BRITAIN GREAT!!
This reflection examines slavery and colonialism through five key questions, drawing on history, theology, and personal leadership to grapple with uncomfortable truths and consider how Christian leaders can respond with honesty, courage, and faith.
Current Knowledge and Belief
When the topic of slavery surfaces in public discourse, the default narrative tends to revolve around the European transatlantic trade. While this story is undeniable, I have long known this not to be the whole truth. My educational background in history, theological studies, and pastoral leadership has prompted me to explore this issue more deeply. As a British citizen and Christian leader, I have become acutely aware, not just of our national participation in the Atlantic slave trade, but also of the oversimplified and, at times, distorted way in which history is often retold today. Emotionally, I approach the subject with sadness, but there is definitely a moral complexity. I feel sorrow for the horrific exploitation of human beings and frustration at how modern narratives sometimes flatten the story into binary categories of villain and victim. My convictions are shaped by personal theological reflection, study over years (especially during the BLM season of the Covid-19 pandemic) and a desire to lead with integrity in multicultural contexts. I believe truth-telling is essential for justice, but that truth must be full, not selective.
The Global and Ongoing Reality of Slavery
The more I’ve studied, the more I’ve come to understand slavery as a global, ancient, and ongoing evil, not a uniquely Western phenomenon. Jeremy Black notes that “slavery was not alien to Africa before the arrival of Europeans; it was an indigenous institution, woven into the fabric of politics and economy.”[1] Well before the first Portuguese ships arrived in the 15th century, African societies were practising various forms of servitude.[2] The trans-Saharan and Indian Ocean slave trades operated for centuries, with African elites selling captives to North African, Arab, and Asian markets. This historical context is critical. As John Thornton explains, “Europeans rarely captured slaves themselves; instead, they purchased them from African rulers and merchants who controlled the trade.”[3] Nigel Biggar affirms throughout his book, Colonialism, A moral reckoning, [4] that without African complicity, the Atlantic slave trade would have been impossible. These truths disrupt the modern imagination that sees Africa purely as a victim. To acknowledge African involvement is not to excuse European sin, but to insist on a fuller moral account. Equally overlooked is the ongoing reality of slavery today. From child labour in Congo’s mines to human trafficking in Southeast Asia, slavery persists, often outside Western view. When our discourse focuses only on past Western evils, it risks ignoring the current suffering of millions. As Christian leaders, we must hold to truth, equity, and historical context, rejecting any narrative that serves ideology more than justice.
Religion, War, and Counterfactual History
Religion has often been both a liberator and an oppressor in history. Christianity and Islam were both used to justify conquest. The Crusades, for example, were framed as holy wars, while Islamic empires sanctioned slavery as a religiously permissible institution. In colonial contexts, missionary movements often advanced alongside imperial armies. This complicity raises painful theological questions: How could a gospel of grace be used to enslave? Yet religion also fuelled abolition. In Britain, it was evangelical Christians, Wilberforce, Sharp, and Equiano, who led the charge against the slave trade, often at great personal cost.[5] In this way, Church History and therefore some may say, Christianity carries a double legacy: it permitted oppression, but also inspired liberation. A counterfactual question posed by the framework is especially poignant: what if the Islamic conquests of Europe had succeeded? Would slavery have ended as early as it did in the British Empire? Historical hypotheticals have limits, but they highlight the importance of theology in shaping societal trajectories. Christianity, at its best, calls power to humility and systems to repentance. Our challenge as leaders today is to recover that edge, not as empire-builders but as truth-bearers with theological integrity and cultural humility.
The Costs and Benefits of Colonialism
To speak of colonialism’s benefits feels morally dangerous. And yet, any honest appraisal must contend with both its costs and its legacies. The devastation, slavery, exploitation, displacement, and cultural erasure are undeniable. Britain’s economic boom during the 18th century was undeniably built on the backs of enslaved labour.[6] Cities like Liverpool and Bristol profited from sugar and cotton plantations worked by human labour. And yet, the same empire that enriched itself through slavery became the first to abolish it. The British Parliament passed the Abolition of the Slave Trade Act in 1807 and the Slavery Abolition Act in 1833.[7] These were not hollow gestures. The Royal Navy’s newly formed West Africa Squadron was tasked with stopping slave ships.[8] Between 1808 and 1860, it captured over 1,600 ships and freed more than 150,000 Africans.[9] Thousands of British sailors died in the effort. Historians estimate that Britain spent up to 2% of its annual GDP enforcing abolition, a massive investment.[10] And we never charged the world a penny or interest to achieve it, unlike other “global powers.” This duality of oppressor and liberator demands recognition. As Biggar’s intimation throughout the book[11] is that it is dishonest to denounce Britain as if it were only ever an enslaver. She was also the liberator. Leadership in complex times demands such balance. We must confront injustice without erasing acts of conscience. We must teach histories that inspire repentance and hope.
What I Believe Now and Why
I still understand Britain was complicit in its role in slavery, but I also believe we should honour its sacrifice in ending it.[12] I remain saddened by Africa’s complicity and Western sluggishness on modern slavery. My understanding of colonialism is now layered with both moral revulsion and, admittedly, admiration for the infrastructure, legal systems, and global networks it left behind.
What remains unresolved? The emotion. As a pastor, I meet people who carry what they call generational trauma. I believe Christian leaders must engage controversial histories not with defensiveness, but with humility. We are not called to defend the wrongs of history, but to testify to redemption found in it. We must teach complexity over slogans, courage over silence, and truth over tribalism. Only then can we lead with integrity in a fractured world.
Thank you, Great Britain, for recognising your past wrongs and committing to making them right. That, in many ways, is redemption. And if we truly believe in redemption, why do we keep reminding Britain of her sins? Perhaps it’s easier to highlight the faults of others than to confront our own.
[1] Jeremy Black, A Brief History of Slavery: A New Global History (London: Robinson, 2011), 12.
[2] Paul Lovejoy, Transformations in Slavery: A History of Slavery in Africa, 3rd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 27–29.
[3] John Thornton, Africa and Africans in the Making of the Atlantic World, 1400–1800, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 112.
[4] Nigel Biggar, Colonialism: A Moral Reckoning (London: William Collins, 2023), 97.
[5] Adam Hochschild, Bury the Chains: Prophets and Rebels in the Fight to Free an Empire’s Slaves (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2005), 54–55.
[6] Black, A Brief History of Slavery, 88.
[7] Parliament and the British Slave Trade, Living Heritage, UK Parliament, accessed August 31, 2025, https://www.parliament.uk/about/living-heritage/transformingsociety/tradeindustry/slavetrade/.
[8] Christopher Lloyd, The Navy and the Slave Trade: The Suppression of the African Slave Trade in the Nineteenth Century (London: Longmans, Green, 1949), 88–90.
[9] Biggar, Colonialism: A Moral Reckoning, 58-66.
[10] David Brion Davis, The Problem of Slavery in the Age of Emancipation (New York: Knopf, 2014), 212.
[11] Biggar, Colonialism: A Moral Reckoning.
[12] Black, A Brief History of Slavery, 197-199.
About the Author
Glyn Barrett
I am the founding & lead Pastor of !Audacious Church in Manchester, England. I was born in Manchester, but moved to Australia at the age of two. My wife and I were married in Australia and began married and ministry life in England 29 years ago. After serving as youth pastors for 12 years, we moved to Manchester to pioneer !Audacious Church. As a church we now have 7 locations. 3 in Manchester, Chester, Cardiff (Wales), Sheffield, and Geneva (Switzerland). In 2019 I became the National Leader of Assemblies of God in Great Britain. We have over 650 churches in our movement and have planted 98 new churches since May 2022 with a goal of planting 400 new churches between May 2022 and May 2028. I am the Global Chair for Church planting for Assemblies of God which currently has 420,000 churches and also chair Empowered21 Europe. I'm happily married to Sophia, with two children, one dog and two motorbikes. I love Golf, coffee and spending time with friends. I love to laugh, make friends and create memories!4 responses to “BRITAIN GREAT!!”
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Hi Glyn,
Thank you for your post.
As a Pastor, in light of colonialism’s dual legacy, as both oppressor and liberator, what practices can faith communities adopt to move beyond ideological narratives and toward redemptive engagement with history?
Thanks shela. I believe faith communities can model redemptive engagement with history through three key practices: truth-telling, lament, and restorative action. Truth-telling requires us to confront uncomfortable realities without succumbing to ideological simplifications. Churches can create spaces, forums, sermons, and small groups, where historical complexity is explored through both Scripture and story. Lament allows us to grieve the wounds of history together, cultivating empathy rather than blame. Finally, restorative action moves us toward reconciliation through partnerships, education, and justice initiatives that reflect the gospel’s redemptive nature. When communities hold lament and hope in the same breath, they begin to demonstrate what it means to live out redemption, not by rewriting history, but by allowing grace to reshape how we remember and respond to it.
Thanks Glynn. Your last line is informative. For many of us, it is easier to blame others than to confront our own brokenness. How do you speak about these things from the pulpit and how does that differ from how you speak about it one on one with leaders or people in your care?
Thanks Ryan. From the pulpit, I aim to frame these conversations theologically rather than politically. The goal is ultimately an invitation into grace. In one-on-one settings, though, the tone shifts from proclamation to pastoral. I try to listen first, discerning where pain or defensiveness might sit beneath the surface. Then I invite reflection based on what Scripture says and even an alternate historical rendition. Public preaching shapes the collective imagination toward redemption; private conversation shapes the heart toward it. Both need grace and truth in equal measure.