By Cheta Nwanze
Yet, despite these brutal episodes, many Nigerians today seem to have forgotten—or at least downplayed—the severity of these events. Streets, buildings, and institutions named after colonial figures who committed or enabled these atrocities remain largely unchallenged. For instance, Trenchard Hall at the University of Ibadan is named after Hugh Trenchard, a British officer who played a key role in the Aro Expedition, a campaign marked by widespread violence against the Aro people, where the collective guilt behaviour that Nigerian security forces use till this day was deployed. Similarly, Douglas House in Owerri is named after James Douglas, a colonial administrator who made liberal use of forced labour to advance British interests.”
The legacy of colonialism is a deeply complex and often painful subject, evoking different emotions and memories depending on the region. Across Africa, the scars of European domination are undeniable, but the intensity of resentment and how colonial history is remembered vary significantly. One striking thing I have noticed is that Anglo-West Africans—particularly Nigerians, Ghanaians, and Sierra Leoneans—do not seem to harbour the same level of animosity toward colonialism as their counterparts in East and Southern Africa. This divergence in collective memory is not accidental; it is rooted in the specific nature of British colonial rule in West Africa, the absence of large-scale settler colonialism, and how colonial violence has been memorialised—or, in many cases, forgotten.
In Nigeria, for example, the British colonial project was marked by numerous atrocities, many of which have faded from public memory. From the Punitive Expedition in Benin, which ended a 600-year-old dynasty and resulted in the looting of the Benin Bronzes and the burning of Benin City, to the Aro Expedition of 1901-1902, which saw the destruction of Arochukwu and the killing of countless civilians, the British employed extreme violence to suppress resistance and impose their rule. Other examples include the Satiru Massacre of 1906, where the bodies from the destruction of the village of Satiru near Sokoto were piled so high that they formed a hill and the destruction of Asaba, twice in the 1880s, which saw 1 in 10 Asaba men killed. These events were not isolated incidents but part of a broader pattern of violence used to establish and maintain colonial control.
Yet, despite these brutal episodes, many Nigerians today seem to have forgotten—or at least downplayed—the severity of these events. Streets, buildings, and institutions named after colonial figures who committed or enabled these atrocities remain largely unchallenged. For instance, Trenchard Hall at the University of Ibadan is named after Hugh Trenchard, a British officer who played a key role in the Aro Expedition, a campaign marked by widespread violence against the Aro people, where the collective guilt behaviour that Nigerian security forces use till this day was deployed. Similarly, Douglas House in Owerri is named after James Douglas, a colonial administrator who made liberal use of forced labour to advance British interests. If Nigerians were to take a serious reckoning with their colonial past, these names would likely be among the first to be changed.
Compared to East and Southern Africa, the relative lack of animosity toward colonialism in West Africa can be attributed to several factors. First, the absence of settler colonialism in West Africa played a significant role. Unlike in Kenya, Zimbabwe, or South Africa, where large numbers of British settlers seized land and established permanent communities, West Africa did not experience significant settler colonialism. The British saw the region primarily as a source of raw materials and labour rather than a place to settle. This meant that the colonial presence was less visible and intrusive, and the direct displacement of local populations was less widespread. In East and Southern Africa, the expropriation of land by settlers created a lasting legacy of inequality and resentment. The Mau Mau uprising in Kenya and the anti-apartheid struggle in South Africa are emblematic of the fierce resistance to settler colonialism, which has left a deep imprint on collective memory.
Second, the nature of colonial violence in West Africa was often more localised and episodic compared to the systemic brutality of settler colonialism. While British colonial rule in West Africa was undoubtedly violent, the scale and duration of this violence were often more contained. Massacres like those in Satiru or Arochukwu were horrific, but they did not result in the same level of sustained, large-scale oppression as seen in regions with significant settler populations. In contrast, the British in Kenya and Southern Africa waged prolonged wars against local populations, enforced racial segregation, and institutionalised systems of forced labour and land dispossession. These experiences have left a more indelible mark on the collective psyche.
Third, post-colonial narratives and national identity have also shaped how colonialism is remembered in West Africa. In countries like Nigeria and Ghana, the narrative of colonialism has often been overshadowed by the challenges of post-independence governance, such as civil wars, military coups, and economic struggles. Focusing on these more immediate issues has sometimes pushed colonial history to the background. Additionally, compared to the protracted struggles in Kenya and South Africa, the relatively smooth transition to independence in West Africa contributed to a less confrontational relationship with the colonial past.
Finally, cultural and historical amnesia have contributed to the forgetting of colonial atrocities. The passage of time, coupled with a lack of formal education, public discourse and a deliberate effort to whitewash these events, has led to cultural amnesia. Many Nigerians, for example, are unaware of the specifics of events like the Satiru Massacre or the Aro Expedition. Without a concerted effort to preserve and teach this history, it risks being forgotten entirely.
If West Africans are to confront their colonial past honestly, one tangible step would be to rename monuments and institutions that honour colonial figures implicated in atrocities. Trenchard Hall and Douglas House are just two examples of how colonial legacies are still embedded in Nigeria’s physical and cultural landscape. Two others are Lugard House and Bourdillon Road. For crying out loud, the city of Port Harcourt was named after a serial paedophile!
Renaming these sites would not only correct historical injustices but also serve as a reminder of the violence and exploitation that underpinned British rule.
The difference in how Anglo-West Africans and their East and Southern African peers remember colonialism is not a reflection of the severity of colonial violence but rather of the specific ways in which that violence was enacted and memorialised. For West Africans, the absence of settler colonialism and the episodic nature of colonial atrocities have made it easier to “forget” or downplay the horrors of the past. However, this forgetting comes at a cost. It risks erasing the struggles and sacrifices of those who resisted colonial rule and obscures the full impact of colonialism on the region’s development.
A true reckoning with the colonial past requires not only remembering the atrocities but also taking concrete steps to address their legacy. Renaming colonial monuments, educating future generations about this history, and fostering a more critical dialogue about colonialism are essential steps in this process. Only then can West Africans fully confront the complexities of their colonial past and its enduring impact on the present.
Nwanze is founder of SBM Intelligence
