Cooperating, Translating, Negotiating: Revealing Colonial Traces in Our Exchanges

Colonialism is not just a matter of dates and history books. It lingers in bodies, in languages, in institutions, sometimes visible, sometimes silent. It is often described as a closed chapter of the past, yet it shows up in conversations, in meeting rooms, in universities, and even in the subtle ways we look at and judge one another. Far from being over, it remains an invisible framework that still shapes how societies see themselves and how they interact.

Language is perhaps the clearest example. English, French, Spanish, or Portuguese are not only reminders of past domination: they have also become practical tools for communication. In an international organization, a conference, or a company, sharing a common language helps avoid misunderstandings and makes it easier to move projects forward. Yet this efficiency comes with a cost. Those who master the dominant language with ease are more likely to speak up, to be heard, and to be considered credible. Those who hesitate, translate silently, or search for words often find themselves on fragile ground. The imbalance is not minor: the former “centre” still defines who appears legitimate.

At the same time, colonial experiences are far from uniform. They have unfolded differently depending on territories, cultures, and histories, and they continue to resurface in today’s encounters. A negotiation, a research partnership, or even a casual conversation can activate distrust, trigger misunderstanding, or open the door to unexpected solidarities. The legacies of colonialism are never identical, and that diversity creates an endless number of ways professional, cultural, or personal relationships can unfold.

In academia, publishing in a major English-language journal is often a prerequisite for recognition, even if it means reframing local realities within foreign frameworks. In the development sector, projects designed in Brussels or Paris risk being perceived as new forms of tutelage, while local actors adjust their language to meet donors’ expectations. Even in everyday interactions, colonial traces can be felt: in the smile provoked by an accent, in a comment on the “proper” way to speak, or in the silence of a voice that chooses not to intervene.

Colonialism, then, is not just a painful memory, nor is it only a shared language that simplifies exchange. It is both at once: a tool that brings people together and a hierarchy that separates them, a wound that divides and a critical resource that names injustice. Understanding this ambivalence means recognizing that contemporary relationships, whether professional, cultural, or personal, are still shaped by this prism, whether we acknowledge it or not.