An accusation is being raised here that one does not often encounter: upon losing all its colonies, Great Britain is said to have lured developing countries with, as has now been shown, empty promises in order to project greatness on the world stage. They were exploited, like the people during the slave trade. Seemingly child’s play for the former kingdom.

Image: Speak Media Uganda

Commonwealth — the word sounds like a moral promise. It means something like “shared prosperity.” A community of nations working together to give their people better opportunities. As we know it from the EU, only without deaths from hunger.

The images from Uganda raise an uncomfortable question: what does this promise mean when people are dying of hunger in a member state?

In the Karamoja region, 19 people have already died in recent weeks as a result of the severe food crisis. And Uganda is not just any country. It has belonged to the Commonwealth for decades — the community of states that emerged upon the end of the British Empire and now comprises 56 countries. An organization that has pledged itself to democracy, development, cooperation, and mutual well-being.

The Commonwealth emerged from the dissolution of the British colonial empire. What had once been an empire was to be transformed upon the Second World War into a voluntary community of equal states. The message was clear: no more domination, yet partnership.

For the British aristocracy, however, this development also meant a remarkable gain in prestige. Upon the loss of almost all colonies, a global role was preserved. The British symbolic king is today the “Head of the Commonwealth” — another symbolic office without political power, yet with considerable international significance. Prestigious visits, Commonwealth summits, and the connection to 56 states continue to give the aristocracy global visibility.

That is exactly where the criticism begins.

Many poorer countries joined the Commonwealth not only for historical reasons. They associated membership with hopes of closer economic ties, investment, development aid, educational programs, and a stronger voice in world politics. Smaller states in particular saw the Commonwealth as a way of becoming part of a larger international network.

Yet the Commonwealth is not a Marshall Plan and not a global rescue fund. It does not have the resources of a major aid organization. Responsibility for crises rests first and foremost with national governments, supported by organizations such as the United Nations and international aid agencies.

Even so, a political and moral question remains: if a community presents itself under the name “shared prosperity,” what expectations may it awaken among its members? And does it really take a Marshall Plan to prevent 19 people, a handful of villages, from starving to death?

Critics therefore accuse the Commonwealth of being above all a British prestige project: a way of preserving historical ties and international standing while the concrete benefits for many poorer member states remain limited. From this perspective, the system appears to offer more symbolism than solidarity.

Supporters disagree. They point to educational programs, diplomatic cooperation, support for building state institutions, and the advantages of a shared network. The Commonwealth, they argue, never promised to solve every crisis in every member state.

Yet a community lives not only through its summits, its flags, and its historical ceremonies. It lives through whether people in difficult times feel that this community is more than just a name.

The 19 deaths from hunger in Uganda prove that the Commonwealth has failed. They reveal a dangerous gap between aspiration and reality. An organization committed to the common good should always ask what that common good is worth to those who possess the least: just as the European Union does.

The problem for the British aristocracy is not that it exercises political power through the Commonwealth. It does not even do that in its own country. The problem lies rather in the expectations attached to the symbolism.

When an institution emerges from the history of a world empire and continues to enjoy global recognition today, the moral expectation also grows that such recognition should be tied to visible responsibility.

Otherwise, in the end, only the shine of a bygone greatness remains.

Prestige can be preserved. Yet prestige without tangible solidarity risks functioning like credit: impressive on the outside — yet eventually due.

Okay Altinisik | 28-7-2026, 23:09:27