I have been thinking of colonization for quite some time. It could run back to the early Eighties when I looked at the effects of General Motors on Anderson, Indiana. My hometown was a colony of GM, its fate depended on what happened in GM's boardrooms. If I can ever get done with "Chasing Ashes", colonization will be one of its themes.
With my interest in colonization, decolonization has attracted my attention. Reading John Aziz's The Infinite Reopening of History (Quillette) gives me much to think about. My judgment is that neo-decolonialism is both impossible and immoral.
It’s important to make a clear distinction between actual decolonisation and what I am calling neo-decolonialism. Real decolonisation was a concrete, historically specific process in which empires withdrew from territories they had been administering, as exemplified by the end of the Raj. These withdrawals changed legal and political realities on the ground: e.g. British colonial governance in India ended, and two new sovereign states, India and Pakistan, emerged.
This is not to say that the end of empire erased the effects of colonialism. Political borders, legal systems, and economic structures often outlived the formal withdrawal, and many societies still live with deep, measurable legacies of colonialism. It is one thing to argue for civil rights, equal representation, or institutional reform within an existing civic order.
But neo-decolonialism is not about dismantling real empires—even though some empires still exist today, such as the Russian Federation and the People’s Republic of China. Instead, it retroactively reclassifies political arrangements as “colonial” based on contemporary group dynamics, racial or ethnic categories (e.g. “whiteness”), and the question of which side has the most power.
In the neo-decolonial model, you don’t need an actual empire. Some vestigial remnants of a historical empire will do—hence you can take issue with the European colonisation of the Americas, or even the waves of continental migration to the British isles, or Scottish migration to the island of Ireland. Then you draw lines: one side is framed as indigenous; the other becomes “settler-colonial.”
Yep, no way that we cannot call America a settler-colonial state.
In most of the rest of the world, too, history is messy. There are migrations, conquests, intermarriages, conversions, displacements, and returns. Empires rise and fall; borders are drawn and redrawn; peoples are renamed, identities are invented and reinvented.
Of course, we don’t live in a perfectly equal world and some groups of people have legitimate grievances. Some historical injustices have long knock-on effects. Examples include the ongoing legacy of Jim Crow in the United States, the structural problems created by caste in India, and the fact that many postcolonial states inherited borders and institutions that were never designed for stable self-government.
But there’s a difference between acknowledging and addressing real injustices in a legal and democratic way—for example in the framework based on equality and dignity established by Dr Martin Luther King Jr— and adopting an ideology that seeks to deconstruct whole societies—or even the entire world—in the name of decoloniality through “resistance,” which in this context is a euphemism for violence.
And unless you are a full-blown MAGA idiot, you recognize not just the injustices mentioned above but also others. If not, go read Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee. Read the Korematsu case.
Where there are injustices, the question has to be how to provide justice? Here, I find the answer decolonization provides (as put forth in the essay) is wrong:
In a neo-decolonial framework, the questions become: who is authentic, who is indigenous, who is tainted, who is settler-colonial? Once you take that approach, rights and democracy become secondary. Because the real issue becomes the question of who has the right to exist in a place at all. This, ultimately, is the logic of 7 October and the logic of Frantz Fanon. Once civilians can be reclassified as “settlers,” atrocities can be narrated as “decolonisation.” In the worldview inspired by Fanon, violence is cleansing and regenerative. It “restores” the colonised subject. It can remake a people, rebuild a nation. It is supposed to turn humiliation into dignity through acts of terror. In such a vision, violence against innocents is both permitted and sanctified.
Denying history is the route taken by cowards and others possessing bad consciences.
We need to recognize the injustices of our history. Then we need to ask if we have remedied those injustices. If we have not, then we must decide how we will remedy the wrongs done by our past.
Performing the same acts of injustice done by those who were unjust is nothing more than another form of injustice - hate breeding hate does not provide life, only more death.
sch 12/21