IN March 1807, the British Parliament passed the Slave Trade Act. That act outlawed buying, selling or transportation of slaves within the British Empire. The British deployed the Royal Navy’s West Africa Squadron to enforce the Act. It was to prevent movement of ships conveying slaves from the African coast across the Atlantic. However, neither the Act nor the deployment of British naval ships put an end to slavery.

In August 1833, the British Parliament passed the Slavery Abolition Act. That Act, whose application came into effect on August 1, 1834, led to emancipation of 800, 000 Africans of people enslaved in the Caribbean islands, in Canada, in South Africa, and in many other places colonised by Britain. That did not put an end to slavery. Enslaved persons were still being transported from Lagos.

The British identified Oba Kosoko of Lagos as the culprit. All efforts to make him discontinue the dehumanising trade proved abortive. An account said he told the British that asking him to stop slave trade was like asking a cat not to go after rats. Diplomacy failed to dissuade the King of Lagos. But the British had other plans.

Oba Kosoko became King of Lagos in 1845 when he overthrew his uncle, Oba Akitoye. Oba Akitoye’s policy of ending slave trade and opening Lagos to “legitimate trade” with Britain provoked the anger of Kosoko, a powerful and popular slave-dealing prince. Kosoko instigated a rebellion which led to the deposition of Akitoye. Wanting to regain hist hrone, Akitoye aligned himself with the British promising he would end slave trade and open Lagos to legitimate trade. Palm oil was a choice commodity.

In 1851, the British came to Lagos guns-a-blazing. From December 20-22, the British Royal Navy berthed off the coast of Lagos to prepare for the attack. The bombardment of Lagos took place from December 26-27, dismantling Kosoko’s military. After three days of British bombardment, defeated Oba Kosoko fled Lagos sailing eastwards on the lagoon. He stayed briefly in Lekki, before settling into exile in Epe.

On December 30, 1851, the British reinstalled Akitoye king of Lagos. A military superpower exploited internal divisions within an African kingdom, rivalry between a king who oppressed his fellow Africans with slavery and a prince willing to regain his throne by means of an alliance with a foreign power in need of palm oil. The British invaded Lagos providing a reason for claiming the moral high ground: to put an end to slave trade. At face value, this was humanitarian. A king hostile to British economic interests was deposed and replaced by the British with a king sympathetic to British interest in “legitimate trade.”

The invasion of Lagos might have appeared to have been done out of purely humanitarian motives. Slave trade was, is, and will remain evil. But a closer look at history reveals underlying commercial motives. The industrial revolution in Europe was in dire need of palm oil. The British needed the port of Lagos to gain access to palm oil. A hostile Kosoko was not ready to grant access.
But this same Kosoko was a slave dealer. In a way, the people of Lagos were sandwiched between a slave dealer and a palm oil buyer who postured as liberator. The people needed liberation from their ruler. A foreign ruler offered liberation at the cost of palm oil. Since the scramble for Africa in the 19th century until now, Africans have always been sandwiched between indigenous and foreign tyrants. They have always been at the receiving end of indigenous and foreign oppressors.

In 1852, Oba Akitoye signed a treaty with the British to enforce the abolition of slave trade, and to allow British merchants free trading access. With British conquest of Lagos, and with the British enthronement of an ally as King of Lagos, the door was forcibly opened for British imperialism to expand into colonisation and amalgamation of the land around the Niger—Nigeria.

This would culminate in British annexation of Lagos as a Crown Colony in August 1861 during the reign of Oba Dosumu whom the British indicted for failing to secure the area for legitimate trade. Oba Dosunmu’s will to resist British annexation was weakened by threat of naval bombardment. Avoiding the Kosoko treatment, he formally handed Lagos over to the British by signing the Treaty of Cessastion.

In the meantime, from Epe, deposed King Kosoko continued to challenge the British and continued to lay claims to the throne of Lagos, until the Treaty of Epe was signed in 1854. In that treaty, Kosoko pledged not to attack Lagos and pledged to desist from slave trade in exchange for recognition as ruler of Epe.

Lessons must be learnt from history. In 1851, the British came guns-a-blazing to put an end to slavery. Today, America’s President Donald Trump is threatening to send his soldiers to Nigeria “guns-a-blazing” to put an end to existential threat faced by Christian communities in Nigeria. In 1851, “abolition” of slavery was transactional. The choice commodity was palm oil.

Today, there is suspicion, founded on and rooted in the track record of western imperialism exemplified in the British conquest of Lagos, that President Trump’s guns-a-blazing threat to put an end to killing of Christians in Nigeria, though wearing the garb of altruistic humanitarianism, is also transactional. This time around, the choice commodities are oil and lithium and gold.

If we are to learn from history, we must focus on the real issue here. The issue is not whether or not there is genocide. The issue is Nigerians are being killed, and successive Nigerian governments have woefully failed to protect Nigerians. Religion, ethnicity, inter-communal strife make up a tragic mélange of factors leading to insecurity.

They are played as cards by many of our politicians, especially before and after every election season. Our diversity is repeatedly exploited for political gains while security operatives protect the same political office holders without protecting the land and its helpless people. That is morally reprehensible and unacceptable.

Nonetheless, history teaches us that the guns-a-blazing approach of President Trump should be carefully subjected to scrutiny because Africans have always been sandwiched between indigenous tyrants and external imperialists. The ineluctable question is: even if President Trump’s intervention were to be humanitarian, would it be consistent with imperatives of international law? The pertinence of the question is rooted in the fact that, while it is one thing to wage a just war, it is another to wage a just war with just means.
Father Akinwale is Professor in the Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies, Augustine University, Ilara-Epe, Lagos State.

By Anthony Akinwale