I was scrolling through a news website when I saw his face – Jim Ratcliffe, co-owner of Manchester United and one of Britain’s wealthiest men, now residing in tax-free Monaco. The accompanying article contained a statement that stopped me cold.
He genuinely believes Britain has been ‘colonised’ by immigrants, that newcomers have somehow seized control of the country. It was a claim so jarring, so fundamentally misguided, that I initially searched for a joke, a retraction, anything to explain it away.
But the seriousness of his words settled in. It struck me that Ratcliffe doesn’t seem to grasp the true weight of the word “colonised.” It isn’t a casual descriptor; it’s a term steeped in centuries of exploitation and suffering.
My work often leads me into the untold stories of India under British rule. I’ve heard accounts of the Raj, of the devastating Partition, even from my own family. Visiting my ancestral village today, the scars of that era are still painfully visible – a nation systematically drained of its wealth, leaving enduring poverty in its wake.
I remember watching a video from India’s Partition Museum, and being brought to tears by Sudershna Kumari, an elderly woman recounting the horrors she witnessed as a child. Colonisation isn’t ancient history; it’s the root cause of displacement, economic disparity, and the intergenerational trauma carried by refugees and asylum seekers today.
Ratcliffe’s subsequent “apology” was a masterclass in deflection, blaming offense taken rather than the offensiveness of his words. A genuine apology would have acknowledged his ignorance of colonialism’s brutal legacy – a legacy that isn’t a throwaway adjective, but a blood-soaked memory for countless communities.
In the 1800s, India wasn’t a struggling nation; it was a thriving economic powerhouse, generating 22.5% of the world’s GDP. But the arrival of the Portuguese, and later the East India Company in 1600, initiated a systematic stripping of resources and control.
By 1858, the British Raj had fully taken hold, ushering in 89 years of rule marked by engineered famines, the horrific Partition, the suppression of basic human rights, and the relentless economic plunder of an entire continent. India’s share of global GDP plummeted to less than 5%.
Ratcliffe’s casual use of “colonised” feels like a deliberate downplaying of this history, echoing a dangerous trend of attempting to sanitize the brutal realities of British imperialism. It’s a chilling echo of calls to present a “balanced” view of colonialism, as if there’s a positive side to oppression.
This is the same man who sought tax haven in Monaco, conveniently avoiding the financial responsibilities of his home country. His concerns about migrants ring hollow, fueled by the same uninformed rhetoric that stokes moral panics.
Colonisation isn’t about people fleeing war or famine seeking refuge. It’s about a foreign power establishing dominance through exploitation and control. Consider Sierra Leone in the 1700s, where British control of diamond resources created a legacy of “Blood Diamonds” and blocked local prosperity.
Ratcliffe’s statement is deeply offensive, and his non-apology only compounds the insult. It’s a stark reminder of the widespread ignorance surrounding the history of colonisation, not just in Britain, but globally.
The effects of colonisation are far-reaching, extending beyond India to countless nations. It’s a history of systemic injustice, and to equate it with immigration is not only inaccurate, but deeply disrespectful. Britain isn’t “colonised.”
If we truly want to have a productive conversation about immigration, perhaps we should start by looking closer to home – and questioning the motivations of those who benefit from offshore tax havens.
