Review of 'In Defense of German Colonialism' by Bruce Gilley

One of Gilley’s most original arguments is that the dismantling of the German Empire had negative consequences for Germany itself.

Written by Lipton Matthews.

In an era where the past is often judged harshly by the standards of the present, Bruce Gilley’s In Defense of German Colonialism offers something radical: a calm, evidence-based appraisal of a colonial project that has long been viewed through the lens of guilt and condemnation. For the author, German colonialism deserves not only a fair hearing but perhaps even a degree of respect. This is not to say the book is a hagiography. It is principally a critique of the scholarship surrounding colonialism—which is of course riddled with anti-Western bias.

A central theme in the book is the idea that German colonialism had its origins in state-building. This is particularly evident in the discussion of the Berlin Conference of 1884–85, which marked Germany’s formal entry into the colonial world. Rather than being a simple power grab where European powers carved up Africa purely for their own benefit, the conference (held under the stewardship of Chancellor Otto von Bismarck) was framed around principles that reflected contemporary liberal values.

At its core was the notion of a “civilizing mission”. While that term now carries negative connotations, it represented a sincere—albeit paternalistic—commitment to public order, legal administration and the suppression of slavery. The idea of “effective occupation,” another key principle, mandated that colonial claims be backed not just by flags and treaties but actual institutions of governance. In this way, Germany and other European powers held themselves to a standard of accountability that was novel for the time.

Gilley notes that Germany, having only recently unified as a nation, brought to its overseas territories many of the same ideals that had informed its domestic state-building efforts: legal rationality, bureaucratic efficiency and civic development. Though Germany’s colonial project was brief (lasting only from the 1880s to the end of World War I) it was in Gilley’s view unusually constructive.

The most compelling part of the book is Gilley’s treatment of German East Africa, comprising present-day Tanzania, Rwanda and Burundi. He highlights Germany’s relative success in bringing political stability and public services to a region that had suffered from chronic underdevelopment. In terms of infrastructure, Gilley notes that a 1,250km railway built under German rule still plays a vital economic role by facilitating intra-African trade. Indeed, he describes the railway as the engine of Tanzania’s economy.

Reflecting its humanitarian ethos, German colonialism sought to suppress the slave trade, which had ravaged African societies for centuries (and arose long before Europeans arrived). In the late 19th century, East Africa was dominated by powerful slave-raiding networks led by figures like Tippu Tip and Rumaliza. Far from being purely exploitative, German colonisation had the effect of undermining these figures. Former slave traders were absorbed into the colonial administration, which replaced naked predation with rudimentary governance. The German authorities built courts, improved agriculture, established postal routes, and laid the foundations for an education system.

Gilley also emphasises the extent to which local populations often welcomed German governance. Chiefs and local elites sometimes even petitioned for German protection against rival tribes or internal dissidents. Contemporary observers recorded that many Africans viewed German rule as preferable to precolonial conditions, as well as the chaos that followed decolonization.

German officers actively campaigned against slave caravans and forcibly liberated captives. Slavery did not vanish overnight, but its gradual abolition was accompanied by a broader transformation of East Africa—one that saw violence and hereditary bondage make way for formal rights and property protections. For example, a policy introduced in 1904 mandated that all children born to slaves from 1906 onwards were considered free. In fact, German colonialism facilitated the emancipation of around 52,000 slaves between 1891 and 1912.

Less well known but similarly instructive is the German administration of Qingdao, China, beginning in 1898. In the 16 years Germany controlled this port enclave in Shandong province, it constructed what amounted to a well-run city-state: hygienic, orderly and governed with relative restraint.

Qingdao saw the establishment of a clean water supply, public sanitation, a functioning police force, and elected advisory bodies. German education initiatives included both technical and liberal arts instruction. And the port’s infrastructure became a template that Chinese reformers later applied in other cities. Far from being despised, German administrators were praised by Chinese residents for their efficiency and lack of corruption—two traits rarely associated with the late Qing bureaucracy.

This obviously complicates the conventional narrative. German colonialism in Qingdao did not rely on brute force but on competence and impartiality. As Gilley notes, thousands of Chinese voluntarily moved into the German-controlled zone in search of better opportunities and safer streets. The German presence, while certainly imperial, was hardly despotic.

However, no defense of German colonialism can avoid the Herero and Nama War in German Southwest Africa (now Namibia). The events of 1904–08, in which thousands of Herero and Nama were killed or died in the aftermath of armed conflict, have been characterised as the first genocide of the 20th century. Gilley does not deny their scale or horror, but he questions whether “genocide” is a useful descriptor.

Lothar von Trotha, the German general who led the counterinsurgency, undoubtedly employed brutal tactics. His infamous “extermination order” against the Herero, issued after a military defeat in the Waterberg Plateau, is the key piece of evidence supporting the genocide charge. However, Gilley notes that the order was quickly rescinded by the German government and was never fully implemented. What’s more, Trotha’s actions were later investigated, criticized and ultimately disowned by Berlin—not what you’d expect from a genocidal regime.

Moreover, Gilley points out that the conflict was by no means unprecedented in the region. Before German colonisation, the Herero and Nama peoples had themselves engaged in large-scale violence, including massacres, enslavement and scorched-earth campaigns. Colonial violence, while reprehensible, was not some unique departure from a hitherto peaceful society. Other historians such as Susanne Kuss and Klaus Bachmann have also expressed skepticism about labelling the war a genocide. While there is no question that thousands died, the causes include battle deaths, displacement, famine and disease.

Gilley devotes careful attention to the figures who administered German colonies. Military men like Lothar von Trotha, discussed above, are contrasted with civil servants like Paul Krautz, who served in German East Africa. They represented different aspects of colonial rule: one martial and reactionary; the other legalistic and reformist.

Krautz was known for his efforts to modernize tax collection, the legal system and public health. His correspondence reveals a man deeply concerned with the stability and justice of the colonial order. While such figures are rarely celebrated today, they played an essential role in Africa’s economic development. Gilley does not claim that they were saints. Rather, they were functionaries of a system that, despite its flaws, frequently aimed at public betterment.

One of Gilley’s most original arguments is that the abrupt dismantling of the German Empire after World War I had negative consequences for Germany itself. The colonies, he suggests, served as a unifying national project that could have dampened the radical politics of the interwar years. When the Treaty of Versailles stripped Germany of its overseas territories, it removed a vital source of civic pride. It also helped to delegitimise the country’s elites, bolstering extremist movements on both the left and the right.

This thesis is certainly provocative, and provides an intriguing counter-argument to the dominant narrative that sees colonialism as the ideological precursor to Nazism. Gilley argues that, for all its faults, colonialism had a moderating influence in German politics—one that might have steered the country away from the catastrophic course it took.

In Defense of German Colonialism is not a nostalgic paean to empire. Gilley is simply reminding us that history is complex and we should resist the temptation to reduce the past to a catalogue of sins. Yes, colonialism involved violence and coercion, but it also led to reform and development. If you want to learn about German colonial history but can do without the usual West-bashing, I’d recommend reading this book.

In Defense of German Colonialism is available for purchase online. You can listen to the core concepts from the book at Liegent. Use code APORIA10 for a 10% discount on your sign-up.

Lipton Matthews is a research professional and YouTuber. His work has been featured by the Mises Institute, The Epoch Times, Chronicles, Intellectual Takeout and American Thinker. His email address is: lo_matthews@yahoo.com

---

Support Aporia with a paid subscription:

You can also follow us on Twitter.