Colonialism and the "R Word"

I cannot remember the first time I encountered the word “Colonialism,” but I am certain that I did not know what it meant. It was one of those (many) university occasions in which someone more fluent in the language of oppression was holding court and, rather than identify myself as the uneducated bumpkin that I clearly was, I stayed quiet hoping to decode its meaning from context alone. I am not sure that I ever succeeded in doing so, though over the years I have managed to cobble together a reasonably good working definition which I am always happy to share. Specifically, Colonialism is:

The institutionalized system that is oriented towards taking land and resources away from Indigenous peoples, marginalizing them legally, scrubbing away their language and culture, and then vilifying them as a group to justify any resulting social problems as being somehow their own fault.

It is a particular form of suffering that is to be found around the world, wherever “Colonizers” sought to deprive Indigenous peoples of the lands and resources that make up their birthright. Having depleted the bounty of their own lands, Colonizers spread like locusts to dine on that of others. These days, Colonialism is a problem that is front and centre in the debates surrounding the fractured relationship between Canada and the First Nations living within its borders. The release of the final reports of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC) and the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (MMIWG) further focused a spotlight on the word, as has the more recent news of the discovery of a burial ground at the Kamloops Indian Residential School. Nobody wants to be associated with the concept of Colonialism.

That word. That word that seems to be something bad, but which also seems to have adjacency with the word “Colonial,” which denotes a period for architecture and history that does not necessarily seem particularly evil in itself. Being both systemic and institutional, Colonialism has a comfortably impersonal quality to it. Culpability for it is to be found in “the system,” which is to say it is everyone’s fault …but also nobody’s.

And that is a problem. We have a word that clearly describes a situation in which one racialized group is put at a disadvantage by another: racism. As Ibram X. Kendi so eloquently puts it in How To Be An Antiracist (2019):

“Racist policies have been described by other terms: “institutional racism.” “structural racism,” and “systemic racism” for instance. But those are vaguer terms than “racist policy.” When I use them I find myself having to immediately explain what they mean. “Racist policy” is more tangible and exacting, and more likely to be immediately understood by its victims, who may not have the benefit of extensive fluency in racial terms. “Racist policy” says exactly what the problem is and where the problem is. “Institutional racism” and “structural racism” and “systemic racism” are redundant. Racism itself is institutional, structural, and systemic.

Kendi notes that, in the 21st Century, there are no blurred lines between racism, non-racism, and anti-racism – only two poles. Identifying oneself as “not a racist” but being willing to tolerate or benefit from racist policies places one firmly on the racist pole. The middle ground doesn’t exist because, in its acceptance of harms to racialized groups, it never really existed at all. There is, and has only ever been, racism – and anti-racism. The idea of a non-racist was a comfortable euphemism designed to shield a large and privileged group from embarrassment and shame.

Now let us think about what the word Colonialism does: It usefully describes a very present and specific form of oppression that defines the lived experience of Indigenous peoples across Canada. But it also has a safe euphemistic quality to it in which its harms can be loudly deplored without splattering around too much of the brown matter of which it is made. I can hate the Colonial system, but that system is not me. I am not a racist – except insofar as I benefit every day from policies that profit from the lands and resources that were taken from Indigenous peoples.

Wait, what?

And there is the problem. Colonialism is clearly tolerable. It must be. We Settlers have accepted it every day for hundreds of years. The system is too big, too impersonal, or perhaps too entrenched to do anything about. And culpability for it is spread so thin, both among people and across time, as to be practically invisible. Yes, it is unfortunate or even sad that Indigenous peoples only have access to a second (and lower) tier of government services (eg. water, welfare, justice, childcare, education, health care, etc.) from that offered to Settlers, but that has nothing to do with me as an individual. Currently, I can comfortably assert the privilege of hating it, and benefiting from it, at the same time. Lucky me.

On the other hand, labelling the system under which Indigenous people live for what it is - racist, makes the choices a bit more stark. Colonialism is unfortunate and sad – but tolerable. Deriving a benefit from it as a Settler (one of so very many) has a safe, almost sanitized quality to it. Racism is both uncomfortable and intolerable. Nazi Germany was racist. South Africa under Apartheid was racist. We cannot and must not be that. Being the beneficiary of racism feels just plain wrong and, in my silence or acquiescence, tattoos me with that word. For anyone who thinks that this is another empty semantic exercise in the Culture Wars, I would encourage you to consider the moral implications of terms like “underage women” versus “children” or “alternative facts” versus “lies.” Absolute clarity in identifying a difficult or seemingly-intractable problem is a necessity if that problem is to be overcome.