Spain now admits “abuse” in Latin America over hundreds of years, while the United Nations praises France for its legacy, as it elevates 2 billion Muslims dominating dozens of countries.
Same actions. Different judgment.
What disappears in all three cases is the simplest word: invasion.
We prefer a softer story that cultures blended, languages spread, religions were adopted. But that story falls apart on contact with reality. Spain did not grow into the Americas. France did not organically merge with Africa. Arab armies did not quietly diffuse ideas across continents. They came from the outside, took control by force, and reshaped the societies they conquered—imposing language, religion, and identity.
That is not exchange. It is replacement.
Over time, something happens to memory. The longer the outcome lasts, the more natural it feels. A forced language becomes simply the language. An imposed religion becomes tradition. Conquest becomes history and eventually, heritage.
But modern outrage does not follow history evenly. It clusters around the United States as if European expansion began and ended there. The rest of the Americas, reshaped just as profoundly – perhaps more – by Spanish and Portuguese conquest, rarely draw the same sustained scrutiny.
Part of this is power. The United States is the dominant global actor today, and criticism follows visibility. Part of it is recency. But another part—rarely stated outright—lies in how colonialism is now framed.
In today’s discourse, colonialism is implicitly coded as a “white” phenomenon. The category is no longer just historical but visual.
Where power is perceived as Western and white, the language of colonialism sharpens. Where societies are seen as non-Western or part of the Global South, even when shaped by earlier conquests, the language softens into history or identity. Entire regions transformed by Spanish and Portuguese expansion or Islamic invasions are broadly framed as “indigenous,” while the United States becomes the central exhibit.
That same lens is applied even more aggressively to Israel.
Israel is often cast as a project of Western, even “white,” power. But that framing collapses under even modest scrutiny. The largest share of Israel’s population descends from Jewish communities across the Middle East and North Africa, whose skin is as dark as their neighbors.
More fundamentally, the Jewish return to the land of Israel is a decolonization movement. It is not an external power projecting control into a foreign land. It is dispersed communities reconnecting to a shared origin and reviving their language and restoring their cultural framework in the place it began.
And yet it is falsely framed as colonial.
While the clearer cases fade into history, the exception is forced to fit the rule.
That contrast reveals something deeper. Colonialism is no longer a historical description. It has become a moral label which is applied unevenly, shaped by contemporary perceptions of identity, power, and alignment.
Histories that fit a “white West imposing on others” framework are foregrounded and moralized. Histories that do not fit as neatly are softened, reframed, or absorbed into the past.
European and Islamic invasions took over the Americas and Africa, but universities and progressive media only showcase the interlopers with whiter skin. The blind rage infects reason to such a degree, that even anti-colonial movements such as the Jewish State, cannot be addressed by fact and reason.
The colonial-imperial lens at work today is shaped by an anti-White racist Global South. Its mission is portable colonialism – to extract wealth and power from White societies and redistribute them to non-White communities.
First One Through 