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India.com
4 days ago
- Business
- India.com
East India Company, that once looted India for 200 years, is now owned by an Indian; his name is…, business is...
The East India Company was instrumental in the establishment of British dominance in India. It occupied and ruled a large part of the world and the Indian subcontinent for several years. The East India Company was the most powerful arm of the British Empire, which became so large that it was often stated, 'the sun never sets on the British Empire.' But what happened to the East India Company after World War II, when the British Empire crumbled? Who owns the famous trading company now? On December 31, 1600 AD, the East India Company was established as a trading company in England under a special charter from the British Crown, which gave it extraordinary powers and privileges to establish the crown's dominance in other parts of the world, especially in India and East Asia. At first, the East India Company traded with Indian kings and rulers. Over time, it utilized military and political power to consolidate land. Eventually, the Battle of Plassey occurred on June 23, 1757, which led the British to control Bengal. This battle started the Company rule of all of India. As an odd twist of fate, the East India Company – once a ruler of India for nearly 200 years – is now owned by an Indian. Sanjiv Mehta, as British businessman originally born in India, sits at the helm of the company. The East India Company has transformed itself into a luxury goods, gift hampers, luxury tea, coffee and food, premium drinks and homeware retailer.
NZ Herald
6 days ago
- Politics
- NZ Herald
Erica Stanford faces greatest NCEA test
Arguably, Stanford's most important move was the simplest: her ban on smartphones in schools informed by New York University's Professor Jonathan Haidt. The damage smartphones do to developing minds is comparable to alcohol and cannabis, so that nothing else will much matter if they're not sensibly regulated. At least, they must be kept out of schools, which Stanford delivered three weeks after being sworn in. Likewise, no amount of money or other reforms would much matter if primary students remained in barn-like so-called modern learning environments (MLEs), pushed on schools by the Key Government for reasons never properly explained and retained by Jacinda Ardern's Education Minister, Chris Hipkins. Effectively compulsory until Stanford arrived, she quickly made MLEs voluntary and has now banned new ones from being built altogether. But these were quick-win prerequisites to ensure structured learning could begin again in primary classrooms. Stanford also began the much more difficult work of restoring content and rigour to the school curriculum. First were new maths and English curricula, spelling out clearly what teachers are meant to teach, and how. That departs from recent decades, when subject curricula would instead focus on 'outcomes', leaving teachers to work out what to do for their students to achieve them. Now, practical teaching resources are included in curriculum documents, with over 800,000 new maths resources already provided to primary schools. That the curriculum was not just launched but is already being implemented in 92% of primary schools suggests Stanford has a rare ability to force bureaucrats to do what she wants, rather than the reverse. It's too simplistic to call Stanford's new maths and English curricula 'back to basics', but they do focus more on teachers passing on knowledge to students than on facilitating 'learners' to discover or invent knowledge themselves. The latter can wait for primary students to start their post-graduate work in a decade or two. In the meantime, Stanford's curriculum assumes there's foundational stuff they need to learn first. Following maths and English, the next priorities are the natural sciences, the social sciences, health, and Te Reo Māori. Stanford's curriculum reforms will become harder politically as they move into more contested subjects. But the politics may be easier if her focus remains on foundational knowledge, delivered in a structured environment, in a logical sequence, rather than trying to introduce the latest and most advanced theories in primary classrooms. Kids need to learn addition before multiplication, how to read before how to interpret texts, about atoms before electrons, and that the Treaty of Waitangi was signed in 1840 between the British Crown and Māori chiefs before considering how well it has been honoured. As these students reach secondary school, Stanford's next big decision is how to extend her approach into the qualifications system and what to do about NCEA. Political blame for NCEA can be shared widely. Every party in Parliament has been part of a government that contributed to the fiasco, and all were warned by the country's best educators that it would dumb down secondary education and lead to a two-tier system, benefiting the rich and well connected at the expense of the middle class and poor. Everyone meant well. The NCEA's origins were David Lange and Phil Goff's Learning for Life report, which recommended establishing the New Zealand Qualifications Authority (NZQA) 'to provide an across-the-board approach to the validation of qualifications in schools and in vocational and advanced academic areas'. This was a response to everyone needing some form of higher education in a more advanced economy, and a desire to break down the distinction and allow cross-crediting between vocational training and academic study. National's Lockwood Smith saw the advantages in trying to clearly define what knowledge, understanding and skills students and people in the workforce were meant to achieve, and to worry less about where they might develop them and more about whether they had. He was backed by employers who argued they needed to know exactly what potential recruits knew and could do rather than that they had scored 59, 71 or 82 in an exam. The proposed system was at the centre of Smith's Education for the 21st Century, which I ghost-wrote. But politicians should always be wary of utopianism, and the idea that NZQA or anyone else could write or validate rigorous outcomes statements for the entirety of human knowledge and capabilities, and then operate a system giving each student a detailed certificate accurately recording what they knew and could do was preposterous. To National's credit, it was never confident to finally press go on the new system. That was left to Helen Clark's Labour Government. The Key and Ardern-Hipkins Governments then set up review panels and made tweaks, but basically left the system unchanged. Meanwhile, the universities never took the system seriously while increasing numbers of schools adopted foreign systems or tried to develop their own. The upshot is NCEA delivering the opposite of that intended. If students go to a school offering Cambridge or the International Baccalaureate or take a traditional university route, their qualification is taken seriously, domestically and internationally. If they don't, they're left with the NCEA which isn't. You don't need to be a Marxist to see who that has benefited, and it is surely not those Lange, Goff or anyone intended. Now, as revealed by the Weekend Herald, even the left-wing education bureaucracy accepts NCEA has failed. Stanford faces probably the most consequential decision she'll ever make. Will she follow the Key and Ardern-Hipkins Governments and try to save NCEA with another review? Or will she accept the whole concept was utopian from the outset, and has delivered the catastrophic unintended consequences utopian visions invariably bring? For better or worse, schools, parents and students have tended to favour Cambridge, an internationally recognised qualification originally developed for Third World countries without their own systems. Singapore used it for many years after independence while getting its house in order. The least-disruptive option would be Stanford following Singapore's approach, abolishing NCEA from Year 11 next year, and engaging with Cambridge to roll out its system nationwide. That would require demanding Cambridge work with New Zealand experts to develop rigorous assessments for subjects like New Zealand history and Te Reo Maori. For a long-term, nationwide contract, it would surely be prepared to do so. Like Singapore, we would then progressively evolve Cambridge's exams into a genuinely New Zealand system. Stanford moved swiftly and boldly on smartphones, MLEs and curriculum reform. The same is needed to quickly put the multi-decade, multi-party NCEA disaster behind us.
The Hindu
20-07-2025
- Politics
- The Hindu
Temples of social justice
Recently, a political controversy erupted in Tamil Nadu on the issue of diverting temple funds for building colleges. Beyond the political debates, the issue throws light on a unique social justice model around the regulation of secular practices associated with religion. This model, predominantly developed in the erstwhile Madras Presidency, draws strength from a 200-year-old legislative framework which continues till date. It has gained more acceptance in south India. As elections approach in Kerala and Tamil Nadu, clarity on the issue will help diffuse attempts to polarise voters around it. Religious endowments law Through the Religious Endowment and Escheats Regulation 1817, the East India Company set up the earliest legislative architecture around regulation of religious endowments. When the British Crown assumed direct control over Indian territories in 1858, Queen Victoria issued a proclamation stating that the sovereign would restrict interference in religious affairs. This was necessary as there was concern about losing face from the 1857 Sepoy Mutiny, which was triggered by religious issues. However, the withdrawal of the British government from religious affairs was not complete. In fact, in the Madras Presidency, various British officials argued for continued oversight of religious endowments. Finally, the British government settled for a balanced approach: the sovereign would not interfere with practices that were essentially religious, such as rituals, but would exercise control over the lands and secular aspects of the religious endowments. The idea of the government supervising religious institutions came to be crystallised when the Justice Party was elected in 1920. One of the earliest legislative interventions by the Justicites was Bill No. 12 of 1922: Hindu Religious Endowments Act. When it was introduced in the Madras Legislative Council, it faced opposition, mainly due to the provision in the law that allowed surplus temple funds to be diverted for other purposes. The nub of the issue was whether funds provided to a temple could be used for secular purposes. The matter was debated and settled in 1925, when the law was enacted. Since then, every revised version of the plenary law, including the current law — The Tamil Nadu Hindu Religious and Charitable Endowments Act, 1959 — has retained the provision of surplus funds. Also read | Activist alleges 'criminal misappropriation' of temple funds by T.N. HR&CE Dept, Madras High Court calls for response Section 36 of the 1959 Act permits the trustees of religious institutions to appropriate any surplus funds for any purposes listed under the law, with the prior sanction of the Commissioner. 'Surplus' means any amount remaining after adequate provisions have been made for the maintenance of the temple and training of its officials. The Act also empowers the Joint Commissioner or the Deputy Commissioner to appropriate funds in cases where the original purpose has become impossible to fulfil. Endowments to temples have a long and rich history. Temples received lavish donations from the sovereign rulers from as far back as in 970 AD, when the Chola empire was at its peak. Historian Anirudh Kanisetti writes that Sembiyan Mahadevi, a Chola queen, made strategic donations of land and kind to temples. The practice continued during the Vijayanagara kingdom. Temples were not just places of worship; they were socio-cultural hubs and were also used for educational purposes. This is confirmed by the inscriptions on temple walls and the spacious mandapams (pillared halls) which were used to hold educational or cultural events. So the original intent argument would also support the theory of utilising temple resources for educational purposes. The 1959 Act has been tested and upheld by constitutional courts. Among the permissible uses of surplus funds under the 1959 Act is the establishment and maintenance of universities or colleges (Section 66). These educational institutions are also required to make available the study of the Hindu religion or Hindu temple architecture. Seen within this framework, building colleges from temple funds is not only legal, but a logical extension of these provisions. Social justice legacy The controversy around the use of temple funds cannot be restricted to discussing legal propositions, however; it also carries ideological and sociopolitical significance. In the pre-colonial era, the motivation for the rulers to support large-scale endowments was that the temples acted as channels through which State resources could be allotted for important welfare projects. Through colonial rule, the British East India Company and the Crown viewed sovereign involvement in the management of temple affairs as necessary for reasons of revenue and maintenance of local control. Over the last century, the Self-Respect Movement, which emerged from the Madras Presidency, viewed the regulation of temples and oversight of their resources as a critical feature of anti-caste reforms. Without this, there would have been no temple entry legislation in 1936 and 1947. Today, Tamil Nadu and Kerala are among the few States where governments have appointed priests from backward classes after a prolonged legal struggle. Ultimately, any argument against government control of temple affairs would be striking at the root of social justice. The role of the government in ensuring that surplus funds are appropriated in a lawful manner is settled. Any reversal of this would only result in a set back of the long legacy of social justice and religious reforms that south India has pioneered.
The Spinoff
20-07-2025
- Business
- The Spinoff
We keep measuring the Māori economy – but what are we actually counting?
New report after new report declares the growth and potential of the Māori economy. But what even is it, and why do we keep measuring it? Last week, yet another report was released outlining the prowess and potential of the Māori economy. 'The 'Māori economy' is thriving and diversifying,' the report from WEAll Aotearoa begins, following with many impressive figures and statistics: 'contribution of $32 billion… asset base of $126bn'. So what are these numbers, how are they measured, and what purpose does dissecting and analysing the Māori economy as a standalone sector of our capitalist system serve? What even is the Māori economy? Honestly, I couldn't tell you. In its most recent report on the Māori economy released earlier this year, Te Ōhanga Māori 2023 – The Māori Economy Report 2023, the Ministry of Business, Innovation, and Employment states: 'Te Ōhanga Māori is not always a separate, distinct, and clearly identifiable segment of the Aotearoa New Zealand economy.' From what I gather, what we now call the 'Māori economy' was born not from Māori, but from a colonial lens – one that separated Māori economic activity from the broader economy of Aotearoa. Before colonisation, however, the Māori economy was the entire economy of Aotearoa. We cultivated and traded internationally, maintained thriving markets with our Pacific neighbours, and by the 1800s, were actively bartering with European and American markets. There's a quote from Mānuka Henare that often gets missed in these debates. He reminded us that the artistic flourishing of the 16th-18th centuries – the carving, weaving and tattooing – didn't come from scarcity. It came from a dynamic, thriving Māori economy. A creative economy rooted in relationships, surplus, and time to think, carve and dream. And then came colonisation… Bingo. Mass disruption and dispossession completely changed the face of the Māori economy. Christ came alongside capitalism – monocultural capitalism, to be exact. For the most part, Māori were excluded from participating in the settler economy, except as low-paid labour. The wealth of the British Crown in New Zealand was essentially built on the back of stolen resources and slave labour. This depleted the Māori economy of its capitalistic wealth. The cultural wealth of Māori was also severely depleted through tools of colonisation. Laws encouraging assimilation and prohibiting Māori from speaking our language and carrying out cultural practices amounted to cultural genocide. A majority of the Māori population was forced to shift to urban areas during the 1950s to the 1970s, taking wage labour jobs and being disconnected from whenua or collective models. During this time, Māori economic power was deliberately undermined. The Crown's policy was to assimilate Māori socially, politically and economically – not to support indigenous enterprise. Clearly things have changed. In the 1970s, we witnessed what's known as the 'Māori renaissance'. A key part of this was the establishment of the Waitangi Tribunal and the treaty claims process. The first claim to be settled was the Māori Fisheries claim, also known as the Sealord Deal. This provided an economic basis for iwi authorities to begin rebuilding their economic wealth, albeit under a Crown-controlled capitalist model. Other large-scale settlements such as Ngāi Tahu and Waikato-Tainui provided iwi with capital and assets, although this was a comparatively minuscule amount compared to the total value of loss. However, this led to many iwi creating commercial entities like Ngāi Tahu Holdings and Tainui Group Holdings, which reinvested in property, farming, tourism, infrastructure and finance. These entities are often what gets counted in Māori economy stats today, via Māori authorities. So the Māori economy is just measuring how well settled entities are doing? Seems a bit narrow. Yes, for the most part. In 2002, the IRD introduced a tax rate specific to Māori authorities, aiming to modernise the tax rules for organisations managing Maori assets held in communal ownership. In 2012, Stats NZ began defining and measuring 'Māori authorities' – the entities that form the core of the so-called 'Māori economy'. This legally recognises post-settlement governance entities – not pakihi Māori. This is one reason the data often skews toward iwi corporations and not the thousands of small Māori-owned businesses or social enterprises. What was the point of measuring this data in the first place, especially with such a narrow scope? A friend half-jokingly said to me it's to illustrate how Māori are leeching from the Crown – as crude as it might sound, there is some truth in this statement. The state wanted to understand how the capital being returned to Māori via the settlement process was being used, how it might contribute to national GDP and how Māori entities could be integrated into broader economic policy and investment. Arguably, the Crown began tracking these measures to make Māori legible to the state – easier to understand, manage, and control – first through tax and compliance, then through economic policy, and now through investment lenses. It began as a state-driven interest in managing, taxing and tracking Māori collectives post-settlement. However, it has since evolved into a strategic economic conversation, which Māori are increasingly reframing to reflect kaupapa Māori values, collective aspirations and indigenous economic thinking. And what is it actually telling us? That we're outside the general economy? There is an argument that by measuring the Māori economy, we're saying we need to be tracked separately because we're not good enough to stand on equal footing. Personally, I don't buy the warm fuzzy intent. As mentioned above, I suspect it started as a way to quantify what Māori were 'costing' the nation – to calculate the burden, not the benefit. Even now, those numbers get weaponised: 'Look how wealthy Māori are. Why do they still need support?' It's a setup and it flattens the story. Success in a few iwi boardrooms does not always trickle down to every whānau struggling with rent in Māngere or Moerewa. Worse still, when handled carelessly, these metrics can reinforce the ceiling. They frame success as: 'That's a great Māori business,' instead of just, 'that's a great business.' As stated in the WEAll Aotearoa report released this week, 'too often the success of Māori businesses is conflated with the Māori economy, when it is more appropriately conceptualised as Māori businesses operating within a global capitalist economy.' But there are economic benefits to measuring this data, right? Progressive procurement policies, legislative support for indigenous businesses, etc. Yes – there are some real benefits, but they depend on how we measure. To truly deliver, data must be disaggregated – by region, by business type, and by iwi lineage – so we understand the diversity within Māori enterprise. Māori must be empowered to define what counts as success – both profit and wellbeing, GDP and cultural strength. To drive real change, we need public/private partnerships to fund business support, procurement pathways, and legislation shaped by Māori data. Measuring the Māori economy enables DEI strategies, justifies indigenous business support, fosters inclusive economic development, strengthens infrastructure, and reveals systemic gaps. But it only works when Māori are designing and owning the data narrative. The data has helped some of us unlock capital, attract co-investment, and push for equity in government policy. Measurement, if wielded wisely, can be a tool for mana motuhake.
Hamilton Spectator
18-07-2025
- General
- Hamilton Spectator
Bronze plaque highlights Colchester's Snider House history
During the latter part of the 1700s, the government of King George III granted United Empire Loyalist families land in Upper and Lower Canada for their loyalty to the crown. John Snider was one of those awarded land, granted Lot 73, just west of the Village of Colchester in 1798. Property for which the family still has the original deed. The farm originally extended to Gore Road. The Town of Essex recognized the house by installing a Bronze Plaque as part of its Heritage Plaque Program last Wednesday morning. Essex's Heritage Plaque program was implemented to raise awareness of the historical and cultural resources within the municipality. Through the program, significant cultural resources, such as buildings, structures, and cemeteries, may be identified by a bronze or aluminum interpretive plaque. The bronze plaque identifies those public or private resources that have been formally designated under the Ontario Heritage Act. Snider originally settled in Colchester in the 1790s, after his family's escape from Pennsylvania, following the American War of Independence. 'Like other United Empire Loyalists, Snider refused to fight alongside the revolutionaries during the American War of Independence, remaining loyal to the British Crown,' Essex Mayor Sherry Bondy relayed. Snider migrated north immediately following the conflict to avoid persecution. In 1813, he built a colonial home designed in a loyalist architectural-style, with inspiration from a log house. It is a rare example of this design still existing. It is located on the Lake Erie shoreline, which now stands as one of the oldest houses in all of Essex County. 'The house showcases the types of materials and construction methods of the era and its connection to one of the area's first settler families,' Bondy added. On the morning of September 10, 1813, a group of skilled carpenters were building a roof on the home that would soon house the John Snider family. The family story notes they could faintly see smoke rising and hear canons firing in what became known as the Battle of Lake Erie; a significant naval battle of the War of 1812. Snider, born 1747, passed away on May 17, 1828. He and his wife, Elizabeth, are buried at the nearby Tofflemire-Snider Cemetery. His family continues to maintain the homestead he built on the Lake Erie shoreline in Colchester over 200-years ago. Today, 'the property has potential to yield information on the lifestyle of some of the earliest settlers in the area and showcases the parcels that were often granted to United Empire Loyalists that were often granted to United Empire Loyalists by King George III,' Bondy continued. Last year, the Town of Essex recognized the Snider house for its architecture and historical significance, providing it with formal designation under the Ontario Heritage Act. Getting that designation was something seventh generation Snider House homeowner, and direct descendant of John Snider, Kathy Dowling, has wanted to get for quite some time. 'We always had passion for this house, and did everything we could to preserve it,' Dowling said. When she was little, she recalled there being no running water or electricity at the homestead. Her grandfather, Kenneith, used the home, until, in his senior years, moved to Florida with his wife as snowbirds. 'This place was always bustling,' Dowling said of family usage. In speaking of John's story of landing in Colchester, Dowling said at first, they were not going to fight in the Revolution. 'They had promised the Queen at that time that they would never fight against the Crown.' At that time, Dowling said John was second-generation of Pennsylvania. He was a blacksmith. When the War began, his family declared loyalty to the Crown. Her family keeps connected to this history because her grandfather, and mother, shared the stories of their forbearers often. 'It is such a beautiful place to be,' Dowling said of the house that still stands strong today. Family lore noted that at one point, some odd and ghostly activities were taking place in the home. Dowling explained a picture of a young woman was found in the attic. When the frame was taken apart for cleaning, a second picture of another woman was discovered, and later displayed in its own frame. Those ghostly encounters ended at that point. Essex MP Chris Lewis was pleased to attend the event to acknowledge the local history of this building and the family who has preserved it by presenting a certification of recognition. For more information about the Town of Essex's Heritage Plaque program, log onto Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
