Reflecting on the ‘spiritual plunder’ of colonialism
Ding Gang
Thirty years ago in Brussels, the Cinquantenaire Park became my preferred spot for evening walks. The majestic triumphal arch initially captivated me with its grandeur. Still, after learning its history, this symbol of Belgian colonial power seemed to silently remind me of a past built on cruel exploitation and plunder.
This architectural marvel carries a dark legacy, constructed with wealth accumulated through the brutal exploitation of labor in the Congo Free State under King Leopold II (1835-1909).
These grandiose structures were funded with the proceeds of Congolese rubber, a fact well-known at the time. According to an article published in The Guardian last November, one Belgian socialist politician spoke of “the arch of severed hands,” a reference to the horrifying fate that awaited Congolese workers who failed to meet their rubber quota.
This realization added a layer of complexity to my memory of evening strolls, prompting me to reflect on the darker aspects of colonial history.
But was wealth the only thing the colonizers plundered?
This historical reflection gains new significance in light of the recent landmark ruling by Belgium’s Court of Appeal. The court found the Belgian state guilty of crimes against humanity for forcibly separating five mixed-race children from their mothers in colonial Congo.
This ruling is a significant step toward acknowledging and rectifying the deep-seated psychological and cultural violence of colonialism.
The court awarded €50,000 to each of these five women, now in their seventies. These women were systematically kidnapped between 1948 and 1953, sent to Catholic institutions hundreds of kilometers from their homes, stripped of their identity and registered as “children of sin.”
The psychological impact of such policies extends far beyond the immediate victims. These children were not only physically separated from their mothers but were also forced to internalize a value system that deemed their very existence problematic.
They were made to feel ashamed of their mixed heritage, demonstrating how colonial power operated not just through physical control but through psychological domination. This psychological domination involved imposing a value system that denigrated colonized cultures and identities, leading to deep-seated shame and inferiority among colonized populations.
This legal recognition of colonial crimes against humanity represents a crucial step in the decolonization process. It acknowledges that colonial injustice wasn’t merely about economic plunder, exploitation or political control. It also involved deep-seated psychological and cultural violence that continues to reverberate through generations.
This ruling not only provides justice to the immediate victims but also establishes a precedent for addressing colonial injustices across Europe. It highlights that even though European colonizers have left the historical stage, we still need a more comprehensive understanding of decolonization’s long-term impacts.
The ongoing process of decolonization requires us to understand that healing colonial wounds involves more than material reparation, it is a long journey that demands a deep acknowledgment of cultural trauma, restoration of stolen identities and reconstruction of damaged psychological landscapes.
Recognizing the “colonized and plundered mind” is also an important step in the cultural reconstruction of developing countries, especially for South-South cooperation, where exchanges on the shadow of colonialism play an important role in deepening understanding and promoting the development of common interests. This is not to better pursue the accounts of the former colonial powers, but rather to gain a deeper understanding of how to enhance the responsibilities and roles of the South in the restructuring of the global order.
The writer is a senior editor with the People’s Daily, and currently a senior fellow with the Chongyang Institute for Financial Studies at the Renmin University of China
