Colonialism
Defining colonialism is not a straightforward task. A variety of forms of historic and contemporary
interaction between different peoples have been described as colonial or neo-colonial in character, and
this poses problems: define the term too narrowly, and particular communities who have experienced
injustice which they characterize as colonial are excluded; too broadly, and almost any form of
relation featuring inequality of power between different international parties appears to be an instance
of colonialism. Robert Young writes that colonialism “involved an extraordinary range of different
forms and practices carried out with respect to radically different cultures, over many centuries,” and
lists examples including settler colonies such as British North America and Australia, and French
Algeria; administered territories established without significant settlement for the purposes of
economic exploitation, such as British India and Japanese Taiwan; and maritime enclaves, such as
Hong Kong, Malta, and Singapore (2001: 17). A recurrent problem concerns the relation between the
terms “colonialism” and “imperialism.” For some, “colonialism” refers to a particular model of
political organization, typified by settler and exploitation colonies, and is best seen as one specific
instance of imperialism, understood as the domination of a territory by a separate metropole. Others
use the term more broadly to refer to the general imperial policy of, in particular, Western states from
the sixteenth century onward, reflecting an oppressive attitude which, some claim, still persists in the
present day, albeit in different institutional forms. Attempts to establish general theories of
colonialism thus encounter problems similar to those found in systematizing liberation ideologies
such as feminism, which are rooted in the “experiential plurality” of those who have experienced
different forms of oppression (Mansbridge and Okin 1993: 269; see FEMINIST ETHICS; FEMINIST
POLITICAL THEORY). The range of different forms of political organization which are routinely
described as “colonial” means that overly stipulative definitions should be resisted. Instead, we might
identify three characteristics which regularly emerge in descriptions of colonialism: domination,
cultural imposition, and exploitation. First, colonialism is typically described as a form of domination
which involves the subjugation of one people by another; as Ronald Horvath writes, “it seems
generally, if not universally, agreed that colonialism is a form of domination – the control by
individuals or groups over the territory and/or behavior of other individuals or groups” (1972: 47).
This domination has taken varied institutional forms, but in general has involved the denial of selfdetermination,
and the imposition of rule rooted in a separate political jurisdiction. Second,
colonialism has frequently involved an attempt to impose the colonial power’s culture and customs
onto the colonized, whether as a result of a belief in the racial and/or cultural superiority of the
colonizing power; an evangelical desire to spread particular religions or cultural practices; or as a
mechanism for establishing and consolidating political control. Finally, the history of colonialism is
deeply linked to the exploitation of colonized peoples (see EXPLOITATION). This exploitation has
taken many different forms, but we might mention, among other policies, the slave trade, the
misappropriation of cultural property and natural resources, the establishment of exploitative trade
relations, and the forcible introduction of capitalist forms of production. As will be seen, the legacy of
such practices is deeply contested.
Justifying and Judging Colonialism
The question of how, and indeed whether, we should judge historical colonialism from an ethical
perspective is complex. For some, the practice of passing judgment on the past is problematic, since it
seems to involve holding historic actors to account on the basis of contemporary standards of
morality. It is clear that, at various points in time, historical acceptance of the propriety of much
colonial practice was widespread. Strikingly, the legitimacy of colonial intervention was supported by
prominent political theorists who otherwise placed great emphasis on principles of liberty and
equality, such as John Locke (see LOCKE, JOHN) and John Stuart Mill (see MILL, JOHN STUART;
Parekh 1995). Does it follow that we cannot assess historic colonialism in moral terms, even though
we would readily condemn such actions if they were performed in the present day? It is helpful here
to differentiate between two separate questions. One concerns judgment of the moral character of the
colonialists – were they good or bad people? The second concerns the justice or injustice of the
practice of colonialism: were the individuals affected by colonialism wronged by the treatment they
received? Both questions are of interest, but the first can be separated from an ethical judgment as to
the justice of the practices and institutions of colonialism. The claim that historic colonialism involved
at least some serious injustice is now uncontroversial. It is true that some have sought to put forward
accounts based in moral relativism (see RELATIVISM, MORAL) to counsel against retrospective
judgment: just as cultural relativists maintain that questions of justice should be understood relative to
the shared social meanings of particular societies, so historical relativists can argue that similar
considerations apply to the different standards of the past. One could maintain that historic
colonialism was just simply because historic persons believed it to be just, but this would obviously
be deeply controversial when one considers the character of colonial history. At some times and in
some places, colonial domination involved multiple instances of genocide, slavery, rape and sexual
enslavement, murder, torture, and the forcible displacement of people and break-up of families. Some
peoples, indeed, no longer exist as a direct result of colonialism, as in the case of the Parlevar people
of Tasmania. The claim that such actions were deeply unjust can be made from a variety of ethical
perspectives. The argument is relatively straightforward if one endorses an idea of universalism,
which holds that such actions are straightforwardly wrong on account of the way in which they cause
profound harm to people’s most basic interests. Alternatively, moral relativists can maintain that such
actions were wrong even by the different standards of the day, properly understood: either as a result
of the factually incorrect premises that grounded many colonial theories (in relation, e.g., to the
supposed racial superiority of the colonial powers); or owing to the way that historical principles of
equality and liberty were comprehensively violated by colonial policies. Historic colonialism was not
universally supported within colonial powers, as can be seen in the reservations expressed by writers
such as Bartolomé de Las Calas, Denis Diderot (see DIDEROT, DENIS), and Adam Smith (see
SMITH, ADAM; Young 2001: 71–112). The basic claim that historic colonialism involved, at the
least, significant injustice can thus be advanced from a range of ethical positions.
Colonialism and Rectification
It is much disputed whether anything follows from an acceptance of the unjust character of
colonialism, as is clear from contemporary debates over the payment of reparations (see
REPARATIONS) by the modern-day counterparts of historic colonial powers. Such states have made
moves toward acknowledging the injustice of historic colonialism, so, for example, The Declaration
on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples, adopted by the UN General
Assembly in 1960, accepted that “the subjection of peoples to alien subjugation, domination and
exploitation constitutes a denial of fundamental human rights” (article 1). The 2001 United Nations
World Conference against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia, and Related Intolerance in
Durban acknowledged and regretted the “massive human suffering” caused by slavery and
colonialism (article 99), but was also marked by the refusal of former colonial powers to commit to
making formal apologies or paying reparations. States may seek to resist such demands for material
recompense for obvious reasons of national self-interest. The relative weakness of international law,
and, in particular, its lack of retrospective effect, means that such states cannot plausibly be compelled
to pay reparations, and former colonial powers have regularly invoked statutes of limitations to avoid
the claims even of living victims of acknowledged injustice, as in the controversy over whether the
UK Government should pay compensation to individuals tortured during the Mau Mau insurgency in
Kenya in the 1950s. Leaving legal issues aside, is it justifiable for modern-day states to refuse to put
right the misdeeds of their colonial forbears?
Positive responses typically fall into one of two camps. Some stress the shared identity of
people living in the past and the present, through membership of collectivities such as nations and
states. Others are grounded in the lasting effects of past wrongdoing, and maintain that modern-day
parties can possess contemporary duties insofar as they have benefited from, and others have been
harmed by, the lasting effects of colonization (Butt 2007; see COMPENSATORY JUSTICE). The
particular character of historic colonialism complicates standard arguments relating to the rectification
of injustice in a number of ways. Some relate to the discontinuities of nation and state identity which
often result from colonial domination. Debates over historic injustice notoriously face the
“nonidentity problem”: the observation that significant past wrongdoing changes the composition of
subsequent generations by making a difference to which particular individuals are conceived and
come into existence (see NONIDENTITY PROBLEM).
This has particular force in colonial contexts
characterized by massive displacement of persons and the deliberate redrawing of political
boundaries, where it is not even clear if particular modern-day states would exist in the absence of
historic injustice, let alone particular individuals. Such observations have two implications for
consideration of colonial injustice. First, there are significant issues as to inherited identity – to what
extent is it meaningful to say that a given state is the present-day representative of a historic, wronged
people, or of an unjust colonial power? Second, given the enormity of the disruption of the lives of
historic communities caused by colonial activity, to what extent can we meaningfully employ ideas of
counterfactual reasoning to determine the extent, if any, to which present-day peoples have benefited
or been harmed by activities associated with colonization?
A particular problem here concerns the prior identification of colonialism as characteristically
exploitative. Some historians have challenged the claim that the current members of particular
historically mistreated peoples have themselves been harmed by colonial injustice, as a result of a
deeply controversial argument that such persons may in fact have gained a net benefit from the
treatment of their ancestors (Ferguson 2002). This claim must be assessed carefully. It does not in
itself represent a defense of historic colonialism: it might still be maintained that colonialism has not
led to an overall net benefit for the colonized people when the suffering of past persons is taken into
account, or that even a net overall benefit would be insufficient to justify colonialism on anything but
the crudest consequentialist accounts. However, the question of the status of current generations is
seemingly relevant to the question of contemporary reparations, if their rationale is grounded in the
idea that past injustice has caused harm to those living in the present. We might consider three
possible responses to such an argument. First, the empirical assumption of the argument might be
challenged: many historians have disputed upbeat assessments of the contemporary effects of
colonialism, and have instead pointed to a lasting legacy of failed states and intercommunity violence
(Brendon 2007). Second, one may question how counterfactual comparisons to identify harm and
benefit should be made in relation to colonial exploitation. This is generally done by reference to
assumptions of the most probable outcome in the absence of colonial intervention: we are asked to
imagine a world where there was no interaction between colonized and colonizers, and thus no
colonial injustice, and to determine whether those living in the present are now better or worse off
than they would be in comparison. However, this is not the only, and arguably not the most
appropriate, way to calculate who has won and who has lost. It may better to imagine a counterfactual
where there was extensive interaction, fully consensual in nature, that took place in a context of
nondomination and nonexploitation, and which would seemingly require very substantial levels of
compensation in some cases (Butt 2012). Third, one may expand one’s understanding of the wrongs
committed in the colonial period to encompass failures to fulfill duties of distributive justice. Insofar
as historic colonial empires subjected peoples to political control, it may be thought that colonial
subjects became members of a larger political entity, and so were entitled to a fair share of this
entity’s social production – a share which was denied to them at the point of institutional decoupling
during decolonization. If one holds, for example, an egalitarian account of distributive justice, and
believes that there has been an ongoing failure to transfer what is owed, then present-day reparative
obligations may be colossal (Ypi et al. 2009).
No comments:
Post a Comment