Slavery reparations are just, but who exactly owes whom? | Opinions
On March 25, the International Day of Remembrance of the Victims of Slavery and the Transatlantic Slave Trade, the United Nations General Assembly passed a landmark resolution. Proposed by Ghana, it recognised the transatlantic slave trade as the “gravest crime against humanity” and called for reparations. A total of 123 countries supported the resolution; three opposed it, including the United States and Israel, while 52 abstained, Britain among them, and several European Union countries.
The UN’s slavery resolution is a historic moment, but what comes next is even more important. Leading up to the resolution, the African Union urged its 55 member states to pursue slavery reparations through formal apologies, the return of stolen artefacts, financial compensation, and guarantees of non-repetition.
This raises a question the resolution does not directly ask: reparations from whom, and to whom? If the answer is simply from European governments to African governments, then the reparations movement risks ignoring the long history of European engagement with Africa, and in doing so delivering justice to the wrong people.
What the reparations debate misses
The contemporary framing of the reparations debate is seductive in its simplicity: Europeans arrived in Africa, Africans were enslaved, Europeans grew rich, and Africans became impoverished. Therefore, Europe owes Africa. This narrative carries moral force, but it risks flattening the complex history of European engagement with the continent.
While European actors undeniably drove the demand for enslaved labour, African political and economic elites were not passive victims. They played a significant role in capturing, transporting and selling enslaved people to European traders.
In some cases, African states, seeking to expand their treasuries and consolidate territorial power, preyed on neighbouring communities, condemning them to enslavement for profit. The Oyo Empire, a powerful Yoruba state in what is now south-western Nigeria, expanded significantly in the eighteenth century through its participation in this commerce. Across the region, African elites who had the means sustained the system by exchanging enslaved people for European goods such as alcohol, textiles and other manufactured commodities.
None of this diminishes European culpability in the slave trade. The demand was European. The ships were European. The plantation system was European. The racialised ideology constructed to justify slavery was European. But it does complicate the story.
The transatlantic slave trade was not solely a narrative of African victimhood and European perpetration. It is a story of elite collaboration, which did not end when the slave ships stopped sailing.
The historical argument: three phases, one logic
European encounter with African societies can be understood in three broad phases, each distinct in form but similar in the underlying logic of collaborative extraction.
The first phase was slavery. Europeans extracted human labour from Africa, often with the active participation of African political rulers. Britain emerged as the world’s leading slave-trading country, transporting roughly 3.4 million Africans across the Atlantic between 1640 and 1807. The abolition of the British slave trade in 1807 marked the formal end of this phase. But abolition did not disrupt the underlying logic of the elite collaboration. It reshaped it.
The second phase was colonialism. A less understood aspect of European domination in Africa is how seamlessly some African rulers transitioned from collaborators during the slave trade to intermediaries in the colonial period.
In Nigeria, for example, regional African rulers became intermediaries for British administrators. As Nigerian historian, Moses Ochonu, demonstrates in Emirs in London, a study of Northern Nigerian Muslim aristocrats who travelled to Britain between 1920 and independence in 1960, these African figures were far from passive subjects of British rule. They actively leveraged their relationship with British authorities to reinforce their own authority at home. Such sponsored travel to the imperial centre helped solidify personal ties between Nigerian elites and British administrators, reinforcing the system of indirect rule.
The third and current phase is the postcolonial era. While formal empire has ended, the structure of elite alignment endures. In countries such as Nigeria, the majority of citizens remain largely excluded from political and economic power. The institutional successors of intermediaries and collaborators during the eras of slavery and colonial rule are now running the African postcolonial states.
Rather than dismantling extractive systems, many have repurposed them. Similar patterns of exclusion and extraction that defined earlier periods have been reproduced, leaving the majority of Africans short-changed by a system that continues to serve elite interests.
Nigerian President Bola Tinubu’s state visit to the United Kingdom last month – complete with royal ceremony, photo opportunities and symbolic gestures – reflected this relationship whose origins lie in the very history the UN resolution condemns. While the majority of Nigerians face difficult socio-economic conditions, the British government announced that Nigerian companies would create hundreds of new jobs in the UK.
This is not an anomaly but a continuation of the extractive logic that shaped the slave trade and colonialism. It endures, now recast in the language of diplomacy and partnership.
Reparations are just, and Britain’s debt is undeniable. But direction matters. If compensation flows from one set of elites to another, the oppressed majority of Africans will once again be excluded. True justice must run in two directions: from European states to formerly colonised societies, and from African elites to the citizens they continue to exploit.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.
