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I was all for the Burmese and all against their oppressors, the British." The narrator perceives that the conqueror is not in control, but it is rather the will of the people that governs his actions.

As ruler, he notes that it is his duty to appear resolute, with his word being final.

It was administered as a province of India until 1937, when it became a separate, self-governing colony, attaining its independence on January 4, 1948.

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The essay finishes with him wondering if they will even understand his motive for having killed the elephant as he merely wished to salvage his pride.

The narrator's conscience plagues him greatly as he finds himself trapped between the "hatred of the empire [he] served" and his "rage against the evil-spirited little beasts who tried to make [his] job impossible." He claims that he is "all for the Burmese and all against the British" and goes on to say that "feelings like these are the normal by-products of imperialism; ask any Anglo-Indian official, if you can catch him off duty." This creates a sense of empathy from the imperialists for the natives, but as they treat their conquerors badly, they start to feel less guilty and so treat them badly once more.

His elderly colleagues agree that killing the elephant was the best thing to do, but the younger ones believe that it was worth more than the Indian it killed.

The narrator then wonders if they will ever understand that he did it "solely to avoid looking a fool." Orwell clearly states his displeasure with colonial Britain: "I had already made up my mind that imperialism was an evil thing...

Because the locals expect him to do the job, he does so against his better judgment, his anguish increased by the elephant's slow and painful death.

The story is regarded as a metaphor for British imperialism, and for Orwell's view that "when the white man turns tyrant it is his own freedom that he destroys." Orwell spent some of his life in Burma in a position akin to that of the narrator, but the degree to which his account is autobiographical is disputed, with no conclusive evidence to prove it to be fact or fiction.

For it is the condition of his rule that he shall spend his life in trying to impress the "natives," and so in every crisis he has got to do what the "natives" expect of him. A sahib has got to act like a sahib; he has got to appear resolute, to know his own mind and do definite things.

To come all that way, rifle in hand, with two thousand people marching at my heels, and then to trail feebly away, having done nothing — no, that was impossible. And my whole life, every white man's life in the East, was one long struggle not to be laughed at.

The narrator then sees a village woman chasing away children who are looking at the corpse of an Indian whom the elephant has trampled and killed.

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