n March 25, 2026, the United Nations General Assembly passed a resolution declaring the transatlantic slave trade the gravest crime against humanity. With 123 nations voting in favor, the resolution calls for reparations and restitution of cultural artifacts. Yet three nations — the United States, Israel, and Argentina — voted against. Their opposition is telling: to acknowledge slavery as a crime against humanity is to open the door to reparations.

As one Jamaican commentator noted, “The refusal is not about history — it is about fear of accountability.”

The resolution is sweeping in tone, and deliberately broad. By contrast the Caribbean Community’s CARICOM’s 10-Point Plan for Reparations, drafted in 2013, is far more specific.

CARICOM demands formal apologies from European governments, repatriation programs for those who wish to reconnect with Africa, and targeted initiatives in health, education, and debt relief. It insists on psychological rehabilitation for descendants of enslaved peoples and on technology transfer to bridge the development gap. In short, CARICOM offers a roadmap for repair, while the UN resolution provides the moral declaration.

The difference matters. Recognition without repair risks becoming another empty promise. For Jamaicans, the CARICOM plan’s emphasis on health and diet is especially urgent. The plantation system left us with salt heavy, starch-heavy foods that still dominate our tables. Hypertension, diabetes, and other chronic illnesses are not simply lifestyle choices, they are the bitter inheritance of slavery. Reparations must therefore mean more than money; they must mean healing of body and spirit.

Jamaicans are a people shaped by faith, and Scripture speaks powerfully to this moment. The prophet Amos declared, “Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.” Reparations are not revenge but restoration, a rolling stream of justice that cleanses and renews.

Jesus himself taught, “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” Naming slavery as humanity’s gravest crime is part of that truth-telling. It liberates descendants from silence and denial.

And in Joel 2:25, God promises to “restore the years the locust has eaten.” Reparations are a human attempt to restore what centuries of exploitation consumed — land, health, dignity, and opportunity.

Even the question of diet finds resonance in Scripture. Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit. A reparatory agenda must therefore include health justice: access to nourishing food, wellness education, and the dismantling of systems that profit from sickness.

Growing up in rural Jamaica, many of us know firsthand that slavery’s consequences are not confined to history books. They linger in the soil, in the schools, in the kitchens, and in the policies that still seem “full of tricks.”

Descendants of enslaved Africans continue to live with the scars of history — poverty, cultural disorientation, and systemic inequities.

Reparations, then, are not abstract. They are about dignity, health, education, and truth. They are about clinics in our communities, schools that teach African history, programs that restore cultural pride, and economic initiatives that free us from debt.

The UN resolution is a welcome step, but Jamaica must press forward with CARICOM’s plan. We cannot afford to let this moment pass without insisting on tangible repair.

The Bible reminds us that justice is not optional; it is the heartbeat of God’s kingdom. For Jamaica, reparations are not about dwelling in the past but about securing a future where our children inherit dignity, health, and truth. The UN has opened the door; CARICOM has shown the way. Now Jamaica must walk boldly through, insisting that justice delayed is justice denied.