The Colonial Roots of the Far Right

In many places across Latin America people of faith are listening to the insistent words of evangelical pastors who preach individualism, conservative values, and a literal interpretation of the Bible. When it comes to elections, many of them cast their votes for far-right parties. Less religious right-wing supporters explain their political choice by saying they feel like things were better in the past. While the most radical unabashedly reveal their fascist tendencies by arguing, for example, that recognizing the equality of Indigenous, Black, and LGBTQ+ people leads to the disintegration of traditional society.

It is undeniable that, despite regional differences, right-wing extremism has conquered a broad social base everywhere in Latin America; in some countries, it has even managed to take government. Yet most analyses overlook the fact that the current rise of the right also has roots in the region’s colonial past.

The Colonial Era

Colonialism has had a lasting impact on the Global South as well as on the dominant states of the Global North. More than 500 years ago, European colonizers subjected what is today Latin America to systematic economic exploitation coupled with extreme violence, massacres of the indigenous population, and the establishment of racist social structures. In Brazil and other regions along the Atlantic coast, this also entailed millions of enslaved people from Africa whose labour was exploited relentlessly, primarily in agriculture.

In most parts of continental Latin America, the colonial era ended in the early nineteenth century following the success of the wars of independence; only a few small countries had to wait until the twentieth century to gain independence. However, for most people, the end of the colonial era did not amount to a new beginning but rather continuity with the old system. For one, the new rulers did not really change the colonial power structures, not least because, economically speaking, they were the same as the old rulers. Economic exploitation, extractivism, and ruling elites who were not interested in democratic institutions or social equality remained the order of the day.

Another element of far-right ideology that is rooted in colonial Latin America is homophobia, which reinforces the construction of conservative morals based on a monolithic idea of the family.

According to Peruvian sociologist Nicolás Lynch Gamero, “the difficulties of democracy in Latin America are inextricably linked to the heritage of colonialism”. He points to the “preservation of the economic and social structures” from the colonial era and to the political power structures that allowed for the “continued exclusion and exploitation of indigenous majorities and other ethnic majorities”. Like renowned Marxist author José Carlos Mariátegui decades before him, Gamero sees economic exploitation, weak democratic institutions, and racist structures as core elements of the colonial legacy. These all also constitute the breeding ground for the current rise of far-right views and parties.

Certain aspects of colonial ideology also re-emerge in the fascist discourse of the 1920s as well as in that of today’s right-wing extremists. In his definition of colonialism, German historian Jürgen Osterhammel speaks of a “culturally different minority of colonial rulers who were hardly willing to adapt” and “ideological doctrines of justification based on the colonial rulers’ conviction of their own cultural superiority”. Brazil’s former far-right president Jair Bolsonaro (2019–2022) regularly expressed such fantasies of superiority in derogatory comments about “backward Indians” or “fat, lazy” Black people. These racist statements find approval in parts of the white population, that is, among the descendants of European colonizers and settlers.

The Sword and the Cross

Another element of far-right ideology that is rooted in colonial Latin America is homophobia. Part of the often-violent discrimination of others, homophobia reinforces the construction of conservative morals based on a monolithic idea of the family. Brazilian anthropologist and LGBTQ+ activist Luiz Mott has shown that the persecution of non-binary sexual relations was introduced by the colonizers and their religious missionaries: “The colonial ideology implied conquest and led to a macho behaviour that was even more brutal in Spanish and Portuguese America than it was on the Iberian Peninsula at the time of the discoveries. Homophobia is a result of machismo and slavery.”

Mott sees a direct connection between this history and today’s hate speech. In his article for the Goethe Institute’s online magazine, Mott cites Bolsonaro, who once said: “I would rather my son were dead than gay”, a sentence that people in Brazil have heard for centuries. However, as Mott explains, homosexuals were not even sentenced to death during the holy Inquisition. Today, by contrast, the murder of people who do not hide their sexuality is no longer rare.

In Latin America, which was largely colonized by the deeply catholic countries of Spain and Portugal, the conquest and murder of large parts of the indigenous population was a combination of sword and cross. Violence was often justified by reference to the necessity of religious missionary work. Existing religions and rites, as well as their temples, were deliberately destroyed. Religious exegesis justified treating Indigenous people as subhuman and Black slaves as dehumanized beasts of burden. Despite all this suffering, the region is still Catholic today, although evangelical Pentecostal churches are becoming increasingly influential in countries such as Guatemala and Brazil.

These churches are also responsible for transforming their fundamentalist morals into a political programme and developing parliamentary strategies to implement their vision. While this has turned them into an important coalition partner for the far right, evangelicals also do effective grassroots work in their communities, which enables them to win over impoverished and socially disadvantaged people to a strictly conservative political environment. This became evident in recent elections, as parts of the once predominantly left-wing electorate from impoverished neighbourhoods turned to far-right parties in several countries. The fact that many people are drawn to evangelical prosperity theology, which prohibits alcohol and propounds an individualist entrepreneurial logic, should not obscure the fact that pastors also preach exclusion and prejudice when it comes to other religions. In countries like Brazil, the racist discourse of these churches has led to violent attacks on the followers and places of worship of afro-Brazilian religions, and represents a unique form of continuity with the colonial missionary tradition.

The tradition of colonialism weighs like a nightmare on the minds of the living.

In times of crises, many churches experience a surge in popularity — just like far-right salvation promises and conspiracy theories. They all appeal to the popular tale of “everything used to be better”. Donald Trump’s successful slogan “Make America Great Again” is a striking example of this. In the past, the story goes, there was no corruption and less criminality, the world was still in order. For the Bolsonaristas in Brazil, José Antonio Kast in Chile, and the Argentinian president Javier Milei — the new star of the Latin American far right — this goes hand in hand with the glorification of the brutal military dictatorships of the 1970s and 1980s. Militarism, the supremacy of a certain “order”, and the individual right to bear arms are part of this ideology, which embraces nationalism and the military “heroes” in its own history. Social or democratic grievances simply do not exist in this notion of continuity, because “everyone is the architect of their own fortune”.

Old and New Fascism

Fittingly, the Spanish far-right party Vox now completely denies the bloody colonization of Latin America. In their electoral programme for 2023 they speak of the colonial “contribution to civilization and world history” and claim that the Spanish monarchy “liberated pre-Columbian peoples from slavery and cannibalism”. Ultimately, this outrageous distortion of history means that parts of today’s far right identify with the crimes of the European colonizers.

Brazilian historian Miguel Enrique Stedile sees many similarities between the old and the new fascism. He writes that “both are driven by a cult of action and a rejection of reason, which is tantamount to the negation of thinking or reflection”. To ensure that no one notices this, simple identities free of contradiction must be created. These are often nations or peoples — and the corresponding enemies, who do not belong to them.

According to Stedile, Bolsonarismo constructed the new identity of the “good citizen” (cidadão de bem), which has served as a blueprint in the region: “the ‘good citizen’ who pays taxes but receives nothing in return from the state; who works while the ‘parasites’ are nurtured by the state; and who therefore has the right to defend his ideas and his property with weapons”. Accordingly, today’s far right has also inherited militaristic discourses that can morph into familiar forms of armed militias, the rejection of culture denigrated as elitist, the alleged fight against corruption, and staunch anti-communism.

This shows that the tradition of colonialism weighs like a nightmare on the minds of the living. To be successful, then, the fight against far-right extremism in Latin America today must also address the colonial roots of Latin American societies.

Translated by Andrea Garcés and Marty Hiatt for Gegensatz Translation Collective.