Zohran Mamdani on King Charles and the Kohinoor: A Modern Demand Rooted in Empire’s Oldest Wound
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A single line from an 1849 treaty turned violent conquest into bureaucratic fiction—and Zohran Mamdani’s challenge to King Charles rips that fiction open. By framing the Kohinoor not as a relic of history but as unresolved stolen property, the article shows how imperial language still shields empire’s spoils, and why a new generation refuses to let age launder injustice.
“The gem was surrendered by the treaty.”
—Lord Dalhousie, Governor-General of India, 1849
The sentence did heavy lifting for an empire. Written after the British East India Company forced a defeated ten-year-old Maharaja Duleep Singh to sign the Treaty of Lahore, it transformed military conquest into paperwork and plunder into protocol. The Koh-i-Noor—“Mountain of Light”—changed hands that year, from the treasury of the Sikh Empire to Queen Victoria’s crown jewels, where it remains. Nearly two centuries later, a New York assemblyman with roots in South Asia revived that old wound by naming it plainly.
Zohran Mamdani didn’t invent the argument. He sharpened it. When he criticized King Charles III for retaining the Kohinoor, Mamdani collapsed centuries of imperial euphemism into a modern moral claim: stolen property doesn’t become legitimate through age. The reaction revealed a widening chasm between how Britain talks about empire and how its diaspora remembers it.
The provocation that cut through ceremony
Mamdani’s intervention landed at a moment of heightened sensitivity. King Charles had just ascended the throne in September 2022, triggering a global reassessment of the monarchy’s symbols. In Britain, coronation coverage fixated on pageantry and continuity. In former colonies, attention snapped to the artifacts—the jewels, the regalia, the wealth extracted under imperial rule.
Mamdani, a democratic socialist representing Queens, framed the Kohinoor as emblematic rather than exceptional. His critique mattered less because of novelty than because of timing and location. A U.S. lawmaker, speaking from a city shaped by empire’s migrations, challenged a British king over an Indian jewel. The triangle—Britain, South Asia, diaspora America—made the issue impossible to dismiss as parochial.
The backlash was swift. British tabloids accused him of grievance politics. On social media, some commentators dismissed the claim as anachronistic. Yet among South Asian Britons and the diaspora, the response carried a different register: relief that someone with institutional power said the quiet part out loud.
How the Kohinoor became imperial shorthand
The Kohinoor’s provenance reads like a syllabus of conquest. Mined in the Golconda region—likely in present-day Andhra Pradesh—it passed through the hands of Mughal emperors, Persian invaders, Afghan rulers, and finally the Sikh Empire under Maharaja Ranjit Singh. After the Second Anglo-Sikh War, the British annexed Punjab in 1849. Article III of the Treaty of Lahore compelled the child-king Duleep Singh to “surrender” the diamond to Queen Victoria.
That language matters. The British Museum and the Royal Collection have long relied on legalistic phrasing to defend retention. Yet historians from William Dalrymple to Anita Anand argue the treaty functioned under duress. Anand’s archival work shows British officials explicitly targeted the diamond as a trophy, a material symbol to legitimize annexation.
Today the Kohinoor sits in the Tower of London, set in the crown made for Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother in 1937. Its display label avoids the word “theft.” Visitors rarely miss the implication.
Britain’s official position—and the data behind it
The UK government’s stance remains unchanged. In a 2016 written answer to Parliament, then-culture minister Ed Vaizey stated that the Kohinoor was “acquired legally under the laws prevailing at the time.” Buckingham Palace has echoed that line, emphasizing that the jewel forms part of the Royal Collection held in trust, not personal property of the monarch.
Public opinion tells a more complicated story. A 2023 YouGov poll found that 54% of Britons opposed returning imperial-era artifacts, citing fears of empty museums and historical revisionism. Among Britons aged 18–24, that opposition dropped to 37%. Generational drift matters. So does proximity to empire’s aftershocks.
Contrast that with diaspora sentiment. A 2022 survey by the Runnymede Trust reported that 67% of British South Asians supported the return of colonial-era artifacts to their countries of origin. Among respondents who identified as Indian, support climbed above 75%. The Kohinoor wasn’t an abstract museum piece; it was family history rendered in carbon.
Why Mamdani resonated beyond the UK
Mamdani’s critique drew energy from American racial politics as much as South Asian history. In the U.S., debates over Confederate statues, Native American remains, and African art looted during colonial expeditions have reframed restitution as a present-tense justice issue. When Mamdani spoke, he plugged the monarchy into that broader reckoning.
His background amplified the message. Born in Kampala to academic Mahmood Mamdani, raised between Africa and the U.S., he embodies the transnational legacies empire created. That credibility matters. Critics could dismiss him as radical; they struggled to dismiss his grasp of history.
More importantly, Mamdani named King Charles directly. Previous campaigns often targeted “the British government” or “the Crown” in the abstract. By focusing on the monarch, he personalized accountability. The crown on Charles’s head became a ledger.
The monarchy’s dilemma: symbolism versus survival
King Charles has signaled awareness of colonial grievances. As Prince of Wales, he acknowledged slavery’s horrors during a 2022 visit to Barbados, which removed Queen Elizabeth II as head of state the same year. Yet acknowledgment stops short of restitution.
The Kohinoor poses a unique problem. Returning it would set a precedent the monarchy fears. The Royal Collection contains thousands of objects acquired during imperial expansion, from Benin Bronzes to Maori artifacts. Open the door once, and the flood follows.
Yet clinging to the jewel carries costs. Younger Britons increasingly view the monarchy as out of step. A 2024 Ipsos poll showed support for the monarchy among 18–34-year-olds at just 46%, compared with 75% among those over 55. Symbols matter in that decline. The Kohinoor has become shorthand for a refusal to confront history honestly.
Diaspora memory versus metropolitan amnesia
The divergence in reactions to Mamdani exposes a deeper truth: empire lives on unevenly. In Britain, imperial history often appears as a chapter, safely closed. In diaspora communities, it functions as inheritance—shaping migration patterns, economic disparities, and cultural memory.
That gap explains why calls for restitution sound radical in London and overdue in Leicester, Queens, or Brampton. Diaspora activists don’t ask whether the Kohinoor was legal by 19th-century standards. They ask whether morality freezes in time.
Social media has accelerated this clash. Clips of Mamdani’s remarks circulated widely on WhatsApp groups and Instagram reels across the diaspora, often stripped of British media framing. The message traveled faster than the rebuttals.
Restitution beyond the jewel
The Kohinoor debate risks becoming too narrow. Focusing solely on one diamond can obscure broader structural questions: who controls historical narrative, who benefits from imperial wealth, and what repair looks like in practice.
Some institutions have moved faster than the monarchy. In 2022, Germany returned hundreds of Benin Bronzes to Nigeria. France committed to returning 26 looted artifacts to Benin in 2021. These acts didn’t empty museums; they reshaped relationships.
Britain lags. Legal barriers like the British Museum Act of 1963 restrict deaccessioning, but the Royal Collection operates under different rules. The obstacle here isn’t law alone. It’s will.
Practical ways readers can engage—now
For readers who want to move beyond debate, tangible steps exist:
- Support restitution research: Books like Koh-i-Noor: The History of the World’s Most Infamous Diamond by Anita Anand offer archival depth that cuts through myth. Pair it with The Anarchy by William Dalrymple for a systemic view of East India Company plunder.
- Visit with intention: If you tour the Tower of London, use a guided audio experience like the Contextual Heritage Walking Audio Guide that foregrounds colonial history rather than pageantry.
- Fund legal advocacy: Organizations such as the Open Restitution Initiative Toolkit provide resources for scholars and activists challenging museum holdings.
- Document family histories: Tools like the Diaspora Archive Digital Scanner Kit help families preserve letters, photos, and oral histories that connect personal narratives to imperial events.
Action doesn’t require waiting for palaces to change.
Why this argument won’t fade
Mamdani’s demand tapped into something irreversible. The generation raised on decolonization discourse, data transparency, and global solidarity won’t accept imperial inheritance as decor. The monarchy can ignore a New York assemblyman. It can’t ignore the demographic and moral currents he represents.
The Kohinoor will remain in its glass case for now. But the story around it has shifted. Each time a public figure names the diamond as stolen, the old treaty language weakens. Empire relied on silence as much as force. That silence is breaking.
And once broken, it doesn’t return to the vault.