The present campaigns by intersectionalists to get Britain to face up to her role in imperialism and slavery seem to miss some tremendously important aspects; imperialism was one of the principle means by which slavery was abolished and that the people who placed the greatest obstacles in the way of those British imperialists determined to end this appalling blight on humanity, were in fact, the anti-imperialists.

In June 2020, Liverpool University changed the name of building named after the 19th Century Prime Minister, William Ewart Gladstone, because of his alleged links to slavery.  The authorities were, perhaps, unaware that Gladstone was the leading anti-imperialist of his day who insisted on British policy being based upon democratic legitimacy, internationalism and ‘moral’, not physical force.  In short, he believed in many of the things that the protestors do.  What he couldn’t do was reconcile his two moral absolutes of opposition to slavery and opposition to imperialism.  Nowhere was this more evident than in the case of the East African slave trade centred on Zanzibar.

This trade was every bit as destructive as the Atlantic trade; over four hundred years, an estimated six million Africans enslaved by Arabs and Swahili, using finance provided by Indians, were killed or shipped to the Middle East and although Britain had put pressure on Zanzibar to end the trade, this had been ineffective.  This was largely because anti-imperialists believed that interference in the cultural practices of other countries was undesirable.  Sound familiar?  Gladstone opposed British anti-slavery interventions in East Africa because he feared that the expansion of Empire would follow and that that was worse than allowing the trade to continue.  By 1873, however, pressure from the British anti-slavery societies had built up to a point that Gladstone could no longer ignore, and he authorised a mission to persuade the Sultan of Zanzibar to give up the practice.

The man chosen, largely by public pressure, to lead this mission was Sir Bartle Frere and this was a huge problem for both Gladstone and the Sultan of Zanzibar because Sir Bartle Frere was the nearest thing to an Imperial Palladin that Britain ever produced.  A polyglot and a polymath, defence expert, Christian, Islamophile, sanitary reformer, diplomat, founder of cities, logistician, geographer and antiquarian, Frere believed fervently in the imperial mission as a force for good in the world and there were only two things that he really hated: slavery and democratic politicians.  As far as he was concerned, the persuasion order was simply the dithering of a slippery politician with polecat morals.  When he got to Zanzibar therefore, there was only ever going to be one outcome.

The Sultan was, in short order, told that slavery would no longer be tolerated; that no compensation would be paid; that no arguments based on economics, custom or theology cut any ice and that unless the Sultan publicly agreed to the new reality, his island would be blockaded, and all commerce would come to an end.  Frere called in the navy to show that this was no bluff.

This, of course, sent Gladstone into a rage.  How dare Frere do such a thing!  It was an outrage against democratic authority!  Frere ignored him and the public in turn backed him, forcing Gladstone to back down and the Sultan to submit and from that point on, the East African slave trade was doomed.  It really was that simple.  Hacked down by the Imperial Palladin and then disembowelled over the next decade by the Consul, Dr John Kirk, slavery in East Africa was finally ended after an expedition to Malawi destroyed its last stronghold – an expedition financed by that other hate figure of the Woke, Cecil Rhodes.  Further north, in Egypt and the Sudan, the trade was only ended when Britain invaded.  Gladstone never forgave Frere and later on, ruined him over his part in the Zulu War of 1879, believing as he did that imperialism was a far worse evil than slavery. 

Frere’s statue stands on the Embankment but despite his role in destroying the East African slave trade - undoubtedly one of the greatest achievements of Britain and a triumph for common humanity - I wonder just how long it will remain there.  And I wonder just when university History Departments will begin to stand up for nuance, complexity and historical truth; or when the intersectionalists will start to apply their theories to the Zanzibar trade; or when they will admit the truth that you can keep your moral absolutism and let evil flourish or, as men like Frere believed, you can abandon it and do some good in the world.  Needless to say, I am not holding my breath.

Dr Damian P. O’Connor is the author of, among other works, The Zulu and the Raj: The Life of Sir Bartle Frere.