Adam Hochschild, "King Leopold's Ghost":

Europeans had known about rubber ever since Christopher Columbus
noticed it in the West Indies. In the late 1700s, a British scientist
gave the substance its English name when he noticed it could rub out
pencil marks. The Scot Charles Macintosh contributed his name to the
language in 1823 when he figured out a mass-production method for
doing something long practiced by the Indians of the Americas:
applying rubber to cloth to make it waterproof. Sixteen years later,
the American inventor Charles Goodyear accidentally spilled sulfur
into some hot rubber on his stove. He discovered that the resulting
mixture did not turn stiff when cold or smelly and gooey when hot -
major problems for those trying to make rubber boots or raincoats
before then. But it was not until the early 1890s, half a decade
after Dunlop fitted the pneumatic tire onto his son's tricycle wheel,
that the worldwide rubber boom began. The industrial world rapidly
developed an appetite not just for rubber tires, but for hoses,
tubing, gaskets, and the like, and for rubber insulation for the
telegraph, telephone, and electrical wiring now rapidly encompassing
the globe. Suddenly factories could not get enough of the magical
commodity, and its price rose throughout the 1890s. Nowhere did the
boom have a more drastic impact on people's lives than in the
equatorial rain forest, where wild rubber vines snaked high into the
trees, that covered nearly half of King Leopold's Congo.

For Leopold, the rubber boom was a godsend. He had gone dangerously
into debt with his Congo investments,"but he now saw that the return
would be more lucrative than he had ever imagined. The world did not
lose its desire for ivory, but by the late 1890s wild rubber had far
surpassed it as the main source of revenue from the Congo. His
fortune assured, the king eagerly grilled functionaries returning
from the Congo about rubber harvests; he devoured a constant stream
of telegrams and reports from the territory, marking them up in the
margins and passing them on to aides for action. His letters from
this period are filled with numbers: commodity prices from world
markets, interest rates on loans, quantities of rifles to be shipped
to the Congo, tons of rubber to be shipped to Europe, and the exact
dimensions of the triumphal arch in Brussels he was planning to build
with his newfound profits. Reading the king's correspondence is like
reading the letters of the CEO of a corporation that has just
developed a profitable new product and is racing to take advantage of
it before competitors can get their assembly lines going.

The competition Leopold worried about was from cultivated rubber,
which comes not from a vine but a tree. Rubber trees, however,
require touch care and some years before they grow large enough to be
tapped. he king voraciously demanded ever greater quantities of wild
rubber from the Congo, because he knew that the price would drop once
Plantations of rubber trees in Latin America and Asia reached
maturity. This did indeed happen, but by then the Congo had had a
wild-rubber boom nearly two decades long. During that time the search
knew no bounds.

As with the men bringing in ivory, those supplying rubber to the
Congo state and private companies were rewarded according to the
amount they turned in. In 1903, one particularly "productive" agent
received a commission eight times his annual salary. But the big
money flowed directly back to Antwerp and Brussels, in the capital
mostly to either side of the rue Brederode, the small street that
separated the back of the Royal Palace from several buildings holding
offices of the Congo state and Congo business operations.

Even though Leopold's privately controlled state got half of
concession-company profits, the king made vastly more money from the
land the state exploited directly. But because the concession
companies were not managed so secretively, we have better statistics
from them. In 1897, for example, one of the companies, the
Anglo-Belgian India Rubber and Exploration Company, or A.B.I.R.,
spent 1.35 francs per kilo to harvest rubber in the Congo and ship it
to the company's headquarters at Antwerp- where it was sold for
prices that sometimes reached 10 francs per kilo, a profit of more
than 700 percent. By 1898, the price of A.B.I.R.'s stock was nearly
thirty times what it had been six years earlier. Between 1890 and
1904, total Congo rubber earnings increased ninety-six times over. By
the turn of the century, the �tat Independant du Congo had become,
far and away, the most profitable colony in Africa. The profits came
swiftly because, transportation costs aside, harvesting wild rubber
required no cultivation, no fertilizers, no capital investment in
expensive equipment. It required only labor.

How was this labor to be found? For the Congo's rulers, this posed a
problem. They could not simply round up men, chain them together, and
put them to work under the eye of an overseer with a chicotte [a whip
made of hippo hide], as they did with porters. To gather wild rubber,
people must disperse widely through the rain forest and often climb
trees.

Rubber is coagulated sap; the French word for it, caoutchouc, comes
from a South American Indian word meaning "the wood that weeps." The
wood that wept in the Congo was a long spongy vine of the Landolphia
genus. Up to a foot thick at the base, a vine would twine upward
around a tree to a hundred feet or more off the ground, where it
could reach sunlight. There, branching, it might wind its way
hundreds of feet through the upper limbs of another half-dozen trees.
To gather the rubber, you had to slash the vine with a knife and hang
a bucket or earthenware pot to collect the slow drip of thick, milky
sap. You could make a small incision to tap the vine, or - officially
forbidden but widely practiced - cut through it entirely which
produced more rubber but killed the vine. Once the vines near a
village were drained dry, workers had to go ever deeper into the
forest until, before long, most harvesters were traveling at least
one or two days to find fresh vines. As the lengths of vine within
reach of the ground were tapped dry, workers climbed high into the
trees to reach sap. "We . , . passed a man on the road who had broken
his back by falling from a tree while . . . tapping some vines,"
wrote one missionary Furthermore, heavy tropical downpours during
much of the year turned large areas of the rain forest, where the
rubber vines grew, into swampland.

No payments of trinkets or brass wire were enough to make people stay
in the flooded forest for days at a time to do work that was so
arduous - and physically painful. A gatherer had to dry the
syrup-like rubber so that it would coagulate, and often the only way
to do so was to spread the substance on his arms, thighs, and chest.
"The first few times it is not without pain that the man pulls it off
the hairy parts of his body," Louis Chaltin, a Force Publique
officer, confided to his journal in 1892. "The native doesn't like
making rubber. He must be compelled to do it."

How was he to be compelled? A trickle of news and rumor gradually
made its way to Europe. "An example of what is done was told me up
the Ubangi [River]," the British vice consul reported in 1899. "This
officer's . . . method . . . was to arrive in canoes at a village,
the inhabitants of which invariably bolted on their arrival; the
soldiers were then landed, and commenced looting, taking all the
chickens, grain, etc., out of the houses; after this they attacked
the natives until able to seize their women: these women were kept as
hostages until the Chief of the district brought in the required
number of kilogrammes of rubber. The rubber having been brought, the
women were sold back to their owners for a couple of goats apiece,
and so he continued from village to village until the requisite
amount of rubber had been collected."

Sometimes the hostages were women, sometimes children, sometimes
elders or chiefs. Every state or company post in the rubber areas had
a Stockade for hostages. If you were a male villager, resisting the
order to gather rubber could mean death for your wife. She might die
anyway, for in the stockades food was scarce and conditions were
harsh. "The women taken during the last raid at Engwettra are causing
me no end of trouble," wrote Force Publique officer Georges Bricusse
in his diary on November 22, 1895. "All the soldiers want one. The
sentries who are supposed to watch them unchain the prettiest ones
and rape them."

Leopold, of course, never proclaimed hostage-taking as official
policy; if anyone made such charges, authorities in Brussels
indignantly denied them. But out in the field, far from prying eyes,
the pretense was dropped. Instructions on taking hostages were even
given in the semiofficial instruction book, the revealing Manuel du
Voyageur et du Resident au Congo, a copy of which the administration
gave to each agent and each state post. The manual's five volumes
cover everything from keeping servants obedient to the proper firing
of artillery salutes. Taking hostages was one more routine piece of
work:

"In Africa taking prisoners is ... an easy thing to do, for if the
natives hide, they will not go far from their village and most come
to look for food in the gardens, which surround it. In watching these
carefully, you will be certain of capturing people after a brief
delay . . . When you feel you have enough captives, you should choose
among them an old person, preferably an old woman. Make her a present
and send her to her chief to begin negotiations. The chief, wanting
to see his people set free, will usually decide to send
representatives."

Seldom does history offer us a chance to see such detailed
instructions for those carrying out a regime of terror. The tips on
hostage-taking are in the volume of the manual called Practical
Questions, which was compiled by an editorial committee of about
thirty people. One member - he worked on the book during a two-year
period following his stint as the head-collecting station chief at
Stanley Falls - was Leon Rom [Hochschild argues that the villain
Kurtz in Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" was based on Rom.]


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