The island paradise of Mauritius is known for its turquoise waters, sugar cane fields, and luxury resorts. But this week, it’s making global headlines for a far more serious—and surprisingly dramatic—reason: a historic deal with the United Kingdom over the long-disputed Chagos Islands is hanging by a thread, and it’s not just about territory anymore. It’s about money, memory, and a whole lot of diplomatic wrangling.
For decades, Mauritius has fought for the return of the Chagos Archipelago, a cluster of islands that includes Diego Garcia, home to one of the United States’ most important military bases in the Indian Ocean. The islands were carved out of Mauritian territory by the UK in the 1960s, just before independence, and leased to the U.S. to become what is now a critical node in Western military operations. The problem? Mauritius never agreed to it, and neither did the people who lived there—thousands of Chagossians were forcibly evicted to make way for the base.
Now, after years of legal battles, international court rulings, and U.N. resolutions siding with Mauritius, a deal is finally on the table. The UK has offered to return the islands’ sovereignty to Mauritius while leasing back Diego Garcia for 99 years—for a handsome annual rent of £90 million. The proposal was meant to be historic, a step toward resolving one of the last remaining decolonization issues on the planet. But Mauritius is not quite ready to sign on the dotted line.
Prime Minister Navin Ramgoolam has reportedly thrown a diplomatic curveball. Rather than simply accepting the terms, he’s asking for more—front-loaded payments, development aid for the surrounding marine protected area, and greater guarantees that the deal will benefit Mauritius, not just Britain and the United States. His position: if you want to rent our islands for nearly a century, you’d better make it worth our while.
This new twist has put the brakes on what was expected to be a quick ratification. With parliaments in both countries soon heading into recess, it’s now unlikely the deal will be sealed before the summer. And that delay opens up space for even more debate—both within Mauritius and internationally.
Mauritians are divided. On one hand, many see the deal as a long-overdue recognition of their sovereignty and a geopolitical win that restores national dignity. On the other hand, critics argue that the current terms ignore the people who have suffered the most: the Chagossians. These are the islanders who were evicted in the late 1960s and 70s, resettled mostly in Mauritius and the UK, and have lived in poverty and marginalization ever since.
For years, the Chagossian community has demanded the right to return to their homeland. The UK has consistently blocked this, citing military and environmental concerns. Now, with Mauritius potentially regaining control, many Chagossians hoped their moment had come. But they fear they’re being left out once again—this time by their own government. There’s no clear plan for resettlement, and it remains uncertain whether any of the lease money will be used to support the community that arguably has the strongest moral claim to the islands.
The Mauritian government, meanwhile, insists it has the Chagossians’ interests at heart. But its priority is also economic. The country, heavily reliant on tourism and offshore finance, is feeling the pinch of global economic pressures. A long-term income stream of nearly £100 million a year could go a long way in shoring up public finances, funding infrastructure, or diversifying the economy. And being seen as a serious diplomatic player—one capable of negotiating with global powers on equal footing—doesn’t hurt either.
Of course, the British government has its own incentives. Maintaining strategic control of Diego Garcia is vital for its alliance with the U.S., especially as global tensions continue to simmer across the Indo-Pacific. A clean deal with Mauritius could allow the UK to claim a decolonial victory without giving up its military priorities.
Still, the delay—and Mauritius’s push for better terms—shows just how complex this colonial hangover really is. It’s not just about land. It’s about history, compensation, justice, and power. The Chagos issue isn’t a relic of the past; it’s a live political struggle with real consequences for real people. As tourists flock to Mauritius this month for sun and sea, the country’s leaders are haggling over something far less picturesque but far more consequential. And if Prime Minister Ramgoolam gets his way, the next time someone asks where Diego Garcia is, the answer might come with a proud Mauritian accent—and a carefully negotiated rent check.
