Five years ago, the world watched in horror as George Floyd was murdered by a police officer on a Minneapolis street. His last words - “I can’t breathe", were not just the desperate plea of a dying man. They became a haunting metaphor for Black people across the globe. It was a cry from communities who, for generations, have struggled to breathe under the weight of systemic racism, state neglect, and social and economic injustice.
In the immediate aftermath, we saw a wave of declarations from governments, local authorities, health services, private businesses and philanthropic bodies. Many promised to do better. They recognised that what we had all witnessed was not just an individual atrocity, but a mirror held up to the structural racism that continues to shape our institutions, policies, and mindsets.
And yet, here we are, five years later, with a big sense of deja vu. I said at the time that my greatest fear was not that people wouldn’t respond, but that institutions would revert to type - that the public statements, the performative allyship, the carefully crafted equality pledges would evaporate the further we move away from that seminal moment. Sadly this is precisely what we are now witnessing. We know this here in the UK - indeed it happened with Stephen Lawrence, Rolan Adams, Rohit Duggal and others.
The disparities between Black and white communities in this country have not just persisted, they have deepened. We saw this laid bare during the COVID-19 pandemic which overlapped with Floyd’s murder and the global reckoning it triggered. In the UK, Black health workers were dying in disproportionate numbers. Black communities suffered higher rates of infection, hospitalisation and death. Access to protective equipment, healthcare, and support was unequal. The experience of the pandemic exposed again the embedded racial fault lines in British society - and how even in a global crisis, those lines determine who lives, who suffers, and who is heard.
At the time, there was a glimmer of global hope. In Tokyo, young Japanese people carried Black Lives Matter signs. Across European capitals, white citizens publicly acknowledged their own complicity in racist systems. Conversations that were once avoided began to happen. For many Black people, there was a moment - just a moment - when it felt like the tide might finally be turning.
But hope without action is nothing. Today, we are witnessing not just inertia, but a deliberate and coordinated backlash. In the United States, there is a growing movement to erase the symbols and substance of racial justice - removing Black Lives Matter murals, attacking DEI (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) initiatives, and sacking the very people tasked with progressing equality. And in the UK, we are seeing our own institutions beginning to retreat.
The Prime Minister’s recent use of language taken from Enoch Powell’s infamous “Rivers of Blood” speech while discussing immigration is not just offensive, it is dangerous. While the Prime Minister and others claim this was not their intention, the effect of invoking such inflammatory rhetoric is clear: it legitimises a politics of division and racial scapegoating. It emboldens those who already view Black and minority communities as a threat, and it feeds into a toxic public discourse that undermines social cohesion.
And then we had the remarks from the Leader of the Opposition, Kemi Badenoch who dismissed calls for slavery reparations as a "scam" and claimed that Britain's wealth was not derived from colonialism or slavery. Coming from someone in her position, and of her racial identity - this was not only profoundly insulting to descendants of the enslaved, but dangerous. It seeks to rewrite history and dilute the brutality and legacy of slavery and it sends a chilling message about whose pain is worthy of acknowledgment.
Taken together, these statements from senior political leaders, post-George Floyd, are deeply concerning. They suggest not just a lack of commitment to racial justice, but a calculated willingness to placate regressive elements of public opinion. They do not unite, they divide. And they risk dragging our country backwards.
And while we are confronting these new dangers, we are still grappling with the unresolved injustices of the past. Let me say this plainly: the government must not wait for the Windrush Generation to die before acting decisively. The continuing delays, broken promises, and bureaucratic contortions surrounding compensation and justice for the Windrush scandal are nothing short of a moral outrage.
To delay redress for the people who helped build this country, who were invited to contribute to the national project and then betrayed by it, is unethical. It is an affront to justice. And for people like me -the sons and daughters of that generation - it is personal. These are our parents, our aunties and uncles, our elders. Every day that goes by without meaningful action is a disgrace. It is time for the government to choose action over endless process, to make the wrongs right - NOW.
This matters. Because when racism is ignored, or worse, weaponised, it fractures the very fabric of our democracy. In the run-up to the last election, Operation Black Vote heard from communities across the country - young people, elders, long-time activists who spoke in deep despair. Why should we register to vote? Why bother voting at all? What’s the point, if nothing changes? This is not apathy - it is alienation. And it should shame every politician who claims to stand for justice, while presiding over a system that continues to fail so many, Black and White.
Let’s be clear: when we tackle racism, everyone benefits. Racial justice is not a zero-sum game. A more equitable society is safer, fairer and more prosperous for us all. But this cannot happen without strong leadership and courage. This means calling out injustice, even when it’s unpopular. It means holding the line against narratives that dehumanise and divide. It means recognising that progress requires not just words, but resources, reform, and relentless accountability.
At Operation Black Vote, we will continue to push for this. We will hold politicians and public institutions to account. We will support and empower Black and global majority communities to use their voices, their votes and their vision to demand change.
And yes, we should acknowledge that there have been some gains over the past five years. Some lessons have been learned. Some doors have opened. Some minds have changed. But we must not let that cloud the truth of what we are experiencing now: an ongoing normalisation of racism and division in public life. And the data backs this up - from inequality in education, health, housing and employment to a lack of representation in senior leadership across the board.
This is a moment not for complacency, but for commitment. A time to renew our collective energy. There has to be a 'constancy to purpose' - from government, from institutions, from communities and from each of us individually in the struggle against racism. This isn’t a one-off campaign. It’s the work of a lifetime.
Five years on from George Floyd’s murder - it is not enough to remember. We must act. We must disrupt. We must rebuild. And we must never again allow ourselves to believe that justice will come without sustained effort and courageous leadership.
David Weaver
Chair, Operation Black Vote (OBV)
