Colonial history

Empire of ethics: Studying UK’s colonial past through an ethical lens legitimises a slippery slope

Oxford’s new Ethics and Empire project has led to a storm of protest and revived an old debate.

The current tempest over the newly formed Centre for Ethics and Empire at Oxford University revives an old debate that has two well-known positions, both of which have been familiar for decades. And neither side has any reason to change its views. Yet, like a periodic fever, every recurrence reflects new underlying causes. What is going on now for this tired debate to be dusted off and enacted again?

The first thing is Brexit, with the additional threat of a Scottish exit from the United Kingdom hanging in the air. The sun sank on the Empire in 1947, but it is now sinking on the United Kingdom, with Europe abandoned and the nation itself increasingly a pale extension of the London of royalty and bankers. Soon, the United Kingdom will consist of Buckingham Palace, the City, some satanic mills in the north and some desiccated farms elsewhere. So, the debate over the Empire has the soothing quality of a dream world in which it seems alive again, brought to life by the question of how bad, or occasionally good, it was. This is certainly nostalgia, but nostalgia not just for the Empire but also for a time when this debate had real meaning. Unlike with regard to the Empire, the sun can never set on this debate, with its reassuring certainties on all sides.

The second is the background noise from last year, when Shashi Tharoor brought his Nehruvian wit and Fabian vigour to promoting his book on the evils of the British Empire. There were few new facts in this book. Yet, as Tharoor strode across television screens and lecterns, a Colossus of Rhodes, he infused fresh vigour into the dead horse of this debate, which had already received life support during the storm over the statue of British businessman and politician Cecil Rhodes in Oriel College at Oxford. And apparently new arguments for the anti-Empire view brought more energy to the dinosaurs of the Right, who also repeated arguments as old as the Enlightenment and as recent as historian Niall Ferguson’s 2002 ode to the British Empire.

Rhodes Must Fall protests outside Oriel College in March 2016. (Credit: Eddie Keogh / Reuters)
Rhodes Must Fall protests outside Oriel College in March 2016. (Credit: Eddie Keogh / Reuters)

Throwing ethics in the mix

But the most serious issue here is not the absurdity of the new centre’s “balance sheet” approach to historical periods and institutions, which is rightly derided by its opponents. It is the extension of the rubric of ethics to patently violent, brutal and exploitative regimes and practices. The troubling tectonic process here is not the ethics of Empire but the growing Empire of ethics. Ethics used to be a narrow but important part of serious academic philosophy, even narrower than moral philosophy. When my one-time teacher, Alasdair MacIntyre, published his brilliant A Short History of Ethics in 1966, he could not have anticipated how large the market in ethics talk would become, nor how ignorant it would be of his acute remarks about the complex relationship between historical change, philosophical change and changes in ethics.

What we see today is a turn to ethics among anthropologists, biologists, media theorists, and, of course, historians, which reflects the greatly reduced price of entry into this market. For one thing, using the word ethics allows many of us to talk about good and evil without using the dreaded word morality, which is of course dangerously close to religion. It also allows some of us to approach ethics one ethic at a time, a great convenience for relativists, contextualists, and situationists of all stripes. And it permits many of us to discard the tiresome fetters of objectivity, value-free inquiry and disinterestedness, so that we can identify with causes, movements and groups that we admire. And these are not bad developments, as they have inspired some of the best recent work in the social sciences, in political theory in history. Yet, the turn to ethics among many fine scholars of human affairs has also opened the gates to apologists of various stripes. Among these are the scholars who seek to find the goodness hidden in Empire.

The trouble with bringing an ethical lens to Empire is that it legitimises a slippery slope. How about new research initiatives on “ethics and slavery”? Or “ethics and human trafficking”? Or “ethics and ethnic cleansing”? Or “ethics and paedophilia”? Where do we draw the line? After all, funded research on the ethics of anything implies and requires that something be there to find, since negative results are rarely rewarded in the human sciences. So, all sorts of demonstrably nasty human inventions can become opportunities to troll for small nuggets of goodness.

Red herring in a Pandora’s box

And then there is the question of Oxford as a sponsoring institution, which some critics see as having crossed the line in supporting Nigel Biggar’s project, even if the professor should be free to inquire into whatever he likes. This too is a red herring in a Pandora’s box, since there is no line between Oxford financial support to various projects and individual faculty privileges (fellowships, high table, rooms, sherry?). It is hard to ethically distinguish one part of Oxford’s largesse from another. And that is true of all large academic institutions.

The most recent intellect to speak up on behalf of Empire is Trevor Phillips, who wishes to remind us that without the colonies there would not be a multicultural Britain today. By this logic, without Hitler there would not be a strong distaste for anti-Semitism in Germany today. And without Israeli occupation, there would not be as strong a sense of Palestinian identity. And without slavery, the civil rights movement in the United States would have been much more anemic. Every disease can thus be justified by the side benefits of its cure.

The British universities minister, Jo Johnson, has expressed the fear that criticism of such projects as Biggar’s is the beginning of a risky movement towards suppression of dissent and of scientific innovation. Johnson wants us to believe that we need to identify the diamonds of goodness in the mud and stone of Empire in order to protect “the open society” from its enemies. So, let the projects that find ethics everywhere multiply, say Biggar’s supporters. For theirs is the Empire of ethics, long may it thrive. And if it means we must encourage the study of the ethics of our imperial past, even better, since we have nothing to lose but the mission to civilise. And that mission is the last relic of the good times of Empire. So, Empire is just the appetiser. The main course is ethics, and we are likely to see many more cooked up projects such as Biggar’s.

Arjun Appadurai is the Goddard Professor of Media, Culture, and Communication at New York University.

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Swara Bhasker: Sharp objects has to be on the radar of every woman who is tired of being “nice”

The actress weighs in on what she loves about the show.

This article has been written by award-winning actor Swara Bhasker.

All women growing up in India, South Asia, or anywhere in the world frankly; will remember in some form or the other that gentle girlhood admonishing, “Nice girls don’t do that.” I kept recalling that gently reasoned reproach as I watched Sharp Objects (you can catch it on Hotstar Premium). Adapted from the author of Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn’s debut novel Sharp Objects has been directed by Jean-Marc Vallée, who has my heart since he gave us Big Little Lies. It stars the multiple-Oscar nominee Amy Adams, who delivers a searing performance as Camille Preaker; and Patricia Clarkson, who is magnetic as the dominating and dark Adora Crellin. As an actress myself, it felt great to watch a show driven by its female performers.

The series is woven around a troubled, alcohol-dependent, self-harming, female journalist Camille (single and in her thirties incidentally) who returns to the small town of her birth and childhood, Wind Gap, Missouri, to report on two similarly gruesome murders of teenage girls. While the series is a murder mystery, it equally delves into the psychology, not just of the principal characters, but also of the town, and thus a culture as a whole.

There is a lot that impresses in Sharp Objects — the manner in which the storytelling gently unwraps a plot that is dark, disturbing and shocking, the stellar and crafty control that Jean-Marc Vallée exercises on his narrative, the cinematography that is fluid and still manages to suggest that something sinister lurks within Wind Gap, the editing which keeps this narrative languid yet sharp and consistently evokes a haunting sensation.

Sharp Objects is also liberating (apart from its positive performance on Bechdel parameters) as content — for female actors and for audiences in giving us female centric and female driven shows that do not bear the burden of providing either role-models or even uplifting messages. 

Instead, it presents a world where women are dangerous and dysfunctional but very real — a world where women are neither pure victims, nor pure aggressors. A world where they occupy the grey areas, complex and contradictory as agents in a power play, in which they control some reigns too.

But to me personally, and perhaps to many young women viewers across the world, what makes Sharp Objects particularly impactful, perhaps almost poignant, is the manner in which it unravels the whole idea, the culture, the entire psychology of that childhood admonishment “Nice girls don’t do that.” Sharp Objects explores the sinister and dark possibilities of what the corollary of that thinking could be.

“Nice girls don’t do that.”

“Who does?”

“Bad girls.”

“So I’m a bad girl.”

“You shouldn’t be a bad girl.”

“Why not?”

“Bad girls get in trouble.”

“What trouble? What happens to bad girls?”

“Bad things.”

“What bad things?”

“Very bad things.”

“How bad?”


“Like what?”


A point the show makes early on is that both the victims of the introductory brutal murders were not your typically nice girly-girls. Camille, the traumatised protagonist carrying a burden from her past was herself not a nice girl. Amma, her deceptive half-sister manipulates the nice girl act to defy her controlling mother. But perhaps the most incisive critique on the whole ‘Be a nice girl’ culture, in fact the whole ‘nice’ culture — nice folks, nice manners, nice homes, nice towns — comes in the form of Adora’s character and the manner in which beneath the whole veneer of nice, a whole town is complicit in damning secrets and not-so-nice acts. At one point early on in the show, Adora tells her firstborn Camille, with whom she has a strained relationship (to put it mildly), “I just want things to be nice with us but maybe I don’t know how..” Interestingly it is this very notion of ‘nice’ that becomes the most oppressive and deceptive experience of young Camille, and later Amma’s growing years.

This ‘Culture of Nice’ is in fact the pervasive ‘Culture of Silence’ that women all over the world, particularly in India, are all too familiar with. 

It takes different forms, but always towards the same goal — to silence the not-so-nice details of what the experiences; sometimes intimate experiences of women might be. This Culture of Silence is propagated from the child’s earliest experience of being parented by society in general. Amongst the values that girls receive in our early years — apart from those of being obedient, dutiful, respectful, homely — we also receive the twin headed Chimera in the form of shame and guilt.

“Have some shame!”

“Oh for shame!”




“Do not bring shame upon…”

Different phrases in different languages, but always with the same implication. Shameful things happen to girls who are not nice and that brings ‘shame’ on the family or everyone associated with the girl. And nice folks do not talk about these things. Nice folks go on as if nothing has happened.

It is this culture of silence that women across the world today, are calling out in many different ways. Whether it is the #MeToo movement or a show like Sharp Objects; or on a lighter and happier note, even a film like Veere Di Wedding punctures this culture of silence, quite simply by refusing to be silenced and saying the not-nice things, or depicting the so called ‘unspeakable’ things that could happen to girls. By talking about the unspeakable, you rob it of the power to shame you; you disallow the ‘Culture of Nice’ to erase your experience. You stand up for yourself and you build your own identity.

And this to me is the most liberating aspect of being an actor, and even just a girl at a time when shows like Sharp Objects and Big Little Lies (another great show on Hotstar Premium), and films like Veere Di Wedding and Anaarkali Of Aarah are being made.

The next time I hear someone say, “Nice girls don’t do that!”, I know what I’m going to say — I don’t give a shit about nice. I’m just a girl! And that’s okay!

Swara is a an award winning actor of the Hindi film industry. Her last few films, including Veere Di Wedding, Anaarkali of Aaraah and Nil Battey Sannata have earned her both critical and commercial success. Swara is an occasional writer of articles and opinion pieces. The occasions are frequent :).

Watch the trailer of Sharp Objects here:


This article was published by the Scroll marketing team with Swara Bhasker on behalf of Hotstar Premium and not by the Scroll editorial team.