President John Dramani Mahama’s recent intervention at the United Nations has placed Ghana at the centre of one of the most morally charged global debates of our time: the question of reparatory justice for the transatlantic trafficking and racialised chattel enslavement of Africans.
The Ghana-led resolution adopted by the United Nations General Assembly on 25 March 2026 was a significant diplomatic achievement. In its very title, it described the trafficking of enslaved Africans and their racialised chattel enslavement as “the gravest crime against humanity”, while calling for measures of reparatory justice. The vote was striking: 123 states supported the resolution; only three opposed it; 52 abstained.
In Ghana and across much of Africa and the Caribbean, the resolution has understandably been welcomed as a major step towards historical recognition. It affirms what many Africans and people of African descent have long argued: that the trafficking of enslaved Africans and their racialised chattel enslavement was not merely a dark chapter in world history, but a foundational crime whose consequences continue to shape global inequalities, racial hierarchies, cultural loss and economic underdevelopment.
International reaction, however, has been more complex. The United States, Israel and Argentina voted against the resolution. The United Kingdom and all 27 European Union member states abstained. Some critics objected to the language of “the gravest crime against humanity,” arguing that it risks creating a hierarchy of historical atrocities. Others resisted the implication that present-day states might carry legal or financial responsibility for acts committed centuries ago.
These objections should not be dismissed too quickly. Many of the states and institutions now resisting reparatory claims are the successors of political and economic systems that benefited from slavery, colonialism and racial exploitation. Entrenched interests rarely accept responsibility voluntarily. But precisely because the reparations debate is not occurring in a political vacuum, the case for reparatory justice must be made with unusual intellectual discipline. If the argument is philosophically weak, historically selective or morally inconsistent, its opponents will use those weaknesses to resist even the most reasonable demands.
This is why Ghana’s leadership matters. Ghana should not merely lead a louder reparations campaign. Ghana should also lead a more honest one.
The transatlantic slave trade was a vast crime against Africa. According to the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade Database, between the 16th and 19th centuries roughly 12 to 12.5 million Africans were forced aboard Atlantic slave ships, with around 10.7 million surviving the Middle Passage and arriving in the Americas. Millions were captured, sold, transported across the ocean, legally reduced to property, forced into plantation labour, and absorbed into racial systems that treated Blackness itself as a mark of servitude and disposability.
European and American states, companies, churches, banks, insurers, ports, plantation economies and colonial legal systems bear major responsibility for creating, financing, racialising, legalising and profiting from that Atlantic slave system. Sugar, tobacco, cotton, coffee, shipping, insurance, banking, manufacturing and imperial expansion were all bound up with the exploitation of enslaved African bodies.
The economic dimension matters enormously. When Britain abolished slavery in most of its colonies in 1833, the British state provided 20 million pounds in compensation to slave owners for the loss of what the law had treated as their property. The formerly enslaved received no equivalent compensation. This fact alone captures one of the central injustices at the heart of the reparations debate: even abolition compensated ownership rather than enslavement.
A serious reparations argument must acknowledge that slavery existed in Africa before European Atlantic expansion. African societies contained many different systems of captivity, dependency, pawnship, forced labour, household slavery and military enslavement. These systems varied greatly across regions and periods. Some allowed forms of assimilation or manumission over time. Others were harsh, violent and exploitative.
It would be wrong to minimise or sanitise indigenous African slavery. But it would also be wrong to collapse all forms of slavery into one undifferentiated category. The arrival of European demand, Atlantic shipping, plantation capitalism and racialised colonial law transformed the scale, character and consequences of enslavement. Existing African systems of captivity were drawn into an expanding Atlantic market that rewarded war, raiding, kidnapping, brokerage and human export.
The most serious historical position is therefore neither that Europeans invented slavery in Africa, nor that the Atlantic slave trade was simply a continuation of older African practices. Slavery existed before the Atlantic trade. But the Atlantic system transformed it.
Any argument that African rulers, merchants and intermediaries were not complicit in the transatlantic slave trade cannot be taken seriously. In many places, African actors captured, bought, sold, taxed, transported and profited from enslaved people. Some rulers used the trade to strengthen states, acquire weapons and consolidate power.
This does not mean every African participant acted with the same degree of freedom. European demand altered incentives and intensified conflict. But seduction, bribery, pressure and strategic calculation are not the same as the absence of agency. The more honest distinction is not between participation and responsibility, but between participation and equal responsibility.
African elites who captured and sold human beings were responsible for their part in the system. European and American institutions were responsible for creating, financing, transporting, insuring, legally codifying, racialising and exploiting the Atlantic plantation order. These are different forms and degrees of responsibility. To recognise one is not to excuse the other.
The reparations debate is often weakened by the assumption that reparations mean immediate large-scale financial compensation and nothing else. Financial compensation may indeed have a place, especially where specific institutions can be shown to have profited from slavery and where specific communities continue to suffer measurable harm. But if the entire debate is reduced to money, it will encounter maximum resistance at the earliest stage.
Repair can take many forms. Acknowledgement is a form of repair. Apology is a form of repair. Public recognition, historical education, curriculum reform, memorialisation, museum restitution, institutional truth-telling, debt relief, development partnerships, cultural restoration and truth-and-reconciliation-style processes can all be part of reparatory justice.
A Ghana-led reparations process should therefore avoid narrowing the debate too quickly to compensation alone. It should define repair as a process, not a single payment. Truth often has to precede settlement. Recognition often has to precede restitution.
If Ghana is to lead this debate globally, it must also be willing to apply the principle of reparatory justice inwardly. This does not mean equating Ghana’s internal histories with the Atlantic slave trade. It means recognising that moral seriousness cannot be selective.
The example of trokosi is important. Trokosi ritual servitude, historically practised in parts of Ghana, involved girls or young women being dedicated to traditional religious shrines, often as atonement for alleged wrongdoing by relatives. Ghana outlawed ritual or customary servitude in 1998. But abolition is not the same as reparation. If victims of trokosi lost childhood, schooling, freedom, family life, dignity, health, income or social standing, are they entitled to recognition, rehabilitation, compensation and institutional repair?
That question tests the universality of the reparatory principle. If the victims of historical slavery deserve repair, then living or recent victims of slavery-like practices also deserve serious attention.
Some may fear that acknowledging African complicity, non-Atlantic slave trades or contemporary slavery-like practices will weaken the reparations case. The opposite is true. A weak argument avoids difficult facts. A strong argument absorbs them.
Ghana’s moral authority would be strengthened by acknowledging complexity: African suffering, European and American structural responsibility, African elite complicity, non-Atlantic slave trades, contemporary slavery-like practices, and the distinction between symbolic guilt and practical repair.
The world does not need another slogan about the historical injustices of transatlantic slavery. It needs a more serious conversation about responsibility, complicity, inherited benefit, continuing harm and the practical forms that repair should take. Ghana is uniquely placed to host that conversation.
If Ghana leads this debate honestly, it can do more than demand reparations. It can help redefine what reparations mean: not revenge, not racial guilt, not political theatre, but a disciplined process of historical truth, institutional accountability and moral repair.
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