Why do Algerians prefer foreigners to their own compatriots? An analysis through Malek Bennabi’s concept of "colonisability."
There is a scene that repeats itself, in one form or another, in almost every Algerian household: an Algerian doctor whose diagnosis is questioned until it is confirmed by a French colleague; a local engineer whose recommendations are dismissed until a foreign expert rephrases them in another language; a national product viewed with suspicion until an imported brand name is attached to it.
This scene is not an isolated incident, but rather a recurring symptom of a civilizational pathology that Malek Bennabi described with remarkable precision more than half a century ago: colonizability.
The true value of this concept lies not in its accusatory nature, but in its diagnostic function. Bennabi did not write to absolve the colonizer; he raised a far more disturbing question: Why does colonialism find fertile ground in which to expand? According to him, the answer lies not only in the artillery of the conqueror, but also in a weakness embedded within the very consciousness of the colonized.
Colonialism That No Longer Needs an Army
Bennabi’s central idea is as profound as it is unsettling: military colonialism may end in a single day, but the colonialism that inhabits minds can survive for generations after the departure of the last soldier.
When a society becomes convinced that solutions always come from outside and that its own capabilities are inherently questionable, it is colonized a second time—this time without the need for any military garrison.
What Bennabi calls “colonizability” is not a temporary individual trait, but a complex psychological and social structure built upon several interconnected elements:
- A loss of confidence in national collective production, not merely in individuals.
- The transformation of “the other” from a potential partner into an absolute reference.
- The retreat of initiative in the face of the prestige of foreign expertise.
- A latent self-contempt, often disguised as “realism” or “constructive criticism.”
The most dangerous aspect is that these mechanisms often reproduce themselves unconsciously. The person who systematically favors foreign opinions does not perceive themselves as suffering from a complex; they simply believe they are being objective and rational.
The Wound of One Hundred and Thirty Years
It is impossible to understand this phenomenon in Algeria without placing it within the context of an exceptional colonial experience in both duration and depth.
French rule in Algeria was not merely a temporary military occupation; it was a settler-colonial project that sought methodically to reshape society’s hierarchy of values: French became the language of progress, local culture was portrayed as a burden to overcome, and the Algerian was presented as an unfinished being requiring permanent external guidance.
Political independence in 1962 liberated the territory, but it did not automatically liberate minds.
Psychological structures do not disappear through decrees or national celebrations. They require a long process of civilizational reconstruction—a process that remains unfinished and, in some areas, may not have truly begun.
Four Gateways Through Which Self-Doubt Takes Root
1. The Geography of Value Rather Than Its Substance
When a competent Algerian emigrates and succeeds in Europe or America, they immediately become a national point of reference. Yet the same competence exercised within Algeria often generates greater skepticism.
The paradox is that value is no longer measured by achievement itself, but by the latitude and longitude of the place where it was achieved.
2. Confusing Recognition of Progress with Submission to It
The scientific and technological advancement of the West is an objective reality that no reasonable person can deny.
The problem arises when this legitimate recognition turns into an absolute conviction that everything coming from the West is necessarily superior to everything produced locally.
Judgment then ceases to focus on content and becomes exclusively concerned with origin.
3. Real Institutional Failures
This is perhaps the most delicate aspect because it is often rooted in concrete experiences.
When institutional effectiveness declines, favoritism becomes widespread, and loyalty is rewarded at the expense of merit, the loss of confidence in what is “local” is not always a psychological complex—it can also be a rational conclusion drawn from lived reality.
Here, Bennabi’s psychological analysis alone is insufficient. One must also address the institutional causes themselves rather than conceal them behind hollow rhetoric about national pride.
4. The Global Economy of Image
Media and advertising do not merely sell products; they also disseminate an implicit hierarchy of values:
- Foreign brand = quality
- Local product = second-choice solution
Repeated daily across countless screens, this equation gradually shapes a collective consciousness that presumes the inferiority of anything local before it has even been evaluated.
Between Openness and Alienation: Where Is the Boundary?
This is perhaps the most subtle aspect of Bennabi’s thought and the one most frequently misunderstood.
Colonizability is not a rejection of openness to the world; in fact, it is the exact opposite.
Strong societies—whether Meiji-era Japan, industrializing South Korea, or Turkey during its complex journey toward modernity—never refused to benefit from Western experience.
They eagerly imported technology and knowledge, but they did not import a sense of inferiority along with them.
They took the tool and left the complex behind.
A confident society asks:
“What can I learn from this?”
A society suffering from colonizability asks:
“How can I become like them in order to have value?”
The entire difference between civilizational cooperation and civilizational alienation lies in this distinction.
What Would Concern Bennabi Today?
If Malek Bennabi were writing in the age of algorithms and digital platforms, he would probably add a new chapter to his reflection.
Colonizability no longer requires a colonizer speaking French with the accent of colonial authority. A digital platform is enough.
Every day, recommendation algorithms expose users to a continuous stream of content subtly and repeatedly suggesting that “over there” is better than “here.”
Contemporary colonialism no longer needs a single soldier; sometimes a notification on a smartphone is sufficient.
Breaking the Vicious Circle
Passionate rhetoric alone cannot dismantle this mental structure. Worse still, it can reinforce it when it consists of denying the problem instead of confronting it.
A serious approach rests on four complementary pillars:
1. Make Competence the Only Criterion
Judge ideas, products, and people based on their actual results—not their nationality or origin.
2. Highlight National Successes
Present Algerian achievements as a normal reality rather than extraordinary exceptions.
3. Reform Institutions
Trust is not built through speeches, but through daily experiences of justice, competence, and transparency.
4. Educate for Calm Confidence
Cultivate collective self-confidence that clearly distinguishes healthy pride from isolationism or rejection of others.
Conclusion: An Incomplete Independence
Preferring a foreigner to one’s fellow citizen is not always a betrayal of identity, nor is it necessarily the product of naive fascination.
More often, it is the accumulated consequence of a profound historical experience, where psychological wounds are intertwined with very real institutional shortcomings.
Malek Bennabi left us an essential key for understanding the psychological dimension of this phenomenon. But he also left us a contemporary responsibility: to address the institutional causes that continue to nourish it.
Political independence, achieved in 1962, remains incomplete as long as it is not accompanied by genuine intellectual independence—the kind that allows an Algerian to see in his compatriot a globally credible competitor rather than a default substitute.
As Bennabi understood, the rebirth of a nation begins neither with an economic program nor with a political project.
It begins with a far deeper moment: the moment when a people finally regain confidence in the ability of their own sons and daughters to build their future.
✍️ Belgacem Merbah
Algerian patriot, free in his writing as in his convictions.
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