The year fourteen hundred and ninety two is a year that few Americans are not aware of. Ask any young school children and they will tell you what happened in that fateful year. Christopher Columbus, the great sailor, set out on a voyage to prove to the rest of Europe that the world was round. Though the voyage was wrought with hardship, Columbus eventually came upon a distant land. Columbus had not only proved his point, but he had discovered a new world ripe for exploration . . . at least, this is how I was taught this particular tale of the discovery of the Americas when I was a child. It is strange now to think that it was not until high school that I learned a more accurate version of this story; that Columbus believed he had landed near the East Indies where he could trade with the rich culture of the Orient, that most of Europe already knew that the earth was round, and that the "new world" was already inhabited by its indigenous population of various native American tribes. Even these stories do not give mention of the true horror of the arrival of the Spanish in the Americas: the rapes and bloody massacres perpetuated by the almost bestial conquistadors that followed Columbus. Why would our society bother to maintain such a grand deception? For if Columbus is not in fact the hero which I learned about when I was little, then why should I have been taught to believe so? Some might argue that the true story of the "Discovery of America" is not exactly children's fare; being full of rape, murder, and horrifying torture. But it is much more likely that we feel obligated to defend Columbus because of what he represents: a culture that is exceedingly more concerned with acquiring wealth and power than preserving any kind of harmonious balance between themselves and nature, or even other humans. To condemn Columbus we must first condemn ourselves. For we are the inheritors of the Spanish brutality that killed millions, free to do what we will with that infamous legacy.
The familiar story of Columbus' voyage to the New World is quite possibly one of our culture's most popular myths. They are quite reminiscent of the tall tales surrounding the founding fathers, such as George Washington and his cherry tree. Myths like these often surround figures which have grown to embody our own culture's beliefs and values. This is understandable. People want their heroes to not only be good men, but great men, free from fault or blame. There are not, for example, too many patriots which know that among the Native Americans our beloved George Washington was known as the "Village Burner." This resulted from his harsh measures against Indian settlements along the border of the colonies, in retaliation for their allegiance to the British forces during the Revolutionary War. These details are often selectively forgotten by educators or parents when children are taught about the "great men" of America, because they're conflicting. We assume that children won't understand how a murderer could also be a hero, and maybe we can't understand it either. So we pack it away, hide it from view. The more obscure it becomes, the greater the character of the icon grows to mammoth proportions. Columbus is such a giant.
But every Goliath must at one point or another confront their occasional David. One such critic of Columbus and the system he had a hand in establishing is Howard Zinn, a well known author who has attempted to present the views of the neglected classes of society: "Indigenous Americans, the black slaves, the women, the working people, whether native or immigrant." Zinn, in an article entitled Columbus, the Indians, and Human Progress, illustrates his disgust for the famous cultural icon: "Yes he was concerned about God. But more about Gold. Just one additional letter. His was a limited alphabet." And from where, one might ask, did Zinn arrive to this conclusion? Why, from Columbus himself, or at least from his well kept journal of the events which took place during his exploration of the islands which he believed to be the East Indies. This day to day account of his relations to the people which he found there reveal much about Columbus' motivations. His first impression of the natives of these small islands contains strange contradictions. Columbus comments on their beauty and intelligence, but continues on to mention that "(T)hey should be good servants . . ." Additionally he makes constant reference to their generous nature, their lack of a concept of private property, and their generally friendly disposition towards them. Despite all of this, however, all that drives Columbus on is the prospect of finding the source of the small amount of gold which some of the Indians adorn themselves with. All of the natural beauty which surrounds him can only be converted into its worth as raw materials to build forts and towns, the people only regarded in their value as slaves to Spanish masters.
This, in itself, illustrates the key differences between the natives which Christopher Columbus encountered and the Europeans who destroyed them. The Native Americans who had lived in a state of balance with the natural world, who seemed so submissive and without creed, easily fell victim to the ways of the Europeans. Had the Indians been just as concerned as the Spanish were with the "civilized" concepts of possession, exploitation, and relative value then perhaps they might have survived this clash of cultures. That which ultimately drove the Spanish on was progress, for what else would one do when presented with such an opportunity as they had? A lush and fertile land waiting to be taken, colonized, raped and plundered to increase the power which Spain would have over the rest of the world. And once the other European powers such as Portugal, France, England, the Dutch and others realized that they might be left behind they jumped into the act as well. What did the Native Americans want? Nothing. They saw no golden chance to "civilize" themselves, to use the superior European technology to enslave their own neighbors. Their own ways had served them well for centuries, there was no reason why they should be changed. The greatest tragedy which marks these events is the fact that the reason the Native Americans were destroyed is because they were friendly and welcoming, and by that the time they saw what monsters the Europeans were, it was too late.
Bartolome de Las Casas, one of ColumbusÃs contemporaries, paints a vivid picture of the atrocity of the Spanish. Las Casas tells of how the Conquistadors and their soldiers, upon arrival in the Americas, began to act like vicious animals among the natives. He tells of mass slaughters, entire populations five hundred thousand strong being put to the sword and flame, the Spanish cutting apart children, or senselessly throwing babies into rivers to drown. Those not immediately killed were slowly tortured in the most hideous of ways, often made to roast over fires or be torn apart by wild animals. All of these things he reveals to us with the utmost sense of horror, as a man who actually witnessed such events. And Las Casas also points out that the reason that these people were so cruelly butchered was mainly for material reasons. "Their reason for killing and destroying such an infinite number of souls is that the Christians have an ultimate aim, which is to acquire gold, and to swell themselves with riches in a very brief time and thus rise to a high estate disproportionate to their merits." Like Zinn, Las Casas believes little in the idea that the Spanish came to "convert" the Native Americans.
And what of the attempts to bring the Native Americans into the folds of the Roman Catholic Church? To Columbus, at least, it seemed as though this would be an easy process. In his letter to the Spanish Court of 1493, in which he is basically petitioning for a return voyage in an attempt to find the mainland of China, Columbus describes these "new people" as having no particular religious affiliation. "They know nothing of idolatry; on the contrary they confidently believe that all might, all power, all good things, in fact, are in the heavens." Later, Christopher mentions also that all of them are "alike," and that they all speak the same language. His conclusion is that this will make it easier to convert them all to Christianity. But, considering how well Columbus truly understood the people whom he came into contact with, we can fairly safely assume that this was not true. The natives of these lands were not "all the same" or "without gods." Just the contrary, the Native American cultures were all as vastly different from each other as we might regard England and France. There was a great difference between the peaceful Arawaks which Columbus first came into contact with and the cannibalistic warrior Caribs, who ironically gave the Caribbean its name. In regards to religion, though it is true that some of the smaller tribes which lived among the West Indies possessed less organized traditions, larger cultures such as the Aztecs and the Maya possessed complex beliefs with numerous deities. In some cases the only way to "convert" the indigenous population of America would be to kill them, much the same way in which the Spanish were "converting" the Jews and Muslims of their own country in the Spanish Inquisition.
In many cases we can only imagine how the Native Americans felt about these foreign invaders, who had seemingly come to their lands only to kill and maim their culture and people. It is only very rarely that we hear the natives own words, as these have been for the most part destroyed or were never recorded in the first place. The few that were, however, for the most part tell us an interesting story. These people were not docile, and certainly not willing to pass away from this world without a fight. In the speech of Chibcha Tundama called "I Reject Peace" we hear the words of a proud man who is effectively thumbing his nose in the face of those ultimately more powerful than he. Delivered in response to a demand to surrender himself and his people to a Spanish conquistador, it is considered one of the more eloquent speeches of those who resisted the European encroachment. In its course he bluntly tells the Spanish that he does not believe that their requests for a settlement of their differences are anything but peaceful. He has learned from past experience that the Europeans have brought ruin and destruction on all before them, betraying those that trust them and behaving more cruelly than even the most barbarous of the Native Americans. Even in defiance, however, Tundama attempts to rationalize his behavior to the Spanish. "You well know that my people were bred with no fewer natural privileges than yours. We now know that you are not descended from the sun. Since your people refuse tax and tyranny you cannot be surprised that mine do, with determination." What Tundama seems to be saying is merely that we are all human, all of us equal, an idea that seems strangely ahead of its time in the sixteenth century.
No, Columbus did not understand the people whom he helped to destroy. He did not understand them, the Spanish conquistadors did not understand them, just as we still do not understand their way of life. We, as Americans, continue to believe in "progress." We believe in the rape of the natural world. We understand that there must be a human cost if we are to make any capital gain. America, "the nation conceived in liberty," has a history full of slavery and genocide. We are the descendants of the conquistadors, the heirs of the empire which they murdered to procure. And when we see what Columbus truly is, merely a man in search of his own personal glory, it shakes our world apart. For these echoes from the past are not meaningless, but strike at the core of our society, our entire way of life. To defame him, to bring our false god off of his pedestal makes us realize how hollow we ourselves are. Perhaps one day we will be ready to see ourselves as we truly are, and use that knowledge to change the course upon which we are traveling.
Until then we will continue to try and conceal our hands, still stained with the ancient blood of those who died so that we might flourish.
