The Enduring Unsettling: Postcolonial Theory and the Ongoing Colonialism of Turtle Island
Turtle Island, the Indigenous name for what colonial powers rebranded as North America, is not merely a geographical designation; it is a profound declaration of sovereignty, history, and a lived reality that stands in stark contrast to the narratives of discovery and settlement. It is also a primary, if often overlooked, arena for the application and critical re-evaluation of postcolonial theory. While often associated with the former colonies of Africa, Asia, and the Caribbean, the enduring structures and ideologies of colonialism on Turtle Island demand that postcolonial thought be rigorously engaged, adapted, and, in many cases, fundamentally critiqued from an Indigenous perspective.
Postcolonial theory, at its core, examines the enduring legacies of colonialism – the power imbalances, cultural hegemonies, and knowledge systems imposed by imperial powers. It dissects how colonial encounters shaped identities, literatures, and political landscapes long after formal independence. Key concepts like Edward Said’s "Orientalism," which critiques the West’s construction of the "Other," or Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak’s exploration of the "subaltern," reveal the mechanisms by which colonized peoples were dehumanized, silenced, and subjected to epistemic violence. These frameworks are undeniably relevant to Turtle Island, where Indigenous peoples were systematically categorized as "savages," "primitives," or "vanishing races" to justify land dispossession and cultural annihilation.
However, the application of postcolonial theory to Turtle Island is not without its complexities and necessary adaptations. The most significant distinction lies in the nature of the colonialism itself: settler colonialism. Unlike traditional colonialism, where an imperial power extracts resources and governs a distant territory, settler colonialism involves the permanent relocation of colonizers who intend to replace the Indigenous population, seize their lands, and establish a new society based on their own cultural norms. This form of colonialism, as Patrick Wolfe famously articulated, is a "structure, not an event," fundamentally driven by the "logic of elimination" of the Indigenous inhabitants.
This structural difference immediately challenges the "post" in postcolonial. For Indigenous peoples on Turtle Island, colonialism is not a historical relic; it is an ongoing, pervasive force. The settler state continues to assert jurisdiction over Indigenous lands, resources, and bodies, often in violation of treaties and inherent rights. The very existence of Canada and the United States as nation-states is predicated on the continued dispossession of Indigenous territories. Therefore, many Indigenous scholars argue that "decolonial studies" or "Indigenous resurgence" offers a more accurate and empowering framework than "postcolonialism," which can implicitly suggest that the colonial era has ended.
The concept of epistemic violence, central to postcolonial thought, resonates deeply with the experiences of Indigenous peoples. For centuries, Indigenous knowledge systems – intricate understandings of ecological balance, governance, healing, and spirituality – were dismissed, suppressed, and actively destroyed. Residential schools, a cornerstone of colonial policy in both Canada and the U.S. (known as boarding schools), were explicit instruments of cultural genocide, designed to "kill the Indian in the child." Children were forbidden from speaking their languages, practicing their ceremonies, or connecting with their families, all in an attempt to impose Western thought, religion, and social structures. The trauma from these institutions continues to ripple through generations, manifesting in profound social, health, and economic disparities.
The colonial gaze, as analyzed by Said, is evident in the historical and contemporary representations of Indigenous peoples. From the romanticized "noble savage" to the demonized "warrior" resisting progress, these stereotypes served to justify colonial expansion and obscure the rich diversity and sovereignty of hundreds of distinct Indigenous nations. This misrepresentation continues today in media portrayals, educational curricula, and political discourse, perpetuating harmful myths and hindering genuine reconciliation.
Yet, postcolonial theory also provides tools for analyzing Indigenous resistance and agency. Homi Bhabha’s concepts of "mimicry" and "hybridity" can illuminate how Indigenous peoples have strategically adopted and adapted colonial forms – such as engaging with legal systems or utilizing Western media – to assert their rights and revitalize their cultures, often turning colonial tools against the colonizers. However, these concepts must be handled with care, as they can sometimes inadvertently diminish the unique and sovereign nature of Indigenous resistance, framing it solely as a reaction to colonialism rather than an expression of inherent nationhood.
Indigenous scholars, building upon and critically engaging with postcolonial theory, have forged distinct paths. Eve Tuck and K. Wayne Yang’s seminal essay, "Decolonization is Not a Metaphor," powerfully asserts that true decolonization necessitates the repatriation of Indigenous land and life. They argue against the metaphorical appropriation of decolonization to refer to generic social justice initiatives, emphasizing that its core meaning must remain tied to the undoing of settler colonialism and the return of land to Indigenous sovereignty. This critique underscores a fundamental difference: while postcolonial theory might analyze the effects of colonialism, Indigenous decolonial thought often prioritizes the ending of colonialism through concrete acts of land reclamation and self-determination.
Glen Coulthard’s "Red Skin, White Masks: Rejecting the Colonial Politics of Recognition" further critiques the limitations of settler-state-led reconciliation processes, arguing that they often perpetuate colonial power dynamics by framing Indigenous peoples as subjects whose rights must be "recognized" by the state, rather than as sovereign nations with inherent rights. Coulthard, drawing on Frantz Fanon, emphasizes that genuine Indigenous liberation cannot be achieved through a politics of recognition that fails to address the material basis of dispossession – the land. For Coulthard, Indigenous nationhood is intrinsically linked to land, self-governance, and the resurgence of traditional practices.
The ongoing struggles on Turtle Island vividly illustrate these theoretical debates. The fight against resource extraction projects like pipelines, which threaten Indigenous lands and waters, embodies the clash between settler economic imperatives and Indigenous environmental stewardship and inherent rights. The Wet’suwet’en Nation’s assertion of their unceded title and jurisdiction over their traditional territories in British Columbia against the Coastal GasLink pipeline, for example, is not merely an environmental protest; it is a profound declaration of sovereignty that challenges the very foundation of the Canadian state. Similarly, the movement for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, and Two-Spirit People (MMIWG2S) highlights the gendered and racialized violence that is a direct legacy of colonialism, stripping Indigenous women of their traditional roles and making them disproportionately vulnerable.
Decolonization on Turtle Island is not merely about symbolic gestures or abstract academic discussions; it is fundamentally about the restoration of Indigenous sovereignty, governance, and land. It demands the fulfillment of treaties, the implementation of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), and the active dismantling of colonial structures in law, policy, and society. It requires a profound shift in power dynamics, moving from recognition by the settler state to the affirmation of inherent Indigenous nationhood.
Ultimately, understanding Turtle Island through a truly decolonial lens, informed by but not limited to postcolonial theory, is an imperative. It demands a reckoning with uncomfortable truths, a dismantling of inherited biases, and a commitment to genuine solidarity with Indigenous peoples in their ongoing struggle for self-determination and the healing of their lands and nations. The "post" in postcolonial remains a horizon, not a reality, for Turtle Island, where the work of decolonization is both urgent and profoundly unfinished.
