A myth - one of many to do with Britain and her history - exists to do with slavery. Ask a man in the street about it, and they will more often then not proudly proclaim that 'Britain was the first country in the world to outlaw the practice.' What is true is that in 1807 Britain stopped its legal involvement - I hesitate to go as far as to say abolished, considering that other countries continued the trade - in the transatlantic slave trade. A grass-roots campaign, waged over twenty years, resulted in Parliament finally legislating to stop that particular aspect of the horrors of human enslavement.
Another myth exists to do with British involvement in slavery. That myth holds that from 1807 slavery itself was in decline in the British Empire. Once again, were you to ask the average man on the street (or, to use the legal jargon, the man on the Clapham omnibus) they would tell you that slavery declined to nothing, and that this was because of the benevolence of the British state.
The fact that neither of those myths are true would never occur to the average British citizen. That is through no fault of their own.
Recent times have seen the so-called 'culture wars' break out. Pitching what on the outside appears to be traditional orthodoxy, celebrating British achievements in a nationalistic fervour, against a 'woke' revisionism that simply attacks any kind of British achievement, they reached their apogee last summer, as the statue of Edward Colston was upended and pitched head first into Bristol harbour by - depending on which polar opposite view you happen to hold - concerned citizens determined to erase the stains of the past from modern life, or a rabid mob attempting to wipe out history. As for the powers that be, on one hand, we are told that slavery was a great evil and that Britain can be proud of stamping it out; on the other, we're told to respect the statues and monuments built to men who profited from the forced labour of their fellow man. No wonder many people take the simplest and shortest path to understanding, even if that understanding is fundamentally wrong.
As Michael Taylor demonstrates in this excellent book, the British state should take no pride in its role in abolishing slavery itself. Instead, the credit belongs to others: from the grass-roots campaigners in Britain who played a crucial role in twisting arms, to the enslaved men and women themselves who rose up to force the West Indian planters to live in constant fear of those they had incarcerated. The British establishment, for all it now tells us that it gave men and women their liberty, actively conspired against the abolitionish lobby. Only when it was politically expedient did Parliament legislate. And even then, it was only after reform at home.
Yes, many of the protagonists were products of their time. Take the Duke of Wellington. The hero of Waterloo, a decorated soldier, fighting in Britain's interests abroad and a pragmatic politician. He's a man who, if he was learned about in school, would have been learned about for those qualities; there's no reason to doubt them. But if we hold a microscope to him and view his achievements and qualities with modern eyes, we start to see how problematic he was. Yes, he emancipated the Catholics despite being personally opposed, but he was also a supporter of the West India Interest, the cabal of planters who wanted to keep slavery. He was opposed to reform. No democrat, he served the interests of a section of British society; a part, and not the whole. Also take William Gladstone. The Liberal PM of the mid- to late-nineteenth century has a reputation as a great statesman - alongside his unusual nocturnal activities - beloved by many in society. He was certainly more of a democrat than Wellington, and yet his family made its riches as a direct result of slavery. He was a supporter of slavery himself in his early years, when he was more Tory than Liberal. Yes, he may have reformed. Yes, his background may have informed his beliefs. But when you consider that these were the great and the good - the men who held power and refused to release it - it becomes all the more clear that the establishment resisted the ending of slavery.
Even today the establishment is squeamish about its involvement in slavery. There has been no unqualified apology for the evils Britain unleashed on millions of black men and women. In 2015, David Cameron - a relatively enlightened Conservative, as these things go, who had been responsible for the great social revolution of gay marriage, against his party and the Church of England's wishes - failed to make an apology on an official visit to Jamaica. Tony Blair had also failed to do the same. Despite both men acknowledging the evils of the practice, neither was prepared to ask for forgiveness for Britain from the descendants of those it had exploited.
What Michael Taylor exposes is how the British establishment has manipulated the realities of what may fairly be termed a genocide in order to suit its own ends. Despite the fact that it held up the abolition of slavery, we are expected to be proud of the fact that it eventually caved to overwhelming pressure against its own interests, and even then chose to compensate itself rather than those it had exploited, it has somehow turned the abolition into a great British achievement. In truth, abolition was against the interests of those in power until after the Great Reform Act 1832, when Britain underwent a process of democratisation that sidelined the West India Interest.
This is an important book, that serves as a refreshing counterpoint to official narratives. Taylor shows just how abolition was resisted at every step, and only took place when it was no longer in the ruling political class's interests to maintain the status quo. At every step, the institutions of Britain fought to uphold slavery. It's important that we understand this.
