. Peter Burroughs, “Defense and Imperial Disunity,” in The Oxford History of the British Empire III, The Nineteenth Century, ed. Andrew Porter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 332-33. On the Chinese Steam Navy, see Richard N.J. Wright, The Chinese Steam Navy 1862-1945 (London: Chatam Publishing, 2000).

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Conclusion

Pirates in the late Qing period obviously influenced the economic conditions in the coastal areas and, conversely, the rise and fall of piratical activity was in turn influenced by economic changes. The pirates whose depredations had a negative effect on trade were constantly confronted by the Qing government and merchants. This dichotomy became more complicated after the treaty ports opened, when foreign powers such as Britain began to get involved, bolstering the strength of the side of the Qing government and merchants. During the early nineteenth century, the Qing government itself suppressed piracy in cooperation with the Macao authorities. Britain (the East India Company) had no influence on the suppression of the pirates at that time. However, the power of the Qing naval forces declined during the First Opium War, after which they were no longer in a position to control piracy. This situation was relieved by the arrival of the British Royal Navy. After the late 1840s, the Qing government was able to suppress the Fujianese and Cantonese pirates by resorting to the power of the British fleet. Thereafter, the Qing government accomplished the restoration and reorganization of order in the coastal area with the assistance of the Royal Navy, a move that represented lesser financial burden than that needed to pacify the Chinese pirates. After the early nineteenth century, Britain itself began to suppress piracy in the coastal areas around the South China Sea. Recent studies regard this protection of trade routes by the British Empire as part of an offer of international public goods. However, it is imperative to recognize another aspect of this development: The Royal Navy increasingly served as a substitute for the local authorities in the suppression of piracy. As discussed in this chapter, this influenced trade relations and the situation on the local level, while the new order that emerged not only strengthened the Qing government but also transformed the roles of people living in the coastal regions. ADM125 COT

DAM

Abbreviations (Historical Sources) Great Britain Admiralty, China Station. The National Archives, Kew, UK. Jin Guoping and Wu Zhiliang ed. Correspondência oficial trocada entre as autoridades de Cantão e os procuradores do senado: Funo das chapas sinicas em Português. Macau: Fundação Macau, 2000. Documentação Avulsa de Macau. Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, Lisboa, Portugal.

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Zhang Jixin 張集馨. Dao Xian huanhai jianwen lu 道咸宦海見聞錄 [The record of the official world during the Daoguang and Xianfeng reigns]. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1981. FO Foreign Office Archives, the National Archives, Kew, UK. GZDQL Gongzhongdang Qianglong chao zouzhe 宮中檔乾隆朝奏摺 [Secret palace memorials of the Qianlong Period], 75 vols. Taipei: National Palace Museum, 1982-1988. GZDJQ Gongzhongdang Jiaqingchao zouzhe 宮中檔嘉慶朝奏摺 [Secret palace memorials of the Jiaqing Period]. National Palace Museum. Taipei, Repub­ lic of China. GZDDG Gongzhongdang Daoguangchao zouzhe 宮中檔道光朝奏摺 [Secret pal­ace memorials of the Daoguang period]. National Palace Museum. Taipei, Republic of China. GZDXF Gongzhongdang Xianfengchao zouzhe 宮中檔咸豐朝奏摺 [Secret palace memorials of the Xianfeng period]. National Palace Museum, Taipei, Republic of China. IOR India Office Records, British Library, London, UK. JJDLFZZ Junjichu dang’an lufu zouzhe 軍機處檔案錄副奏摺 [The record book of the Grand Council copied vermillion rescript memorials]. The First Historical Archives of China. Beijing, People’s Republic of China. JM The Jardine Matheson Archives, University Library, Cambridge, UK. MQAWDW Mingqing shidai Aomen wenti dang’an wenxian huibian 明清時代澳門問題 檔案文獻匯編 [Documents related Macao in the Ming-Qing period]. Beijing: Renmin chubanshe, 1999. MQSLGB Mingqing shiliao geng bian 明清史料庚編 [Histori­cal materials from the Ming and Qing periods: 7th set]. 10 vols. Taipei: Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica, 1960. NWYGZY Na Yencheng 那彦成. Nawenyi gong zou yi 那文毅公奏議 [Memorials of Nayencheng]. 80 vols. Compiled by Rong’an 容安, 1830. QAZD Fang Liu 劉芳 and Wenqin Zhang 章文欽, ed. Putaoya Dongpota dang’anguan cang Qingdai Aomen Zhongwen dang’an huibian 葡萄牙東波 塔檔案館藏清代澳門中文檔案彙編 [Collecção de documentos sínicas do IAN/TT referentes a Macau durante a dinastia Qing]. Macau: Fundação Macau, 1999. QGLDQ Qin Guojing 秦國經 ed. Qingdai guanyuan Lilli dang’an quanbian 清代官 員履歷檔案全編 [Entire archives about personal history of officials during the Qing period]. 30 vols. Shanghai: Huadong shifan daxue chubanshe, 1997. DXHJL

The Suppression of Pirates in the China Seas YZDS

ZPZZCZ

ZPZZJW

231

The First Historical Archives of China ed. Yapian zhanzheng dang’an shiliao 鴉片戰爭檔案史料 [The collection of the archives on the Opium War]. 7 vols. Tianjin: Tianjin guji chubanshe 1992. Gongzhong zhupi zouzhe caizhenglei 宮中硃批奏摺財政類 [Vermillion rescript memorials, finance]. The First Historical Archives of China. Beijing, People’s Republic of China. Gongzhong zhupi zouzhe junwulei 宮中硃批奏摺軍務類 [Vermillion rescript memorials, military]. The First Historical Archives of China. Beijing, People’s Republic of China.



Abbreviations (Era Names of the Qing)

S KX YZ QL JQ DG XF TZ GX XT

Shunzhi 順治 (1644-1661) Kangxi 康熙 (1662-1722) Yongzheng 雍正 (1723-1735) Qianlong 乾隆 (1736-1795) Jiaqing 嘉慶 (1796-1820) Daoguang 道光 (1821-1850) Xianfeng 咸豐 (1851-1861) Tongzhi 同治 (1862-1874) Guangxu 光緒 (1875-1908) Xuantong 宣統 (1909-1911)

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Conclusion

Conclusion Ota Atsushi In the Introduction I raised several questions about antipiracy campaigns and state sovereignty in early-modern Europe and Asia. Now it is the time to return to them bearing in mind the arguments in the preceding chapters. The First Part has dealt with privateering and the state politics that advocated the abolition of privateering in Europe. By the early eighteenth century European states had established a common legal framework to control privateering. Within (and sometimes beyond) this framework, states, whether European or Maghribi, remained actively involved in “premodern” privateering in the Mediterranean until the 1820s, usually considered the “modern” era. As private business and state diplomacy were inextricably intermingled, consuls and merchants mediated international relationships, sometimes re­sorting to violence, without necessarily adhering to the instructions of their governments. In Britain, an aggressive type of free trade policy, supported by com­mercial and industrial interests contributed to the abolition of privateering in 1856. This process went in parallel with the suppression of indigenous maritime raiding in Asia. The Second Part has discussed antipiracy campaigns in the Asian seas. In the early-nineteenth century Persian Gulf, British officials called the Qawāsimi pirates as an excuse to mount naval expeditions against them, because the latter were in the process of being integrated into the powerful Wahhabist/Suʿūd, and they were in conflict with the Āl Bū Saʿīd, a clash in which Britain became reluctantly involved. In Northwest India at the turn of the nineteenth century, the English East India Company was not keen to suppress piracy, although local states were poised to take steps to deal with it. In early-nineteenth century West Kalimantan, the Dutch authorities declared the suppression of piracy, making it one of the goals of their colonial rule, but in fact they collaborated with a local ex-pirate leader to tackle with piracy. In the Philippine Islands, the Spanish suppressed piracy rigorously, and it was the deportation of ex-pirate members to inland areas that finally brought the suppression to an end. The Third Part has discussed antipiracy politics in East Asia. In Japan, the Toyotomi regime took steps to curb piracy as early as the late sixteenth century, while its successor, the Tokugawa regime, established the maritime control system that strictly prohibited piracy in the early seventeenth century. In China, after the Opium War the Qing government relied heavily on the British

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Royal Navy, first to suppress pirates and later to maintain political and commercial order in the coastal areas. From these diverse and complicated developments, we can draw the following conclusions. Firstly, as is shown in the Mediterranean, European state diplomacy was not fully separated from private commercial interests until the early nineteenth century; a situation that made it difficult to enact a state monopoly of violence in the form of the abolition of privateering. Therefore, in this sense state sovereignty was still being contested in the emerging modern nation-states in early nineteenth-century Europe. Secondly, as the cases in the Persian Gulf and Northwest India indicate, the Europeans were not particularly concerned about tackling local piracy, at least in the early phases of their presence in Asia. Thirdly, the cases in the Persian Gulf and West Kalimantan make it clear that the European authorities sometimes created pirates simply by designating particular groups as such. By this subterfuge, when they carried out military actions against them Europeans were able to avoid the responsibility entailed in a formal war. Hence, the existence of piracy gave some European states a good excuse to pursue their expansionistic, free trade imperialism policy, and to justify their colonial rule, under the guise of the battle against piracy. Fourthly, as the cases of the British and Dutch antipiracy campaigns in Asia indicate, the decision as to who were pirates was arbitrary and contingent upon local political situations. Basically, the rivals of and/or obstacles to the colonial authorities were chosen to be dismissed as pirates. Fifthly, the majority of the European antipiracy campaigns in Asia were not launched in a clear dichotomy structure like Europe vs. Asia or state vs. non-state. The case of West Kalimantan has indicated that the Dutch authorities were not able to carry out effective antipiracy campaigns owing to their limited resources, as a result of which their antipiracy practices were a mixture of the objectives of colonial states, an ex-pirate leader, who was first incorporated into the Dutch Navy and later raised to the rank of sultan, and local rulers of indigenous states. Sixthly, the deportation of ex-pirates was the most effective measure to exterminate piracy, as shown by what happened in Tokugawa Japan and the Spanish Philippines. Consequently antipiracy politics did not end in a flourish of arms, but entailed long-term follow-up policies. Reviewing these points, it is difficult to support the pervasive idea that the norm of the responsibility of the state to quash piracy was formed in Europe and was transmitted to areas beyond it. European states did not put the antipiracy norm fully in practice until the early nineteenth century. It would seem that they did cast antipiracy politics in a firmer mold as a result of their experiences of their rather arbitrary antipiracy campaigns in Asia.

234

Ota

Turning to the issue of state sovereignty and the state monopoly of violence, the cases in Japan and China provide interesting points of discussion. One important factor behind the antipiracy politics of the Toyotomi and Tokugawa regimes in Japan seems to have been the fact that the legitimacy of their rule rested on their claim to be a unifier of the state. Military supremacy was therefore crucial to their legitimacy and consequently they did not admit non-state violence that might have threatened state unification and hence their legitimacy.1 The upshot was that Japan under the Toyotomi and Tokugawa regimes unswervingly pursued a state monopoly of violence, although it was not a nation-state in the modern European sense. In China, the use of foreign military power to quash domestic opponents had been a long-standing tradition, although it had often led to the collapse of dynasties in Chinese history. The Qing government, however, successfully maintained its authority for more than half a century, because the British authorities lacked the will to threaten the authority of the central government. The British concentrated on establishing their trade bases in the coastal area because the large China market was attractive enough without military conquest and political rule. The latter must have seemed unrealistic given the vastness of China. For these reasons, the lack of capability in the Qing government to suppress piracy did not become a problem for its sovereignty. Therefore, the antipiracy politics in China did not emerge from any anxiety about state sovereignty in relation to a state monopoly of violence, as was the case in Europe and Japan. The presence and patrol­ling of the British Navy near the coast was not an issue of sovereignty in China, as it would have been to modern nation-states.2 Nevertheless, the Qing government seems to have become more aware of a potential threat from the British Navy and therefore tactically pursued a diplomatic path that would keep British influence away from the central government. As a result, the Qing government, backed up by the military power of the British Navy, successfully stabilized the authority of the central government. 1 Arano Yasunori has argued that the Toyotomi and Tokugawa regimes claimed Japan’s military supremacy even in East Asia in order to emphasize the legitimacy of their rule of Japan. They did so by creating an imaginary “Japanocentric international order” in East Asia. Arano Yasunori, “The Formation of Japanocentric World Order,” International Journal of Asian Studies 2, no. 2 (2005): 206-08. 2 Okamoto Takashi has argued that China became aware of the issue of sovereignty in the early twentieth century through the diplomatic negotiations with Russia and Britain over rights to Outer Mongolia and Tibet respectively. Okamoto Takashi 岡本隆司, Chugoku no tanjo: Higashi Ajia no kindai gaiko to kokka keisei 中国の誕生：東アジアの近代外交と国家形 成 [The birth of China: International relations and formation of a nation in modern East Asia] (Nagoya: Nagoya Daigaku Shuppankai, 2017), 353-80.

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As discussed so far, the development of and factors behind antipiracy politics in the different areas under study were diverse, but it is still possible to point out that they did have a shared relationship with a new phase of statebuilding and/or a new international relationship. In Europe, the state monopoly of maritime violence was important to modern nation-state building of its component countries. Free trade imperialism also marked a new phase in imperialism, buttressing state use of naval power outside Europe, in order to remove obstacles to trade, typically maritime plunder. In Northwest India and West Kalimantan, indigenous states were actively involved in antipiracy campaigns in order to stake their initiative role in the local politics to counter the English East India Company and to create a better relationship with the Dutch authorities under the latter’s expanding influence. In Japan, the Toyotomi and Tokugawa regimes established a more centralized state authority than before, and in China the Qing government stabilized its central authority as a consequence of its new relationship with the British. Piracy was the form of violence that proved extremely difficult for states to control and therefore, when states dared to tackle with piracy, it was often when they were progressing toward a new idea in their process of state-building, either intentionally or unintentionally. As these developments evolved, various European and Asian, and state and non-state agents involved in antipiracy politics became more aware of the state monopoly of violence and state sovereignty through their conflicts and negotiations. The result was the emergence of a “modern” antipiracy norm, that also impacted on the emergence of the new international order in Asia in the period under study (in the case of Japan, a new national order in its territory and territorial waters). The new norm was not the imposition of a European concept but a result of intermingled negotiations and compromises between European and Asian agents on different levels. In this way antipiracy politics in Europe and Asia became more strongly interconnected and they impacted on each other more strongly than has been previously argued. The number of antipiracy campaigns rose remarkably after the period under study, boosted by more organized state control and refining of international law, advanced technology, and international cooperation. However, piracy still obviously exists in many places in the world. As easier access to high-tech weapons and transportation has made the global movement of piracy easier, a successful antipiracy campaign in one place soon leads to the removal or dispersion of piracy to other locations. The lesson of history is, as surveyed here, that as long as there are states lacking in the capacity and/or the will to exert effective maritime control, and there are people who will continue to enjoy profitable clandestine business because of deficient maritime control, piracy will be a never-ending story.

236

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Index Index

261

Index 1587 Edict 180-183, 197, see also piracy prohibition edicts 1588 Edict 171-172, 174, 178, 183, 197, see also piracy prohibition edicts 1820 General Peace Treaty 69-70, 75 Abū Ẓabī 90 acts British Parliament Act of 1759 54 American Act 50 Bounty Act of 1825 63 Cruisers and Convoy Act 50 Prize Act of 1649 49 Admiralty courts 51, 63 High Court of Admiralty 49-51, 64 Vice Admiralty Court 49, 64 Aki province 190-191 Aki Takehara 185-186, 190 Āl Bū Saʿīd 76, 83, 86-90, 93, 95, 233 ʿAlī b. Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb 93 Aleppo 38 Algeria 19-41 Amoy 201, 206, 218-228 Angrias 100, 114 Ankokuji Ekei 175, 191 Annan 201 Antequera, Juan 160 Aoki Rihei 189 Arrow War 226, 228, see also Second Opium War Asano Nagayoshi (Nagamasa) 180, 182-184 Bacri, David 35-39 Balangingi Samal 12, 144, 166 Balearic Islands 25 Bandar-e ʿAbbās 85, 87 Bandar-e Būshehr 77-78, 80, 88, 92, 95 Bangka 127-128, 131-133 bansho 178, 188, 193, see also checkpoint Banū Khālid 86, 90 Banū Maʿīn 86 al-Baṣra 77, 86, 89, 90 Balangingi 143, 145-147, 151-158, 165-167 Deportados 154

exile to Echague 154 exile to Luzon 153-154, 166 Balangingi Island 153 destruction 153 Barbary 6, 19n1 Barlow, George Hilaro 210-211 Batavia 118, 120-123, 126-128, 131-135, 138, 141 Bate 99, 106-107, 111-112, see also Okha or Okhamandal Batin Galang 134 Battle of Lepanto 21n9, 22 Battle of Sekigahara 190-191, 197 Beijing 116, 201, 209, 228 Belitung 130 Bengal 210 Bermejo, Fr. Julian – anti-piracy activities 148-149 Beylerbeyi 20, 21n7, 22, 31 Bhavnagar 99, 102-106 Bicchu province 184, 191 Biddulph, John 100 Bingo province 171, 184, 191 birds’ nests 117, see also trade Bitchin, Ali 31-32 blockade runners 159 Cowie, William 159 Shomburg, Carl 159 Bombay 98, 100, 102, 104 Diaries 73, 78, 87, 92-93, 95-96 Gazette 92 Government 69, 78, 87, 93-95, 102, 104, 112 Marine 69, 100-101, 104, 107 border 15, 129, 136-137, 140-141 British 8-9, 11, 13, 15, 117, 119-121, 124, 126, 130, 233-236 Admiralty 49n19 country trader 117, 143, 210-213, see also country trader Governor-General of the Presidency of Fort William 210-211, 213 Empire 59-60, 119 international public goods 229 Royal Navy 10-11, 13, 47, 50, 53-54, 199-201, 211, 213, 219-229, 233-235

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004361485_013

262 Brooke, James 62, 155-156 Bugis 117-118, 120, 122-123, 125-126, 138, 140, 143 Bungo Channel 186 Bungo Mori 191-192, 197 Busnach, Naphtali 35 Buzen province 184-185 Cai Qian 200, 205, 207 Canton 117, 208, 210-211, 213-214, 216-219, 221-227, 229, see also Guangzhou Factory 210 trade 210, 212 Catholic Rebellion of Amakusa and Shimabara 174, 193 checkpoint 172, 178, 180, 188-189, 193, 197-198, see also bansho Chikugo province 181, 184-185 Chikuzen Kafuri 185 Chikuzen province 181, 184-186, 197 China 116-119, 143, 145, 159, 183, 187, 190, 199-219, 221-223, 226-228, 235 expedition to 210-211, 213-214 Chinese 116, 121, 181, 190, 193, 199-202, 204-217, 219-229 traders 117, 143, 202, 207, 220, 226 Christian 20-25, 35-37, 150, 154, 166, 172, 174, 194 Christianity 12, 165 prohibition of 193 civil law 51, 64 civilizing mission 7, see also mission of civilization Chôsokabe family 177 Chugoku 175, 180, 186 Clavería, Narcisco 152-154 coastal defences 149, 218, 228-229 Cobden, Richard 56-57, 57n42, 61, 62n50, 65 Coelho, P. Gaspar 179 Colbert, Jean-Baptiste 37 Coleridge, Samuel T. 69 colonial rivalry 164 Spain, Britain, Germany 164 commodities 143, 145, 167, 221-222, see also trade Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle 39 contraband 6, 51, 53, 54n31, 56, 57n41, 57n42, 203 contrabandistas 150, 167

Index Convention of Beijing 228 Cooleys 100, 102 corsair 19n2, 25-29, see also pirates and privateers country trader 143, 210-213, see also British country trader Cowie, William 159, see also blockade runners Cowls 101, 108 Crimean War 56-58, 58n45 Cutch 98, 108-109, 113, see also Kutch daimyo 171-172, 174-175, 177-179, 183-191, 193-194, 196-198, see also feudal lord Declaration of Paris 6, 40, 43, 45, 57, 57n41, 57n42, 58, 59n45, 65, see also Paris Declaration Respecting Maritime Law deserter 178, 188-189, 197 Deval, Pierre 39 Dey 33n5, 35, 38-41 Dôgo 177, 185-186 Dongning kingdom 203, see also Taiwan drogman (dragoman) 37 Du Bus de Gisignies, Léonard 135 Durgen Gronovius, van der 134 Dutch 115, 119-121, 124, 126-142, 174, 193, 203, 233-234, 236 East India Company 64n55, 115, 127-128, see also VOC Dwarka 99, 101, 108, see also Okha or Okhamandal Eba Jima (island) 190 Edo (Tokyo) 184-185 EIC 12, 72, 77, 86, 88, 201, 209-214, 216, see also English East India Company English East India Company 12-13, 72, 97-106, 112-114, 117, 143, 201, 210-214, 216, 229, 232, 235, see also EIC Ezo (Hokkaido) 175, 187 fast crab boat 216 ferman 30 feudal lord 3, 5, 13, 135, 171, 192, 196, 198, see also daimyo fishermen 85, 171, 176, 190, 197, 201, 204, 216-217 Foreign Inspectorate of Customs 204, 228 Fourth Anglo-Dutch War 119

263

Index France 26, 30, 35, 37-41, 43, 46n11, 53-58, 55n33, 211, 213 Francis, E.A. 136 “free ships, free goods” 53, 56-57 free trade 12, 15, 60-62, 65, 233 for Cobden 61 Imperialism of Free Trade 59-61, 234, 236 French warships 226 Fujian 200-208, 215, 217-226 Governor of 225 Governor-general of Fujian and Zhejiang 218, 223, 225 maritime custom 205-206 Southern 202-203, 217 Fujianese 202-203, 217, 219, 221-223, 226, 229 Fuzhou 206, 224-226 fudaura 178 Fukabori Sumimasa 181 Fukaboris 181 Fukushima Masanori 178, 182-183, 191 Gaekwad 98 Galata 37 Gayong 119, 135 gold 122 goshi (upper-class samurai) 194, 196-198 Grotius, Hugo 28 Guangdong 201, 204-205, 207-208, 215, 217, 221, 224, 226-227 authorities 200, 208-210, 213-215 Governor-general of Guangdong and Guangxi 207, 209 Guangzhou 117, 201, 225, see also Canton Gujarat 98-99, 102, 105 Gusti Bandar 121-123 Hakata 172, 183 Hall, William Edward 1 Hanseong (Seoul) 187 hanshi (upper-class samurai) 194, 198 Hartman, C. L. 120, 132 Hasan Paşa 22 Hayreddin Paşa 21-22 Hirado 202 Hizen Nagoya 189 Hızır, see Hayreddin Paşa Hong Kong 224, 226

hostis humani generis 23 İbrahim Paşa 95 imperialism 59-61 Indian Ocean 52, 88, 97, 102, 199 “individual enmity” 55-56 Indochina 199, 204 In’noshima Murakami family 191-192 international law 1, 6, 236 Iranun 12, 119, 143-152, 154-156, 165-167 Ishida Mitsunari 191, 197 Itsuki Island 171 Iyo Nada 184 Iyo province 171, 175-179, 184-187, 191, 194-197 Janissaries 40, see also ocak Japanese 13, 174, 179, 181, 187, 189-190, 200, 202-203 bandits, see Wokou Jardine, Matheson & Co. 225 Jesuit 179 Johor 119, 124-125, 138-140 Jolo 143-145, 148, 151, 155-164, 166-167 Kaminoseki 188 Karimata Islands 119, 128-130, 132, 134-136 Kato Yoshiaki 189, 191 Kazahaya county 175, 184 kenchi 175-176, 178, 184, 197 Kendawangan 119 Ketapang 119 Kinki (Kansai) 174-175 Kloek, Nicolaas 122 Knights Hospitalers, see Order of St John Kobayakawa family, Kobayakawas 171, 178, 184-185 Kobayakawa Takakage 175-178, 182-186, 190 Kokura 192-193 Kôno family, Kônos 177, 185-187, 191 Kôno Michinao 177, 185-186 Korea 187-190 the Japanese invasion of 178, 187-191, 197 Koxinga 203, see also Zheng Chenggong Kuku 31 Kulugli 34 kuniokimoku, see punishment orders and shiokirei Kuroda Takataka 176, 189 Kurodas 189

264 Kurose Castle 177, 187 Kurushima Castle 179 Kurushima Channel 177 Kurushima family, Kurushimas 178, 180 Kurushima Michifusa 175, 179 Kurushima Yasuchika 191-192, 197 Kutch 98, 108, 112 Kyoto 175, 188 Kyushu 175, 177, 180-181, 183-186, 191, 193, 197 the division of 180, 182-183, 185 La Calle 38 Labuan Trading Company 159 Landak 122 Latin America 52n27, 60 laws of Oléron 51, 51n24 League of Armed Neutrality 54 Lesbos 21 lettre de marque (letter of marque) 23, 49, 58 Leyden, John 124 Libya 19, 21-22 Lin Zexu 217 Lingding 201, 216 Lingga 119-121, 124, 126, 137-139, 141 Livorno 35 London 28, 143, 156, 164 Louis XIII 38 Louis XIV 27n32 Louis XVI 28 Lyden, John 124 Macao 13, 201, 208-216, 223-224, 229 Chinese 209, 215 government 208-210, 213-215, 229 Maghribi 10, 19-41, 233 Mainwaring, Henry 24 Malay 7, 9, 12, 62-63, 115-122, 124-126, 128, 130-132, 140-141 traders 117 Mami Arnault 22 Manchester School 56-57, 60, 62, 65 Manila 48, 143, 148, 150-151, 153-157, 159-167 Maratha 98-99, 103-105, 113 chiefs 99 Marseille 23 Masqaṭ 78n37, 85, 89 Masuda Nagamori 182-183

Index Matan 118, 121-124, 129, 134-136 Mediterranean 8, 10, 19-41, 51n24, 233-234 Melilla 21 Mempawa 120-122, 126 mercenary 1, 3 Mill, James 56 Ming 2, 5, 187 dynasty 2, 5, 190, 194, 202-203, 205 mission of civilization 12, see also civilizing mission Môri family, the Môris 177-178, 180, 184-187, 190-193, 198 Môri Terumoto 175, 180, 184, 186, 193 Morisco 25 Moro 12, 143, 147, 150, see also Iranun and Balangingi mother of pearl, see trade – pearl shell Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Wahhāb 93 Lamʿ al-shihāb fī sīra 93 Müller, Georg 120, 122-123, 129, 133, 136 Muntinghe, Herman Warner 127-128, 130-133 Murakami family, Murakamis 174, 177-178, 180, 182-189, 191-193, 197-198 Murakami Kagechika 192-193 Murakami Mototake 192-193 Murakami Motoyoshi 177-179, 182-183, 185, 190-191, 197 Murakami Takemitsu 186 Murakami Takeyoshi 177-179, 185, 188, 190 Mushi Castle 177-178 Nagasaki 174, 181, 202 Nagato province 191 Najd 78, 84, 86, 90, see also Nujd Nakato Castle 177-178 Napoleonic Wars 54-55, 63, 119, 128, 211 Napollon, Sanson 38 Nation the capitalized singular 40-41 nation-state 1, 7, 14-15, 44, 128, 234, 236 Nguyễn dynasty 204 Nii Ôshima Island 178 Nine Years War 52 Ningbo 200, 224 non-state violence 1, 5, 7, 14, 44-45, 52, 235 Norzagaray, Governor General 157 Noshima Castle 179 Noshima Island 177

265

Index Noshima Murakami family 177, 179, 182, 191-192, see also Murakami family Nujd, see Najd obanshu (watch-house officials) 189 ocak 31-34 Okha chiefs 103, 108 Okhamandal 99, 101-103, 106-107, 109, 113-114 Oda Nobunaga 174-175 Opium War 13, 233 First 200, 208, 213, 217-219, 221, 229 Second 226 Oran 21 Orang Laut 122, 134 Order of St John 21, 24 Order of Saint Stephen 24 Osaka 176, 182-183, 185 Castle 176, 191 Ôshimaura 178 Ôtomos 185 Ôtsu (Ôsu) Castle 184, 195 Palembang 127, 131 Palmerston, see Temple, Henry John Paris 28 Paris Declaration Respecting Maritime Law 40, see also Declaration of Paris Palmerston, see Temple, Henry John Parkes, Henry Smith 225 Paterno, Satiago (anti-piracy strategy) 159-160 Pax Britannica 70, 74 Pearl River Delta 208-210, 214 pepper 117 Pérotin-Dumon, Anne 2, 7, 45 Persian Gulf 11, 80, 82, 84-91, 94-95, 233-234 Philippine Islands 233-234 piracy as a political label 45, 63 Dutch perception of 122-124, 126, 140 in the European legal context 44, 46 local perception of 125-126, 139 prohibition edicts 13, 171, 180-181, 183, 193, 197-198, see also 1587 Edict and 1588 Edict suppression of 6-7, 11-12, 15, 127, 129, 136-137, 139-141, 233, 235 in Europe 52

in Southeast Asia 61-63 pirates “Abadella Ben Ahmed” 79 Cantonese 217, 219, 222-227, 229 Chanchia 79 Ladrones 199, 210 protection fee 205 “Rehma ben Jaber,” see “Shaikh Rehma,” Raḥmah b. Jābir 79 Sweedee 78, 86 Uttobee 78 Pontianak 118-120, 122-124, 126, 128, 131-134 Portuguese 13, 15, 174, 179, 181, 193, 208, 210, 213, 217 Empire 208 prahus 12, 123, 131, 133, 135, 145, 147-148, 151, 154, 156-158, 160-162 privateering 1, 4-6, 10-11, 233 abolition of 6, 10, 40-42, 57-58, 58n45, 62, 233-234 characteristics of 49-52 definition of 43, 43n2, 46, 46n11 role of 47-48 privateers 5 Jacobite 52 Protocol of 1877 164 prizes 46, 48-51, 64 punishment orders 175-177, see also shiokirei Qawāsim (Sing. Qāsim) 11-12, 69-74, 77, 80-82, 84-91, 93, 95, 232, see also “Joasmee” al-Qāsimī, Sulṭān Muḥammad 71 Qing 2, 10, 14, 117, 199-201, 203-205, 208-210, 212, 216-217, 222-223, 225, 227-229, 233 central government 13, 15, 200, 203, 206-207, 209-210, 213, 216, 220, 225, 227-228, 235-236 local authorities 200, 206-210, 213-216, 220-228 naval forces 199, 215, 217-219, 222-226, 229 Quanzhou 201, 225 Quasi-War 55n33 Raffles, Thomas Stanford 120 Raja Akil 127, 130-136, 141 Raja Ali 118, 121-124, 139 Raja Ali Haji Ibn Ahmad 123

266 Raja Haji 118, 139 Raja Jaʾafar 120 raja muda 118, 141 Raja Muda Raja Abdul Rahman 139 Raja Musa 130 Raja Orang Timer Datu Sankus 134 Raja Solong 133-134 ransom 210, 214 Raʾs al-Khaymah 11, 80-83, 85, 88, 91-93, 95 rattan 117 reprisals 43n2 Reteh 134, 137 Riau 115, 117-121, 123-125, 137-139, 141 Roberts, John William 210, 213-214 “Rule of the War of 1756” 53-54, 54n31 Ryukyu (Okinawa) 175, 187 Ryûzôji family, the Ryûzôjis 181, 185 Ryûzôji Masaie 181 Ṣaqr b. Rāshid 88 Saionji family 177, 187 Saionji Kimihiro 177, 187 sakoku 174, see also seclusion policy Samal 144-145, 147-149, 151-155, 157-159, 165-166 Sambas 120, 126, 128, 133 samurai 190, 194, 198 Sarawak 134 sea cucumber 116 seclusion policy 174, see also sakoku Seiuemon-i 182-183 Sejarah Bangka 130 Selim 1 21 Seto Inland Sea 174-178, 180, 182, 185, 187-191, 193, 197 Seven Years War 28, 53-54 Shapinsky, Peter D. 2, 5, 189 Shāriqah (Sharjah) 71, 81-82, 95 shark’s fin 116 Shikoku 175-178, 186 division of 174-175, 178, 187, 191, see also kuniwake Shimabara 193 Shimazu family, the Shimazus 171, 184-185, 190 Shimazu Yoshihiro 190 Shimazu Yoshihisa 183, 188 Shimonoseki 188 shiokirei 175, see also punishment orders

Index shirowari (destruction of castles) 175, 177-178, 181, 184, 197 Shomburg, Carl, see blockade runners Siak 118-119, 130, 134 Siantan Island 118 Siassi Island 161 environmental change 163 Simpang 119, 129, 135-136 Singapore 119-120, 143-144, 156, 159, 162, 165, 221-222 Chinese 143, 221 Sino-Japanese trade 202-203 Slave 12, 143-145, 147-151, 153-156, 165-167 galley 27 slave-raiding 145, 150, 154, 165 slave-raiding locations 147 Ilocos 147 Leyte 147 Mindanao 147 Negros 147 Panay 147 Surigao 159 Visayas 147-148, 151, 157-158, 166 Slavery 145, 150, 154, 165 Small Sword Society 221-224 smuggling 5, 51n24, 202-204, 216-218 sovereignty, 1-4, 6-7, 10, 12-15, 28, 63, 115, 129, 137, 140, 233-235, see also state sovereignty Spain 12, 150-152, 155-156, 159-160, 163-167 state building 13-15, 115, 127, 236 diplomacy 10, 234 Dutch concept of 127-129, 137 monopoly of violence 1-2, 6, 10, 13-15, 42, 234-236 sovereignty 2, 4, 52, 64, 152, 155-156, 164, 167, 235-236, see also sovereignty steam gunboat 153, 155, 157-158, 160-163, 167, 228 canonero 157 kapal api 153-154 steamships 58n45 Strait of Hormūz 87, 89 Straits Chinese 167 Immigration 167 Sukadana 118, 121-124, 129, 132, 135-136, 141 Sultan Abdul Rahman 120, 138

267

Index Sultan Abdul Jalil Syah 136, see also Raja Akil Sulṭān b. Ṣaqr b. Rāshid 76, 88 Sultan Kassim 120 Sultan Mahmud 119, 124-126, 139 Sultan Mohammad Jamaluddin 121, 134-135 sultanate 143, 145, 147-148, 154-156, 159-162, 164-167 Sultanate of Johor 12, 117, 119-120, 123, 137, 141, see also Johor Sulu Archipelago 12, 117-118, 144, 152, 155-156, 159-160, 163-164, 166 Sulu Zone 143, 145 Suô province 188, 191 Suô Yashiro (Ôshima) Island 185, 193 Suʿūd, see Wahhabist/Suʿūd Taiwan 201, 203, 220, 226 Dongning kingdom 203, 205 Taiwanese (people) 200, 206, 225 Talleyrand-Périgord, Charles-Maurice de 39 Taosug 145, 154-167 Tarling, Nicholas 7, 62 Taupan, Julano – a leading Balangingi chief 154 tax 127, 203, 205-207, 213 Tây Sơn Uprising 204 Temple, Henry John, third Viscount Palmerston 61, 62n50, 65 territorial water 6, 236 territory 2-3, 6, 115, 121, 127-128, 133, 136, 139-141, 171, 175, 184-186, 191, 196, 236 local concept of 139-140 Thomson, Janice E. 1, 3, 5-6, 9, 15, 44, 52 tin 117, 123 Tlemcen 22 Tobias, J.H. 132 Toda Katsutaka 180, 182-184, 187 Tôdô Takatora 191 Tokugawa 174, 191, 196-197 regime 5, 13-14, 174, 193, 197, 232-235 Tokugawa Ieyasu 184-185, 190-191 Tosa 177, 186, 194 Toyotomi 171, 175, 181, 184-185, 190-191, 197 regime 5, 13-14, 172, 174-176, 178-180, 182-184, 187-189, 191, 193, 197, 232-235 Toyotomi Hideyoshi 5, 171-190, 193, 197 Trade 5, 7, 115-119, 122-124, 127, 133, 136, 139, 143, 145, 147-148, 151, 155-157, 159-162,

164-165, 167, 190, 199-200, 202-203, 205-208, 210-214, 215-221, 223-225, 227-229 beeswax 35 bird’s nest 143 brassware 145 by neutrals 46-47, 53-58, 54n31, 55n33, 57n41, 65 by the United States 55-56, 58 earthenware 145 fine food 143 fire arms 143, 145, 156, 159 garments 145 glassware 145 gun 145, 167 gunpowder 203 leather 35 luxury goods 145 muslins 145 olive oil 35 opium 143, 145, 156, 162, 199, 204, 209, 211-213, 215-218, 220, 227 pearl shell 143, 162 porcelain 199, 226 raw silk 199 rice 145, 162, 226 salt 207 silk 143, 199 silver 143, 199, 202-203, 207, 211-213 sulfur 203 tea 117, 143, 145, 199 textile 143, 156 tobacco 145, 162, 165 tripang 143, 162 wheat 35 wines 145 traders 143, 145, 156, 160, 162, 167, 201-202, 207, 213 Treaty of Friendship and Commerce 155, see also Brooke, James Treaty of July 20, 1878 164 Treaty of Westphalia 14, 28 treaty port 200, 218, 221, 223-225, 227-228 Tuhfat al-Nafis 123, 125, 137-140 Tungku Soling 134 Tunis 19-22, 39-40 Turgud Reis 21 Uluç Ali 21 Urbiztondo, Don Antonio 155

268 ʿUtūb 78-79, 89-90 Uwa county 177, 187 Venice 26, 28 Vietnam 201, 204 Vietnamese (people) 204 VOC 117-119, 121-125, 140, see also Dutch East India Company Wahhabism 78, 90, 93 Wahhabist/Suʿūd 79, 81, 88, 90-91, 93-95, 232 Wake 175 Walker, Alexander 101, 105, 107-109, 113-114, 114 War of 1812 55 War of the American Independence 48, 63 War of the Spanish Succession 52 watch-houses (bansho) 187-189, 193-194, 196-197 Weber, Max 1 Wellsted, James R. 92 Wenzhou 201, 224

Index West Kalimantan 12, 115, 119-121, 126-127, 129-134, 233-234, 236 Western power 199, 210 ship 217, 223 wokou 202 Yuegang 201-203 Yuzuki Castle 176-177 Zamboanga 153-154, 156-157, 160-161 Zhang Baozai 214 Zhejiang 190, 200-202, 204, 207, 215, 219, 224, 226-227 Governor of 207 Governor-general of Fujian and 218, 223 Maritime Custom 205 Zheng family 203, see also Dongning Kingdom Zheng Chenggong 203 Zheng Zhilong 5, 202-203 Zhoushan 227