On Wednesday, March 25, 2026, the United Nations General Assembly, led by Ghana, adopted a landmark resolution declaring the transatlantic slave trade a “crime against humanity.” Although the resolution is non-binding, its significance lies in its formal recognition of slavery as not merely a historical injustice but a foundational crime with enduring global consequences.
The resolution calls for addressing the long-term economic and social damage inflicted by slavery through measures such as financial compensation, restitution of looted cultural artifacts, and formal apologies from implicated states. In doing so, it aligns with longstanding positions of the United Nations, which has consistently described the transatlantic slave trade as “among the worst violations of human rights in history” and emphasized that its legacy continues to shape structural inequalities worldwide.
The resolution also reflects broader scholarly consensus on the systemic impact of slavery. Historian Walter Rodney argued that “the development of Europe… was part of the same process in which Africa was underdeveloped,” underscoring that the wealth generated through enslaved labor played a central role in financing European industrialization.
Similarly, Eric Williams noted in Capitalism and Slavery that “the profits from slavery… formed one of the main streams of capital accumulation in Britain,” reinforcing the idea that slavery’s effects were not isolated but structurally embedded in the modern global economy.
By foregrounding reparatory justice, the 2026 resolution implicitly acknowledges these historical realities and signals an intensification of international debates around accountability and redress.
Controversy
Despite widespread praise, however, the resolution has also prompted critical responses from some Africans and members of the African diaspora. Among the most prominent of these perspectives are those reflected in the writings of Manasseh Azure Awuni, a prominent, award-winning Ghanaian investigative journalist and author who challenges dominant narratives of exclusive African victimhood.
Awuni argues that certain African leaders, merchants, and intermediaries were active participants in the transatlantic slave trade, facilitating the capture and sale of enslaved individuals in exchange for economic gain. From this standpoint, such ones believe that modern African nations cannot position themselves solely as victims in the reparations discourse but must also confront the moral implications of this historical involvement.
This view finds partial support in academic literature. Historian John Thornton observes that “Africans were not merely victims but also participants in the slave trade,” noting that local political structures and economic incentives sometimes intersected with European demand. However, Thornton and others also emphasize that such participation occurred within a global system largely shaped and controlled by European powers.
Awuni’s reparations stance follows from this premise. He contends that while descendants of enslaved Africans in the Americas have a legitimate claim to reparations, African states that historically engaged in the trade should not make similar claims without first acknowledging their own roles.
This position introduces a moral distinction between victims of enslavement and those societies that may have facilitated aspects of the trade. Yet, scholars caution against equating levels of responsibility. For instance, economic historian Joseph Inikori whose best-known book is Africans and the Industrial Revolution in England: A Study in International Trade and Economic Development argues that the scale and organization of the transatlantic slave trade were “driven by European commercial and industrial expansion,” suggesting that African participation, while real, occurred within a system whose overarching structure and benefits were externally determined.
A further dimension of Awuni’s argument concerns historical responsibility and contemporary parallels. He draws connections between past and present, asserting that just as some African leaders historically collaborated with European traders, modern political elites sometimes cooperate with foreign interests in ways that undermine national development. This critique resonates with broader analyses of postcolonial governance.
As Kwame Nkrumah warned, “neocolonialism… is the worst form of imperialism,” because it allows external control to persist through internal actors. Awuni’s comparison thus situates the slave trade within a longer trajectory of elite collaboration and systemic exploitation.
In view of the foregoing stance, Awuni calls for self-reflection as a necessary condition for progress. He argues that acknowledging African involvement in the slave trade is essential to breaking recurring cycles of “selfishness and greed” that continue to harm the continent.
This emphasis on introspection echoes the work of scholars such as Kwame Anthony Appiah, a prominent Ghanaian-American, currently a professor of philosophy and law at New York University and widely known as the author of The New York Times “The Ethicist” column. He advocates for a form of ethical responsibility that balances historical awareness with forward-looking accountability. Appiah suggests that societies must critically engage with their pasts not to assign blame simplistically, but to cultivate moral clarity and institutional reform.
In sum, while the 2026 resolution by the United Nations General Assembly represents a significant step toward recognizing the enduring harms of the transatlantic slave trade and advancing the reparations agenda, it also exposes deep tensions within the discourse.
The perspective articulated by Manasseh Azure Awuni underscores the importance of grappling with internal dimensions of history, even as global institutions and scholars emphasize the structural and systemic nature of slavery. Together, these debates highlight that the pursuit of justice is not only about acknowledging past wrongs but also about navigating the complex interplay of responsibility, memory, and power in the present.
My Analysis
The assertion that “Africans sold their own into slavery” has become one of the most widely circulated explanations of the transatlantic slave trade, yet many scholars caution that this narrative is often reductive and shaped by perspectives that minimize the structural and coercive role of European powers. The African proverb— “Until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.”—captures the imbalance in historical storytelling, where those who engineered and benefited most from the system have long dominated its interpretation.
As the UNESCO has noted in its Slave Route Project, the transatlantic slave trade was “a global system organized and sustained by European powers,” emphasizing that its scale, logistics, and profitability were driven by external demand and imperial infrastructure rather than indigenous African design.
Contrary to the notion of a unified African complicity, there is no historical evidence that African rulers collectively convened to plan or institutionalize the large-scale capture and export of their populations for economic development. African societies were politically diverse and often fragmented, with competing states and internal dynamics. Historian Basil Davidson observed that the Atlantic slave trade “grew from European initiatives and needs,” even where criminal African intermediaries were involved. This distinction is critical: while some elites, kings, and merchants participated, they did so for personal gain, driven by greed, and thus do not represent African complicity.
Moreover, many African leaders did not passively accept European intrusion. Resistance—both diplomatic and military—was a recurring feature of early encounters. As historian John Thornton explains, African states “attempted to regulate and control European trade,” and in some cases resisted encroachment outright.
These interactions were often marked by unequal power relations, deception, and coercion. European traders, backed by emerging nation-states, brought not only goods but also firearms, naval power, and fortified trading posts that altered the balance of power along the coasts.
The role of violence in sustaining the slave trade cannot be overstated. European actors did not merely rely on voluntary exchange; they also engaged in raids, kidnappings, and military interventions. As Walter Rodney argued, “the Atlantic slave trade was a system of exploitation in which Europeans had control over the terms of trade and used force where necessary.”
The introduction and proliferation of firearms further destabilized African societies, intensifying conflict and making resistance more difficult. In this sense, the claim that Africans “lacked guns” is not merely rhetorical; it reflects a historical reality in which technological disparities were deliberately exploited to sustain the trade.
It is also important to distinguish between localized acts of collaboration and continent-wide responsibility, as alluded to earlier. The existence of intermediaries—whether motivated by survival, coercion, or opportunism—does not translate into collective culpability.
As Joseph Inikori notes, “the scale and persistence of the transatlantic slave trade were determined by European demand and capital accumulation,” not by African initiative. In any society, there are individuals who act against the broader interests of their communities; such actions do not define the moral or political character of entire populations. The absence of any pan-African legal framework or decree endorsing the trade, unlike the Europeans, further underscores that it was not an internally generated institution.
The material legacy of these dynamics is visible today in European museums, where artifacts—and even human remains—taken during the slave trade and colonial periods are still held. Institutions affiliated with the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation, for example, have acknowledged holding human remains from African regions acquired under colonial conditions, many of which are now the subject of repatriation efforts.
These collections serve as stark reminders of the extent to which European expansion involved not only economic exploitation but also the physical and symbolic appropriation of African bodies and histories.
Ultimately, while it is historically accurate that some criminal African actors participated in aspects of the slave trade, framing the phenomenon as “Africans selling their own” obscures the broader system of coercion, violence, and global capitalism that made the trade possible.
As Eric Williams famously wrote, “slavery was not born of racism; rather, racism was the consequence of slavery,” pointing to the structural forces that underpinned the system. A more balanced understanding requires situating certain miscreant African participation within this larger context—one defined by European demand, military superiority, and institutionalized exploitation. Only then can the historical narrative move beyond simplification toward a more accurate and just account of the past.
But what if the story you’ve been told about slavery—that Europeans stayed safely on the coast while Africans alone captured and sold their own—is not just incomplete, but fundamentally misleading? From the battlefields of the Kingdom of Kongo to the burning of Benin City, from the inland campaigns against Yaa Asantewaa to the violent expeditions that toppled African states, the historical record reveals a far more aggressive and deeply embedded European presence in the African interior than commonly acknowledged.
The next part in the series peels back the layers of a carefully curated narrative, exposing how military force, political manipulation, and global imperial strategy—not distance or disease—shaped one of history’s most devastating systems. And as the story unfolds, it pushes even further—into the unsettling legacy of stolen bodies, “scientific” racism, and the ongoing fight to reclaim African dignity from institutions that once reduced human beings to objects.
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The author is a dynamic entrepreneur and the Founder and Group CEO of Groupe Soleil Vision, made up of Soleil Consults (US), LLC, NubianBiz.com and Soleil Publications. He has an extensive background In Strategy, Management, Entrepreneurship, Premium Audit Advisory, And Web Consulting. With professional experiences spanning both Ghana and the United States, Jules has developed a reputation as a thought leader in fields such as corporate governance, leadership, e-commerce, and customer service. His publications explore a variety of topics, including economics, information technology, marketing and branding, making him a prominent voice in discussions on development and business innovation across Africa. Through NubianBiz.com, he actively champions intra-African trade and technology-driven growth to empower SMEs across the continent.
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