Red Letter Christians

Post-Colonial Theology

by Brian McLaren Monday, January 31st, 2011

Call me cynical, but here’s my suspicion: Adjectives in front of theology are deceptive. Yes, they’re needed; no, I’m not against them, but still, they’re deceptive. Here’s how.

By distinguishing some theology with a modifier — feminist, black, Latin American, eco-, post-colonial, or indigenous, we are playing into the idea that these theologies are special, different — boutique theologies if you will. Meanwhile, unmodified theology — theology without adjectives — thus retains its privileged position as normative. Unmodified theology is accepted as Christian theology, or orthodox theology, or important, normal, basic, real, historic theology.

But what if we tried to subvert this deception? What if we started calling standard, unmodified theology chauvinist theology, or white theology, or consumerist, or colonial, or Greco-Roman theology? The covert assumption behind the modifier post-colonial thus becomes overt, although it is generally more obliquely and politely stated than this:  Standard, normative, historic, so-called orthodox Christian theology has been a theology of empire, a theology of colonialism, a theology that powerful people used as a tool to achieve and defend land theft, exploitation, domination, superiority, and privilege.

If that doesn’t sound disturbing, I’m not writing well or you’re not reading well.

Of course, it may be a false accusation. But it may not. And determining the degree to which it is or is not is part of the work of post-colonial theology.

I was involved for several years in “the postmodern conversation” before I realized that it was only one side of the coin. It took place largely among the former colonizers. Meanwhile, the post-colonial conversation had arisen among the formerly colonized. While the postmodern conversation focused on important intellectual issues like the objectivity and absoluteness of statements, the interpretation of texts, the limitations and biases of language, and so on, the post-colonial conversation focused on how those intellectual issues were playing out in history, especially during and since the era of the Conquistadors. The former was largely about knowledge, and the latter largely about how knowledge became a tool of power. So the two conversations were inter-related, and the latter in some ways enfolded and extended the former from the realm of theory to the realm of practice, from philosophy to ethics.

As I expanded my own considerations in these directions, important words in the postmodern conversation suddenly made more sense to me. I realized that deconstruction, for example, was specifically (even if unconsciously at times) focused on dismantling the foundations of colonialism. Meta-narratives weren’t simply big stories — they were the stories that fueled colonialism. In this light, the moral arc of the postmodern conversation — which was understated by its advocates and invisible to its critics — started to shine through for me.

If standard Christian theology has indeed been colonial, then we would expect it to have certain characteristics, perhaps including these:

  1. It would explain — historically or theologically — why the colonizers deserve to be in power — sustained in the position of hegemony.
  2. It would similarly explain why the colonized deserve to be dominated — maintained in the subaltern or subservient position.
  3. It would provide ethical justification for the phases and functions of colonization — from exploration to settlements to land acquisition to minority marginalization to segregation to hegemony-maintenance, even to ethnic cleansing.
  4. It would bolster the sense of entitlement and motivation among the colonizers.
  5. It would embed the sense of submission and docility among the colonized.
  6. It would facilitate alliances with political and economic systems that were supportive of or inherent to colonialism.
  7. It would camouflage or cosmetically enhance its ugly aspects and preempt attempts to expose them.

If standard Christian theology were determined to be essentially colonial by these and other standards, a natural question would arise: Must the Christianity of the future forever maintain this colonial bias? Is an imperial or dominating mindset inherent to Christian faith, for better or worse — or can there be a new and different kind of Christianity?

In answering that question, other questions would arise. Is a colonial mindset resonant with or in conflict with the life and teaching of Jesus? Is it resonant with or in conflict with the narratives of the Hebrew Scriptures? Is it resonant with or in conflict with the life and teachings of the apostles and early church?

These are exactly the kinds of questions raised by a post-colonial theology.

It’s commonplace to talk about the extinction or evaporation of Christian faith in Europe, and in the U.S., we see this as a sad and tragic thing. But could it be that the faith that has been rejected in Europe is not the essential and original Christian faith, but rather the colonial Christian faith — the chauvinistic, Greco-Roman, consumerist, white-man’s Christian faith? And could it be that this faith should be rejected so something better can emerge in the void it leaves behind?

Could it be that our various modifiers these days signal parallel quests to rediscover — or create, or both — an authentic Christian faith, rooted in God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit, informed by the Scriptures, instructed by Christian tradition and history — and purged of longstanding and deeply embedded patterns of injustice? Could it be that diverse adjectives that have arisen — modifiers like emergent Christianity, big tent Christianity, missional Christianity, not to mention feminist, eco-, Latin American, black, and otherwise modified Christianity — are signs of diverse expressions of the same underlying impulse, or parallel mini-movements that will someday become one integrated movement?

You can see why growing numbers of us think that this postmodern, post-colonial conversation is terribly important and worth having.

—-
Brian McLaren is an author and speaker whose new book is A New Kind of Christianity: Ten Questions That Are Transforming the Faith.

This post is provided through our cooperative ministry with Sojourners

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  • http://jewalters.wordpress.com James

    This is an excellent post. It would be foolish to think that anything that could be labeled a “new kind of Christianity” could ignore the important questions and discussions raised by post-colonial (and other post-structuralist) interpretations.

    I wonder how we bring inter-religious dialogue into this discussion. It seems to me that this will be a major issue in pressing forward with a “post-colonial Christianity” because the temptation in evangelism is always to privilege one religion over another. Thus, in order to be truly post-colonial, we must be aware of the way that our language and our actions produce intentional and unintentional characterizations of other religions.

  • Anonymous

    The loss of Christian faith in Europe and America is a direct result of the Church’s wilful disassociation with society. A Church which is told to “love your enemies” cannot justify being exclusive in nature, but we fall too easily into the belief that society is evil and therefore we must separate ourselves from it. When we no longer engage with the communities in which we live, it is no surprise that they refuse to engage with us. When I talk to unbelievers about God, their concept of Him is usually legalistic and condemnatory, and that can only have come about through Christians exhibiting those characteristics.

    Colonialism is the subjugation of others – on the basis of nation, organisation or heritage – in order to benefit the self. Those Christians whose focus is on denouncing ‘the evils of our society’ are practising colonialism via defamation, because of insecurity about their own character. They seek to show that they are good by saying, “I’m not bad like them.” This act of exalting the self at the expense of others is a pretty good definition for ‘sin.’

    I’m increasingly wary of any theological argument which seeks to justify the lifestyle, beliefs or status of its proponents. Until we are completely sold out to God, in every word, thought and deed, we have no right to seek such endorsement. If we do commit 100%, we will neither seek nor require justification.

  • http://twitter.com/jlundewhitler josh lunde-whitler

    On my own, after wrestling through many of these issues myself (having had the benefit of a seminary education to destroy my blissful innocence), I have begun to use “Euro-theology” or “white theology” to describe what I have long considered to be the normative understandings of the faith (although I admittedly usually keep this lingo to myself, since most people in my church context would have no clue what I’m saying.) I’m not sure that it would be fair to call all forms of such “euro-theology” a “colonial theology;” since the theological tradition in Europe began long before colonialism, and although it was nearly always exposed to some form of imperialism, God often moved mightily among the marginalized in Europe to spark influential theological reformulations (Francis, Teresa of Avila, arguably parts of the Reformation, later the Barmen signers), and these movements are also part of the Euro-tradition (which is why Las Casas had theological resources to draw upon in his critique of colonialism in South America).

    I think we have to be cautious (and I’m including myself) in white-washing (bad pun intended) European-derived theological perspectives…. although we cannot deny the rampant influence of colonialism, imperialism, chauvinism, not to mention antiquated codes of honor from medieval to antebellum times, on the present Euro-theological landscape. (The Greco-Roman influence is admittedly an exception; Platonism has left virtually no stone unturned in Western theology, it seems to me, especially as it relates to modern individualism and Gnostic rejections of the corporeal.)

    No quick term for any perspective is perfect, of course… and this also demonstrates the problem of any terminology for any theological perspective: it is always limiting, and has the ability to paint everyone from Europe/Latin America/Africa/Asia/etc. with the same brush… But I hope that we can begin to see perspectivalism in theology as a strength rather than a weakness, and that we “white folks” can begin to admit that we have inherited a “white theology” and see the world from a white (male, straight, fill-in-your-blank) perspective. Maybe then, we can have real, mutually submissive and humble dialogue.

    It seems, therefore, that there needs to be work done in dissecting, analyzing, and interpreting “Euro-theology” and its various implications and variations (good and bad and everything in between) as such, so that we can begin to understand it better as such….

  • Sandro Baggio

    My Theology Professor used to say: Theology was formulated in Europe, distorted in North America and tested in Latin America. By and large, I think it still is.

  • e. ingersoll

    Great stuff! I would challenge you to think very critically about the use of the words “progress” and “evolution” and “future” in your own thinking and they way that these words have been used in colonial project you describe.

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