When slavery was abolished in the British empire in 1833, it was thought only reasonable that slave-owners should be recompensed for the loss of their property: the British government had to borrow the equivalent of £17bn at current values to do this and that loan was not completely paid off until 2015. Meanwhile, the slaves themselves never received a penny in compensation.
There have always been dedicated Black campaigners for reparations, but it is only recently that their demands have gained momentum. Furthermore, it is impossible to talk about reparations without talking about race and migration – and these are issues at the top of the political agenda internationally. All this makes Lenny Henry and Marcus Ryder’s new book both timely and vital.
It is noticeable in passing that Henry’s name on the spine and title page is larger than that of his co-writer Ryder, a charity director. Presumably, the publishers decided that a popular cultural figure would help draw in readers who might otherwise think the issue of reparations abstruse, not to mention worryingly radical. One thing that discourages people from discussing the subject is the idea that it involves a huge transfer of money. But this book stresses from the beginning that giving reparations is not necessarily about financial compensation.
Primarily, it is about recognising the terrible wrong wrought by the transatlantic slave trade, and the importance of understanding its effects on how we live now. Henry and Ryder cover the different forms reparations could take, including restitution, compensation, rehabilitation and public apology. They also discuss setting up a Caribbean Community (Caricom) body to receive reparations. And while they don’t reach a conclusion on what reparation should look like, they insist on the case for it in principle. On one hand, they explain how much of the reality of racism today can be traced back to the economic and psychological consequences of the slave trade: chronic educational underachievement; an increased likelihood of falling foul of the criminal justice system; higher rates of psychosis. On the other, they set out how profits from the slave trade continue to make money today – for instance, by having helped make the UK a global financial centre.
But even if people are prepared to accept the justice of reparations, they often think that it is just not achievable or practical. Here, Henry and Ryder point to examples of reparations between nation states during the 20th century. In 1952 the Reparations Agreement between Israel and the Federal Republic of Germany was signed, with West Germany promising to pay Israel billions of marks over the next 14 years, in addition to payments to individual victims of persecution. Alongside these precedents, they discuss possible methods of funding reparations, such as a specific tax on financial transactions or debt cancellation.
“Reparations must be about power and its redistribution,” Henry and Ryder write. “Money and finances are often a proxy for power and can be empowering, but giving money alone is just compensation. Giving people power is the real ‘repair’ in reparations.”
There is currently a toxic political debate about race and migration. Donald Trump, under the guise of challenging “woke”, is determined to roll back the gains in racial justice made since the civil rights era. In both the US and Europe, the conversation about asylum and migration has become almost hysterical, and we see not just the rise of far-right parties, but the increasing adoption of their narrative on race and migration by centrist politicians.
There has, as a result, never been greater need for a thoughtful discussion on race. This study of the case for reparations, which binds the past and present together so cleverly, is an important contribution.
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