Human nature did not suddenly become flawed when Europeans arrived.

George P. Brooks | June 26, 2026

Today, the word colonialism is treated almost like a curse word. Mention it in a classroom, on social media, or in many political circles, and you’ll immediately hear words like exploitation, racism, oppression, genocide, and theft. For many people—especially younger generations—colonialism has become history’s ultimate villain, the so-called “original sin” from which nearly every modern problem supposedly springs.

As a conservative, I’ve always thought this view was far too simplistic.

Now, before anyone starts sharpening their pitchforks, let me be clear: colonial powers absolutely committed injustices. Wars were fought. Peoples were conquered. Resources were taken. Some populations were devastated. These are historical facts, and serious people should acknowledge them honestly.

But history is rarely a Disney movie with obvious heroes and villains.

The uncomfortable truth is that conquest, expansion, and empire are as old as humanity itself. Long before Europeans sailed across oceans, empires were rising and falling all over the world. African kingdoms conquered neighboring tribes. Arab empires expanded across North Africa and the Middle East. The Mongols swept across Asia and Europe. The Aztecs ruled over subject peoples through military force and tribute. The Romans practically turned conquest into an art form.

Human beings have always expanded when they had the power to do so.

What makes Western colonialism different is not simply that it conquered territory. What makes it unique is that the very civilization responsible for much of modern colonialism also produced the ideas that eventually challenged and condemned it: individual rights, constitutional government, abolitionism, freedom of speech, and the belief that all people possess inherent dignity.

That irony is almost never discussed.

In modern culture, colonialism is often presented as though it produced nothing except suffering. But history is more complicated than that. Alongside exploitation came institutions and systems that still shape much of the modern world.

Railroads. Modern medicine. Universities. Scientific advancement. Written legal codes. Representative government. Modern banking systems. International trade networks. Infrastructure. Public sanitation. Advances in engineering and agriculture.

None of this means colonialism was wholly good. It wasn’t. But neither was it wholly evil.

Here’s a question that almost nobody asks: What would the world look like if colonialism had never happened?

Would globalization exist in its present form? Probably not.

Would international trade be as extensive? Almost certainly not.

Would many of the technologies, institutions, and political systems that billions of people depend upon today have spread as rapidly? Again, probably not.

Entire continents might have remained isolated from one another for much longer. Scientific discoveries would have traveled more slowly. Modern medicine might not have spread as quickly. International commerce, for all its flaws, would likely be far less developed.

The modern world as we know it—our interconnected global economy, worldwide communication networks, international legal norms, and shared scientific knowledge—was shaped in significant ways by centuries of exploration, trade, migration, conquest, and yes, colonialism.

History doesn’t offer us the luxury of running controlled experiments. We cannot rewind time and discover what a world without colonialism would have looked like. But we should at least acknowledge that many things people take for granted today emerged from that complicated historical process.

So why has colonialism become such a dirty word?

Part of the reason is understandable. During the twentieth century, scholars and activists rightly highlighted abuses and atrocities that had often been ignored or minimized. This correction was necessary.

But somewhere along the way, nuance disappeared.

Increasingly, colonialism became not simply something that happened in history, but a catch-all explanation for virtually every modern inequality and social problem. In some circles, it has become an all-purpose moral framework: if something is wrong in the world, colonialism is assumed to be the root cause.

That narrative is emotionally satisfying because it clearly identifies victims and oppressors. But it can also oversimplify history and unintentionally strip people of agency.

A society that constantly teaches people that all of their problems originated generations ago risks creating a culture of grievance rather than one of responsibility and self-determination.

As conservatives, many of us believe that while history matters, personal responsibility matters too. Nations, communities, and individuals cannot remain forever imprisoned by the failures and injustices of previous generations.

Another problem with modern anti-colonial thinking is that it often romanticizes the societies that existed beforehand, as though pre-colonial civilizations were peaceful utopias living in perfect harmony.

They weren’t.

Like all human societies, they were capable of extraordinary achievements and extraordinary cruelty. They waged wars. Practiced slavery. Conquered rivals. Established hierarchies. Expanded territory.

Human nature did not suddenly become flawed when Europeans arrived.

None of this excuses wrongdoing. It simply reminds us that history is messy because people are messy.

The real lesson of colonialism is not that one civilization was uniquely evil. It is that power has always shaped history. Every civilization, given sufficient strength, expands its influence politically, economically, culturally, or militarily.

The question for us today is not whether colonialism was entirely good or entirely bad. It was neither.

The better question is this: Can we study history honestly—recognizing both the suffering and the achievements—without reducing the entire human story to a simplistic morality play?

I believe we can.

And we should.