Western supremacy was never about skin. It was about hierarchy,
A conviction that civilization itself was a European patent,
That progress, reason, and order were inventions to be exported,
Never qualities that could exist before or beyond the West.
It was never truly racial.
Race was the mask that justified structure.
Underneath it was the belief that power flowed only one way, outward from Europe,
And that those who resisted must be corrected, converted, or erased.
They called it the civilizing mission, the white man’s burden, democracy promotion, development aid,
Each a new costume for the same conceit:
That humanity must be measured by its distance from Europe.
But civilization was never their invention.
It existed in the philosophies of Confucius, in the manuscripts of Timbuktu,
In the mathematics of Baghdad and the pyramids of the Nile.
What the West patented was not civilization but dominion,
The right to name, to rank, to conquer, and to profit.
It was not about color. It was about control.
Not about people. About placement.
That is the essence of Western supremacy.
A hierarchy dressed as universalism,
A doctrine that made theft look like discovery,
And empire look like destiny.
If anything, I see myself as a “witness.” I’d also be pleased, if you’d call me an “interpreter.” WIM WENDERS
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