Rethinking Colonialism and Slavery: What I Believed and What I’ve Learned
What I Believed Before the Readings
When I reflect on colonialism and slavery, my beliefs are rooted in a deep understanding of their economic and social implications. For colonialism, I’ve long believed its primary motivation was economic—how to acquire wealth and ensure power. It’s about systems designed to keep a specific group on top while marginalizing others to live a life of comfort without needing to adapt. The results of colonialism, while providing benefits to some, have largely been destructive. The progress we see today, particularly in places like North America, is impossible to separate from the cultural and physical destruction it caused to Indigenous populations. Even the benefits enjoyed by some of the colonized were born from the displacement and erasure of their identities.
This perspective has been shaped by my work in education. At the college where I worked, we took an active role in understanding the effects of colonialism, particularly on Canada’s Indigenous populations. One notable effort was the construction of a building that embodied First Nations’ values around education—a tangible effort to honor their perspectives. Initiatives like this, along with an Office of the 8th Fire, deepened my awareness of the long-lasting harm caused by colonialism.
My views on slavery, similarly, center on its role in building wealth and power, especially in the United States. The slave economy accelerated expansion, enriched a nation, and even laid the literal foundations of its capital city. But slavery wasn’t just an economic system; it was a moral failure whose effects linger to this day. Slavery persists in different forms, from human trafficking to corporations prioritizing profit over people, perpetuating cycles of inequality.
Again, my understanding comes largely from education and personal experiences, including a trip to South Africa, where I saw firsthand the remnants of systems designed to oppress. My framework for viewing both colonialism and slavery is rooted in justice and equality. As a middle-aged, cisgender white man, I recognize the privilege I hold, and I’m committed to using it to uplift those whose voices have been historically silenced.
How My Beliefs Were Affirmed
Nigel Biggar’s Colonialism reaffirmed my belief in the economic motivations of colonialism. He doesn’t shy away from acknowledging that much of colonial expansion was driven by the pursuit of wealth and power, particularly for European nations. This drive led to the exploitation of both resources and people, reinforcing my understanding of colonialism as a system built on destruction. Biggar also highlights the lasting inequalities colonialism created, a reality I see reflected in my own country’s history with Indigenous populations.
Jeremy Black’s A Brief History of Slavery confirmed much of what I’ve come to believe about the economic foundation slavery provided, particularly in the United States. Black discusses how the wealth generated by the transatlantic slave trade fueled industrialization and allowed for rapid national growth. This wealth came at an unimaginable human cost, which the book doesn’t minimize. It reinforced my view that slavery’s legacy isn’t confined to the past but remains embedded in systems of inequality we see today.
Both authors also emphasized something I’ve believed for a long time: that colonialism and slavery didn’t just harm the people directly affected—they created systems of privilege and power that continue to benefit certain groups while oppressing others. These reminders solidified my conviction that the privileges I hold today come with a responsibility to address the inequities left in their wake.
How My Beliefs Were Challenged
What surprised me most in Biggar’s Colonialism was his argument that not all aspects of colonialism were purely destructive. He makes a case for the unintended benefits that emerged, such as the introduction of infrastructure, medical advancements, and governance structures in some colonized regions. While I still hold that these benefits came at too great a cost, his perspective challenged me to see colonialism as more complex than a purely exploitative force. It’s a perspective I’m hesitant to fully embrace, but it’s one that has given me pause.
In Black’s A Brief History of Slavery, I was challenged by his exploration of slavery’s global history. While I’d focused primarily on transatlantic slavery, he broadened the lens to include slavery in other parts of the world and across different time periods. This forced me to reconsider my assumption that slavery was primarily a Western phenomenon. It also revealed how deeply entrenched systems of servitude have been in human history, making slavery not just an aberration of the past but a recurring theme in societies worldwide.
Both books made me confront the uncomfortable reality that these systems of oppression weren’t just about greed or malice—they were often rationalized by the perpetrators as necessary, even moral. This doesn’t excuse the harm, but it challenges the simple narratives I’d previously held. It’s a reminder that to truly understand history, we have to engage with its complexities, even when they make us uncomfortable.
A Call to Action
Colonialism and slavery are topics that stir strong emotions and convictions, and these readings have deepened both my understanding and my resolve. While my beliefs about the economic motivations and destructive legacies of these systems were affirmed, I was challenged to see their complexity and global reach in new ways. These insights don’t change my moral framework—justice, equality, and using privilege to amplify marginalized voices remain central to my perspective—but they do remind me that history is rarely simple.
In a world still grappling with the effects of colonialism and slavery, the challenge isn’t just to understand their legacy but to act. Whether it’s advocating for reconciliation with Indigenous communities or addressing modern forms of slavery and exploitation, the lessons of the past call us to build a future rooted in equity and compassion.
About the Author
Mathieu Yuill
While raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens may be a few of Julia Andrews' favourite things, here are a few of mine: Talking to strangers, Learning about what you do for fun, Conversation over coffee. I own a marketing and communications company in Toronto, Canada called Leading With Nice. There are a lot of names I could have given the company but a trusted friend encouraged me to name it that because I really value the humanness in us all. Bah - this is starting to sound like a horrible LinkedIn post. So whatever, let's have coffee. I'd love to hear about what you do for fun!One response to “Rethinking Colonialism and Slavery: What I Believed and What I’ve Learned”
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Hi Mathieu,
I love these statements, “My framework for viewing both colonialism and slavery is rooted in justice and equality.” And, “…I’m committed to using it (privilege) to uplift those whose voices have been historically silenced.”
I read these books during my first few weeks here. My “privileged” status doesn’t feel very comfortable. There is a rather large refugee population here with no legal status but very hard workers. I’ve been surprised by how young they are and realize that their entire lives have been lived as stateless and marginalized refugees. I keep thinking about how that impacts their identity. I’m grateful my friends are addressing these issues and have inspired me to consider my contribution when I return. It’s been eye-opening to see the ongoing impact of slavery and colonialism in this region, one I fear I had taken for granted previously. Thank you for the work you do with indigenous people groups.
Another great post! You inspire me!