Newly digitised 17th-century Mughal archives have pulled back the velvet curtain on the British East India Company's strategic trade networks, revealing a level of systemic manipulation that even the most cynical historians might find alarming. The documents, unearthed from the Red Fort in Delhi and published by the National Archives of India, detail how the Company used a combination of bribery, intelligence gathering, and coordinated market manipulation to dominate the subcontinent's trade routes. But beyond the historical intrigue, this story carries a contemporary resonance, especially for those of us who obsess over digital sovereignty and the opaque power structures of modern tech giants.
At the heart of the archives is a series of letters and ledgers from the 1680s. They show that the East India Company, far from being a simple trading entity, operated a sophisticated network of agents and collaborators who monitored local textile prices, shipping times, and political sentiments. This was data, collected not by algorithms but by human spies, and it gave the Company a competitive edge so vast that it effectively controlled the market for spices, silk, and indigo. Sound familiar? Compare this to the algorithmic pricing strategies of Amazon or the supply chain visibility of the Maersk shipping network. The tools have changed but the playbook remains eerily similar.
What the archives reveal most starkly is the Company's deliberate strategy of fragmenting local power structures to ensure its own dominance. By offering sweetheart deals to certain regional rulers while undercutting others, the Company played a long game of divide and conquer. In modern parlance, they exploited network effects and created a platform monopoly, locking in merchants and producers just as pre-Internet monopolies like Standard Oil once did. The User Experience of 17th-century Indian weavers, if we can use that term, was one of creeping disenfranchisement. They became nodes in a network whose value flowed largely upstream.
This historical echo is crucial for understanding the current debate around digital sovereignty. The British East India Company's trade networks were, in effect, a private infrastructure that bypassed state controls. Today, we see similar dynamics with Big Tech companies building their own communication systems, payment networks, and even currencies. The archives stand as a warning: when corporate networks become more powerful than state institutions, the balance of power shifts away from democratic accountability. The Black Mirror moment here is obvious: what happens when your civic identity is mediated by a for-profit entity? In the 17th century, the answer was exploitation and eventually colonisation.
Not everyone is rushing to the same conclusion. Some historians argue that the archives merely confirm what we already knew about the Company's ruthless capitalism. But I would push back. There is a difference between knowing a historical truth and seeing it play out in granular detail. The letters reveal that Company officials in London were adept at managing risk by diversifying their supply chains and creating redundancies. They understood diversification well before modern portfolio theory. But they also understood something else: control of the data flow meant control of the market. Their centralised ledger systems in Madras and Bombay were the 17th-century equivalent of cloud computing. They aggregated information from hundreds of sources and processed it to make real-time decisions.
What should the modern reader take from this? First, that the architecture of trade is never neutral. It embeds power relationships. Second, that transparency, or the lack thereof, is a political choice. The East India Company operated in a regulatory vacuum, much like the early days of the internet. The archives are a call to action for policymakers today to think deeply about the digital trade networks we are allowing to become entrenched. Should we permit a single company to control the platform on which all businesses operate? Should data be considered a national asset? These are not new questions; they are centuries old, and the Mughal archives have given us a clearer lens through which to view them.
As a futurist, I am obsessed with the idea that history often rhymes. The British East India Company's trade networks were a form of infrastructure that enabled control at scale. Today, we are building similar infrastructure in the digital realm. The difference is that we have the benefit of hindsight. We can choose to design our networks with democratic values baked in, with open standards, and with data sovereignty for individuals and states. Or we can let the same playbook run again. The archives are a splash of cold water. We should be grateful for it.
