Page 51 of The Unlikely Spare
“It’s for a committee that’s working on a rather complex policy framework regarding historical accountability and reparations for slavery in the Caribbean.”
“What do you mean, reparations for slavery? I was under the impression we had already paid that,” I say.
“Well, we paid reparations to the enslavers,” Oliver says.
Oh. Right. So, not compensation for the people who actually suffered, just the ones who profited from their suffering.
“In 1833, the government paid twenty million pounds to British plantation owners in reparation for the loss of their enslaved laborers, but never gave any compensation to those actually enslaved,” Callum fills in. “As you can imagine, some nations are now starting to question whether it’s time for actual reparations to be given to the people whose labor built our wealth.”
“Bloody hell,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “Is there anyone in this world we didn’t fuck over?”
Oliver’s lips twitch in what might almost be a smile. “That’s not quite the diplomatic language we’re using in the policy papers.”
“Forgive me for not adhering to the approved palace vocabulary list. I appear to have misplaced myHow to Discuss Colonial Atrocities Without Making the Crown Look Badhandbook.” I take a deep breath and continue on, “It’s shameful, really. I spent years at Eton and Oxford without once properly examining what ‘the sun never set on the British Empire’ actually meant. Then I land in Sydney to paint-filled balloons,DECOLONIZE THE CROWNsigns, and Indigenous peopleprotesting over what happened to them, and suddenly, all those history lessons feel rather sanitized.”
Oliver’s face is thoughtful. “Like most other people in the United Kingdom, I grew up thinking that Britain brought civilization to the colonies. To be honest, it was only through my exposure to other leaders of the Commonwealth as prime minister that I began to question that narrative.”
“I think the evidence is quite conclusive,” Callum says. “While the British built some important infrastructure like railways and governmental systems in the colonies, the main purpose was always to extract resources more efficiently rather than benefiting local populations.”
“We essentially installed plumbing in houses we were actively robbing,” Oliver adds.
“Good god,” I breathe, feeling rather nauseated. “Maybe next time I’m at a Commonwealth reception, I’ll just skip the pleasantries and open with ‘So, about that systematic pillaging of your natural resources…’”
But it appears Callum is just getting started. “Do you know that the Indian economy went from comprising nearly twenty-three percent of the world’s GDP before British rule to less than four percent by the time we left? And in the 1930s, people were literally starving in Nigeria while being forced to grow cotton for British mills. Hundreds of thousands died while British textile mills reported record profits due to cheap raw materials.”
One thing you can also count on from Callum is a detailed dissertation when he’s passionate about something.
“And to make it worse, so much of the evidence of what happened was destroyed,” Callum continues. His face is serious, no trace of his usual good humor. “Files documenting torture in Kenya, massacres in Malaya, concentration camps in Cyprus were all deliberately destroyed or hidden.”
“They destroyed government documents?” I ask, though I’m not sure why I’m surprised.
“Systematically. British officials were given instructions to destroy any colonial documents that might—and I quote—‘embarrass Her Majesty’s government.’”
Bloody hell.
I’ve spent my whole life wrapped in the comfortable fiction of our noble history. How many state dinners have I attended where we’ve toasted our “special relationship” with former colonies? How many speeches about our proud history have I sat through, applauding politely while the truth rotted beneath the floorboards?
“There’s something else that often gets overlooked,” Oliver says. “The British didn’t just steal resources. We exported our Victorian morality too, which included criminalizing homosexuality across the Empire.”
The room spins slightly. “What?” I manage.
“The British imposed anti-sodomy laws everywhere they colonized,” Callum says. “Most of those countries still have those laws today. And the saddest thing is, many pre-colonial societies had completely different understandings of gender and sexuality. Some honored third genders, others had same-sex traditions. We destroyed all of that.”
Bloody hell. I feel slightly sick.
“How do you stand it?” I ask. “Knowing all this and still being who we are? Visiting former colonies and representing the crown, knowing it committed such atrocities against the local people.”
Oliver and Callum exchange one of those married-couple looks that contains an entire conversation.
“By trying to do better,” Callum says simply. “By using our platform to make amends where possible.”
Oliver is looking at Callum with such affection, and he leans over and presses a quick kiss to Callum’s temple. They’re so disgustingly in love. It’s like watching a live-action greeting card. One that makes you simultaneously want to say “aww” and throw something at them.
I find myself having to look away from the screen.
“Anyway, I must go,” I say brightly. “I’m sure you both need to practice your ‘we’re having a royal baby’ faces. Oliver, try for something less ‘negotiating with hostile foreign powers’ and more ‘joyful expectant parent.’”
Oliver’s lips twitch. “I’ll work on it.”
