Dear Editor,

As the chattering classes debate whether the King of England should be ousted as Jamaica’s head of state in favour of a republic, I must interject with a rather more fundamental grievance: Jamaica was never legally Britain’s to claim in the first place.

Yes, I’ve waded through dusty tomes and legal arcana to argue that our colonial status is built on a foundation of 17th-century skulduggery, and I humbly request your patience as I lay out this inconvenient truth with all the academic heft and biting clarity it deserves.

Let’s start with the legal niceties — or lack thereof. When Oliver Cromwell’s fleet snatched Jamaica in 1655 as part of his so-called Western Design, it wasn’t a triumph of military valour but a grubby act of opportunism after failing to nab Hispaniola. This wasn’t conquest; it was a smash-and-grab of largely undefended turf, as the Spanish had already evacuated most civilians.

Under the 1630 Treaty of Madrid, England was explicitly barred from such antics “beyond the line”. They shrugged off the treaty with a flimsy excuse about trade restrictions, ignoring both international norms and the 1494 Treaty of Tordesillas, which — papist or not — underpinned European territorial respect. Even by the era’s just-war theory, Cromwell’s lust for Spanish treasure and imperial swagger was neither defensive nor moral. It was piracy with better public relations.

Then there’s the delicious irony of Britain’s own hypocrisy. Post-1660, with Charles II back on the throne, Parliament gleefully annulled all Cromwellian ordinances, declaring his regime illegitimate. They even dug up the poor man’s corpse for a posthumous hanging in 1661 — a symbolic middle finger to his legacy. Yet, curiously, they clung to Jamaica, the sole colonial prize of his misadventure. How convenient!

Britain rejected Cromwell’s domestic authority but embraced his imperial loot, a contradiction so glaring it could light up Kingston Harbour. The 1670 Treaty of Madrid, which retroactively ceded Jamaica to England, was less a legal document and more a coerced receipt for stolen goods — Spain, battered and broke, had no choice but to sign.

As historian James Robertson dryly notes, Jamaica was kept for its sugar and slave labour potential, exposing Britain’s realpolitik: Puritan reforms bad, colonial plunder good.

Lest we forget, English control wasn’t even secure. From 1655 to 1660 Spanish settlers and Maroons — formerly enslaved Africans led by the likes of Juan de Bolas — waged relentless guerrilla warfare. Half the English forces croaked from disease and ambushes, hardly the “effective occupation” required for sovereignty under nascent international law. And local consent? Don’t make me laugh. Unlike North American colonies with their — admittedly flawed — treaties, Jamaica’s seizure involved zero negotiation: Maroon truces were coerced, not consensual. Britain’s claim to the island was as shaky as a palm tree in a hurricane.

Fast-forward to modern implications and the rot deepens. Cromwell’s invasion kick-started Jamaica’s descent into a slave-based plantation hellscape, importing enslaved Africans for a “sugar revolution” born of illegal conquest. Legal scholars like Carla Pestana argue such acts set a precedent for imperial aggression devoid of ethical or legal grounding. Add to this Cromwell’s charming habit of shipping Irish and Scottish prisoners to toil alongside them and you’ve got a litany of atrocities compounding the original sin. The 1670 treaty can’t whitewash this — Britain itself disavowed the very regime that seized Jamaica, yet still claims the spoils.

As Antigua and Barbuda’s 2023 reparation petition highlights, our colonial status reeks of legal contradictions and moral fraud.

So, to summarise with the subtlety of a cutlass: Jamaica’s British ties rest on Cromwell’s violation of 17th-century norms, Britain’s two-faced annulment of his authority while pocketing his gains, and the utter erasure of indigenous and Maroon agency. If Britain branded Cromwell a regicidal tyrant, how can it inherit the fruits of his tyranny?

As we ponder republicanism, let’s first confront this paradox. Restorative justice isn’t just a buzzword, it’s a debt long overdue.

Yannick Nesta Pessoa

yannickpessoa@yahoo.com