A painting depicting a brutal moment in history hangs within the British Deputy High Commission in Lagos, Nigeria: the 1851 naval bombardment ordered to depose King Kosoko. The artwork, titled ‘British Men of War Attacked by the King of Lagos,’ isn’t a relic of a distant past quietly displayed; its recent installation has ignited a fierce debate about Britain’s reckoning with its colonial legacy.
The scene captured in oil and canvas isn’t one of liberation, but of forceful intervention. Royal Navy ships unleash their firepower upon the city, paving the way for the installation of a puppet ruler, Akitoye, more amenable to British interests. For decades, the accepted narrative centered on suppressing the slave trade as the primary justification for the invasion, a noble cause masking imperial ambition.
However, a growing chorus of historians, particularly those from Nigeria, challenge this long-held belief. They argue the invasion was fundamentally about economic control, a calculated move to secure British dominance over the region’s lucrative trade routes. The painting, therefore, isn’t simply a historical depiction; it’s a potent symbol of a violent power grab.
The outcry began swiftly after the artwork’s appearance following a change in government. Award-winning historian Hakim Adi condemned the display as a celebration of invasion and regime change, a deeply troubling message at a time when the world demands accountability for past wrongs. He questioned whether the choice reflected a continuing disregard for Nigeria and its people.
Professor Kehinde Andrews, co-chair of the Black Studies Association, echoed this sentiment, labeling the display “frankly disgusting.” He argued it revealed a profound lack of understanding regarding the devastating impact of empire, a history often sanitized or ignored in official narratives. The image, to many, wasn’t a neutral historical artifact, but a painful reminder of colonial violence.
The controversy extends beyond academic circles. Political figures have also voiced their concerns, demanding transparency regarding the decision-making process behind the artwork’s installation. There are fears the display could damage vital political ties between Britain and Nigeria, undermining years of effort to build stronger relationships.
Yet, not all perspectives align with condemnation. Some argue the painting serves as a necessary, if uncomfortable, acknowledgement of the past. They suggest it’s understandable for a diplomatic mission to recognize the history of its own citizens and the naval power they once wielded, even while acknowledging the complexities of that era.
Interestingly, the High Commission has attempted to address the controversy by hosting a descendant of King Kosoko and leading Nigerian historians for a discussion about the painting and the events it portrays. This gesture, however, hasn’t quelled the criticism, with many arguing that the very act of displaying the artwork overshadows any attempt at contextualization.
The situation is further complicated by the simultaneous display of works by contemporary British-Nigerian artists, including Yinka Shonibare, whose art often deconstructs colonial identity. This juxtaposition creates a silent dialogue between the past and present, a deliberate attempt to foster reflection and understanding.
However, the removal of artworks by celebrated Nigerian artists like Ben Enwonwu and Justus Akeredolu from the same space adds another layer of complexity, raising questions about whose narratives are prioritized and whose are marginalized. The incident mirrors past controversies, such as the recent criticism of King Charles posing beneath a portrait of a monarch who profited from slavery.
Ultimately, the debate surrounding the painting in Lagos isn’t simply about a single artwork. It’s a microcosm of a larger, ongoing struggle to confront the uncomfortable truths of colonial history and to forge a more equitable future. The High Commission maintains the display is intended to prompt reflection on a complex shared history, but for many, the image remains a stark and painful reminder of a violent past.
