Prime Minister David Cameron’s recent visit to Jamaica has vividly exposed how differently Europe and the Caribbean see the legacy of slavery and colonialism, especially when it touches on the question of compensation for historical injustices. The British premier curtly dismissed the idea of economic reparations for slavery, and spoke pragmatically about moving on and looking to the future. By contrast, Sir Hilary Beckles, Chair of Caricom’s Reparations Commission, raised the prospect of “a dialogue on reparatory justice” to help Britain, and a prime minister whose forefathers reaped sizeable profits from West Indian slaves, to start “cleaning up this monumental mess of Empire.”
The scale and duration of Britain´s empire are well-known. Postcolonial historians have carefully tallied the vast sums derived from the horrors of the Middle Passage and its attendant plantations. Few West Indians need to be reminded of Britain´s reluctant advance towards Emancipation, nor of the huge payoffs which the sugar barons insisted on, and received, as compensation for the loss of human property, and for their diminished earnings. What is harder to determine is the scope of the social, political, and moral consequences of slavery, often because this often depends on whether one is descended from the perpetrators or victims of the crimes being debated.
Beckles writes that the Caribbean´s legacy of slavery continues “to derail, undermine and haunt our best efforts at sustainable economic development.” He refers to the mental and cultural ravages left by Britain´s “crimes against humanity committed … in the form of chattel slavery and native genocide.” To an audience in Whitehall this may smack of revisionism. It could be read as a local historian cannily shifting blame for his region´s failures onto the absent colonial master. Can the responsibility for every political disappointment, from the failure of Federation or the lack of economic diversity, be placed elsewhere so neatly? Shouldn´t there be a statute of limitations after which independent countries acknowledge their role in either nurturing or sustaining racism, corruption, and kleptocracy? On the other hand, many West Indian readers will completely agree that our key dysfunctions are inseparable from the political aftershocks of Empire.
Both parties concede that there was a monumental mess of some kind and to this extent their perspectives contain degrees of truth ‒ not suprisingly, since history is far too complex to be reduced to moral formulae. But it seems unlikely that they will be integrated into a larger reading of West Indian history, especially when the political issues remain so incendiary.
It would be more productive to talk candidly about the cleanup if it could proceed without resorting to the usual cliché of absolving history via massive payouts, as though the horrors of slavery could be processed like a class-action lawsuit. Other remedies are available. A proper apology would be a good start. Then, perhaps, debt forgiveness ‒ especially in light of the highminded talk about the future. If West Indians are expected to abandon the mind-forged manacles of history, then Britain shouldn´t shirk its chance to forget debts that were incurred by earlier generations. The transfer of skills, training and technology would also help to rebalance the scales of history without enriching questionable politicians. All of these would ease what Beckles calls “the burden of our tortured past within the historically textured present” and contribute to “a joint programme of rehabilitation and renewal.”
A candid dialogue on reparations is essential if Britain and the Caribbean are to move beyond the historical nightmare of slavery. Unfortunately it seems as though, on current showing, the likelihood of such a conversation taking place remains as remote as ever.
