‘The truth is finally being told’

These are the words of the Reverend Michael King on the 75th anniversary of the HMT Empire Windrush arriving at the Port of Tilbury, bringing over 1,027 migrants (primarily from the West Indies) to help rebuild London after the Second World War. Perhaps a message of triumph, of optimism, of hope. That we are making progress and finally unlearning the centuries of racist, imperialist, jingoist narratives which have permeated British society.

This event is now commemorated, thanks in part to King’s father, Samuel Beaver King MBE. Today, I present the case that Sam King deserves greater recognition as a historical figure.

To define someone as ‘deserving’ greater recognition is to argue that they are a significant historical figure. Namely, that they contribute to ideas which are still being developed and upheld today, and helped to open up a difficult conversation which did not end with their passing, but continues to be had. In the case of Sam King, that conversation pertains to the competing visions of British identity: the idea of British exceptionalism, which fuelled British imperialism for centuries, and stayed ingrained within the mindset of many for long after that, contrasted with the struggle for a more inclusive multicultural society, where heritage is celebrated and hardship of others acknowledged, in the name of mutual respect and tolerance.

Firstly, I will outline the significance of Sam King in the context of his own life. His contribution to the UK arguably began when he, like many young Caribbean people in the 1940s, joined the RAF and served for ‘the Mother Country’ at RAF Hawkinge, going on to several more postings, ending as an aircraft engineer at RAF Dishforth in 1947. Immediately, this contribution to the war effort should be honoured, working diligently as a cog in the machine of war which fought against European fascism – this would not be King’s last encounter with fascistic ideology. He later returned to the UK under the Nationality Act 1948, part of the migration which was called upon by the British government to serve and rebuild the ‘Mother Country’. Here, King demonstrated resilience in the face of discrimination, fighting against the rise of Powell’s fascism in the 1960s through his mere existence and living his life. His application to the Metropolitan Police was rejected in spite of his decorated military career, but this did not deter him – rather, he started a long and prosperous career at the Post Office, serving his community through this role, eventually ending up as the Executive Manager for London’s South Eastern Postal District. Throughout his life, he served his local community, but also set the precedent for other Caribbean migrants: that while discrimination was a sad reality in twentieth-century Britain, it did not have to dictate one’s life or quash one’s ambitions. 

In fact, King broke even more barriers, becoming the first Black mayor in the UK when he was elected Mayor of Southwark Council in 1983 – this, against the backdrop of racial tension in London, with events like the Battle of Lewisham in 1977, the 1981 Brixton Riots and the rise of the National Front (a fascist organisation), proved a pivotal moment in the history of Black people in Britain. He began to change the narrative of British identity, carving out a place for Black British identity within institutions which had historically oppressed and subjugated people like Sam King. Interestingly, he was commissioned to improve the recruitment of Black police officers, 20 years after having been rejected by the very same police force. His notable work in office includes collaborating with Sam Wanamaker to realise the construction of Shakespeare’s Globe, a replica of the original Globe Theatre. In this way, King also championed English culture and heritage, proving his work to be as varied as it was significant. 

What is perhaps most significant about King is his contribution to the development of the historiography of Windrush migration: much of what we know and celebrate today comes from his work on this topic. He single-handedly tracked down the 492 Jamaican passengers on the ship, inviting many to tell their stories on documented and televised interviews, and solidifying their legacies by including their names in his autobiography. He was able to shift the narrative from stigma to understanding, from ignoring to listening, from the ‘Rivers of Blood’ to the ‘Second Mayflower’. He first worked with Claudia Jones on the West Indian Gazette – often regarded as one of the most significant outlets for Caribbean culture in the twentieth century. He was later treasurer of the organising committee which was behind what would become the Notting Hill Carnival, the largest carnival in Europe and a spectacular showcase of multiculturalism and diversity which still takes place today, celebrating people and their cultures. If King’s significance was to be boiled down to one thing, it would be his work on decolonising British identity, making room for narratives like that of the Windrush Generation and acknowledging the struggles they faced, as well as their resilience and courage. In 1988, he organised the 40th Windrush anniversary, ensuring that this migration story was told: he showcased the ‘truth’ in the face of triumphalism. His commitment to telling this story, which had gone unheard for so long, formalised itself in 1995 with the establishment of the Windrush Foundation. The Foundation sought to educate and culturally decolonise, bringing attention to the rich history of Black people in Britain even before the Windrush – people like Olaudah Equiano and Ignatius Sancho. His organisation is now a vocal pressure group for the inclusion of Black and African history in the National Curriculum, successfully lobbying for the inclusion of Equiano and Mary Seacole in the National Curriculum in 2008 – King’s legacy impacts the very subject I wish to see him included in.

In 2018, King’s dream of a Windrush Day, commemorating the migration stories and cultural heritage of the Caribbean migration, as well as the real struggles faced by these people on their arrival to the UK, came to fruition with the inauguration of 22 June as Windrush Day by PM Theresa May. Maybe the truth is ‘finally being told’ – albeit after a hostile government policy was exposed, leading to hundreds of first-, second- and third- generation Caribbean migrants having their British citizenship revoked, their livelihoods ruined and their families torn apart, as some were deported back to a homeland they knew nothing of. 

Perhaps progress is not so linear. 

Sam King was a voice for his community, at a time when some of the loudest voices in the room wanted to silence people like him forever. His ideas of promoting multiculturalism are still significant today, and we owe much of our knowledge about the Windrush Generation to Sam King’s devoted historiography on the topic. For these reasons, and his hand in shaping a more inclusive British identity, I believe he deserves greater recognition.

My name is Ryan Belaidi, and I have lived in Southwark my entire life, surrounded by the rich cultural diversity and heritage which London has to offer. My parents both migrated here over the course of their lives – my father from Algeria in the 1980s and my mother from Poland in 2004. Migration and multiculturalism in British society have therefore always been a particular interest of mine, particularly considering the cosmopolitan nature of where I live. I hope to go on to study history at university in the future.