Colonial psychology of identity denial resurfaces in the age of X and digital discourse
Suhail Farooq Khan
In recent years, a curious pattern has surfaced in political conversations on the social media platform X. Numerous accounts present themselves as Western conservatives, using Anglo-Saxon names, profile pictures of white individuals, and strongly anti-immigration rhetoric. Yet digital investigators and journalists have frequently traced these accounts to locations across the Global South. In some cases, they even attack immigrants from their own countries.
This raises an unsettling question: why would someone adopt a Western, Caucasian identity online while promoting political views associated with Western right-wing movements?
One explanation may lie not only in trolling or digital subculture, but in the long psychological shadow of colonialism.
In 2025, during the Ramnath Goenka Lecture, India’s Prime Minister, Narendra Modi referenced the colonial education policies introduced under Thomas Macaulay wherein the aim was to cultivate a class of people “Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste, in opinions, in morals and in intellect.” Whether invoked politically or historically, the remark touches on an enduring debate: the psychological effects colonial rule may leave behind.
This issue was examined in depth by the philosopher Frantz Fanon in his 1952 book Black Skin, White Masks. Fanon argued that colonial domination produces a profound rupture in the identity of colonised societies. Over time, people may internalise the cultural standards and racial hierarchies of the coloniser. This can lead to alienation from one’s own culture and appearance, alongside a desire, often unconscious, to approximate the identity of the dominant group.
Political independence in the mid-twentieth century ended formal colonial rule across much of the Global South, but it did not necessarily dismantle these deeper psychological structures. In many societies, subtle hierarchies associated with colonial power continue to appear in everyday life.
The Global South today represents one of the largest markets for skin-lightening products. Advertising frequently associates lighter skin with attractiveness, professional success, and social mobility. Film industries often favour fair-skinned actors, while darker complexions may still encounter prejudice in social or matrimonial contexts.
These patterns reflect a broader phenomenon: the lingering prestige attached to Western identity and “whiteness.” White tourists, for instance, are often treated with fascination or privilege in parts of Asia and Africa. Meanwhile, many people aspire to migrate to Western countries, drawn not only by economic opportunities but also by perceptions of better infrastructure, governance, and social dignity.
Yet this aspiration is complicated. Even after migration, full assimilation can remain elusive. In The Colonizer and the Colonized, Albert Memmi argued that colonial systems create enduring hierarchies between coloniser and colonised. Those who attempt assimilation may find themselves caught between identities, no longer entirely rooted in their original culture, yet never fully accepted by the dominant one.
A similar perspective appears in The Intimate Enemy where Ashis Nandy suggested that colonialism survives long after independence by embedding itself in a society’s understanding of modernity, progress, and cultural aspiration. The coloniser thus becomes what he termed an “intimate enemy,” shaping tastes, language, and ideals of success.
Social media platforms can intensify these dynamics. Platforms like X (Twitter) constantly circulate images of Western lifestyles, orderly cities, strong institutions, and prosperity. At the same time, online discourse often amplifies negative portrayals of countries such as India as chaotic or backward. Whether accurate or exaggerated, these narratives influence how users perceive both their own societies and those they observe online.
In such an environment, anonymous digital identities offer a peculiar form of escape. Online, individuals can shed the constraints of geography, nationality, and physical appearance. Adopting a Western name or persona may function as a symbolic distancing from one’s own identity. Through anonymity, a user can temporarily inhabit a position that appears more prestigious within global cultural hierarchies.
Fanon once wrote that the colonised subject is “a persecuted man who constantly dreams of becoming the persecutor.” Though often read metaphorically, the remark resonates in today’s digital spaces. Assuming a Western identity online may allow individuals to align themselves with what they perceive as the dominant voice in global political discourse, even when that voice criticises their own society.
The result is a strange paradox: anonymous accounts claiming to be Western conservatives while physically located in the Global South, sometimes debating their own compatriots from behind a borrowed identity.
Whether driven by trolling, ideology, algorithmic incentives, or deeper historical influences, the phenomenon shows how digital identities intersect with older questions of power, status, and belonging.
After decades of end of colonialism, the legacy of colonial rule still echo in unexpected places, even in the anonymous avatars of social media and more proactive initiatives are needed to further the process of decolonisation.
The writer is an Assistant Editor at Review of Democracy. He holds an LLM in Comparative Constitutional Law from the Central European University.