The other day I asked my seven-year-old son: what do you call people who hate other races? The correct answer was “racists,” but he asked, “White?” I laughed, because, as they say, “out of the mouths of babes.” His answer captured patterns in the adult world more accurately than we’re comfortable admitting.
Racism as a system, not an emotion
Racism is not merely dislike or fear of the “other.” It is a systemic ideology that developed in early modern Europe alongside colonialism. Its purpose was to justify violence: occupation, exploitation, plunder, and destruction.
Until the 15th–16th centuries, human communities thought in terms of faith, language, origin, and way of life. Hierarchies existed, but they were not based on the idea of “biologically superior” or “inferior” groups of people. The notion of “races” as supposedly natural, unchanging, and unequal is a product of early modern European thought, later reinforced by 19th-century pseudoscience. Racism did not arise from hatred, but from the need to preserve privileges.
White supremacy
White supremacy is, above all, a normalized idea that European experience, values, and ways of life are universal, correct, and desirable for everyone. That is why European history is presented as “global,” European culture as the standard, European values as neutral, and all others as “local,” “traditional,” or “backward.”
It is a form of superiority wrapped in the language of progress, humanism, and “help.” This year I read a lot about humanitarian missions and the reasons people choose to join them: often it is the boredom of someone who has everything and finds life dull (while in those countries full of hardship, real life is thriving!), or the desire to feel special by “saving” so-called “victims” who do not see themselves as victims at all.
The imposition of values as a form of coercion or violence
Colonialism has long ceased to be merely military. It has become cultural, symbolic, and moral. For years, the West has imposed its models of development, politics, economy, and even notions of the “proper” human being—often ignoring the contexts, histories, and traumas of other societies.
This imposition is rarely called violence, but it is. It deprives people of the right to their own path, their own meanings, and their own voice.
Museums as repositories of the stolen
European museums are overflowing with artifacts that should never have ended up there: objects taken during colonial wars, expeditions, and “scientific” missions. These are not merely things — they are memories, rituals, sacred items torn from living cultures.
The reluctance to return stolen items is usually disguised with arguments about “better preservation,” “universal heritage,” or the “insufficient infrastructure” of the countries of origin. But at its core, it is the same logic: we decide what is ours and how to handle it.
The 1970 UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export, and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property encouraged member states to return illegally removed cultural objects; it is a formal international call, signed by dozens of countries. Returning the plundered—both material and symbolic—is part of a broader process: moving away from a position of superiority. Without this, any conversation about equality, cultural dialogue, or “shared values” cannot be honest.
Why did the kid say “white”
Children think in observations, not ideologies. They notice who most often speaks from a position of normativity, who lectures, who explains the world to others without questioning their own place in it. He didn’t say “all white people,” but intuitively grasped the connection between racism and power, which has historically been concentrated in white European hands.
Fears
I hear a lot of fears that Arabs will take over the world or that Black people are more prone to violence. It’s absurd — fears, in general, are absurd — but I will debunk these myths in my upcoming articles.
Contemporary research shows that levels of violence are not determined by “innate aggression,” but primarily by social conditions. The highest risks are observed where there is poverty, unemployment, limited access to education, unstable families, or disadvantaged neighborhoods. Historical inequality and the concentration of resources in certain areas also increase the likelihood of conflict. These factors shape both perpetrators and victims, explaining why some groups are more frequently involved in criminal situations. It is important to emphasize: most violence occurs within a single racial group, not between them. We need to address the root causes, not the symptoms.
A conversation you shouldn’t shy away from
Talking about racism means talking about responsibility. Not about the guilt of individual people, but about the systems that still operate. About the comfort that exists because of inequality. About the silence that upholds the status quo. If we want to raise children capable of ethical thinking, we will have to look at history unvarnished. And recognize: racism is not “someone else’s problem.” It is a legacy we either confront consciously or pass on.
Today, the world is gradually returning to the wisdom of civilizations long deemed “savage,” “archaic,” or “unscientific.” In matters of ecology, embodiment, community, healing trauma, and relationships with nature, the modern West increasingly turns to the practices and knowledge of Indigenous peoples, Asian and African cultures, and precolonial traditions. The irony is that this knowledge was first devalued, then banned, later exoticized, and now “rediscovered”—often without acknowledgment of its origins.
This is not about romanticizing “other civilizations,” but about honestly admitting that the European model of rationality, progress, and control has proven limited. It has not provided answers to the climate crisis, depletion, loneliness, or loss of meaning. And now the world is seeking balance in the very places it once destroyed.
From appropriation to reciprocity
A real turning point is possible only when reciprocity replaces appropriation. When knowledge is not “taken,” but listened to. When artifacts are not “kept,” but returned. When histories are not rewritten, but acknowledged in their complexity and pain.
Immigrants and Indigenous peoples
Many contemporary immigrants ended up in the West not by their own choice, but because of Western policies in the past—colonial, economic, or military interventions in their countries. New generations often feel anger and rejection instead of “gratitude,” because they see that their countries were exploited and subjugated, and returning there is either unsafe or impossible. To truly address the problems of violence and inequality, we must look at social and historical causes, rather than drawing simplistic conclusions about race or culture.
In several European countries, the colonial past is still presented as a source of national pride or a “civilizing mission.” This is evident in public narratives, school curricula, monuments, and media, where colonizers are often portrayed as heroes, while violence, exploitation, and genocide are either silenced or justified in the language of progress. At the same time, opposing processes exist—critical debates, decolonial movements, and historical reassessments—but they are not yet dominant.
Herbert Kitchener, for example, is still glorified in media, monuments, and textbooks as a symbol of British power and “civilizing mission,” even though his campaigns involved violence and exploitation. Schools still teach that Christopher Columbus “discovered America” and James Cook “discovered” Australia and New Zealand, whereas for Indigenous peoples, these lands were violently seized, and the so-called “heroes” were sources of violence and genocide.
We view the world through a European lens, as if Europe were the center of everything. Other peoples are studied like lab subjects, rather than building genuine communities with them. Europe forcibly imposes its “help” without asking what is actually needed, while continuing to exploit resources. A striking example is Western Sahara, which remains effectively colonized. This approach legitimizes superiority and shapes a distorted understanding of history, influencing the worldview of new generations.
The uniqueness of Ukraine
Ukraine occupies a special place in many ways. We are not just the “gateway to Europe”; we are a bridge between Europe and colonized peoples, because we are both European and a people with a colonial past. We know well what it is to have our land occupied, our culture stolen; we know genocide and the Holodomor. We possess values that Europe claims, and experiences that Europe does not: survival and resistance, which have become part of our identity. This is not a reason for superiority, but material for building dialogue. And while we are not obliged to build it, we have everything needed to do so.
