snipvoid

Imagine being a fully formed adult and saying to anyone, in any context, on the internet ‘I’d slap the shit outta you’ with a straight face.

Time for a nap little one.

Boy this thread is a laugh a minute.

An FSB time traveler going into the past several decades to start kicking Palestinians out of their homes and restricting their general access.

Whoa dude Russia could be behind ALL CRIME EVER IN HISTORY

Got any more big brain takes to share?

Is there a different HMRC for Scotland vs other parts of the UK? Or is there like a different Companies House for England and Wales and Northern Ireland?

It’s intellectually negligent to hide behind semantics when faced with the vivid realities of history. Your approach is not a defence of reason but an abdication of it.

The article’s simplification is a disservice to historical accuracy and to those who deserve to have the full story of their past acknowledged.

My criticism stands: the article’s content is not merely ‘egregious’ in its oversimplification—it’s irresponsible.

The term ‘OKish’ is wholly inappropriate when recounting the tumultuous end of the British Empire.

Equating decolonisation with the hypothetical extreme of ‘total annihilation’ sets a disturbingly low standard for historical evaluation. The ‘little death’ you mention is far from minor to those whose existences were ravaged by the imperial withdrawal.

The cost of liberty should never be tallied in lives lost to the reluctance of oppressive powers to cede control. To imply as much is to tacitly condone the very pillars of colonial subjugation that deprived innumerable individuals of their right to self-determination without violent conflict.

Our historical narrative must fully recognise the gravity of the past, and afford accuracy to the memories of those who suffered, who resisted, and who perished under the Empire’s shadow

The reduction of the British Empire’s end to a numerical game of ‘most’ territories withdrawing peacefully is an egregious simplification of history.

The term ‘peaceful’ is fundamentally inadequate to describe the decolonisation of the British Empire when its demise was punctuated by massacres, uprisings, and partitions that led to millions of deaths and massive displacements. It’s not just about how many, but which territories experienced violence and the extent of that violence. The partition of India alone, with its absolutely massive death toll and refugee crisis, overshadows any attempt to label the process as ‘mostly peaceful.’

The weight of these events in the historical balance is immense, and their legacy lingers in the affected regions to this day. The portrayal of British withdrawal as ‘mostly peaceful’ isn’t just a matter of poor semantics; it’s a distortion of history that disrespects the memory of those who suffered and fought against colonial rule.

The scale of violence in key regions fundamentally challenges the integrity of your claim, and the insistence on the word ‘most’ as a defence is not only intellectually dishonest but morally insensitive.

The term “OKish” minimises the brutal conflicts and violence in many regions during decolonisation. It overlooks the experiences of those who lived through the upheaval, such as the bloody partition of India, the Mau Mau uprising in Kenya, and the Malayan Emergency.

“OKish” doesn’t account for the economic disruption and the social turmoil that many former colonies faced post-independence. The legacy of colonial economic policies had lasting impacts, often leaving countries with challenges such as poverty, inequality, and underdevelopment.

The effects of colonisation and the manner of decolonisation left deep psychological and cultural scars. Phrases like “OKish” do not capture the cultural dislocation, the identity crises, and the lasting interethnic conflicts that were, in part, a product of the arbitrary borders and social hierarchies established or exacerbated by colonial rule.

The use of such a term that implies a mild approval or acceptance glosses over the moral implications of colonialism, including the exploitation, subjugation, and dehumanisation of colonised peoples. It fails to acknowledge the sovereignty and right to self-determination of the colonised nations.

Saying the empire “went down OKish” removes agency from the colonised peoples, many of whom actively fought for and negotiated their independence. It wasn’t simply a matter of the British deciding to withdraw but rather a response to pressure from independence movements.

I reject assertions of selective memory or suggestions of a sanitised version of history that highlights less violent transitions while ignoring the instances where the end of British rule was accompanied by significant strife.

Saying “it went down OKish” lacks the necessary depth to accurately represent the historical reality of the empire’s dissolution and its enduring effects on the former colonies.

A peaceful withdrawal implies a process largely devoid of violence, where decolonisation is negotiated and implemented without significant armed resistance or warfare.

However, the historical record demonstrates that armed conflicts during the British decolonisation were not merely sporadic or minor skirmishes, but rather substantial engagements with lasting consequences, such as those in Kenya, Malaya, Cyprus, and the violent partition of India and Palestine. These were not peripheral events but central episodes in the history of British decolonisation.

The scale and intensity of conflicts in these key regions mean that the term ‘mostly peaceful’ is at best an oversimplification, if not a misrepresentation.

I invite you to challenge the narrative of a predominantly peaceful withdrawal by highlighting that violence was a defining feature of the period, not a mere footnote. It is not just the number of conflicts but their intensity and impact that weigh against the claim of a ‘mostly peaceful’ process.

Decolonisation was a complex tapestry of events, and its violent threads are too significant to be dismissed or understated.