“Colonialism: A Moral Reckoning” by Nigel Biggar: A Book Analysis (Part 5: Chapter 5—Cultural Genocide?)

Here in Part 5 of my book analysis of Nigel Biggar’s Colonialism: A Moral Reckoning, I am primarily going to cover chapter 5 of his book, “Cultural Assimilation and ‘Genocide,’” in which, among other things, he discusses the Canadian residential schools. The issue of these residential schools has been a major flashpoint of controversy on the Regent Alumni page.

Chapter 5: Cultural Assimilation and ‘Genocide’—An Overview
Biggar begins chapter 5 by noting that when there is a clash of cultures in which one becomes dominate, there are usually three outcomes possible: (1) the dominate people/culture essentially annihilates the weaker people/culture, (2) the weaker assimilates with the dominate, or (3) the two completely separate. In the case of British colonialism, sometimes annihilation of a native people happened, either intentionally or through decimation of disease. Sometimes, as happened in South Africa, complete separate and apartheid happened—this, though, was never British policy.

John MacDonald

Biggar argues that since the British saw natives as equal in the eyes of God, but since they were inferior in terms of civilization, the British policy was to attempt to help them assimilate. As John Macdonald, the prime minister of Canada said in 1880: “All we can hope for is to wean them [the natives] , by slow degrees, from their nomadic habits, which have almost become an instinct, and by slow degrees absorb them or settle them on the land. Meantime they must be fairly protected” (125). It seems to me, therefore, that although one can certainly take issue with whether or not Canadians had any business trying to “wean” the native populations into assimilation, any accusation of purposeful “genocide” is wholly unfounded. One can argue that the Canadian government was wrong to force their culture and civilization onto the native populations, but one cannot argue that the Canadian government was trying to exterminate them.

In any case, Biggar then turns his attention to the Canadian residential schools. He acknowledges the controversy over them, but states that “the motivation for establishing these schools was basically humanitarian, namely, to enable pupils to adapt and survive in a world that was changing radically” (128). In addition, he states that many native leaders “actively lobbied missionaries to set up schools that would teach their children agricultural skills, English language, and Christian religion” (128). The result was that many Anglican and Methodist churches established boarding schools for the native children. Up until basically 1920, attendance and participation was voluntary. After 1920, the government compelled attendance at these schools.

Despite the humanitarian motivation and the initial lobbying for the schools by many native leaders, “the reality of the schools not infrequently fell short of their humanitarian ideal” (128). Biggar notes many examples of abuse that happened in the schools: unnecessary strictness, denigration of the native culture, being too aggressive in promoting Christianity, too much time in forced manual labor, not enough time with actual classroom education, generally poor diet, clothing, and medical services, corporal punishment, bullying, and even sexual abuse. Simply put, Biggar openly admits and acknowledges the many sins that happened in these residential schools. That being said, he also says that wasn’t always the case with all the residential schools. He gives examples of good schools and natives who greatly benefitted from them. Simply put, the residential schools were a mixed bag, with many instances of horrific abuse, but also many instances of benefit.

Biggar then turns his attention to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada and its final report that came out in 2015, where it claims that Canada’s goal with its residential schools and its policy regarding the native populations was essentially cultural genocide—to completely eliminate the native populations as “distinct, legal, social, cultural, religious, and racial entities in Canada” (130). Biggar takes issue with this, most notably with the term “genocide,” as well as the comparing of the residential schools with the Holocaust and Hitler’s attempt to create a master Aryan race. Basically, he argues that equating the residential schools with Hitler and the Holocaust is purposely inflammatory and misleading.

Biggar then engages in a long discussion regarding J.R. Millers’ take on the residential schools. He notes many valid points Miller makes but also questions whether or not the cases of clear abuse (which he readily admits) were universal throughout the residential schools. Instead, Biggar suggests that the failings of the residential schools “lay in the inadequacy of their funding” (134). Basically, when the schools became strapped for cash, that had a snowball effect on everything. In any case, Biggar concludes his comments on the Canadian residential schools as follows: “The wholesale damnation of the residential school system in Canada is overwrought and unfair. Notwithstanding their failings, and the suffering caused by them, the schools were founded on a belief in essential racial equality and consequent faith in the capacity of native people to learn, adapt and develop” (135).

In the rest of chapter 5, Biggar turns his attention to Britain’s actions in Tasmania in the early 1800s. Without going into all the details, Biggar’s assessment of what happened is similar to the other incidents he covers in the book: yes, there was a high death toll among the natives; yes, the British were responsible for much of it; yet, much of it was the result of disease, not intentional conquest; nevertheless, there were attempts by the British to rectify the tragedy that happened.

At the end of chapter 5, Biggar turns back to the accusations that equate British rulers (like Queen Elizabeth, Queen Victoria), as well as other European rulers, to Adolph Hitler and the Nazis. Needless to say, Biggar fervently objects to such connections. The Nazis had literal policies aimed at exterminating entire people groups and those policies were explicitly racist. By contrast, Britain’s aim was never to exterminate anyone; they bound themselves to treaties, and Christian missionaries set up schools because they held the fundamental Christian conviction that all people were equal in the eyes of God. Yes, they viewed their own culture as superior and more advanced, and the native cultures as more barbaric in many ways, but whereas Hitler set up gas chambers, the British sent missionaries and set up schools.

All that said, Biggar makes it clear that the British Empire was not completely innocent. He openly acknowledges the grave crimes the British did and openly says they were responsible for much of the demise of the native peoples. His simple point, though, is that was not the intent or policy of the British Empire. There was plenty the British Empire can and should be blamed for, but intentional genocide is not one of them. That is why Biggar objects to the equating of the British with the Nazis. He ends chapter 5 with: “Certain historians have chosen to exaggerate the role of settler violence in causing such extinction, and some have gone so far as to equate the actions of colonial authorities with those of the Nazi, casually deploying such emotive and provocative words as ‘concentration camp,’ ‘holocaust,’ and ‘genocide’ in describing British policies. Such language is misleading to the point of slander. In fact, the colonial authorities strove to avoid the extinction of native peoples. That they too often failed was not a sign of their covertly genocidal intention, but rather a manifestation of human tragedy” (147).

Conclusion: My Take
I am going to take one more post to cover what Biggar writes in chapters 6-8. As a spoiler alert, the last three chapters ran together for me—all of which hit on the same theme that Biggar has here in chapter 5, as well as earlier. Namely, he openly acknowledges many of the sins of the British Empire and addresses a number of controversies and tragedies that happened within the British Empire, but in doing so, he drives home the point he makes here in chapter 5: the accusations of the “anti-colonialists” that depict the British Empire as being driven by nothing more than racism, white supremacy, greed, and conquest…and the constant equating them with Nazis…is misinformed, misleading, and slanderous. More on that in the next post.

But since this issue about the Canadian residential schools seemed to be at the crux of the objection by many of the alumni at Regent College to Biggar giving a lecture at Regent College, I want to just say a few brief observations.

Up until a month ago, I had never heard of Nigel Biggar, so when I saw on the Regent Alumni page such uproar by some people to Regent College inviting him to give a lecture, I naturally poked around a bit online to see precisely what was so objectionable. I looked up his book on Amazon and I read a few articles about him, and nothing seemed to me to be particularly shocking or extremist. When I finally commented on a few of the threads on the Alumni page, I made three basic points: (1) it didn’t seem Biggar was denying that horrible things happened in the Canadian residential schools, and (2) his book wasn’t specifically about that—it was about the larger issue of the legacy of the British Empire as a whole—and while he readily acknowledges the sins and failures of the British Empire, he also points out there was much humanitarian good that came of it as well. Therefore, (3) I couldn’t understand why anyone objected to that and why Regent College uninvited him. For that, I have to say, I was attacked pretty severely by quite a few people. Apparently, I was “siding with the oppressors” and “genocide deniers.”

Well, speaking for myself, when you get attacked like that, that just makes me want to read the book and learn more. That’s what I’ve done, and as it turns out now that I’ve read the book, my initial points have proven to be right.

Over the past few years—almost a decade, in fact—the more I’ve come in contact with a certain type of people (I’ll just admit it, they’re mostly always very militant progressives) I’ve noticed a certain rhetorical dynamic at work. They will say, “So-and-so is like Hitler and the Nazis!” I will then say, “Well, I can see why you might not like that person’s stance on this or that, but ‘Hitler’ is a bit much, isn’t it? The guy’s not a Nazi.” The inevitable reply will be something like (as I’ve encounter on the Regent Alumni page) “You’re siding with the oppressors,” or in other venues, “How can you be a supporter/worshipper of So-and so?” Of course, I never said I was a supporter, much less worshipper, of the person in question—I simply said I thought the Hitler/Nazi comparison was wrong. But from their perspective, not to agree with the Hitler comparison is tantamount to being “the enemy” and it justifies them in attacking you with the same slander.

I would say it is a political thing, or cultural thing…but I’m coming to think it is ultimately a spiritual thing. Stoking that kind of hatred and division does not come from God—it is certainly not evidence of the Fruit of the Spirit. People can disagree about anything—cultural issues, political issues, ecclesiastical issues…anything—and for that matter, Christians will always inevitably disagree to some extent with other Christians about those things. But they should always be willing to “come let us reason” to at least understand the other’s perspective, even if the disagreement remains. But when someone refuses to even have the discussion but instead strives to silence and shut down any hope of discussion, when that person insists on going the “He’s like Hitler” route and viciously attacks anyone who has any amount of disagreement, well, I’m pretty sure Satan is smiling.

When it comes to the issue of the Canadian residential schools, no one in their right mind who has read Biggar’s book can conclude anything else than he acknowledges the failures and abuse and clearly condemns it. He simply disagrees that it is the equivalent of Hitler, Nazis, concentration camps, and the Holocaust. He insists that the original motivation for the schools was a humanitarian one. It was a well-intentioned endeavor that went very bad for a whole lot of people, but it wasn’t premeditated, Nazi-esque genocide. That, what seems to me, to be at the core of the Regent Alumni objection to Biggar. They weren’t content with the notion of “Yes, there was a lot of horrible abuse at the residential schools…but no, it was not the equivalent of Nazism.” Stating that is not white-washing the clear sins of the past. It is insisting that those past sins be seen and dealt with in their proper light and context.

1 Comment

  1. This was very interesting for me, as I am Canadian and was taught about residential schools in school but the lessons were very one-sided. I had no idea the schools were initially created for humanitarian purposes and I was only told about the dark side of these schools and the abuse that took place.

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