I still remember, a few summers ago, the haunting images of migrant workers in India trudging barefoot along highways, clinging to overcrowded trains and buses in the hope of reaching homes alive. That collective trauma of the Covid-19-induced lockdown etched in India’s memory of how uncertain life can be. This ordeal is vividly captured in Neeraj Ghaywan’s directorial Homebound, which yet again reminds us of the daunting reality of captivity in the modern world. Every year, on August 23, the world pauses to remember the end of one of the darkest chapters of world history—International Day for the Remembrance of the Slave Trade and its Abolition. The day recalls the insurrection by the enslaved Africans on the intervening night of 22-23 August 1791 in Saint Domingue (present-day Haiti), in defiance of their oppressors. Following the slave uprising between 1791 and 1804—later termed the Haitian Revolution—Haiti achieved independence from France in 1804, marking the birth of the first independent Black republic.
Slavery, long embedded in the structures of ancient civilizations of Mesopotamia, Greece, Egypt, and Rome, evolved into a more systematized transatlantic enterprise by the fifteenth century. The Senegambia region of the African continent witnessed the forced mass displacement of a considerable size of the African population in the hope of serving the European interests. Transported in inhumane conditions, they were coerced into working on mines and plantations that fuelled the European wealth. In effect, this population became the engine of the Industrial Revolution in Europe and a foundation of the modern-day globalization that followed.
The world as we see it today is largely constructed through the Western lens. The system of slavery was once rationalized not as racialized violence but as a necessary mechanism to sustain the Western economy. Although slavery has been explicitly prohibited under Article 4 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), the echoes of slavery continue to reverberate. Today’s global demands for goods and services, spanning everywhere from fast fashion to information communication technology, often conceal exploitative labor conditions that recall the dehumanization of the slave trade. Walk Free, a leading international human rights group, defines modern slavery as situations of exploitation that a person cannot refuse or leave because of threats, violence, coercion, or deception. This definition encompasses a spectrum of modern-age practices such as forced labor, human trafficking, coerced marriages, etc. A 2022 United Nations report highlighted that nearly 50 million people were living in modern slavery as of 2021, including 28 million in forced labor and 22 million in forced marriages. In India alone, around 11 million people were subject to modern slavery in 2021, according to the Global Slavery Index by the Walk Free Foundation.
The practice of commodifying human life endures; it is evident in the exploitation of migrant laborers in the Gulf countries, bonded laborers in South Asia, and trafficked children across the globe. In West Asia, the kafala (sponsorship) system continues to legally institutionalize the subjugation of foreign workers. This is not an isolated instance of injustice. The same profit-driven mechanism of employing bonded labor in current times has given rise to deep wealth disparities and racial hierarchies. Even today, structural racism persists in Western societies, especially in the United States and European nations, where inequalities manifest in the form of judicial biases, police brutality, and socio-economic exclusion. Across Europe, such forms of discrimination seep into housing, education, and employment sectors. Youth from these communities often face what Ted Gurr terms “relative deprivation“—a discrepancy between what people think they deserve and what they actually get. These patterns of inequalities are not accidental; they are just the living legacies of people who have been denied their humanity across centuries.
This kind of comparison is not to be misread as equating the atrocities of slavery with today’s inequalities. Instead, it underscores how human lives are reduced to profit-generating sources. It justifies exploitation by those in power—sustaining their power by creating hierarchies of worth. If two hundred years back, it was justified through race, today it is reconstituted in terms of poverty, statelessness, and vulnerabilities of migration. The Covid-19 migrant crisis exposed the precarity of millions of Indian migrant workers, who, although they were not legally enslaved, were stuck in the cycle of economic dependency and invisibility, reminding us that emancipation is far from complete. However, the Haitian revolutionaries of 1791, who envisioned freedom against overwhelming odds, remind us that emancipation is not bestowed by an external force but comes from within. Emancipation is, therefore, an act of self-determination; it is a process of resistance and not benevolence.
Then what do we gain by remembering? First, it compels us to face the brutality of the past. It is not just to be seen as a symbolic gesture; former colonizers must acknowledge their historical culpability and consider reparative measures through better health, sanitation, living conditions, and education for the historically oppressed. Second, it is crucial to strengthen the international law. While almost all states worldwide have ratified conventions against slavery and trafficking, their enforcement remains weak. Governments must invest in countering cross-border trafficking and enhancing intelligence on labor abuses. Third, vigilance against the modern manifestations of slavery. The state, civil societies, and allied institutions must take the responsibility to address vulnerabilities that allow exploitation to thrive. Finally, remembrance demands solidarity. Just as ending slavery was a result of collective action, confronting its modern variants is upon us: to put up a united front to expose and dismantle the systemic loopholes that enable them.
Revering August 23 every year must serve not only as a reminder of the struggles waged by our forebears against an oppressive system but also as a reminder that the fight against dehumanization must continue. While the day recalls the historical rebellion against abolition, the world must face an unsettling truth: although the institutions and the structures that slavery once embodied have vanished, in reality their spirit survives in adaptive forms. We must move beyond the symbolic recognition of freedom, dignity, and humanity as achievements to actively defend, expand, and renew them. Remembrance is hollow until it inspires vigilance in our day-to-day lives—from our choices as consumers to the causes we support. True remembrance, therefore, must translate into concrete action.
