Racism Is Not Just an American Problem

The history of racism in the United States is so well-known that many people around the world are tempted to view racism as a uniquely American problem. Contrary to this common misperception, racism is a global phenomenon that exists, in some form, in every country on the planet. However, it doesn’t always show up in the same way.

This month’s newsletter attempts to describe nuances in the manifestation of racism around the world—keeping in mind that what I’m describing are subtle variations on a common theme. In other words, international racism shares far more similarities than differences.

In the next two issues of UpCurrent, I explore the role of racism in four European countries: Germany, Spain, France, and the United Kingdom. Like North America, Europe is a very diverse place. While European countries have historically had majority White populations, the region’s extensive history of imperialism, colonialism, and slavery, along with its proximity to countries with non-White populations, brought racial and ethnic diversity to the continent centuries ago. In more recent decades, immigration has also increased Europe’s ethnic and racial diversity.

However, the impact of history and immigration has not been identical across all of Europe. Each country has its own history, culture, and political and social climates, which combine uniquely to create different orientations to the topics of race and racism. Let’s take a closer look at the ways in which racism takes shape in two of the four aforementioned European nations, beginning with Germany.

In Germany, the “racism” taboo

When people think of the history of racism in the U.S., they think of the pre-Civil War slavery era and the pre-Civil Rights Jim Crow era. When people think of the history of racism in Germany, they think of the pre-WWII Nazi era. What many people may not know is that Nazi ideology was directly influenced by America’s brutal system of racial oppression.

In her book Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents, Isabel Wilkerson makes the strong and compelling case that the Nazi regime modeled many of its policies on the U.S.’s Jim Crow–era laws. Ironically, in some cases the Nazis thought America’s racist ideologies were too extreme. For example, the “one-drop rule” whereby any person with a modicum of African ancestry (as little as 1/64th) was categorically labeled as Black, with no claim to Whiteness, seemed perplexing to the Germans. Nevertheless, they did establish their own blood purity laws discriminating against Jews, as well as practices of enslavement, forced labor, and genocide, echoing practices perpetrated by early White Americans against the Black and Indigenous populations.

Although 80 years have passed since the Nazi era, some scars remain. One of the biggest residual impacts is the latent shame that many Germans feel in the wake of the Holocaust—shame that makes it taboo to discuss “race” or “racism.” I put those words in quotations because what is most astonishing to me about modern-day Germany is not only the fervent denial that racism exists but also the strong resistance to, and even policies against, using the words “race” and “racism.”

Earlier this year I led a DEI workshop with a company whose workforce is largely based in Germany. Despite the focus being DEI—for which one may well expect racism to be a key topic of discussion—I was surprised to see the discomfort and, in some cases, offense of attendees when I used the term “racism.” They wanted to use a different word, such as “bias” or “discrimination.” They saw the word “race” as being similar to the word “breed” (perhaps due to connotations in the German language), and its usage as validating the false notion that human differences are real. I explained that racism reflects a social reality as well as the inconvenient truth that many humans still believe in inherent differences.

Still, it was a source of discomfort and denial. It was also indicative of the broader issue: In Germans’ efforts to avoid talking about racism, they’ve neglected to ascertain whether or not they’ve been successful in doing something about it. Many Germans think racism doesn’t exist in their country, but a proliferation of recent data suggests that racism (even neo-Nazism) and xenophobia exist on many levels—individual, cultural, and systemic.

Far-right extremism resurges, anti-Black racism abounds

Case in point: In recent years, far-right extremism—marked specifically by racist, White supremacist, anti-immigrant, antisemitic, and Islamophobic viewpoints—has had a resurgence in the country. In May 2021, the New York Times published a podcast, called Day X, investigating the growing presence and influence of far-right extremists in Germany’s military ranks—and highlighting the government’s failure to heed warnings that it was happening. Looking at 2020 events in Germany, the Human Rights Watch World Report 2021 also pointed to the problem, saying, “Right-wing extremist structures are surfacing within the police and armed forces. Crimes committed based on far-right and antisemitic ideology remain a serious concern.”

More recently, in November 2021, two groups—a Berlin-based Black community group, Each One Teach One, and Citizens for Europe, a pro-diversity and -democracy civil society organization—published the first systematic survey on anti-Black racism in the country, Afrozensus. The findings were not positive. Over 6,000 respondents, all of whom participated voluntarily, answered questions assessing how often they experienced racism in various areas of life, including in work, education, the media, and the housing market; by police or security personnel; or through public agencies and the justice system. With possible answers including “never,” “sometimes,” “often,” and “very often,” over 77% of respondents reported experiencing racism “often” or “very often” in every single category. That’s astonishing.

Germany may have changed significantly since the 1930s and 40s, but that does not mean prejudice against outgroups is nonexistent. As the survey showed, it certainly doesn’t mean racism against people of color doesn’t occur. I wrote in my book, The Conversation, that the first step in solving any problem is becoming aware and acknowledging that the problem even exists. Germany has a psychological (and institutional) hurdle to overcome before it can honestly address racism in the country. Until Germans are willing to literally say the words and acknowledge the problem—publicly and in policy—they will not be able to adequately examine and redress racism in their society.

Fortunately, the needle is moving. At the end of my DEI workshop with the German company, I heard a greater willingness to speak about it—to say the words, continue the work, and start taking this step. It may be a baby step, but even a small step forward is a step in the right direction.

In Spain, racial harmony—not racial justice

I spend a significant amount of time in Spain each year and have witnessed and experienced firsthand the nature of racism in the country. As previously stated, there are many more similarities than differences, and in many ways modern manifestations of racism in Spain are comparable to those in the U.S. and Germany. However, there are historical and cultural differences in Spain that give way to subtle nuances in the ways racism manifests.

Cultural and phenotypic similarities to Africa and Latin America

Unlike in Germany, where there is a large perceived gap between the culture of Germany and that of their Turkish or Greek citizens, for instance, the chasm between Spanish culture and that of the country’s African and Latin American citizens isn’t as vast.

In many ways, Spain is Africa. On a clear day, you can actually see the African continent from Spain’s southern tip, located only 20 miles across the Strait of Gibraltar. This proximity is not merely a geographical reality; it’s a historical and cultural one as well. The Moors—originally rooted in present-day Mauritania, Morocco, and Algeria—occupied the Iberian peninsula for nearly 800 years and left an indelible imprint on the music, food, architecture, language, culture, and physical appearance of the Iberian peoples. As a result, Spain is much more collectivistic than the more individualistic nations of northern Europe. And social relationships occupy a central role in Spanish life, making social engagement and social harmony important virtues of everyday life.

Music is an important part of Spanish life, and one that vividly encapsulates the cultural and social blend in the region. When I say music, I’m not talking about the calm, subdued 1-2-3 of a waltz. I’m talking about lively rhythms, punctuated by clapping hands, stomping feet, swaying hips, and loud vocalizations evoking both passion and pain—people playing, listening, and dancing well into the wee hours. It’s raw. It’s tribal. Elements of Spanish music share many more similarities with the music of the tropics than the music of tundra.

Additionally, much of Spanish social life can be seen in the streets, which teem with life at all hours of the day and night, music or no music. “Spain is different” as the tourism ads of the 1990s proclaimed. It is a cultural mélange unlike any other to be found in Europe.

Why is any of this relevant?

In several ways, Spain provides a cultural bridge to people emigrating from the Global South. Many find that Spain’s culture and lifestyle share more similarities with their African and South American homelands than with the more buttoned-up European nations such as Switzerland or Austria. All of which leads to a lot more social integration and social mixing between “native” Spaniards and Latin American and African immigrants. For over 10 years, I have owned a flat in one of the central neighborhoods of Madrid, and I’m astounded by the level of diversity that I witness on a daily basis, often belied only by differing speech accents.

Which brings me to my second point: physical similarities. Beyond cultural comparisons, unlike in Germany or the U.S., it is often hard to physically distinguish immigrants from native Spaniards. As stated, Spain sits on the Mediterranean, very close to North Africa, and has a significant Moorish influence. The skin and hair color of people in the region reflects this geography and heritage; Spaniards tend to be darker than northern Europeans.

Furthermore, Spain’s long history of colonization in the Americas between the 15th and 19th centuries created a bridge between Spain and the Hispanic people and cultures of that region. There is a significant population living in Spain who are from Latin America—Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, etc.—and who are indigenous, Black, or mixed ethnicities, like mestizo or caboclo. Because of this, it is very hard to objectively distinguish between a Spanish Iberian and a Cuban, for example, so it is much easier to not be “othered” as a brown or olive-skinned person there the way you would be living in Germany. In fact, when using popular dating sites in Spain, such as Meetic, you have the option of selecting your “race” or “origen” as White (“Europeo”) or Olive (“Mediterraneo”). Many Spanish people select the latter option, even if colloquially they identify as “blanco”.

In short, the nature and experience of racism is not the same in Spain as it is for people of color in other predominantly White nations, because the Spanish are already part of the continuum of people of color.

However, this phenotypic proximity does not mean that racism isn’t part of Spain’s history or present.

Economic and social disparities persist

Unlike Germany, there is very little shame when it comes to the topic of race in Spain. Despite centuries of active participation in the transatlantic trafficking of enslaved African peoples (rivaled in involvement only by Portugal), as well as centuries of subjugation of Native American peoples from present-day America to the Cono Sur, most Spaniards do not view Spain as a historically racist country.

Instead, a myth has been perpetrated throughout the ages that few Spaniards are too ashamed to recite. It goes something like this: The British people (because they are so racist and “uptight”) went to America and killed all the Indians and enslaved all the Africans. But we Spaniards, led by Christopher Columbus, went to America and mixed with people, and that’s why you have so many mestizos and mulattos (sic) throughout Latin America.

I have heard this account of Spaniards and Columbus as the “grand uniters” in the “New World” more times than I can count. I’ve even heard it from highly educated people—which is further evidence that it is historical propaganda taught at an early age that most never quite shake. Not unlike our Thanksgiving myth in the United States.

Thus, this notion of “social harmony” runs deep in the Spanish psyche. And in some respects, they practice it. You do see a lot of social mixing between modern Spaniards and immigrant populations of Spain. And there are high levels of miscegenation throughout Latin America. But all this talk of harmony masks an ugly reality in both the past and the present: a highly disproportionate distribution of power.

Spaniards may mix in the street, but their boardrooms are anything but mixed. It is the classic practice of paternalistic racism, which refers to having deceptively warm feelings toward socially disadvantaged groups combined with strong sentiments about hierarchy and legitimacy.

I gave interviews about the topic earlier this summer to major regional and national media outlets in Spain, El Mundo and La Voz de Galizia. There is also one Black member of the Spanish parliament, Rita Bosaho, who has been outspoken about the scorn and condescension she has faced by White Spanish members of Parliament. In one article in El Pais, she talks about the many Spaniards who’d wanted to “date” her nevertheless being appalled at seeing her in a position of power.

Despite the fact that there is more social and cultural integration between races in Spain than there is in the U.S., there’s even greater economic disparity in Spain. You may not run into as many issues socializing on the street (or you may…Spaniards are not as politically correct in their use of language) or going about your daily life, but when it comes to pursuing better career opportunities, leadership positions, or public office, racism rears its head: Only the “Iberian” Spanish are afforded real opportunities to advance.

In effect, it’s the difference between socializing with people of color and “competing” with them. Generally speaking, the Spanish are happy to coexist and cohabit with people of other races and nationalities so long as those people understand that it is not “their” country, so long as they don’t try to “take” good Spanish jobs or gain real power and influence. It’s social harmony but not social justice.

The ultra-right rises, counter-movements fight back

Spain, too, has not remained immune to the ultra-conservative, White nationalist movement that’s swept the globe (again) over the past decade. The country has seen the rapid rise of Vox, a far-right party founded in 2013 whose ideology is anti-immigration and anti-minority, and which favors moral authoritarianism, specifically of the Catholic doctrine. The party’s popularity is problematic, to say the least, and it has magnified the challenges ahead in combatting racism in the country.

Thankfully, however, racism is not baked into Spanish law in the same ways as it is in the U.S., and there is a movement countering the rise of Vox and Spanish nationalists that seeks to address the issue. They have a long way to go, to be sure. The societal understanding of racism in Spain is still young, but there is room for the public Conversation about racism to happen and an appetite to increase awareness and education of the problem.

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Next week, I will continue the discussion with an overview of the nature of racism in two other countries where I’ve spent considerable time living and/or working: France and the United Kingdom. Stay tuned.

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