History’s Double Standard: How Schools Teach Us to Hate the West

How my own school experience revealed the subtle teaching of anti-Westernism

STORY TIME

Back when I was in high school, I took an AP English class my senior year. We had about 25 students in the class, and toward the end of the semester, we were split into five groups. Each group was assigned a specific book, and every student wrote their own research paper with an argumentative thesis based on their group’s reading.

Once our papers were finished, the assignment didn’t end. We all had to read every other group’s book, as well as each students research paper. Then, in groups of five, we spent an hour and forty minutes at the front of the room, defending our work against questions and challenges from our classmates.

All of our books dealt with colonialism. I was assigned Chinua Achebe’s “Things Fall Apart,” a novel about colonialism from the African perspective. The curriculum was designed to open our eyes to the horrors of colonialism and drive home the message that it was a destructive force in the world.

Rather than going along with the narrative we were supposed to absorb, I took a different approach. I didn’t see “Things Fall Apart” as wholly anti-colonialist or anti-Western. Instead, I saw a lot more nuance. I argued that Achebe’s view of colonialism was complex-that he saw some good as well as bad come out of the colonial era.

Of course, my paper was ripped apart by my peers. How could Achebe, a Nigerian novelist writing about colonialism, possibly see anything positive in it? I fielded this question over and over throughout the class period. My answer was always the same: “I’m not saying he thinks colonialism was a complete good, but he recognizes that some aspects of pre-colonial African culture were deeply problematic.” My main evidence was Achebe’s repeated mention that, before European colonialism, the tribe at the center of the novel would abandon newborn twins in the woods to die. My point was simple: “If Achebe wanted us to believe colonialism was entirely bad, why include examples of the tribe’s cruel practices?”

I ended up getting the worst grade in the class. Although my paper was heavily criticized, nearly everyone was surprised to learn I scored lowest—since we’d all read each other’s work and knew some papers were clearly weaker. I believe I got the worst grade because I went against the lesson we were supposed to learn: that Western ideas, when exported to non-Western societies, are bad.

Nearly a decade later, I was reading Douglas Murray’s “The War on the West.” In his chapter on history, Murray discusses how Western intellectuals see the West as fundamentally bad and colonialism as a great horror, with nothing redeeming about it. Then, he contrasts that with the views of non-Westerners—using Chinua Achebe as his example.

“The legacy of colonialism is not a simple one but one of great complexity, with contradictions—both good and bad.” That quote comes from Achebe himself, the author I argued did not see colonialism as entirely negative. There it was—vindication. After years of occasionally thinking about my high school paper and wondering just how wrong I was, I ended up being correct. Achebe does not view colonialism as entirely bad. He recognizes that there was some good that came out of it. In his 2012 book “There Was a Country,” Achebe wrote: “The British governed their colony of Nigeria with considerable care. There was a very highly competent cadre of government officials imbued with a high level of knowledge of how to run a country… British colonies were, more or less, expertly run… One was not consumed by fear of abduction or armed robbery. One had a great deal of confidence and faith in British institutions. Now all that is changed.” He makes clear that, since colonialism ended, faith in the Nigerian government has eroded and people no longer feel safe. Does this mean the British were a net good? Maybe, maybe not. As Achebe says—it’s complicated.

Murray also brings up Pakistani Bishop Michael Nazir-Ali, who praised the British for outlawing the practice of Suttee—the custom of burning a widow alive on her husband’s funeral pyre. Of course, there were also negative consequences of colonialism. But colonialism brought, among other things, irrigation to the area for the first time and the end of brutal practices such as Suttee, or, in Africa, the practice of leaving newborn twins to die in the woods.

Much of the setup for my argument today comes from Murray’s book, but I write about it because of my own experience with an American school system intent on teaching students that Western ideals are inherently bad. I don’t believe that, and history doesn’t support it. Rather, history shows us one thing—it’s complicated.

ANTI-COLONIAL MOVEMENT

In the West, especially over the past fifty years, there’s been a growing movement among scholars and intellectuals to deny that colonialism had any positive aspects. For them, colonialism is entirely bad. As Murray points out, British intellectuals now cite specific atrocities to argue it’s immoral to acknowledge any good that came from colonialism.

Murray’s best example is the Amritsar Massacre of 1919. As an American, I knew little about this before reading Murray. In 1919, British General R.E.H. Dyer ordered his troops to surround protestors and open fire, killing at least 379 people. Dyer was stripped of his command and lost his pension. It’s reasonable to argue that there should have been even greater consequences for Dyer. It’s reasonable to call this colonialism at its worst. But it’s unreasonable to say this one event means we can’t recognize any good that came from colonialism. It’s unreasonable to say we can’t weigh the good with the bad and have honest debates about the colonial era. But today, debate gets shut down: “Colonialism was evil, just look at Amritsar.”

But how does this apply to the United States? The U.S. wasn’t a colonial power in the same sense as Britain. We didn’t participate in the scramble for Africa or take distant Asian lands. Most of that happened long after the U.S. was founded—and we chose not to partake. So why are American schools so intent on teaching the evils of colonialism? Why can’t they at least take an objective look? I believe it’s for two intertwined reasons: 1) American schools choose to teach students to look at past events through modern moral standards so that 2) students can more easily view the world through a leftist oppressor/oppressed system.

MODERN MORAL STANDARDS

The so-called “intellectual class” in America—at least those widely celebrated such as Ibram X. Kendi, Ta-Nehisi Coates, and Nikole Hannah-Jones—are typically race-focused ideologues who view everything from the standard of race. But they also have one other thing in common—they view everything through the lens of today’s moral standards. This view of the world didn’t start with them, but they are among the most influential figures pushing today’s moral standards on the past. After years of influence, the university system—and now the students who go through it—also view the world through that same narrow lens.

When students learn about slavery in America, they don’t learn about the slavery that existed elsewhere at the time. At most, they’re told the British ended slavery fifty years before we did. They don’t learn about slavery in Iran, the Ottoman Empire, Egypt, or Brazil. Instead, America is painted as if it were the last country to outlaw slavery.

When students learn about the horrors done to Native Americans, they don’t learn anything about the conquests that the rest of the world engaged in at the time. They don’t learn that permanent land borders were rare until after World War Two—battles were continually fought between countries wanting to claim more land. They don’t learn that Native tribes used to conquer each other and have their own land disputes. Rather than framing United States expansion as a common thing done in the world at that time, it is framed as if America was uniquely evil by conquering land held by a weaker, less technologically advanced people.

It might make sense that a country, especially a Western country, would be harsh on itself when teaching its own history. It’s important to recognize past sins and avoid repeating them. But why must America do the same with a European phenomenon like colonialism in Africa and Asia?

OPPRESSOR VS. OPPRESSED NARRATIVE

Because it ties all Western nations into a common sin: the oppression of non-Western peoples. In other words, it teaches students to see the West as oppressors and everyone else as oppressed. Again, the school system ignores that permanent borders were not the norm in the colonial era. African tribes fought each other, just as Native American tribes did. The world was one where technological advancement determined who conquered whom. Western countries fought Western countries. Western countries fought non-Western countries. Non-Western countries fought non-Western countries. War and conquest were not unique to the West—they were the way of the world. But by focusing solely on the West, students are taught to see the world as “the West versus everyone else,” or oppressor versus oppressed, with the West always the oppressor.

For some, like the intellectuals I mentioned earlier, this lesson becomes a simple racial narrative: white people are oppressors, people of color are oppressed. That’s why Ibram X. Kendi writes books comparing Palestinians to Black people in America. All he sees is that Palestinians are darker than the average Jew, so they must be the oppressed. He’ll say that about Palestinians but ignore conflicts between people of similar pigmentation. He won’t talk about Ukraine and Russia, or Azerbaijan and Armenia, or India and Pakistan. Instead, he focuses on conflicts that fit his racialized worldview.

However, while many intellectuals follow Kendi’s lead, the American school system has instead instilled not a racialized, but an oppressor/oppressed, anti-Western view. When race-baiters like Kendi can jump in, they steer the conversation toward “whites” as oppressors. When they can’t, the conflict is ignored or, if possible, still forced into the oppressor/oppressed narrative.

Some conflicts are easily categorized as oppressor/oppressed. Take the Ukraine-Russia war: Russia is the world power, Ukraine is the weaker nation trying to establish its identity after breaking from the Soviet Union. Russia invaded, unprovoked. Here, Russia is clearly the oppressor, Ukraine the oppressed. What makes Russia’s actions particularly bad, compared to past expansionism, is that it’s happening today, under modern morality. We can judge this conflict by today’s standards because it is happening now. What we can’t do is apply today’s standards to actions of the past.

For other conflicts that aren’t so clear, or that don’t involve a major power, there’s little outcry for the oppressed. Think of Armenia and Azerbaijan, the land battles in Kosovo and Western Sahara, or the India-Pakistan dispute over Kashmir. There’s no massive support for one side or the other. Why? Because these conflicts don’t involve Western countries, so they don’t fit the narrative students are taught. They’re mostly ignored. The only reason we hear about Kashmir is because both countries have nuclear weapons. Without that, it would be a brief mention in a CNN “5 Things” article.

THE SOFT BIGOTRY OF LOW EXPECTATIONS

This ignorance reveals a hidden, patronizing idea within the oppressor/oppressed mindset and the broader school system: that today’s morality only applies to Western or “white” nations. It’s the soft bigotry of low expectations. Non-Western or non-white countries aren’t expected to meet the same standards as western countries. The message is that countries like Azerbaijan, India, and Pakistan are beneath us—they haven’t caught up to our “great Western minds,” so we don’t hold them to the same standard.

At the same time, this reveals a deep hypocrisy. Non-Western nations aren’t judged by today’s standards, but we retroactively apply those standards to Western countries—even when those standards did not exist at the time. These two ideas—that non-Westerners shouldn’t be judged by today’s moral standards, but that we should apply today’s moral standards retroactively to past actions by Western countries—cannot coexist.

In short, the West’s selective application of moral judgment not only distorts our understanding of history and current events, but also portrays a patronizing view of the rest of the world—one that excuses others from moral responsibility while holding ourselves to impossible standards.

CONCLUSION

Today, it’s common to hear claims that students are being taught to be anti-white or anti-Western. While no school teaches this explicitly, my experience illustrates how subtle, prevailing narratives can shape classroom perspectives. The books we read and the discussions we have often guide us toward a single interpretation.

But the classroom should be a place for open-minded debate. In my experience, however, assignments intended to encourage discussion often reveal how subtle cues from the professor can shape classroom consensus, making it difficult for other viewpoints to be fairly considered—both among students and in the grading process.

Complex issues in schools should not be boiled down to one narrative. Teach the complexities of everything—from the evils of colonialism to the good it brought, from the horrors of slavery to the realities of the world at the time. If we want to apply moral standards worldwide, let’s do it evenly and only to the modern day. The greatness that the West has brought to the world—freedom unlike anything the world has seen before—cannot be sustained if the West continues to cast itself as the world’s great evil.