Imperial trophies?

To begin with, we retrace our steps to this point exactly a year ago, when I made my first venture outside Europe to visit the far-away land of the Raj. Although I had ignored the severe warnings of my most sceptical friends, the feeling of nervous trepidation as I boarded the plane at Heathrow was such that the person sat next to me could immediately tell that this was my first visit to India. Yet when I ventured out onto the streets of Delhi, I soon found the culture shock to be not nearly as strong as even the most optimistic of my friends had predicted. The significant majority of Indian people who speak good English, for example, would make me look back from the more Westernised confines of South America - with hardly any English-speakers - nearly a year later and make me feel much further from home in the likes of Chile and Argentina than I had felt in India. Furthermore, although the 3 weeks I spent in the vast subcontinent obviously did not enable me to see even a small majority of it, I certainly met enough different types of people from different walks of life, under varying circumstances, to see that whatever resentment of the old imperial practices may still exist, it does not manifest itself on a day-to-day basis in perceptions of British visitors as representatives of the old oppressors. Rather, they tend to think of us - like any Westerners - as the monied class.

The positive legacy of the Raj is ubiquitous. A person I met many months later in Wellington, who'd been to India for a longer period of time, drew my attention to the famous scene in the Monty Python comedy Life of Brian, in which the chairman of the anti-Roman People's Front of Judea asks of his colleagues, "apart from the sanitation, medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, the fresh water system and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?", and argued that the same could be said of the British in India. I challenge anyone to deny this, especially when you add to that list the fact that we are talking about the world's largest democracy, not to mention widespread evidence of the quintessentially British Stiff Upper Lip in a land where things very rarely run smoothly, and odd moments of impressive innovation which put even Britain herself to shame. Nothing demonstrates all these qualities better than the Indian railways, which employ more of the world's population than McDonald's and, despite often running 4 hours late, do at least have operators who endeavour to minimise the knock-on effect delays can have on other trains by holding back the first late train on any given line in order to try and avoid a chain reaction - an almost achingly democratic practice. Then there's cricket, which was a passionate obsession for all but the very first person I met during those 3 unforgettable weeks; so greatly adored, worshipped even, because it somehow strikes a chord with the Indian temperament in a way that the game's inventors could never hope to understand.

In attempting to determine whether the British could've done more to modernise the land they regarded as the jewel in their crown, I must be circumspect. I must concede, firstly, that I am no anthropologist, so I will not presume to make sweeping judgements on the nature of human and cultural development. I must also, in comparing India to my 2 later destinations - New Zealand and Australia - unreservedly acknowledge that there was a world of difference between the motives of the Imperial government in colonising the latter 2, settled colonies-turned-dominions which in their own ways were populated with British emigrants (and convicts) so as to become permanent independent outposts of British values, and the former, colonised for the traditional purpose of exploiting its staggering array of natural resources. However, it is hard to ignore the nagging fact that whereas India had enjoyed a rich ancient culture for at least 4,000 years prior to the coming of the British - meaning that, depending on how old one believes the world actually is, she may even have had a civilised society while we Britons were just unsophisticated cavemen bashing each other about with clubs - Australia and New Zealand were little more than islands full of isolated and at times warring tribes when Captain Cook arrived. How, then, do we explain the fact that, despite its democratic stability, India is a land where poverty, disease and corruption are still rife? Again, my recent trip through South America gave me much comparative food for thought; for although there can be no denying that the Spanish and Portuguese empires existed more for the purpose of economic gain than for that of spreading their cultural values, it is also undeniable that the likes of Chile, Argentina, Uruguay and (to a slightly lesser extent) Brazil have far more Westernised infrastructures, and are more socially developed, than India. It would be tempting to answer my question by stating that the tribal framework of the South American peoples - like that of the Aboriginals and Maoris later on - was far easier to build on than a well-established order steeped in millennia-old codes and laws. Or, to put it crudely, one could simply state that Westernising India would've meant forcing her to adopt Western religion; in which case, then, we do in fact have a clear defence against the accusation that the British Empire sought to destroy the ways and practices of the peoples it conquered. Returning to the present, although we do not yet know what will be the long-term effects of India's current economic boom in terms of eliminating widespread poverty, we can nonetheless observe that her success is the most positive legacy of the Raj, and one which most of her people will surely acknowledge - particularly when we consider the outside possibility that she may beat Communist China to the title of New World Superpower. For the time being, though, we can anticipate the likelihood of a very Python-esque farce as Indian cricket consolidates its status as the financial superpower of the world game, spawning the controversial Indian Premier League and even more controversial Indian Cricket League: next we'll probably have the Premier League of India and the Cricketing League of India; remind anyone of the Judean People's Front, the People's Front of Judea, the Judean Popular People's Front and the Popular Front of Judea? Splitters, the lot of them!

Museum piece

As for the personal impact that the first and best leg of my travels had on me, I surely do not need to affirm that it reconciled me 1,000 times over to the country which I had admired from afar all my life before my unfortunate experiences with that madwoman from one of its former eastern provinces (Bangladesh). I am very proud to say that I was able to listen to my tour guide explaining seemingly archaic Hindu traditions without getting the urge to frown, not to mention the way I consider myself to have become, for a brief period of time, a model cultural ambassador for my homeland - always maintaining my British temperament, adding local flourishes to my dress code, and enthusiastically taking in what was an all-round feast for the senses and talking on equal & friendly terms with people whose grandfathers' generation was ruled over by that of my great grandfathers. Dining in the house of my local guide in that tiny town of Chanderi, receiving a consoling pat on the back from him the following evening when India snatched victory from England in the final over of a one-day cricket match (with no other English people or non-Indians in the room as all around me leapt for joy), learning to cook chapatti - these are just 3 of many amazing experiences which will live with me for the rest of my life. By far the best, though, was the candle-floating ceremony in Varanasi, whose true significance I would learn many months later.

So, after the inevitable (but thankfully minor) bout of Delhi Belly forced me to spend a week exploring Bangkok as walking wounded, I headed to New Zealand hoping to eventually make the place my home. However, as soon as I stepped off the plane in Auckland I was given a harsh demonstration of exactly how shameful laxity, i.e. the vagueness of the Biosecurity regulations and lack of requirement to declare drugs or weapons, and dictatorial harshness, in the severe penalty that might've befallen me, can exist side-by-side in such a small, young country. Vagueness would continue to dog me every step of the way, while the company I worked for as a call centre representative, despite its great prestige, would without a doubt keep Trading Standards busy 24/7 if operating in Britain. My first real warning, however, came in the wake of the All Blacks' shock exit from the Rugby World Cup. At the start of the tournament I had foolishly written off England's chances of making an impact, so I sincerely hoped the New Zealanders would prevail, but I soon found that position a most awkward one to be in - with Kiwis on the BBC Sport message boards somehow getting the impression that as a Pom I must hate their team really, and my refusal to actually don an All Blacks shirt leading people to label me a stuck-up old nonce. The only people I would meet throughout the rest of my travels who actually shared my conservative disapproval of wearing national colours that are not one's own were my call centre colleagues, but it was hard to take much comfort from this since these people were apparently willing to travel to the other side of the world just to spend a year or more doing the most soul-destroying indoor job in the free world. More telling, though, was the way the rugby team's management and sections of the nation's press accused the English referee of deliberately handing victory to France in their quarter-final triumph over the All Blacks, a notion of whose absurdity you and I do not need to be reminded - but therein lies the problem: although many Kiwis and Aussies will tell you that the rivalry between their countries is similar to that between England and France, this is a long way from the truth; for the 2 Antipodean nations do share a tremendous mutual respect and brotherly love (forged at Gallipoli), both conspicuous by their absence in the centuries-old feud between us and our cross-channel neighbours (Gordon Brown and French President Nicolas Sarkozy were fooling nobody but themselves when they recently suggested otherwise). No self-respecting Englishman, even one without any regard for the bonds of the Commonwealth or the presence of the Union Jack in the New Zealand flag, could deliberately hand victory to the French. But try explaining this to the people of a country which has never been to war of its own volition, and whose conception of traditional patriotism is further undermined by a sense of Southern Hemisphere solidarity (of a type also completely alien to England), which prompted the overwhelming majority of New Zealanders to support South Africa in their World Cup Final victory over the old motherland. Still, I suppose it is not completely untrue to say that many children retain, right into adulthood, the slightly narrow-minded assumption that their parents saw all things exactly the same way as them when they were growing up.

After a swift trip down through the North Island, I arrived in Wellington, and thus began what for so long threatened to destroy all my travel plans. Obviously, looking back in hindsight it would be all too easy to regret having braved nearly 2 months of unemployment and boredom in order to watch what turned out to be one of the England cricket team's worst 50-over performances in living memory (or should I say 30-over?), even if this made partial sense owing to the need to retrace my steps to Tongariro and the initial desire to save this until I had earned a little more money. Alternatively, it would be easier still to berate myself for having not taken the painful 'Silly Season' as my cue to swiftly get the South Island out of the way, change my plans altogether and visit some completely different countries; there are many former British Colonies of great beauty and intrigue, some in a similar vein to India, which would've given me a much more varied repertoire for my writing - make no mistake about that. Yet in a strange way, maintaining what was almost a siege mentality by stoically refusing to leave the capital against my better judgement, could be said to have greatly enhanced my overall experience of the Empire story: for my overwhelming frustration and disenchantment with such an astonishingly lazy, disorganised society gave me an intimate understanding of how far from home the early Pakeha colonists must've felt; and it also placed me in the position of the traditional Imperial authority figure in one of the African and Asian colonies, who (whether rightly or wrongly) looked down upon the colonials from what seemed to him a lofty height.

As soon as Sir Edmund Hillary's death was made public, the optimist in me had a strong feeling that my moment had come, that I was surely meant to be in New Zealand to witness what all her people, and all Imperial historians alike, knew to be the end of an era - that if this couldn't inspire my big break as a writer then nothing could. Naturally, though, the road to success was not smooth. My observation of the 'Will they or won't they?' saga over the Royal Family's representation at the funeral sent me on a merciless rollercoaster, going from mild sympathy with those who felt that protocol was irrelevant for such a great man, to bewilderment at the fact that the nation chose to honour its most tireless citizen on a day sandwiched between 2 public holidays, to feelings of raging Imperialism when I realised just how badly I was being fobbed-off by the staff at my hostel over their 'always advertise, never recruit' policy on Work for Accommodation. There came a point when the circumstances surrounding this conundrum appeared so murky and potentially dangerous that I feared I may have to take it up with the British High Commission, and would have marched into said establishment further motivated by absolute disgust at the way those treacherous rejecters of their forebears' British qualities dared to demand their Queen's presence. In the end, though, I was to find that the forces of Karma work in most mysterious ways even for one as self-motivated and forward-thinking as me; for when my travels reached what seemed their lowest ebb, I discovered that in actual fact everything had fallen into place, that the rivers of destiny had borne me through my darkest hours and given me my greatest inspiration as they had once given Hillary his greatest comfort, meaning I could finally let go of all my resentment and enjoy a truly spiritual bond with my beautiful surroundings despite having long since concluded that they could never be my home.

Grieving for Past Glories?

My analysis of Ian Wishart's polemical writings on New Zealand's constitutional framework resulted in a supremely dramatic coda to my time in the country. As a constitutionally-minded polemical writer myself, I could not possibly sweep his arguments under the carpet and dismiss him as a radical out of hand, so I had to accept the distinct possibility that my many arguments in favour of the old dominions retaining the monarchy were off-colour, that the idea of a New Zealand Crown was indeed conjured up by an authoritarian government in order to conceal their lack of proper authority. In short, my somewhat idealised pre-travel conception of New Zealand as the last stronghold of British Sovereignty may in fact have been correct in a most sinister way; perhaps (to invoke the words of the New Zealand National Anthem) the Pacific's triple star is no free land at all, perhaps it really has managed to redirect the apparently obsolete Imperial power from Westminster to Wellington while Westminster's back was turned. What I believe we have uncovered here, dear reader, is quite possibly the greatest fault of the Empire: its failure to implement constitutional safeguards to prevent the long-planned-for independence of its settled colonies being exploited for undemocratic purposes. Not having visited any of the old African colonies, I cannot properly understand the extent to which the colonial legacy has given rise to serious humanitarian crises of the type existing in Zimbabwe, but we can surely agree that a more prosperous nation regarded throughout the world as a champion of democracy while it is actually becoming more and more powerful without our knowledge, potentially poses a far greater threat than an election-rigging dictator who has destroyed his nation's economy.

Once I had started travelling in Australia, it did not take me too long to see that my fears of all-round 'Pommy-bashing,' and the warnings I'd received of that country being even more unpredictable than New Zealand, were largely unfounded - no doubt symptomatic of Australia having greater self-confidence than her trans-Tasman neighbour. I did not, of course, get to stay in the country long enough to gain a comprehensive understanding of the Aboriginal question, which greatly disturbs me based on what I do know. Yet despite the brutal treatment the indigenous people received at the hands of the European settlers, and despite the fact that the Aboriginals are among the world's most ancient races (having inhabited the land for 65,000 years), I would be lying if I said I believe that the present status quo in New Zealand - where so many Pakeha have gone to the other extreme and convinced themselves that they are Maori - is infinitely more preferable to the guilty track record of the Australian government.

A Toast!

That the existence of similar constitutional problems to those plaguing New Zealand has not had such dramatic practical results in Australia, is undoubtedly due in no small part to the precedent set by the Governor-General's dismissal of Gough Whitlam in the 1975 Constitutional Crisis. The fact that such a hitherto unprecedented intervention on the Queen's behalf could ever have been required shows that, despite the continuation of the Westminster tradition in Australia, it will be a long time before the corridors of power in Canberra carry enough historical resonance to bear down on the shoulders of an incompetent Prime Minister (surely it goes without saying that even Brown would step down voluntarily if he was unable to get supply through the House of Lords). In terms of what the future holds constitutionally on both sides of the Tasman, we can but wait and see. For now, though, I can vouch that both nations are so beautiful as to deserve a crown. I can also rest confidently assured that although many Aussies would deny it, their nation does - in the words of a little-sung verse of their Anthem - still keep a British soul. New Zealand, on the other hand, seems to me a soul in pain - a tortured genius if you will, given her great beauty and considerable achievements. An ultra-cynical way of looking at it would be to argue that, in having recently become the first Western nation to sign a Free Trade Agreement with China, she has in fact sold her soul to the devil; but here we must remember that said agreement was the culmination of a process that began when we instantaneously severed the apron strings by joining the EU, and we have clearly paid a higher price than our Kiwi cousins. It would be pleasing to think that China may eventually embrace multiparty democracy, thus marking a break in legal continuity from the days of Mao, but even without this it is surely beyond doubt that in such a fast-changing world, treaties being signed now could be meaningless in 15 years' time.

Sword of the King

Finally, what of Matt Showering? I can tell you with 100% sincerity that my travels have greatly enhanced my confidence in my ideological beliefs as well as my engagement with constitutional affairs, to say nothing of my writing skills (as I hope you will have seen). My contrasting experiences in New Zealand and Australia serve as prime demonstrations of how cultural stereotypes can be accurate as often as they are inaccurate, while my numerous frustrations with Kiwi laxity certainly put my initial complaints about British public apathy in perspective. I hope, above all, that my endeavours have served to highlight ways in which the Empire's virtues far exceeded its vices, and I thank you for your devoted reading.

Do I have any regrets? Although I have sacrificed any chance of financial stability for a good few years, and have acknowledged that things probably would have run smoother had I spent the bulk of my time in Australia, it would take a succession of setbacks so bad as to plunge me back into the world of mediocre work before I could honestly say I regretted how I went about my travels, not to mention having gone travelling in the first place. However, in 30 years' time, when the New World Superpower India cements its alliance with America, Canada, Australia and New Zealand - the latter the sole realm of King William V - while her competitor China allies herself with the People's Republic of Europe and the Russian Federation, thus laying the groundwork for World War III and pitting Old Mother England against her former colonies, I will no doubt regret not having attempted to place myself under the protection of the New Zealand Crown (illegal or not) while I had the chance. Still, if it comes to a choice between sitting around waiting for nuclear holocaust, or else risking the conveniently-reinstated death penalty for Treason to the People in the act of speaking out against the bloc, I know which I'll choose. For King and Country, for the Commonwealth, AND FOR THE EMPIRE!!

Sir Edmund Hillary