Decolonial Solidarity

Decolonial, Solidarity, Decolonisation, Inequality, Social Justice

This entry sheds light on the concept and practice of decolonial solidarity. Drawn from Indigenous theory, settler colonial theory and critical race theory, decolonial solidarity interrogates the involvement of dominant, privileged actors who attempt to act ‘in solidarity’ with oppressed, colonised and marginalised groups. This entry first outlines the contradictions and problems that emerge from solidarity across power asymmetries. It then shows that through a process of decolonising solidarity, both in the actions of activists and through a political and ethical commitment to challenge structures of domination, it may be possible to engage in effective solidarity.

This illustration is a personal interpretation of the text “Decolonial Solidarity” by Leonie Fleischmann. It approaches decolonial solidarity as a living, relational network rather than a fixed or hierarchical structure. Instead of linear or centralised forms, it proposes an organic web of connections built through dialogue, mutual recognition, and ongoing negotiation between different positions.
The lines cross and connect, forming nodes—points of encounter where different worlds, experiences, and ways of thinking come together. These nodes are not stable or resolved spaces, but dynamic sites shaped by tension, exchange, and the possibility of transformation. In this sense, the focus is placed on the encounter itself: solidarity emerges not from distance or abstraction, but from the complexity of relation.
The forms evoke hooks, fingers, or arms reaching out and holding onto each other. This gesture suggests connection without assimilation: a coming together that does not erase difference, but instead allows it to remain. The network is uneven, non-linear, and open-ended, reflecting the horizontal and process-based nature of decolonial solidarity.
Rather than representing solidarity as a unified or harmonious whole, the drawing emphasises its fragile and constructed character. It points to solidarity as a practice—one that requires attention to power asymmetries, continuous self-reflection, and a commitment to building relationships that do not reproduce structures of domination.

Leonie Fleischmann

Dr. Leonie Fleischmann is a Senior Lecturer in International Politics and Human Rights at City St George’s University of London, and a Visiting Senior Fellow in the Department of Sociology at LSE. Her current research interests include the politics of solidarity and solidarity in times of crisis. She has particular expertise on Israel and Palestine.

Learn More

Available in English: Dignified Anger

ABSTRACT

While solidarity activism has historically been shown to provide important contributions to struggles against inequality and injustice, academics and activists have long identified the contradictions inherent in solidarity work. Despite good intentions, members of dominant, privileged groups acting ‘in solidarity’ with marginalised groups can often do more harm than good. This is because systemic power asymmetries and material differences between the privileged and the oppressed are reinforced in the sites and spaces of resistance. Even though solidarity tends to be framed as something which is antiracist and aimed at supporting marginalised people, it tends to recentre white/settler/privileged/able-bodied people, which both relies on and reinscribes racial and colonial ideas. Thus, solidarity activism is often criticised for reinforcing modes of domination rather than upending them.

However, given the contributions that solidarity activists have historically made, both activists and academics have attempted to identify a productive role for solidarity activism through a process of decolonising solidarity. This has been drawn from Indigenous theory, settler colonial theory and critical race theory. Decolonial solidarity can be understood in two ways. The first provides suggestions for solidarity activists on how to act in order to avoid reinforcing domination in sites and spaces of resistance. This includes not taking the lead and not speaking on behalf of others. However, this is not sufficient for fundamental structural transformations. Thus, the second understanding of decolonial solidarity is derived from a political ethic. It requires solidarity activists to be active members of a decolonisation movement for political liberation. They must engage in a process of critical self-reflection, which involves reflecting upon their own relation to privilege and oppression. It also requires centring the voices, experiences and worldviews of marginalised people by de-centring Western knowledge.

The concept and practice of decolonial solidarity provides some tangible ways to ensure that racialised, gendered and colonial logics are not reinforced through solidarity activism. It requires those who are complicit in structures of domination to engage in a process of unlearning and centring of marginalised voices. However, there are still a number of contradictions and tensions that remain unanswered. This entry concludes by identifying some of the issues that require further thought.

introduction

In a world characterised by inequality and injustice, where power asymmetries benefit some while harming others, there is a compelling moral imperative for solidarity. In particular, there are ‘positive duties’ for those who benefit from global structures to join those who are marginalised and oppressed in their struggles against injustice (Scholz, 2008). Contemporary calls for solidarity can be seen in the mobilisation of movements such as #IdleNoMore in Canada and #BlackLivesMatter in the United States. There have also been global calls for mobilisation against the Israeli genocide in Gaza and the Russian war on Ukraine. In addition, solidarity is often requested in struggles for climate justice, disability rights, gender equality, LGBTQ+ rights and decolonisation. Indeed, solidarity has historically been shown to provide some important contributions to various movements struggling for justice and equality (Lazerson, 1994; Dudouet, 2009; Droogendyk, Wright, & Quin, 2014; Fleischmann, 2021; Gawerc, 2021; Weizman, 2022).

However, significant criticisms of solidarity have emerged from both activists and academics, particularly those engaged in Indigenous struggles. Despite good intentions and a commitment to alleviating oppression and injustice, it is argued that systemic power asymmetries and material differences between the privileged and the oppressed are reinforced in the sites and spaces of resistance. As such, solidarity activists can end up doing as much harm as good (Mahrouse, 2014; Land, 2015; Simpson, 2017; Snelgrove, Dhamoon, & Corntassel, 2014).

Solidarity is itself racialised and imbued with the prejudices and structural inequalities of society (Hooker, 2009). It is grounded in the relationships of capitalism and the unequal global order (Waterman & Cox, 2014), with cultural hegemony and orientalism often accompanying Western solidarity with the Global South (Landy, Darcy, & Gutiérrez, 2014; Mahrouse, 2014). Unequal power relations, which are furthered through intersecting lines of oppression such as race, gender, ability and class, therefore define solidarity relationships, and they tend to be reinforced through solidarity work (Sundberg, 2007; Sullivan, 2014; Land, 2015; Droogendyk, Wright, Lubensky, & Louis, 2016).

Solidarity activists retain what Kraemer (2007, p. 5) identifies as ‘marks of their origin’. These include paternalistic attitudes, expectations of taking on leadership roles or being offered a position of responsibility, as well as expectations of gratitude (Foley, 2000; Droogendyk, Wright, & Quin, 2014; Landy, Darcy, and Gutiérrez, 2014). These paternalistic relations continually mark those ‘receiving’ solidarity as subordinate, thus erasing the work and agency of those communities (Sundberg, 2007).

Thus, while solidarity tactics tend to be framed as antiracist, they also recentre white/settler/privileged/able-bodied people and thus rely on and reinscribe racial and colonial ideas (Land, 2015; Tabar, 2017; Curnow & Helferty, 2018). Solidarity activists often speak on behalf of local resisters, obtain information for them, and receive more attention when they are harmed. Structural conditions exacerbate these dynamics, since the social, political and economic order is more likely to favour members of the dominant population. While their greater resources and access could potentially be used to support the marginalised group, drawing on them only serves to strengthen the unequal structural conditions. For example, certain institutions of power may only be accessible to members of the dominant population. Making use of this access may bring the issue to the table, but the doors still remain closed for the marginalised people. Similarly, solidarity activists often draw media attention, particularly when they are harmed, but this only serves to further render invisible the marginalised groups. Furthermore, funding bodies and non-governmental organisations, which purportedly aim to support marginalised groups, may impose certain conditions that need to be met in order to receive funds, thereby altering the agendas of the marginalised groups.

As a consequence, rather than supporting struggles the involvement of solidarity activists and organisations can inadvertently reinforce racialised and colonial dynamics and uphold the very structural conditions that marginalise and oppress certain groups of people. Thus, solidarity activism can ‘run the risk of reifying (and possibly replicating) […] modes of domination’ (Snelgrove, Dhamoon, & Corntassel, 2014, p. 4).

This is exacerbated by the fact that members of the dominant groups can retreat back to the safety of their own lives, only returning to the struggle when it is convenient for them. In contrast, those who experience oppression do not have the luxury of taking time off from inequality and injustice. This is even more the case for those who experience intersecting lines of oppression. Selective solidarity work leads to performative allyship, which is understood as ‘costless actions that do not challenge the status quo’. This has been shown to have a negative impact on both marginalised groups and allies (Kutlaca & Radke, 2023, p. 1).

These inherent contradictions in solidarity work point to the ‘difficulty of intervening in racial and colonial processes, even from positions of critique and relationship’ (Curnow & Helferty, 2018, p. 154). This has led some to conclude that members of dominant groups are simply not welcome in the struggles of the oppressed (Simpson, 2017). For others, the contradictions of solidarity do not preclude attempts at solidarity work (Curnow & Helferty, 2018), but they do mean that individuals must engage in a process of decolonising solidarity in order to attend to the issues associated with asymmetries of power.

Decolonial Solidarity

The concept and practice of decolonial solidarity stems from critical Indigenous theory, settler colonial theory and critical race theory, and has been developed through the reflections of Indigenous and non-Indigenous scholars and activists.

At its core, decolonial solidarity requires that the voices, experiences and worldviews of the marginalised be centred. Activists coming from privileged and dominant groups must directly confront and challenge the ways in which they are complicit in systems of oppression, and they must develop an awareness of intersectionality as a means of acknowledging and grounding the differences between those involved. Thus, they must engage in sustained dialogue with minoritised groups, committing to reflexivity, learning, and de-centring themselves in the process of solidarity (Snelgrove, Dhamoon, & Corntassel, 2014; Land, 2015).

Decolonial solidarity can be understood in two ways; the first focuses on how to act, while the second is derived from a political ethic (Fleischmann, forthcoming). In the first understanding it refers to the ways in which solidarity activists can ensure that they do not reinforce colonial dynamics and domination when they enter sites and spaces of resistance. To achieve this, they must reflect on how they act and interact with those who are experiencing oppression and injustice. They must also be attentive to the ways in which they impose their ‘marks of origin’ on the struggles they engage in solidarity with. Empirical examples point to the following ways to minimise domination when engaging in solidarity:

By not taking the lead;
By not taking up too much space;
By not imposing their own ideas and agendas;
By not claiming that they know better;
By not speaking on behalf of others;
By waiting to be invited;
By engaging with the goals of struggle of the oppressed; and
By not expecting anything from the oppressed and marginalised groups.

Despite some convergence across cases, ways to engage in decolonial solidarity will be different in different contexts. This is due to different structural conditions, differing institutions and geopolitical dynamics, which will shape how decolonial solidarity can be enacted. During Apartheid-era South Africa the End Conscription Campaign, a group of whites who refused to join the military as a rejection of the apartheid system, launched a programme of community projects. This was ‘to symbolise [their] constructive alternative to a national service’ (ECC, 1986). The group was concerned with not imposing their own ideas of what Black communities needed. Thus, they emphasised that their projects were undertaken in consultation with community-based groups about their community’s needs, and what the ECC’s role should be in helping meet those needs (ECC, 1986).

At Standing Rock (#NoDAPL), non-Native supporters were expected to defer to Indigenous protocol. For example, at the Oceti Sakowin camp every morning began with a ceremony around the sacred fire led by an Indigenous elder, and every meeting and training began with prayers or cleansing. Non-Native supports were expected to operate within this framework rather than impose their own protest culture (Bergen, 2016).

A further example of decolonial solidarity can be found in a white ally protocol at Black Lives Matters (BLM) demonstrations. The American Friends Service Committee published guidance for white people attending BLM protests stating that if approached by the press their talking point should simply be ‘I am here in solidarity with the Black community’, and they should direct journalists to engage with designated Black spokespeople (New, 2020).

It is important to note that such examples should not be seen as prescriptive guidelines for all struggles; presenting them as such would be a further instance of imposing on the struggles of marginalised peoples. However, experiences from different struggles can provide suggestions to consider for those engaging in resistance efforts.

While reflecting on how solidarity activists act when they join the struggles of others will go some way to avoid the imposition of domination on the sites and spaces of resistance, focusing solely on action is not sufficient for fundamental structural transformations. Solidarity must not simply be about supporting oppressed groups and providing material needs; it should involve a deeper commitment to systemic change and engagement with processes of decolonisation (Tuck & Yang, 2012).

A more encompassing approach to decolonial solidarity views it as a politics and an ethics. It involves privileged individuals and groups working to dismantle the structures of domination and exploitation configured by racism, sexism, capitalism, ableism and coloniality in all areas of their lives. They must be ‘active and integral participants in a decolonisation movement for political liberation’ (Walia, 2012, p. 241). In this broader sense, solidarity is not something that is switched on and off for the sake of a particular campaign, but a long-term commitment to centring oppressed peoples’ articulations and removing complicity in the multiple structures of domination.

In order to decolonise solidarity, dominant activists must engage in a process of self-interrogation and self-reflexivity (Boudreau Morris, 2016). They have a responsibility to ‘create a structure for critical self-reflection towards reflective ally practice’, and engage in ‘non self-absorbed and accountable self-reflection’ (Land, 2015, p. 139). According to Clare Land in her study of non-Aboriginal solidarity with Aboriginal resistance in Australia, this process of self-reflection will ‘aid the destruction of power relations’ (2015, p. 141). This must include constant attention to the dynamics of privilege and oppression.

One important aspect is to decentre Western knowledge and activists’ own power through ‘epistemic disobedience’ (Mignolo, 2009). This describes a refusal to accept the terms set by Western/colonial knowledge systems as the only valid framework for understanding the world. This necessitates an embrace of subaltern worldviews and the promotion of alternative ways of knowing and being (Walia, 2012). One example is the concept of Buen Vivir (a Spanish translation of the Quechuan phrase ‘Sumaq Kawsay’). The Quechua movement in South America insisted on an entirely different starting point for thinking about well-being and the relationship between humans and the natural world, which provided an alternative angle for questioning prevalent economic development narratives. One practical and political consequence was the enshrinement of the Law of Mother Nature in Bolivia in 2011, bestowing rights on the natural world, not only on human beings (Bennett & Swiderska, 2023). Thus, epistemic disobedience and centring non-Western world views opens the space for alternative political imaginaries.

Persistent Tensions of Solidarity

The concept and practice of decolonial solidarity provides some tangible ways to attend to the power imbalances between activists. It has made some headway in ensuring that racialised, gendered and colonial logics are not reinforced through solidarity activism by requiring those who are complicit in a structures of domination to engage in a process of unlearning and centring of marginalised voices. Despite this progress, however, some tensions remain that require further thought. These include:

Waiting for leadership from marginalised people can be as problematic as taking the lead. It can cause opportunities for action to be missed, and it places a heavy burden on oppressed people to direct others.
An unquestioning approach to activism, where solidarity activists avoid open communication, can lead to superficial solidarity and treats oppressed people as fragile objects who cannot manage debate.
A paradox emerges in stopping privileged groups from speaking on behalf of oppressed groups. In receiving disproportionate press coverage, they can garner more publicity for the cause. At the same time, however, this reinforces racialised, colonial binary logics rather than challenging them.
The requirement for consistent self-reflection and political commitment could discourage people from contributing to the struggle. Constant policing of activists and the ‘fear of being publicly chided can make progressive circles and movements for social justice […] appear unwelcoming’ (Hunt-Hendrix & Taylor, 2024, p. 298).
More attention to intersecting lines of oppression is needed, within both the marginalised groups and the privileged groups.

One response to these persistent tensions is to argue that there is simply no productive space for solidarity from members of privileged, coloniser populations. However, history has shown that they can play an important role in struggles for justice, equality and decolonisation. Decolonial solidarity should therefore be understood as a dynamic process, which must be consistently reflected upon and navigated in individual movements and struggles.

References

Bennett, S., & Swiderska, K. (2023). ‘Sumaq Kawsay’: Alternative development rooted in the wellbeing of humans and nature. Green Economy Coalition, 15 September. Available from https://www.greeneconomycoalition.org/news-and-resources/sumaq-kawsay-alternative-development-rooted-in-the-wellbeing-of-humans-and-nature#note-4 [accessed 2 April 2026].

Bergen, J. (2016). Indigenous Peoples Solidarity: Calling for solidarity from Standing Rock across different communities. Community Peacemaker Teams, 19 December. Available from https://cpt.org/2016/12/19/indigenous-peoples-solidarity-call-solidarity-standing-rock-across-different-commu# [accessed 2 April 2026].

Boudreau Morris, K. (2016). Decolonising solidarity: cultivating relationships of discomfort. Settler Colonial Studies, 7(4), 456–473. https://doi.org/10.1080/2201473X.2016.1241210

Curnow, J., & Helferty, A. (2018). Contradictions of Solidarity: Whiteness, Settler Coloniality, and the Mainstream Environmental Movement. Environment and Society, 9(1), 145–163.

Droogendyk, L., Wright, S. C., & Quin, S. (2014). Supportive allies vs. pleasant companions: How advantaged group friends can empower collective action among disadvantaged group members. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 40(6), 747–758.

Droogendyk, L., Wright, S. C., Lubensky, M., & Louis, W. R. (2016). Acting in solidarity: Cross-group contact between disadvantaged group members and advantaged group allies. Journal of Social Issues, 72(2), 315–334.

Dudouet, V. (2009). Cross-border nonviolent advocacy during the Second Palestinian Intifada: The International Solidarity Movement. In People Power: Unarmed Resistance and Global Solidarity, edited by H. Clark. Pluto Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt183p7xv.20

ECC (End Conscription Campaign) (1986). Construction not Conscription [Leaflet]. R.J.D. Robertson Pacifist Collection REF: ZA HPRA A2558/10. Wits University Research Archives, Johannesburg.

Fleischmann, L. (2021). The role of internal third-party interveners in civil resistance campaigns: the case of Israeli–Jewish anti-occupation activists. Government and Opposition: An International Journal of Comparative Politics, 56(1), 184–200. https://doi:10.1017/gov.2019.27

Fleischmann, L. (forthcoming). Solidarity and The Strategic Leverage of Privilege.

Foley, G. (2000). Whiteness and Blackness in the Koori Struggle for Self‑Determination: Strategic considerations in the struggle for social justice for Indigenous people. Just Policy: A Journal of Australian Social Policy, 19/20, 74–88.

Gawerc, M. I. (2021). Coalition-building and the forging of solidarity across difference and inequality. Sociology Compass, 15(3), e12858. https://doi.org/10.1111/soc4.12858

Hooker, J. (2009). Race and the politics of solidarity. Oxford University Press.

Hunt‑Hendrix, L., & Taylor, A. (2024). Solidarity: The past, present, and future of a world‑changing idea. Pantheon.

Kraemer, K. R. (2007). Solidarity in action: Exploring the work of allies in social movements. Peace and Change, 32(1), 20–38.

Kutlaca, M., & Radke, H. R. (2023). Towards an understanding of performative allyship: Definition, antecedents and consequences. Social and Personality Psychology Compass, 17(2), e12724.

Land, C. (2015). Decolonising Solidarity: Dilemmas and Directions for Supporters of Indigenous Struggles. Zed Books.

Landy, D., Darcy, H., & Gutiérrez, J. (2014). Exploring the problems of solidarity. Interface: A Journal For and About Social Movements, 6(2), 26–34.

Lazerson, J. N. (1994). Against the Tide: Whites in the Struggle Against Apartheid. Westview Press/Mayibuye Books.

Mahrouse, G. (2014). Conflicted Commitments: Race, Privilege, and Power in Solidarity Activism. McGill-Queen’s University Press.

Mignolo, M. (2009). Epistemic disobedience, independent thought and de-colonial freedom. Theory, Culture and Society, 26(7/8), 1–23.

New, V. (2020). Note to self: White people taking part in #BlackLivesMatter protests. American Friends Service Committee, 2 June. Available from https://afsc.org/news/note-self-white-people-taking-part-blacklivesmatter-protests [accessed 2 April 2026].

Snelgrove, C., Dhamoon, R., & Corntassel, J. (2014). Unsettling settler colonialism: The discourse and politics of settlers, and solidarity with Indigenous nations. Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society, 3(2), 1–32.

Scholz, S. J. (2008). Political Solidarity. Pennsylvania State University Press.

Simpson, L. B. (2017). As We Have Always Done: Indigenous Freedom Through Radical Resistance. University of Minnesota Press.

Sullivan S. (2014). Good White people: The problem with middle-class White anti-racism. State University of New York Press.

Sundberg, J. (2007). Reconfiguring North–South solidarity: Critical reflections on experiences of transnational resistance. Antipode, 39(1), 144–166.

Tabar, L. (2017). From Third World internationalism to ‘the internationals’: the transformation of solidarity with Palestine. Third World Quarterly, 38(2), 414–435.

Tuck, E., & Yang, K. W. (2012). Decolonization is not a metaphor. Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society, 1(1), 1–40.

Walia, H. (2012). Moving beyond a politics of solidarity toward a practice of decolonization. In Organize!: Building from the local for global justice, edited by E. Shragge, J. Hanley, & A. A. Choudry, 240–253. Between the Lines.

Waterman, P., & Cox, L. (2014). Movement internationalism(s). Interface: A Journal For and About Social Movements, 6(2), 1–12.

Weizman, E. (2022). The anticolonial settler: Reflections on citizenship, violence and decolonisation. Citizenship Studies, 28(3), 263–281.

How to cite this entry:

Quintana, L. (2025, December 16). Digna Rabia – Dignified Anger. Virtual Encyclopaedia – Rewriting Peace and Conflict. BMFTR – Network Postcolonial Hierarchies in Peace and Conflict. DOI: 10.5281/zenodo.18672427. https://rewritingpeaceandconflict.net/digna-rabia/