In March 2026, the United Nations General Assembly passed a resolution that feels long overdue. The transatlantic slave trade is now formally recognised as the gravest crime against humanity. Proposed by Ghana and backed by a majority of countries, the resolution calls for apologies, reparatory justice, and the return of looted cultural artefacts.
It is not legally binding, but politically and morally, it matters deeply. For many, this is a moment of validation and historical correction. For Africa, and for Tanzania in particular, it is also a moment that demands a more complete telling of history.
Because whilst the world has finally named one system of slavery with clarity, it has not fully reckoned with all of them. Between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries, an estimated twelve to fifteen million Africans were forcibly transported across the Atlantic Ocean to the Americas. Millions more died along the perilous journey.
The scale, brutality, and racialised system of exploitation that defined the transatlantic trade reshaped global economies and entrenched inequalities that persist today. As the President of Ghana, John Dramani Mahama, put it before the vote, they did what was right for the memory of the millions who suffered. But history did not only move west.
For East Africa, the story of slavery is inseparable from the Indian Ocean. From coastal towns like Bagamoyo, Kilwa, and Zanzibar, enslaved Africans were taken northwards and eastwards to Arabia, Persia, India, and beyond. This was the Indian Ocean slave trade, a system that spanned over a millennium.
Indian Ocean Trade
It peaked in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries under Omani Arab control of the Swahili Coast. Unlike the transatlantic system, which was largely racialised and plantation-based, the Indian Ocean trade was more varied in its labour systems. It included domestic servitude, military roles, and plantation work in places like the clove plantations in Zanzibar.
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But difference does not mean lesser harm, as families were torn apart and communities were hollowed out. And yet, in global discourse and now even in this landmark UN resolution, the Indian Ocean trade often remains secondary, if mentioned at all. Slavery is not an abstract global history; it is embedded in geography and memory.
Places like Bagamoyo were not just ports, but they were points of no return. Zanzibar’s Stone Town still bears the marks of slave markets and holding chambers. These are not distant echoes of the Atlantic world; they are local histories with living legacies.
So why has the transatlantic slave trade taken centre stage at the UN? Part of the answer lies in political momentum. The transatlantic trade directly shaped the modern Atlantic world, including powerful states like the United States and countries in Europe and the Caribbean.
The descendants of enslaved Africans in these regions have built sustained movements for recognition and reparations, influencing global institutions. There is also the question of documentation and visibility. The Atlantic trade was extensively recorded in European archives, making it easier to quantify and narrate in international forums.
Hierarchy of suffering
The Indian Ocean trade, whilst equally significant, is less systematically documented, often fragmented across oral histories and scattered records. But none of these reasons justifies a hierarchy of suffering. Even within the UN debate, this tension surfaced.
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Representatives from the United States argued that no single atrocity should be ranked above another, whilst also rejecting the idea of reparations altogether. Their position that historical wrongs were not illegal at the time reveals the limits of legalistic arguments in the face of moral questions. The issue here is not only legality, but also continuity.
The Secretary-General of the United Nations, António Guterres, noted that the legacies of slavery are still visible in systemic inequality, racism, and underdevelopment. For Africa, this is not just about diaspora communities abroad. It is also about what was lost on the continent itself, including labour, knowledge systems, demographic stability, and economic trajectories.
The President of the eightieth session of the General Assembly, Annalena Baerbock, described slavery as mass resource extraction. That phrase should resonate deeply in Tanzania and across East Africa. It links past exploitation to present realities, where debates over natural resources, global trade, and development financing still reflect unequal power structures.
And this is where the conversation must go further. If the transatlantic slave trade is recognised as a crime against humanity because of its scale, brutality, and enduring consequences, then colonialism must also be part of that reckoning. Colonial rule across Africa, German in present-day Tanzania and British thereafter, was not simply administration.
It involved forced labour, land alienation, violent repression, and the restructuring of economies to serve imperial interests. The effects are not confined to history books; they are visible in borders, land ownership patterns, and development disparities. To separate slavery from colonialism is to fragment a continuous system of extraction.
Beyond symbolic justice
The UN resolution does gesture toward this broader history by calling for the return of artefacts looted during the colonial era. But this is only a starting point. Returning objects without addressing the systems that enabled their theft risks turning justice into symbolism.
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Critics of reparations often ask practical questions about who pays, who receives, and how to quantify centuries of harm. These are valid questions, but they should not be used to avoid the conversation altogether. As Ghana’s Foreign Minister, Samuel Okudzeto Ablakwa, clarified, reparatory justice is not about individual payouts to leaders.
It is about structural investment, education funds, skills development, and cultural restoration. In other words, it is about correcting imbalances that were historically produced. Conversations about reparations can align with existing priorities such as education, heritage preservation, tourism rooted in truth, and economic empowerment.
Sites like Bagamoyo and Zanzibar are not only historical. They are potential centres for global dialogue, remembrance, and learning. Africa cannot afford to wait for the world to tell its full story.
Completing the record
The UN resolution is an opening and not the final word. East Africa must assert the significance of the Indian Ocean slave trade within global history, not as a footnote but as a central chapter. It must also push for a broader recognition that connects slavery, colonialism, and their modern consequences into a single continuum of injustice.
Because ultimately, the question raised at the UN was not only about the past. As one speaker put it, the question is what will you do now? The answer should begin with clarity, naming all forms of historical injustice, insisting on inclusive recognition, and linking memory to policy.
The world has taken a step by naming one crime. Africa must ensure the record is complete and that justice, in whatever form it takes, is not selective.
Mariam Gichan is an archaeologist and journalist based in Dar es Salaam. She can be reached at mariamgichan@gmail.com or on +255 754 215 690. The opinions expressed here are the writer’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of The Chanzo. If you are interested in publishing in this space, please contact our editors at editor@thechanzo.com.
