I cannot remember when I first heard about the Zong massacre. I seem to have known about it forever. In some ways, in the context of all the atrocities of racial enslavement and extractive colonisation, it is just one more thing. We live in a world of horrors. However, in writing Decolonisation and Legal Knowledgethe court case that deliberated on the specific horrors of the Zong became a running motif for me. This was particularly important as I tried to articulate the nature and character of the law and what it allows; who it sees and who it does not see or protect is also important. In this essay, I want to engage with the various ways in which some people (including myself) have responded to the challenge raised by the story of the Zong. In other words, what do you do after you hear about a massacre like the Zong?

But first the facts of the case of Gregson v Gilbert (1783)

In 1781, at the height of the trade in kidnapped Africans, the slave ship Zong, owned by a Liverpool syndicate, was en route to Jamaica from Ghana, West Africa. The ship was carrying around 470 enslaved people held in terrible conditions, controlled by a crew of just 17. It was twice the number the ship was designed for. It ran low on water due to navigational errors. The ship’s captain, Luke Collingwood, knew that if the enslaved Africans died of natural causes before they could be sold, they wouldn’t make as much profit as expected. (This was Collingwood’s first journey as a captain; he had previously worked as a surgeon on the ship William). Collingwood was motivated by the fact that their insurance policy for their cargo covered emergencies. He calculated that if the enslaved people were thrown into the water to “protect” the safety of those onboard, the crew and owners could recover their “value” through an insurance claim.

Therefore, between November 29 and the following days, the crew of the British ship Zong killed 133 of their African captives by throwing them overboard. These actions relied on categorising the human victims as cargo only. In the ensuing court case, the crew claimed that reduced food and water supplies created a necessity for the mass killing. So they were “cargo” that also needed food and water to survive. However, on the ship’s return to the UK, the insurers refused to pay, challenging the story that the ship had really run out of water.

A trial was held in March 1783 at the Guildhall in central London to settle the dispute. The court case, Gregson v. Gilbert (1783), ultimately decided on appeal, was focused only on the insurance claim and not the self-confessed killing of human beings that founded the claim. The jury in the trial of first instance found in favour of the slave traders, allowing them to claim insurance. The insurers appealed the decision. On appeal, Justice Mansfield held that a necessity had not been proven—it was not conclusive that the ship had run out of water since there was testimony that it was raining during the massacre. As Krikler argues, this finding suggests that had a necessity been proven, the killing of 133 human beings would have been justified. Krikler’s observation tells us something about the nature of Euro-modern law itself. At no point were the Africans considered human in the eyes of the law. At the appeal hearing instigated by the insurers, the barrister acting for the Zong’s owners illustrated that point bluntly thus:

‘What is this claim that human people have been thrown overboard? This is a case of chattels or goods. Blacks are goods and property; it is madness to accuse these well-serving honourable men of murder.’

In his judgment, Justice Mansfield noted:

“It has been decided, whether wisely or unwisely is not now the question, that a portion of our fellow-creatures may become the subject of property… The argument drawn from the law respecting indictments for murder does not apply.”

In law, you cannot murder property. Law determines what or who is property.

Olaudah Equiano, who had been freed from enslavement and was living in London, outraged at the massacre, had brought it to the attention of abolitionist Granville Sharp. Through the work of both men, the shocking details of the case galvanised the British abolitionist movement against the slave trade.

That is one response to the Zong. News of the brutality of the massacre boosted support for anti-slavery campaigners and helped drive change. In 1788, the first regulation limited the number of enslaved Africans a ship could carry. The British slave trade was outlawed in 1807, and all enslaved people in the British Empire were freed by law in 1833. This is the way in which the story of the Zong is often narrated. A triumph over slavery that took 52 years and countless unnamed lives and resulted in compensation for slave owners and continued servitude and dehumanisation for the formerly enslaved. 245 years after the events of the Zong, humanity is still discarding lives deemed not human enough to the open seas, to fire, to hunger, to war.

Birds fly off an abandoned wooden boat, seen from the German NGO migrant rescue ship Sea-Watch 3 in the search and rescue zone off the North African coast in the western Mediterranean Sea, on July 26, 2021. REUTERS/Darrin Zammit Lupi

 

In the Present-Day Law School

Yet, the story of the Zong does not often find its way into contemporary law schools and faculties, even as a triumphant story of the benevolence of Euro-modern law. Over the time that I have used the case in my work, I have come across a type of response which I amalgamate into “Professor X” because people who respond to Zong in this way tend to be quite similar in their views and status in society. They mainly think that the Zong was an insignificant legal case that happened so very long ago. Therefore, it has no bearing on how we understand law today. We cannot judge men in the past by the standards of today. (I have said something about this type of argument before). Besides, even if there was any significance, justice was done. The ship owners were unable to claim insurance.

SO, WHY DO YOU STILL CARE ABOUT THE ZONG, FOLUKE???

Before I explain why I still care about the Zong, I want to consider other people’s words who also still care.

M. NourbeSe Philip

M. NourbeSe Philip, Canadian poet and novelist

In 2008, Philip published Zong!, an extended 182-page poetry cycle which is composed entirely from the words of the case report. Zong! abides by a protocol of loosening and shattering, retrieval and defacement, in order to voice the African presence in a sense extinguished twice. First assassinated by being thrown into the water, then unseen and destroyed again by law. The book is a haunting, fragmented anti-narrative that serves as a lament and memorial rather than a traditional narrative. In her own words:

Adam Oyebanji

Adam Oyebanji, Scottish-based novelist and financial crime lawyer

In his book, Esperance, Oyebanji tells the story of Ethan Krol, a Chicago policeman who has been sent to investigate an exceedingly mysterious murder. A man and a child lie dead in their home, while the wife and mother is found unconscious, almost in a coma-like state. The victims have been literally drowned in seawater, miles from any ocean. Krol’s investigations eventually bring him to Providence, Rhode Island, the scene of an identical murder. There he allies with Detective Nicole Gutierrez to solve the crime. Further down the line we encounter Abidemi “Abi” Eniola. An Amazonian Black woman enhanced with high-tech equipment, both implanted and portable, she materialises in Bristol, England, and starts her own search. In an interview, he explains how the Zong massacre inspired him to write this story.

“In this particular case, from 1783, the claim arose out of a voyage of such incompetence and cruelty that just reading about it took my breath away. People died. A lot of people. And all anyone seemed to care about afterward was the value of the claim. I had nightmares about it. Even now, I sometimes have dreams so vivid I can hear the waves slapping against that ancient, wooden hull, the screaming of lost souls as things go horribly, irretrievably sideways…  Why not use the facts of this nightmarish shipping claim as the inciting incident of a novel? And not a historical novel, but a sci-fi one, where the consequences carry forward to the present? A story about a Chicago cop who’s in way over his head, chasing a seemingly invincible criminal dead set on righting an old wrong. A story about a woman out of her own time and place prepared to do drastic things in expiation of sins that are not her own. A story where human justice clashes with inhuman crimes in a deadly conflict of values. Why not, once I’ve finished my beverage, go back inside and write that story? So I did. I called it Esperance.”

Esperance means hope. What hope exists in a world shaped by a law with the character to let the Zong happen? What hope for justice forgets the murdered are people?

In this brilliant story, Oyebanji makes the reader question perceptions of guilt and innocence, of vengeance and justice, of time itself – all the while asking what makes us truly human. A tour de force and most highly recommended. Julie E. Czerneda, author of To Each This World

this page-burner earns its moral heft by engaging with one of the ugliest mass human abuses in the history of our planet and considering what enslavement might have looked like through another planet’s eyes.’ — Donna Glee Williams, author of The Night Field

Giles Terera

Giles Terera British actor and musician

Terera explains how he came to write this play:

What stood out to me most in this story is that hearing about the Zong quite literally stopped Terera in his tracks. He then went on to write, direct and star in a play, The Meaning of the Zong. The play is a meditation on the legacy of slavery, focusing on how Olaudah Equiano and Granville Sharp fought for justice. It covers themes of resilience, the power of memory, and the fight against injustice. The play also emphasises that the ship was originally named Zorg, meaning “care”, highlighting the horrific irony of the massacre.

 

Foluke Adebisi: British Nigerian Lawyer, Teacher and Poet

There are two instances in which I have used the Zong case extensively in my work. One of these is an alternative judgment. “The Sea Casts Its Net of Justice Wide: A Speculative Judgment for What Has Been Left to the Waters of Despair.” I already wrote about it here on this blog. Essentially, in the alternative judgment, I take the case of Gregson v Gilbert (1783) as a starting point to consider what justice for environmental damage could look like from the perspective of the ocean. The aim of that reflection is to question if the tools we currently have in legal knowledge are sufficient to achieve justice in the present.

The second instance is in my monograph, Decolonisation and Legal Knowledge, where I weave the case through the book’s examination of the impact of colonial logics on the nature of law. In the final substantive chapter I return to the case thus:

Imagine the scene, this deck of a slave ship. Screams in unremembered languages rent the night sky, from bodies whose names the slave traders had not deigned to know or record. Precious cargo held in vulnerable bodies. Which of these is intelligible to Euro-modern law? Their life or their value as property? What story and which principles of the Zong survive into law schools? Which bodies, which spaces, which times, which legal knowledge survive the Zong? The fact that the slavers were in possession of those bodies, that space, and in that time, meant that their actions served to make the most of those bodies, that space, and that time, hoping that legal knowledge will be on their side. So overboard the bodies must go. For the cargo may mean more in death than in life in the eyes of the law… Scream. Splash. Silence. Whose body is being made inhuman? Which spaces are really desolation? Whose times are no more? Scream. Splash. Silence. And then the bodies were all gone. And off to the law the ‘humans’ go to claim insurance for the lost cargo made unhuman…. Understanding and disrupting the ways in which Euro- modern legal knowledge forces us into modalities of possession and not relation, means that we recognise that what happened on the Zong was not an aberration, but the logical conclusion of a colonial legal knowledge that underwrites living in possession and domination…as was Amritsar, Sharpeville, the murder of Stephen Lawrence, the Grenfell fire, the killing of George Floyd, the bodies in the waters of the Mediterranean, the fires of the Amazon, and the earth’s perdition in rising waters. Scream. Splash. Silence. Until the bodies are no more.

The point in caring about the Zong/Zorg is not to trap us in the position of gazing endlessly at the past. It is rather an invitation for us to recognise that what happened on the Zong was not an aberration but the logical conclusion of a colonial legal knowledge that underwrites living in possession and domination. A colonial legal knowledge which still makes the modern world, consigning and discarding lives deemed not human enough to the open seas, to fire, to hunger, to war. Caring about the Zong also means that we care about which stories are told, whose stories are told and how they are told. The Zong is often told as a story of triumph and victory of the legal system. But what really was the victory of the Zong? Forming part of the eventual triumphal slavery abolition narrative? An abolition movement that the enslaved had already put their own bodies on the line for and which the slave owners received compensation for? Or was the victory of the Zong that the slave traders were not able to claim insurance? What did that narration of victory mean to those who were abandoned to the water? To paraphrase Ruha Benjamin, we need to imagine and craft the worlds all of us cannot live without, just as we imagine the undoing of worlds many on this planet cannot live, cannot move, cannot breathe, within… we must imagine the undoing of the endless night of the Zong.
What does it mean for YOU to be human when a massacre does not stop you in your tracks? And that is why the Zong still matters, because every instance of unjustly discarded life should stop us in our tracks. And if it doesn’t? Then all that is left is… Scream. Splash. Silence. Until the bodies are no more.

References

Benjamin, Ruha, ed. 2019. Captivating Technology: Race, Carceral Technoscience, and Liberatory Imagination in Everyday Life. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.

Gregson v Gilbert (1783) 3 Doug. KB 232

Krikler, Jeremy. “The Zong and the Lord Chief Justice.” In History Workshop Journal, vol. 64, no. 1, pp. 29-47. Oxford University Press, 2007.

Oyebanji, Adam. Esperance. DAW Books, 2025.

Philip, M. NourbeSe. Zong! Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 2011.

Walvin, James. The Zong: A Massacre, the Law and the End of Slavery. Yale University Press, 2011.

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