Introduction

Recently, I've read a lot about the idea of reparations being paid to Black people today for the crimes committed against our ancestors who survived transatlantic slavery.

I first became aware of the idea in the 1980s after film director Spike Lee named his production company '40 Acres and a Mule'. That was the compensation that in 1865 was promised to the families of freed slaves in America. Needless to say, the order was overturned, and they received nothing. On discovering this failed governmental promise, I began to think about whether we actually did deserve some sort of compensation.

Fast-forward three decades to 2014 when prominent African American author and journalist, Ta-Nehisi Coates, wrote an essay in The Atlantic titled 'The Case for Reparations'. Coates primarily focused on the experience of African Americans but his words had a seismic ripple effect worldwide.

Although the idea of reparations has been around for centuries - even before the end of the transatlantic slave trade - it was, perhaps, this one essay that catapulted it into the public discourse in the last ten years.

And then George Floyd was murdered. It seemed as though the entire world watched his death repeatedly on their laptops, mobile phones and news repeats.

Black Lives Matter protests swept the globe; my friends, family and colleagues debated the idea of reparations - surely this was the moment for change? The murmur that Coates's idea had brought into the public discourse became a roar.

While I've been writing mainly for theatre and television over the past few years, the argument for reparations has been constantly on my mind. These two things may, at first, seem totally unrelated, but as a therapist might put it: 'We can discover connections in the most unexpected places and that is normally when the breakthroughs happen.' I don't know which genius came up with this stuff personally, but I'd hate to meet them at a jumble sale.

One of the ways I have always processed how I feel about difficult subject matter has been through writing about them, either in the form of jokes or, more recently, as a screenwriter. I have worked in show business since I was a teenager and thankfully my writing has continually helped me unscramble challenging thoughts and ideas and concepts. Creativity has always been my 'safe space'.

So when we decided to finally look at the issue of reparations, I knew that my contribution should be to write a play or performance piece.

Writing a play about a subject I care about enables me to see things from other people's perspectives; I have to inhabit the characters as best I can as I write. The ability to create a coherent story with a beginning, middle and end is also important. If I can create something that makes sense it usually means I've understood the issue, at least to the extent I can talk about it publicly. A play can also humanise a debate; a 'town hall' meeting where disgruntled punters yell at their leaders is one way to unpick a knotty problem, but I'd rather watch a play and learn that way. Also, a play has to end. It gives me closure. I did not want to begin looking at these difficult issues without knowing that I would get closure at some point.

The last play I wrote, August in England, was about the Windrush Scandal - the illegal deportation of people who legally came to the UK from the Caribbean in the 1950s and 1960s, named the 'Windrush generation' after the ship that brought the first wave of migrants from the West Indies after the Second World War.

I also wrote a TV series called Three Little Birds, about the racism and struggles Black people faced when they first settled in the UK.

Both shows were a form of catharsis for me. They not only gave me a deeper understanding of my family's history but also a perspective from which I could judge these complicated issues.

The truth is, until I can put something in a narrative, I cannot fully understand it.

I also realised that for such a big task I needed help. So I called up my friend and writing colleague Marcus Ryder. The American founding father Benjamin Franklin is supposed to have said, 'If you want something done, ask a busy person.' Well, Marcus fits that description perfectly and we've been working together on speeches and books on race and racism for over ten years. (Benjamin Franklin owned slaves, but also published pamphlets calling for an end to slavery - I told you this story is complex.)

Marcus once told me, 'We argue in anecdotes, we believe in narrative,' which roughly translates as: 'When we argue, we pick and choose examples that suit our argument, but to fully understand something we need to fit it into our belief structure about how the world works.' That's deeper than deep.

I embarked on the process of writing a play about reparations.

And when I told my publishers I was writing a play they asked if I could collect my notes into a book, documenting my journey into understanding the issues. I've given it my best shot and you'll find the playtext at the back of this book. It's called The Big Payback and is a work in progress. I'd love to see it performed one day - but you never know.

I'd like to thank Marcus for his patience whilst I took big gaps in the writing process for this book because I had to figure out the play at the same time.

So while we're talking about plays, let me break down the classic way of thinking about a script.

Every character in a play or script has to be there for a reason. That reason is their narrative function: Aaron Sorkin talks about characters and their intention and obstacle. Who they are and what they desire and then the subtext of what they actually need is tied to the plot. The characters must state their intention and then use strategies to face and overcome the obstacles that stand in their way. Joseph Campbell called this process 'the Hero's Journey'. So in trying to understand the concept of reparations, I've chosen to work out the questions I need answering - the challenges and obstacles - and then invent a central character and surrounding cast that will enable me to explore them. Simples.

To start with, the questions I needed to answer were simple enough:

• What exactly are reparations?
• I've been fighting racism all my life - are reparations part of this fight or a distraction?
• How much are Black people owed?
• Are reparations only for Black people who are descendants of the transatlantic slave trade?
• Should Black people from Africa who experienced the horrors of colonialism, and not slavery, be entitled to reparations? And what about descendants of people who suffered other historical injustices?
• Who should pay reparations? Should it be individuals? Corporations? Or governments?
• Can I answer the eternal philosophical question of whether any group is responsible for the sins of their fathers (and mothers) and is another group deserving of compensation for crimes committed against their forefathers and foremothers over a century ago?
• And finally, how would it all work? Would I get a cheque in the post or would I become owner of a National Trust house that was built with the proceeds of the profits of sugar plantations?

And there I had it.

I had my questions that needed answering and I was on a mission to understand one of the biggest ideas facing Black people in the world today.

I checked that my good friend Marcus Ryder was available - and you are now holding the results of our journey. Check out the playtext at the back of the book and see how my lead character, a white TV star, reacts when he discovers that his ancestors were involved in the slave trade and owned plantations. His discovery sets him on a journey that takes him from Los Angeles to Acocks Green in Birmingham, where he meets descendants of his forefathers' captive workforce.

Our objective was to get to grips with an idea that we both morally agree with - that wronged people should receive compensation - but which we have serious questions about on a practical level.

One last thing - Marcus and I both write to music. When I started to write I stuck a playlist on random and James Brown's 'The Payback' blasted out of my speakers. This was fate - I now had the title of the book and the play.

Hang on, Marcus wants to say something directly to you. Here he is:

Marcus: Throughout the book we refer to the 'transatlantic slave trade', the transportation of enslaved Africans to the Americas by Europeans for profit, between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries. We use the term to refer not just to the trade itself but also to the whole practice of 'chattel slavery' of African people by Europeans. Chattel slavery is a system where one person has complete ownership of...