The Sinister Side of the Chagos Islands Handover

Part of the Chagos Archipelago, Diego Garcia is a strategic atoll in the central Indian Ocean. Located halfway between Africa and Indonesia, the island forms a natural harbor, and its location has made it valuable to various powers over the centuries. While infamous today as a US military base associated with an alleged CIA rendition site, it also has a dark history of British imperial control and violations of indigenous land rights. 
In October, the prime ministers of the UK and Mauritius announced the decision to transfer sovereignty over the Chagos Archipelago to Mauritius. Diego Garcia now stands at the center of a Byzantine nexus of colonialism, indigenous dislocation and contemporary geopolitics.
The native population of Diego Garcia, known as Chagossians, descended from enslaved Africans brought by French colonists in the late 18th century. The French were the first European power to lay claim to Diego Garcia, using the island primarily for coconut plantations. They brought enslaved people to the island who worked in agriculture and established a small, thriving community. 
After the abolition of slavery, these populations mixed with other ethnic groups and formed a Creole-speaking community with a unique cultural identity. However, in 1814, Britain took control of Mauritius and its dependencies under the Treaty of Paris — including Diego Garcia. For most of the 19th and early 20th centuries, the island and its Creole culture remained relatively isolated as it served as an obscure outpost of the British Empire’s Indian Ocean territories. 
The strategic importance of Diego Garcia only came to international attention during the Cold War. At the time, the US was searching for military base locations to counter communist influence from the Soviet Union and China. Diego Garcia’s location made it an ideal spot for a major military installation.
This was a watershed episode in the island’s history. In 1965, in anticipation of the establishment of a US military base, the British government separated Diego Garcia and the other islands of the Chagos Archipelago from Mauritius. This was part of the creation of the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT), under which Chagos became the last British colony in Africa. Under this agreement, the British leased Diego Garcia to the United States for use as a military facility. 
Mauritius, then still a British colony, was subsequently compensated £3 million ($3.8 million) for the transfer of the Chagos Archipelago. Based on an average inflation rate of 4.9%, that amounts to £50 million ($63 million) in today’s currency. This arrangement was made as part of the broader context of Mauritius gaining its independence, which finally occurred in 1968. However, critics claim the payment was inadequate. They state it took too long to reach Chagossian pockets, and that only 16.5% of the sum awarded to Mauritius actually went to the exiled Chagossian islanders.
More disturbingly, the entire arrangement was completed without the sanction or knowledge of the Chagossian peoples themselves. This planted the seeds for future disputes over the legal status of Diego Garcia and the rest of the Chagos Islands. It also laid the groundwork for the indigenous population’s deportation.
One of the darkest days in the history of Diego Garcia was the forcible removal of the Chagossian population to make way for the US military base. Beginning in the late 1960s and continuing into the early 1970s, the British government undertook a systematic campaign to remove all the inhabitants of the island. The exact number of people displaced is disputed, but estimates range from 1,000 to 2,000 individuals. 
The British justified this removal on the basis that Chagossians were only “transient contract workers,” not indigenous inhabitants. Declassified UK Foreign Office documents outline the extent of the falsehood which was utilized to deliberately justify British actions:
A small number of people were born there and, in some cases, their parents were born there too. The intention is, however, that none of them shall be regarded as being permanent inhabitants of the islands (28 July 1965 Foreign Office memo).
On this spurious basis for eviction, namely length of historical settlement, one could similarly have argued that the entire Pakeha population of Aotearoa New Zealand should be removed given that they have lived for less time on their islands than the Chagossians have on theirs. Regardless of the illogicality, as a result of this fiction, the Chagossians were forcibly transferred from their homes to Mauritius and the Seychelles, often under the pretense of “resettlement.”
Instead of resettlement, these communities were effectively abandoned in foreign lands where they faced extreme economic hardship. In his book Island of Shame, David Vine describes that the exiles often lived in “slums or temporary housing, struggling to adapt to life in an unfamiliar environment without the means to sustain themselves.” The difficulties plagued Chagossians in Mauritius and the Seychelles alike.
The exiled Chagossian population, including the descendants of the original displaced community, was estimated in 2016 to be around 5000. While scattered across several countries, many still reside in Mauritius. Despite the passage of time and their continued displacement, the Chagossians have maintained their identity and culture, and many still hope to return to their ancestral lands. 
For decades, the various displaced Chagossians dispersed across the world have fought legal battle after legal battle for the right to return to their homeland and for compensation for the injustices they had suffered. As a result of this pressure, the British government finally offered an additional sum of £4 million ($5.1 million) to Chagossians in 1982, but this too was insufficient. 
Most significantly, this compensation did not address the right to return. A British Court of Appeal ruling in 2000 did, however, make a start on that by deeming the expulsion of the islanders illegal and granting them the right to visit their homeland for the first time in thirty years. However, Diego Garcia itself, the largest and most habitable island, was to remain off limits to them still for security concerns.
Considering that the other atolls in the archipelago were concurrently deemed uninhabitable, and with Diego Garcia itself still off limits, this ruling was merely a Pyrrhic victory. To borrow Tim Marshall’s term, Diego Garcia and the Chagossians remained “prisoners of geography.” 
Unsurprisingly, the status of Diego Garcia has remained an ongoing subject of international legal disputes. In February 2019, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) issued a ruling that Britain’s occupation of the Chagos Islands, including Diego Garcia, was illegal and that the islands should be returned to Mauritius. 
The court concluded that the detachment of the Chagos Islands from Mauritius in 1965 as part of the BIOT was unlawful and that the process of decolonization was incomplete. Whilst the court’s ruling was non-binding, it carried significant moral and political weight. 
Following the ICJ’s decision, the UN General Assembly then passed a resolution calling for the UK to return the Chagos Islands to Mauritius. However, the government refused to comply until this past October, citing the continued strategic importance of Diego Garcia for defense purposes. The US had also expressed opposition to any changes in the status of Diego Garcia until recently, when President Joe Biden reportedly pushed for a transfer of sovereignty.
There is a sad irony at play with the recent willingness of the UK Government to comply with the ICJ’s decision. While the UK has agreed to hand over power, the judgment now gives control of the islands to Mauritius, not to the Chagossian peoples themselves. One very distant colonial power merely seems to have been replaced by another, less distant one. 
This recent development mirrors the events of 1965 when negotiations were brokered solely with the incoming Mauritian government of the day rather than the Chagossians themselves. To add further injustice to this recent political development, today’s agreement will continue to see Diego Garcia remain under US and UK jurisdiction for the next 99 years. This again is reflective of the 1965 narrative when it was made clear that Mauritius’s independence would not be granted without the annexation of Diego Garcia. 
History is repeating itself. Today, the only difference is that instead of being hidden in secret Foreign Office memos, this handover is being celebrated openly as the culmination of justice. 
Some Chagossians see it as an event worth celebrating, at least according to the Mauritius Government Information Service. In the British press, the transfer of control is likewise being described as “making sense.” Meanwhile, international pundits are claiming that the agreement is a “‘win-win-win-win’ moment in international relations.”
Nevertheless, there is a flip side to this halcyon perception, namely the danger that the British, with UN connivance, are enabling Mauritius to rule an island group and its peoples some 2000 kilometers plus away without the consent of the entire indigenous population. 
Peter Lamb, the Labour MP for Crawley where a Chagossian community 3,000 strong resides, has been publicly critical of his own leader’s recommendation to hand the islands to Mauritius without their consent. He claimed that “the decision… belongs [to] the Chagossian people, it’s not for the UK to bargain away.” Other Chagossians are similarly highly critical, referencing indigenous rights. 
Wherever they reside, all Chagos Islanders deserve to have a say in their political future. Even with the return of the islands to Mauritius, little financial compensation is likely to reach the displaced Chagossians directly. Not to mention that base lease rights and payments notwithstanding, the entire archipelago has a potential exclusive economic zone (EEZ) of an astounding 640,000 km². It remains unclear if, and how, the Chagossians will regain independent rights to these zones and their resources. But the UK and US governments are not alone in bearing responsibility. The UN is also at fault in this dire situation, as the organization played a significant role in influencing the decision to return the atoll without the consent of the indigenous population. 
As the treatment of the Chagossian population in Diego Garcia demonstrates, history continuously repeats itself when it comes to the story of empire. As long as indigenous voices continue to be overlooked, the ghosts of the colonial past will haunt the present.
[Emma Johnson edited this piece.]
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.