Stolen Land? It’s All Stolen Land

Exploding the myth of settler colonialism

STOLEN LAND? IT’S ALL STOLEN LAND

Exploding the myth of settler colonialism

Johann Anwar Ryan Smith

Critics of U.S. immigration laws argue that so-called “settler-colonial states,” particularly the United States, have no right to declare anyone “illegal” since the state is situated on “stolen land.” They argue that the illegitimate conquest of land during the Mexican-American War precludes the U.S. from possessing moral or legal authority to enforce immigration laws. This logic raises an important question: who, exactly, does this land belong to? The answer reveals that stolen land arguments in opposition to the enforcement of immigration laws often reflect a combination of ideological motivations, historical inconsistencies, and gaps in knowledge rather than universally applied historical facts. A broader exploration shows a more nuanced reality—all inhabited land has a history of violence, conquest, migration, and dispossession. If past conquest invalidates modern sovereignty, then no country today would have a legitimate claim to its land.

Like English settlers who came to modern day America, the Spanish came to modern day Mexico not just to rule, but to settle permanently, conquering and subjugating Indigenous inhabitants during the process. Even after Mexico gained independence from Spain in 1821, the treatment of its native people remained oppressive. Mexican elites, most of European descent, continued to maintain colonial rule over the Amerindians. The Lerdo Law of 1856, which mandated the sale of Native American communal lands, followed by military campaigns against groups such as the Yaqui and Maya, are further evidence of Mexico’s “settler colonialism.” To this day, continued struggles with indigenous groups such as the Zapatista Movement undermines Mexico’s sovereignty over its own land under the logic of “stolen land.” Therefore, since Mexico is also a “settler-colonial state,” what claim does it have to its historical territories? The same line of thinking can be applied to virtually every other Latin American country. All of them, including Honduras, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Panama, and Venezuela, were all brutally conquered by the Spaniards and Portuguese, who massacred and enslaved their Indigenous populations.

Then, since Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Kansas, and Colorado were conquered by not one but two settler colonial states in succession, who should they go to? The Comanche were the last Native Americans who inhabited the Mexican Cession, but they too, have a troublesome history of imperialism. Termed an “empire” by historian Pekka Hämäläinen, the Comanche were brutal warriors who systematically killed and enslaved the Apache, just as the Americans pushed them out through warfare, starvation tactics, and forced relocation. If land should be returned to its prior holders, then by that logic, it must go to the Apache, whom the Comanche displaced.

But the Apache were also problematic, and stole their land from other groups. Coahuiltecans, a collection of native nomadic hunter-gatherers of southern Texas, fled south and eventually became culturally extinct by the 18th century thanks to Apache and Comanche raids. Further undermining the “stolen land” narrative, the Pecos, a Puebloan people who were displaced and oppressed by the Apache, even joined forces with European-descended settlers and, according to Chacon and Mendoza’s North American Indigenous Warfare and Ritual Violence, they “formed an integral part of the Spanish-led punitive expeditions against nomadic Plains groups.” Now we must take the land stolen by the Apaches and give it to the Coahuiltecans and Pecos. Further still, the Coahuiltecans may not have even been the first people on these lands, as they possibly drove out or assimilated earlier Texan peoples.

So, our investigation reveals that for now, parts of South Texas tentatively belong to the Coahuiltecans, who have not been on the land since the 1700s. Does this make everyone else—those of African, European, and Asian descent—visitors on stolen land, including Comanche, Apache, and Latinos with mixed ancestry? If so, where do we draw the line? If someone is 5% Indigenous and 30% Spanish, are they a rightful inhabitant or a settler? Should the United States revert to the laws and customs of the extinct Coahuiltecans or Pecos Pueblo in our Southwestern region? Is Mexico obligated to return its lands to the Toltecs, the Maya, or Aztecs? Drawing the “stolen land” argument out to its logical conclusion leads to complete absurdity. The history of the Americas is one of conquest, and claiming sovereignty over land based on whether it was “stolen” or not ignores this reality.

This convoluted historical analysis can be exercised in virtually any region of the globe. Modern Britain is just as “stolen” as America under this framework. The Neolithic builders of Stonehenge were displaced by the Bell Beaker people, who were in turn overtaken by Celts (who regularly engaged in inter-warfare, taking one another’s land), only to be conquered by the Romans, then the Anglo-Saxons, who themselves were raided by Vikings before falling to the Normans in 1066. From the blood-soaked altars of Lindisfarne to the systematic land redistribution under William the Conqueror, Britain’s history is one of conquest, displacement, and stolen land—no different from the Americas. It should also be noted that Rome itself defeated its fellow Italians—the Latins, Etruscans, and Samnites— and “stole” their land.

Neither are African nations an exception to the rule. Around 2,000 years ago, Bantu-speaking Xhosa agriculturalists expanded southward from Central Africa, wielding iron weapons that devastated and drove the hunter-gatherer San people off their ancestral land. The Khoekhoe, pastoralist herders who arrived in southern Africa after the San but before the Bantu expansion, defended their herds against Xhosa raids and later fought the Dutch, but were overrun by Bantu and European settlers. Genetic evidence shows that Bantu expansion involved conquest, displacement, and land acquisition, with limited mixing, except in places like Zambia and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Some Khoi, like the Gqunukhwebe, adapted to Xhosa agricultural life, but remained outsiders, while others were enslaved or absorbed. By the time Europeans arrived, Africans had long contested land and power, and colonization only escalated existing struggles for dominance.

So yes, America is on stolen land—as is Mexico, all of Central America, Europe, Africa, Asia, and beyond. If the logic of land restitution were applied universally, we’d have to redraw every border, dissolve every legal system, and force entire populations to relocate indefinitely—an exercise in futility. Who would even end up with the land? At what point does the cycle stop? This would create an infinite regress—a paradox where, by applying the same logic consistently, no clear resolution can ever be found. The irony is that those waving Mexican flags while chanting, “No one is illegal on stolen land,” would, by their own logic, need to take a DNA test, trace their ancestry, and, if they have European blood, or ancestry from a different tribe than the one we are currently able to trace the land back to (itself an arbitrary distinction), promptly pack their bags and leave. Can you imagine a world where every time a DNA test comes out, people would have to move? No one would have the time to sit down and take a break, and masses of people would end up with no place at all to return to.

Unsurprisingly, this debate seems unique to the United States, despite the fact that every nation exists on land that was once taken from someone else. My argument is not to defend historical oppression, but to highlight the absurdity of the claim itself. It is an attempt to assert moral superiority, as if history is a clean ledger with only one side guilty. But no one—no one—is innocent, nor were their ancestors, when it comes to the taking of land. We must remember that.

When Americans visit Mexico City, they are in modern Mexico—not the Mayan Empire, the Aztec Empire, or New Spain. When Italians go to London, they are in England—not the Roman Empire. When Africans travel to Johannesburg, they are in South Africa—not Dutch, British, Xhosa, or Zulu territory. And when anyone arrives in Los Angeles, they are in the United States—not New Spain, Mexico, or land claimed by the Tongva. The “stolen land” argument is a selective, weaponized narrative used only against select nations. Those who invoke it exploit history to undermine the very societies they seek to join. Nations change, borders shift, and history moves forward—leaving no one innocent. Let’s learn to live together in harmony wherever our ancestors originally hailed from, and let’s respect the right of countries to make reasonable laws about who and how many can move in to stay.

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Johann Anwar Ryan Smith was born and raised in Hartford County, Connecticut. He is a former professional soccer player and a current undergraduate student at Stanford University, where he studies history and philosophy. Johann is also a student researcher at the Hoover Institution. An earlier version of this essay appeared in The Stanford Review. His previous essay for JFBT was “The Southern Border.”