In a development that has sent tremors through the world’s most august institutions (and the gin shelf at Heathrow), four men have been detained in Sierra Leone for the dastardly crime of marrying children. Yes, children. The sort who still believe in tooth fairies and homework. The case, hailed as a landmark by those who love a good moral panic mixed with colonial hand-wringing, is being funded by a UK legal aid programme. Because nothing says ‘post-imperial atonement’ like paying British lawyers to tut loudly in a West African courtroom.
Let us pause for a moment to savour the sheer, magnificent absurdity. The UK, a nation that once exported the very concept of cronyism and child labour via the East India Company, is now funding the prosecution of child marriage. It is like watching a reformed pickpocket teach a masterclass in locksmithing. The programme, no doubt staffed by earnest young barristers who compost their own moral superiority, is being hailed as a ‘victory for human rights.’ Victory? The four men are reportedly ‘held,’ which in legal terms means they are enjoying complimentary accommodation at the pleasure of the state, breakfast included.
Let us not forget the delicious irony that this legal aid programme is, in all likelihood, funded by the British taxpayer. The same taxpayer who cannot get a pothole fixed or a train to run on time but can rest easy knowing their hard-earned pounds are being used to tell Africans that marrying a thirteen-year-old is a bit off. Bravo. We have exported our sense of outrage along with our austerity.
The real question, of course, is why now? Why is this scandal suddenly breaking, like a wave of righteous vomit, after decades of such practices being, if not condoned, at least winked at by local authorities? Could it be that the UK, desperate for a foreign policy win that doesn’t involve Brexit or sending asylum seekers to Rwanda, has discovered a new moral crusade? ‘Operation Save the Children’ it might be called, complete with a logo of a chubby toddler clutching a Union Jack.
But let us not be too harsh. The Sierra Leone case is, if nothing else, a fine piece of theatre. The accused men, presumably, will be paraded before a judge who will solemnly intone about the sanctity of childhood while the spectators polish their halos. Meanwhile, the true villains of the piece, the societal structures that allow such horrors to fester, will continue to operate with impunity, funded by aid money and Western hand-wringing.
One must imagine the barristers, fresh from their chambers in London, sipping overpriced coffee in Freetown, congratulating themselves on their benevolence. ‘We are making a difference,’ they will say, as they bill their hours at a rate that could feed a village for a week. And perhaps they are. Perhaps these four men will get a fair trial, and perhaps their conviction will send a signal that child marriage is no longer acceptable. Or perhaps it will just be another footnote in the long, sad history of Western do-goodery, where the solution to a complex problem is to throw money and lawyers at it until it goes away.
For now, we must content ourselves with the headline. Four men held. A landmark case. UK-funded legal aid. It is a story that has everything: exploitation, colonialism, and a hint of that peculiarly British brand of sanctimony. I shall raise a glass of airport gin to the lawyers. May their billable hours be long and their moral certainty unshaken. Cheers.
