U.K.-U.S. neocolonial pact on Chagos Islands exposes global militarised sovereignty struggles and Indigenous dispossession

The Chagossian people, a Creole community with African and South Asian ancestry, were forcibly removed by the U.K. in the 1960s–70s to make way for the U.S. military base on Diego Garcia. Their Indigenous identity and connection to the land are central to their claims for return and reparations, yet mainstream narratives erase their existence. The 2019 ICJ ruling acknowledged their displacement as a violation of self-determination, a legal precedent largely ignored in geopolitical discourse.

The Chagos Archipelago’s dispossession mirrors 19th-century colonial land grabs, where Indigenous sovereignty was subordinated to imperial strategic interests. The 1965 excision of Chagos from Mauritius—just before independence—was a Cold War-era maneuver to secure U.S. military dominance in the Indian Ocean. Historical precedents include the U.S. military’s use of Pacific islands (e.g., Guam, Okinawa) for bases, often at the expense of Indigenous populations and ecosystems.

Pacific Islander communities, such as the Chamorro people of Guam, have long resisted U.S. military expansion on their lands, citing environmental harm and cultural erasure. African and Caribbean nations, through the AU and CARICOM, have framed Chagos as a test case for post-colonial justice, linking it to reparations for slavery and apartheid. In South Asia, the displacement of Sri Lankan Tamils by militarisation offers a parallel to Chagossian struggles, where state security narratives justify land theft.

Scientific studies confirm Diego Garcia’s ecological degradation due to dredging, fuel spills, and invasive species introduced for the base. The U.S. military’s own environmental impact assessments (e.g., 2018) acknowledge harm to coral reefs and marine biodiversity, yet these findings are sidelined in geopolitical reporting. The ICJ’s 2019 ruling relied on legal precedent and historical evidence, not scientific data, highlighting the need for interdisciplinary approaches to sovereignty disputes.

Chagossian oral histories and music, such as the *séga* tradition, preserve memories of the islands as a lived cultural landscape, not a military asset. Artists like Keiron Chetty have used visual art to depict the archipelago’s beauty and the violence of displacement, challenging the narrative of strategic necessity. Spiritual practices tied to ancestral lands—such as rituals in sacred groves—are systematically erased by militarisation, reflecting a broader assault on Indigenous cosmologies.

If the U.S.-U.K. pact proceeds, the Chagos Archipelago risks further militarisation, including potential expansion to counter China’s Indian Ocean presence, escalating regional tensions. Climate change threatens to submerge the islands by 2100, making the base’s long-term viability uncertain, yet military planners ignore this in favour of short-term geopolitical gains. Alternative futures could include demilitarisation, Indigenous-led conservation, and reparations, as proposed by the Chagossian community and supported by international law.

Chagossian activists like Olivier Bancoult and Lisette Talate have spent decades advocating for return and reparations, yet their voices are excluded from U.K.-U.S. policy debates. Women in the Chagossian diaspora, such as Rita Bancoult, have documented the gendered impacts of displacement, including trauma and economic marginalisation. Scholars of colour, such as Mauritian historian Vijaya Teelock, highlight how colonial archives are weaponised to erase Indigenous narratives, reinforcing systemic erasure.