The recent acquittal of police officer Martyn Blake in the shooting of Chris Kaba has ignited widespread outrage and claims of “trauma” within sections of the Black community. Some community leaders argue that the relationship with the police has been set back by the verdict, and that Kaba’s criminal history should not overshadow the tragedy of his death. But this line of thinking overlooks an uncomfortable truth: Chris Kaba was far from a blameless victim.
Yes, Kaba was unarmed at the moment he was shot, and this is the fact the mainstream media seems determined to highlight. However, being unarmed does not mean one is a helpless and innocent victim. It does not erase the dangerous decisions that led to that moment. Kaba had a documented history of criminal activity, and just days before his death, he was involved in a nightclub shooting. He was also driving a vehicle tied to other violent acts when he was stopped by police. Despite the judge’s attempt to withhold these facts from the jury until after the verdict, and despite the Kaba family’s efforts to keep these grisly details private, the truth is that context matters. It speaks to the circumstances that put him in a situation where lethal force became necessary.
Brexit campaigner Femi Oluwole, writing for The Independent, framed Kaba’s death as an “avoidable tragedy,” and indeed, it could have been – had Kaba not allowed his reckless choices to lead to a confrontation that ultimately cost him his life. The loss of any life is tragic, but we must resist the urge to romanticise or excuse the behaviour that precipitated this outcome. Kaba’s actions that night were not those of an innocent man caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were the inevitability of a life shaped by constant misjudgment and destructive impulses, culminating in a fatal encounter.
It’s also entirely normal for the public to scrutinise and try to understand the background and circumstances leading to any tragic outcome. While this may sometimes be seen as distasteful and insensitive, it is a natural tendency. It speaks to our collective need to identify patterns in human behaviour and make sense of complex events. For instance, when Jay Slater went missing in Tenerife, there was an initial collective worry and sympathy directed his way. However, as people began to dig into his past and uncover unsettling details—such as his involvement in a gang-related machete attack that left another teen with a “split open” skull – public sentiment shifted. We’re seeing something similar now with the horrific and disturbing death of Liam Payne, who recently fell from a third-floor hotel balcony in Argentina. Not long after his death, people already started debating online whether any of his actions or past behaviour may have contributed to his demise.
Both Slater and Payne were white, proving that such scrutiny isn’t just reserved for Black men. The notion that Black people are the only ones subjected to intense “background checks” simply doesn’t hold up to reality. People will naturally question the context, especially when someone’s past may be relevant to their present circumstances. Pretending otherwise does a disservice to public discourse and undermines accountability.
A life has been lost, and that is always painful. But turning Chris Kaba into a martyr for racial injustice distorts the facts and distracts from the real goal: making our communities safer. True safety demands both police accountability and individual responsibility. Yet, because social justice activists and “community leaders” avoid addressing the latter, this means that the cycle of violence and disorder will continue to persist on our streets.
Community leaders have also lamented that these incidents further erode trust between law enforcement and the Black community, damaging an already fragile relationship. And while it’s important for police officers to have a good relationship with the communities they serve, they still have to do their jobs. They cannot be put in a position where they have to second-guess their actions out of fear of “ruffling the waters” as it hampers their ability to maintain law and order effectively.
Kaba’s actions left a son fatherless and led to a family being heartbroken. This was not the fault or doing of the police officer; this was not some random injustice; it was the result of the chosen path and actions of Chris Kaba. And this is the message that should be communicated to young Black men, who, statistically, are more likely to have their lives taken by another young Black man than by a white police officer. It is frustrating that this reality receives the fraction of the attention given to bad police encounters. Perhaps this is because it’s easier to rally against an external enemy than to confront internal challenges. It’s more comfortable to blame a system than to acknowledge that sometimes tragic outcomes stem from a series of deliberate choices.
While our environments undoubtedly shape us, and socioeconomic status significantly influences the circumstances of many young Black individuals, keeping these conversations at a “systemic” level often morphs into a patronising narrative that inadvertently strips away individual agency. Speaking about personal responsibility within the Black community is not an act of victim-blaming or a lack of compassion. What is truly dehumanising is the pervasive suggestion that ethnic minorities lack the moral and intellectual capacity to make conscious choices that shape their lives.
Crying racism at every police encounter gone wrong, and in fact crying racism for any negative outcome experienced by a “non-White” person, particularly when that person’s own actions contributed to or escalated the situation, has become the default response in modern society. However, we need to move beyond immediately reaching for racism as the universal explanation and instead evaluate each situation on its specific merits, including examining how individual choices and behaviours contribute to outcomes.
Ada Akpala is the senior content officer of The Equiano Project.
