How Colonialism Destroys Folk and Indigenous Culture

In 2010, an elderly woman named Boa Senior passed away in the Andaman Islands of India. With her death, an ancient language named Bo vanished from the earth forever. Boa was the last living speaker of this tongue. A community whose roots on these islands stretch back some sixty-five thousand years, according to genetic research tracing them to one of the earliest waves of modern humans to leave Africa, their folklore and their distinct perspective on the surrounding sea and forest all dissolved with her final breath. This passing was the culmination of a long process that began centuries earlier under colonial rule. Colonialism does more than seize land or wealth. It erases the very soul of a people.
When ruling powers set foot on a new territory, their first blow is aimed at language. The tongue of the occupier is forcibly imposed across administration, education and the courts of law. Consequently, native languages lose their standing overnight, relegated to second-class status. To earn a livelihood, ordinary people are forced to learn the ruler’s tongue. North America's boarding schools show exactly how this worked. Boarding schools were set up to tear Native children away from their families. Speaking their own languages was strictly forbidden. The express purpose was to uproot cultural roots from their minds. In this manner, countless indigenous languages and the systems of traditional knowledge intertwined with them have disappeared completely.
Following language comes the domain of spiritual belief. Local folk religions, rituals and traditional faiths are dismissed as mere superstition. European colonizers claimed to be the bearers of a superior civilization. This assumption served as a potent tool for psychological and cultural control. Through foreign missionaries and colonial institutions, aggressive conversion efforts began. In many regions, people were coerced through fear, while in others, economic inducements lured them away from their ancestral worship. The intimate spiritual bond that communities had nurtured with nature across centuries was discarded as savage and backward through the lens of Western religious orthodoxy.
The marginalisation of indigenous knowledge systems followed a similarly destructive course. Western colonizers judged everything in colonised societies against a single rigid standard. In their eyes, traditional healing practices, agriculture and architecture were unscientific and primitive. Discarding indigenous agricultural methods tested over thousands of years, they imposed systems designed for their own convenience and profit. Western scholars spread the notion that their knowledge alone was modern and valid. Colonised people were conditioned to believe that their own traditions held no value and that they had to learn everything anew from white rulers. This psychological oppression severed people from their roots.
Alongside cultural aggression, the dismantling of local socioeconomic structures moved in parallel. Scrapping centuries-old land systems, colonisers crafted laws to suit their revenue demands. In the Indian subcontinent, policies like the Permanent Settlement tore peasants from their lands, turning them into serfs. Local village councils and kinship-based governance models were broken up to make way for Western bureaucracy. Crippling taxes levied on traditional weavers and artisans devastated local textile production. In turn, the mutual dependence and social cohesion that bound communities together were torn apart.
The most visible expressions of culture are art and architecture. Colonial rulers viewed these artistic creations primarily as loot. Across Asia and Africa, priceless manuscripts, sacred statues and historic ornaments were stolen to fill European museums. Invaluable treasures like the Benin Bronzes of Nigeria still decorate the British Museum, while the Koh-i-Noor diamond of the Indian subcontinent remains set into the crown of the British royal family at the Tower of London. Global calls to repatriate these stolen treasures have grown increasingly vocal. Yet, through legal pretexts and bureaucratic obstacles, these historic relics remain withheld from the rightful custodians whose ancestors made them. Nigeria's push for the Benin Bronzes and India's long-standing claim over the Koh-i-Noor illustrate how these demands, though decades old, rarely translate into return.
The most enduring damage of colonialism is psychological. Even after foreign rulers departed, they left behind a deep sense of inferiority that lingers today. A tendency to look down on one's own culture, clothing, language and diet took hold in colonised societies. Standards of beauty shifted, establishing fair skin as a mark of superiority. The assumption that Western ways are inherently modern became ingrained in the minds of independent nations. This quiet unease towards one's mother tongue and the urge to imitate Western habits are remnants of that mental bondage.
Although colonialism devastated local traditions, it also sparked the emergence of hybrid cultural expressions that brought fresh energy to art, music and literature. Despite severe oppression, people never allowed their heritage to vanish completely. Through melodies, folk tales, bedtime stories told by mothers and festive gatherings, communities preserved their identity. At times this resistance turned into open rebellion, while at other times it survived quietly within the modest daily habits of rural life.
Looking back at this devastation raises urgent questions today. Even without direct political rule, cultural domination persists. Streaming platforms and social media algorithms quietly favour dominant languages, pushing minority tongues further into the margins. Driven by multinational corporations and Western media, indigenous heritage faces new threats. Protecting native languages and reclaiming lost folk traditions has therefore become vital. The time has come to reread our history and restore confidence in our own culture. That reckoning cannot wait any longer. Can we heal these colonial scars and stand tall in our authentic identity?