The British East India Company purchased opium as a standing crop, paying for it a year in advance. The business was on a gigantic scale: half a million Indian peasants grew poppy over an area of half a million hectares. The company did not allow the peasants to convert fields from poppy, even in years of hunger, allegedly for moral reasons. ‘It is not our mission to encourage the consumption of opium, but rather to lessen its use, or more properly speaking, the abuse of the drug, and for this end,
Opium consumption in China spread rapidly, catching on in ports and mining towns. The Chinese authorities tried to protect the country by forbidding the use of opium. In 1799 Peking published the first decree that proclaimed opium a global evil and committed the bureaucracy to fight against it. This had little effect; the civil servants could hardly cope with their own addiction. During the nineteenth century the number of opium addicts in China reached 10 million; some estimates put the figure much higher – up to 10 per cent of the population, or 40 million people. The cities were filled with opium dens. Like the coffeehouses of the Enlightenment or the chocolate clubs of the Restoration, they became hubs of local culture where people shared news, did deals and made contacts. The informal and hedonistic character of these dens and clubs placed them in direct opposition to the Confucian state. This was the Chinese version of civil society. Living off their staple rice diet, peasant coolies could not buy opium. It was for people with money to spend – craftsmen, miners, gardeners and civil servants. As its use spread among the wealthy, opium dragged people down, creating a new poverty. It also spawned new crimes, unknown to traditional society, and new fortunes. This was a vicious circle, the nature of evil: toxicity exacerbates inequality, which provokes a greater anomie, which increases the demand for drugs.