The King Who Chose Peace

Near the town of Dhauli, in Odisha, a great rock rises from the ground, overlooking green fields and a quiet river. Cut into its smooth face are long lines of ancient letters. At the top, carved from the stone itself, the front half of an elephant seems to step out of the rock.

The words were placed there more than two thousand two hundred years ago, on the orders of an emperor. They are not boasts about his victories. They are instructions to his officials to treat the people of the region fairly and kindly, as a father would treat his children.

The emperor was Ashoka. And the land around this rock was once called Kalinga, the place where he fought the war that changed him.

An empire

Ashoka belonged to the Maurya dynasty. His grandfather, Chandragupta Maurya, had built an empire across much of northern India, and his father, Bindusara, had extended it. Ashoka came to the throne around 268 BCE, and ruled from the great city of Pataliputra, near today's Patna.

His empire was one of the largest India has ever known, stretching from what is now Afghanistan in the west to Bengal in the east, and deep into the south.

But Kalinga, a rich and independent kingdom on the eastern coast, roughly where Odisha is now, had not been conquered.

What happened at Kalinga

About eight years after he was crowned, Ashoka invaded Kalinga.

We know what happened next because Ashoka told us himself. Years later, he ordered a message to be carved on rocks in several parts of his empire. Historians call it the Thirteenth Major Rock Edict.

In it, the emperor, who calls himself "Beloved of the Gods", says that 150,000 people were carried away from Kalinga as captives, that 100,000 were killed, and that many times that number died. He describes the suffering of ordinary people caught up in the war: good people, families, teachers, friends and relatives, separated from those they loved or killed.

And then he says something extraordinary. He says that he feels deep sorrow and regret for the conquest of Kalinga. He says that even a tiny fraction of that suffering would now weigh heavily on his mind. And he declares that the only true conquest is conquest by dhamma, a word that means something like goodness, right conduct and duty.

Very few rulers in all of history have left behind such a public confession of remorse for their own war.

Legend and history

It is important to separate what Ashoka's own inscriptions tell us from the stories that grew up later.

Centuries after his death, Buddhist writings in India and Sri Lanka told colourful tales about him. In some, he was a fierce and cruel prince who killed his rivals to seize the throne, and kept a terrible prison, before a Buddhist monk opened his heart. A popular modern story says that after the battle, the river near Dhauli ran red with blood. These stories may contain grains of truth, but historians treat them as legend. They were written to show how a cruel king could be transformed.

What Ashoka's own words do tell us is that, after Kalinga, he became a follower of the Buddha's teaching, and that over time he grew more devoted to it. He did not force his religion on anyone. In his edicts, he asks his people to respect all religious groups, and to speak with restraint, never praising their own faith by insulting another's.

Interestingly, at Dhauli itself, and at another site in the old land of Kalinga, the edict about the war was not carved. In its place are the special messages to officials, telling them to be just and gentle with the people.

A different kind of king

Ashoka did not give up being emperor. He kept his army, and he warned the forest peoples at the edges of his lands that he still had power. But the way he ruled changed.

His edicts describe what he did. He had wells dug and shade trees planted along the roads, with rest houses for travellers. He arranged medical care for people and for animals, and had medicinal plants grown where they were needed. He cut down the killing of animals in the royal kitchens, and gave up the royal hunting trips. He appointed special officers whose job was to help people live well, look after the poor and the old, and make sure prisoners were treated fairly.

His messages were carved on rocks and tall polished pillars across his empire, mostly in the everyday language of the people, so that they could be read aloud to those who could not read. He also sent messengers to share his teaching with kingdoms far beyond India. Buddhist tradition says his son, Mahinda, carried it to Sri Lanka.

Found again

After Ashoka died, around 232 BCE, his empire slowly broke apart. Over the centuries, people forgot how to read the old script on his pillars, and even forgot his name.

Then, in 1837, a British scholar in Calcutta named James Prinsep finally deciphered the script, which we now call Brahmi. As the inscriptions were read, one by one, a forgotten emperor began to speak again.

Today, Ashoka's memory is everywhere in India. The four lions from the top of his pillar at Sarnath form the national emblem. The wheel at the centre of the Indian flag is the Ashoka Chakra, taken from the same pillar. They are the symbols of a king who won a war, and then chose to be remembered for peace.

Want to read more?

Romila Thapar's Aśoka and the Decline of the Mauryas is the classic history, and includes translations of the edicts. Nayanjot Lahiri's Ashoka in Ancient India is a vivid modern biography, and Charles Allen's Ashoka tells how his story was rediscovered.