There is something quintessentially British about attempting to rectify the horrors of modern slavery with the cold, calculated precision of a spreadsheet. In a landmark ruling that has sent a mild, lukewarm shiver through the hallowed halls of international diplomacy, the High Court in London has ordered the United Arab Emirates to pay exactly £260,000 to a victim of human trafficking. It appears that the going rate for being held in domestic servitude by a diplomat is roughly equivalent to a one-bedroom flat in a particularly depressing suburb of Slough. One must admire the judicial system’s ability to find a decimal point for human dignity.

For years, the diplomatic bag has been the ultimate magic trick. It can hide anything from high-grade narcotics to the utter absence of a conscience. But this time, the magic failed. The victim, a woman who suffered the indignity of being exploited by an envoy on UK soil, has managed to do the impossible: she has punctured the shimmering, oil-slicked bubble of diplomatic immunity. It is the first time a foreign state has been held directly liable for the domestic servitude practiced by its representatives within the United Kingdom. It is a moment of historic significance, or at least as significant as a court order can be when issued against a nation that treats international law as a series of polite suggestions.

One must pause to appreciate the theatricality of the United Arab Emirates being held accountable. This is a state that has mastered the art of the architectural distraction. If you build enough glittering skyscrapers and host enough climate summits, the world generally agrees to look away from the ‘help’ that keeps the elevators running. But the High Court, in a rare fit of lucidity, decided that perhaps, just perhaps, holding a human being as property in a London townhouse is a bit too ‘eighteenth century’ for current sensibilities. The ruling is a surgical strike against the concept that an embassy is a sovereign void where the laws of physics and morality cease to exist.

However, let us not be blinded by the light of justice. The sum of £260,000 is a fascinating choice. It is enough to be called 'damages,' but not enough to actually inconvenience a petrodollar-fueled monarchy. To the UAE, this fine is not a punishment; it is a transaction fee. It is the cost of doing business in a city that prides itself on being the world’s laundry for both money and reputations. One wonders if the diplomat in question considers this a surcharge for premium service. It is the ultimate irony of our neoliberal age: we have finally learned how to commodify the abolition of slavery. We don't stop the crime; we just ensure the victim gets a modest settlement after the years of their life have been consumed by the machinery of state-sponsored cruelty.

Predictably, the legal teams involved are hailing this as a 'victory.' And in the narrow, suffocating confines of a courtroom, I suppose it is. It establishes a precedent, that most beloved of bureaucratic weapons. It tells every diplomat currently considering a bit of casual trafficking that they might—just might—have to write a check if they get caught. It’s a terrifying prospect for the global elite: the realization that even their immunity has a deductible. But for the rest of us, watching this tragicomedy from the gallery, it serves only to highlight the utter absurdity of the system. We live in a world where a sovereign state has to be legally coerced into not owning people, and even then, the conversation is centered on the currency exchange rate.

The UAE, for its part, will likely view this as a bureaucratic annoyance, akin to a particularly stubborn parking ticket. They will pay, or they won't, and the wheels of international relations will continue to grind over the bones of the invisible. London remains the stage where the world's most sophisticated actors perform their roles with practiced indifference. The High Court has cleared its throat, the diplomat has moved on, and the victim is left with a pile of cash that can never buy back the time stolen from her. It is a perfect, cynical resolution for an imperfect, cynical world. We have quantified the unquantifiable, and in doing so, we have confirmed that in the eyes of the law, everything—including your freedom—has a price tag, provided the paperwork is filed in triplicate.