The Conquest Continues: Coming To A Movie Theater Near You
By Christopher Robe, with comments by Megan Snyder, Jose Berrios, Tanya Saleh, Taara Ness-Cochinwala, and Krystal Kaai
There is no document of civilization which is not at the same time a document of barbarism. Walter Benjamin, "Theses On The Philosophy Of History," 256.
[1] Walter Benjamin in Illuminations reminds his readers that each history of civilization is tainted by barbarism since the prevailing civilization's history is dependent upon the suppression and eradication of alternative histories that might challenge the legitimacy of the existing civilization's rule. The problem with traditional history that asserts a stance of "objectivity," according to Benjamin, is that it overlooks how the existing powers-that-be superimpose upon past events a history that justifies the present ideological structure's control; or, put more simply, history is always viewed through the biased lenses of the victor. Colonization and history go hand and hand. History is always written by the colonizer, since the colonizer owns and controls the means of production that allows history texts to be reproduced and proliferate. As a result, "The history which he [the colonizer] writes is not the history of the country which he plunders but the history of his own nation in regard to all that she skims off, all that she violates and starves" (Fanon 51). (see comment by Taara Ness-Cochinwala)
[2] No matter who the colonizer is, the problem with all historical documents is that they cannot be separated from the subjective interests that create them. Mexican poet and novelist Octavio Paz writes, "Historical circumstances explain our character to the extent that our character explains those circumstances. Both are the same" (72). Our history implicates how we, as individuals and a culture, judge ourselves. There is always a vested present interest in how we view ourselves in the past. And even for those historians who are trying to voice the oppresseds' counter-histories, the historical text will still be inscribed through his/her present ideological limits that bind historical circumstances to character.
[3] But claiming that history is biased is not to imply that it is irrelevant and should stop being written. According to Walter Benjamin, history should stop masking itself as objective and homogeneous and instead focus on the monad: "where thinking suddenly stops in a configuration pregnant with tensions, it gives that configuration a shock" (262). Instead of charting the victor's path, history must examine how colonizer and colonized interact during a specific moment of time. By not focusing solely on either side's position, the historian will see the complex struggles between each group's ideology and people. Although Benjamin's history of the monad is equally as subjective as traditional history, his historical approach allows the historian to take "cognizance of it [the monad] in order to blast a specific era out of the homogeneous course of history--blasting a specific life out of the era or a specific work out of the lifework" (263). The monad, in other words, shows the problematic nature of the oppressor's homogeneous history by acknowledging the oppresseds' alternative histories as equally as relevant. The oppresseds' histories are still interpreted through the colonizer's discourse, but at least these histories are recognized and addressed.
[4] The history of civilization's link to barbarism can be no better exemplified than by the 1992 Quincentenial of Columbus's journey to the New World. After two centuries of honoring Columbus and his voyages as heroic events in the United States, many tribes of Native Americans and groups of blacks have drawn attention to the Black Legend of Columbus: the genocide of Native American tribes by war and disease; the implementation of slavery; his greed for gold; the Spaniards' rape and theft of other cultures. Tired of the United State's monolithic history, writer Francisco X. Alarcon argues for a history of America that is similar to Benjamin's monad:
America is a continent and cannot be monopolized by a single country like the United States. America has no borders . . . 'America' and 'American' are terms that for too long have been misused to dominate, exclude, suppress, and eradicate the historical consciousness of the Native peoples of this continent. America did not begin five hundred years ago. America has fantastic and very deep cultural roots that go back many thousand years of continuous history. (Without Discovery 33)
Yet Alarcon adds that history does not need to be simply re-explored and re-written but actually re-lived "in flesh and spirit. We need to reenact all the misunderstandings, confrontations, and contradictions, all the suffering and havoc brought about by the so-called discovery of this continent by Europeans" (32). Since the history of conquest has long justified itself with an "objectivity" that places its readers at a distance so that the blood and toil of those oppressed can be effaced, Alarcon argues for an alternative subjective history that places its readers in intimate contact with the confrontations between colonizer and colonized so that the readers will viscerally feel these struggles themselves.
[5] There is no better medium than cinema to bring its viewer subjectively close to its historical subject. The independent film scene has flourished in showing and reliving the confrontations between Spain and the New World inhabitants in such movies as Cabeza de Vaca (1990), Jerico (1990), The Holy Office (1977), and Nuevo Mundo (1987). Hollywood has also addressed Columbus's relation to the New World during the Quincentenial with two movies: Christopher Columbus: The Discovery and 1492: Conquest of Paradise. Unfortunately, though, Hollywood is no friend of historical complexity. As Benjamin states, "Barbarism taints also the manner in which it [history] was transmitted from one owner to another," (256) and Hollywood is one of the worst perpetrators of effacing the barbarism that its products contain.
[6] The main problem with Hollywood cinema is that at its heart "lay the myth of the West, the evocation of a world in which 'knights of the true cause' were set against the forces of evil and 'pagan savagery' represented by the Indian" (Wollen 20). Not coincidentally, Columbus "plays a more crucial mythic role than even the heroes of the West themselves . . . [he] was the first adventurer, the first immigrant, the first prospector, the first pacifier of savages" (Wollen 21). Because Hollywood considers this formalized structure as extremely marketable, it is nearly impossible to portray Columbus as anything other than a John Wayne of the high seas. Christopher Columbus: The Discovery, directed by John Glenn, does not even try to abstain from the Columbus-as-Western-myth routine. Ridley Scott's film, 1492: Conquest of Paradise, though, does try to offer an alternative to traditional Hollywood portrayals of Columbus and his relation to the Tainos.
[7] Screenwriter Roselyne Bosch, a well regarded French journalist, "devoted years of intensive research to the subject" (Turan 1). Bosch went so far as to go to Seville to read Columbus's letters he wrote from his New World colony. With such first-hand investigation of primary texts, one would think that 1492: Conquest of Paradise would present a much more complex picture of Columbus's colonization of the New World. The results could not be further from the truth.
[8] 1492: Conquest of Paradise is a strange film in that it is better than other Hollywood films on Columbus, yet it shows no desire to explore the complex and atrocious relations between Columbus and the natives. The movie, unlike other Columbus films, brings the natives more into the main plot and exposes the cruel system of slavery enforced upon the natives by the Spaniards. Yet the film also distances Columbus's responsibility from the inhumane conditions imposed upon the Tainos. As a matter of fact, Columbus is portrayed as a defender of the natives' rights, which could not be further from what Columbus actually wrote in his own letters. Bosch ventures to say during an interview, "Saying Columbus was responsible for genocide is like saying Jesus Christ is responsible for the Inquisition" (Lipper, "Seeks his Destiny," 20). The myth of the West continues, albeit in a different form. (see comment by Tanya Saleh)
[9] Most film reviewers overlooked the distorted myth of Columbus-as-hero perpetuated in 1492: Conquest of Paradise simply because they didn't really care about historical accuracy. Most reviewers instead focused on the slow moving plot line or the movie's phenomenal special effects. When film reviewers did attempt to address history, it was mostly in praise of the film showing any negative repercussions upon the natives' lives. As one reviewer flippantly states, "Scott has captured these astounding tumultuous times [e.g. slavery] with an astonishingly assured vital sweep" (Griffin D2). With such a lackadaisical concern for history, it is not difficult to understand how 1492: Conquest of Paradise's over-simplification of history went unnoticed. It is this essay's goal to examine how the movie portrays the Tainos and Columbus's relation to each other, and compare these portrayals to various historical accounts in order to see how the movie perpetuates the homogeneous "history of civilization" by keeping Columbus free from any blame that Spain's colonization entailed. The Columbus-as-hero myth remains largely intact despite the movie's attempt to make him a more complex character.
The Tainos: Hollywood Style
[10] 1492: Conquest of Paradise tries to present a sympathetic view of the Tainos by showing the viewer the atrocities brought against them. Two such scenes involved the Spaniard Adrian de Moxica's treatment of the Tainos as objects. De Moxica, clad in black, is established as Columbus's nemesis throughout the movie. De Moxica's philosophy towards the Tainos can best be summed up when he states, "Savagery is what monkeys [e.g. Tainos] understand." De Moxica's savagery is shown during a scene when the Tainos are paying their three month tithe: a hawk's bell full of gold (Tape Two 0:00:00). One of the Tainos claims that he could not locate enough gold to fill a hawk's bell. De Moxica believes that the native is lying and forces the man to place his hand on a table. Another Spaniard, knowing de Moxica's intentions, tries to warn de Moxica not to do what he intends. De Moxica listens and then suddenly whips out his sword and chops off the native's hand. Similarly, in another scene, de Moxica is sitting with a friend (Tape One 1:39:15). A native woman brings them drinks. De Moxica's pal eyes the girl, causing de Moxica to seize her by the wrist before she leaves. He pats her ass and says, "You want her? Then you can have her." The friend nods in agreement. The importance of both scenes is that they show how the Tainos are considered as nothing more than things by some of the Spaniards. The Spaniards manipulate the Tainos regardless of what the Tainos might think. Cut off a man's hand or rape a woman, both actions involve a dehumanization of an entire culture by the Spaniards.
[11] Even Columbus is slightly implicated in not treating the Tainos as complete equals. In a scene when a hurricane is beginning, Utapan, Columbus's Taino translator, is starting to run to the forest away from Columbus's mansion (Tape Two 0:21:52). Columbus stands at his mansion and tells Utapan, "Speak to me." Utapan stops and replies, "You never learned to speak my language." Utapan smiles and then runs off. Columbus stands at his mansion with a confused look on his face. The scene implies that Columbus never thought about learning the native's language, but at this moment he wishes that he did. His confused and slightly sad facial features show his own regret at having over-looked such an obvious idea: to learn their language as they learned Spanish.
[12] The movie also shows how Columbus's desire for gold vies with his friendship towards the Tainos. For example, before Columbus leaves the New World after his first trip, he speaks to a Taino leader and explains that he will be returning with many Spaniards (Tape One 1:06:37). After trying to explain to the leader that he must return in order to bring the word of God and medicine, Columbus is told by the leader that he already has the word of God and medicine. The leader continues to explain through his translator that "he knows you [Columbus] like his women and gold." The gold is removed from the hut they are sitting in. Columbus watches this occur in frustration. Columbus's "good" intentions towards the Tainos are not from pure friendship but from a strong desire of possession. This scene raises the viewer's doubts about how much of Columbus's friendship with the Tainos is genuine at all.
[13] But since the movie establishes Adrian de Moxica as the "true" enemy of the Tainos, Columbus's ill treatment to the Tainos pale in comparison. The movie establishes Columbus's questionable attitude towards the Tainos as a character flaw of his that does not have any grave implications for Tainos culture. There is no connection made between Columbus's quest for gold and de Moxica's cutting off of a Taino's hand. By keeping Columbus's thoughts separate from de Moxica's actions, Columbus is absolved of any responsibility that his own personal interests might have led to the systematization of slavery and cruelty to the Tainos. Columbus might have flaws, but they only concern himself. De Moxica, as the fall guy, will be saddled with genocide and slavery.
The Tainos: Non-Hollywood Style
[14] 1492: Conquest of Paradise makes it appear that de Moxica's decision to cut off a Taino's hand was de Moxica's own decision when in reality it was part of Columbus's own official policy. James Loewen, author of Lies My Teacher Told Me, explains, "To ensure cooperation [in the tribute system], Columbus used punishment by example. When an Indian committed even a minor offense, the Spanish cut off his ears or nose. Disfigured, the person was sent back to his village as living evidence of the brutality the Spaniards were capable of" (51). Kirkpatrick Sale writes in his book The Conquest of Paradise that those Tainos who did not meet the gold quota "were, as Fernando [Columbus's son] says discreetly, 'punished'- by having their hands cut off, as Las Casas says less discreetly, and left to bleed to death" (155) (comment by Megan Snyder). To try to overlook how Columbus was directly involved with the systematized effort to punish the Tainos is to ignore Columbus's direct involvement in slavery.
[15] Furthermore, Columbus's not learning the natives' language was not a mere oversight but an integral part of colonization. As Stephen Greenblatt writes, "For Columbus taking possession is principally the performance of a set of linguistic acts: declaring, witnessing, recording" (57). Because the Spaniards initiate their claims of the New World in a language foreign to the natives, "the Arawak [Tainos] are not simply denied the opportunity to dispute the Spanish claim; they are not in the same universe of discourse" (59). The language barrier allows Spain's claims to go undisputed by the Tainos. Additionally, since the Spaniards had a written language and the Tainos did not, and Europe gave more authority to the written word than the spoken word, the Spaniards had written authority and documentation to claim the New World as theirs, which effaced the natives' occupancy of the same place for thousands of years prior to Spanish "discovery."
[16] Another reason why the Spaniards forced the Tainos to learn their language was to colonize the Tainos' minds. As Frantz Fanon notices, "In order to assimilate and to experience the oppressor's culture [through the oppressor's language], the native has had to leave certain of his intellectual possessions in pawn. These pledges include his adoption of the forms of thought of the colonialist bourgeoisie" (49). By losing their own indigenous language, the Tainos lost their history, their culture, and their sense of identity. It is significant that the original Taino name of the island of Espanola was Bohio, which means "home" in Taino (Barreiro, Confronting Columbus 33). Because the Tainos were dispossessed of their culture, of their "home," "colonial domination . . . convince[d] the natives that colonialism came to lighten their darkness. The effect consciously sought by colonialism was to drive into the natives' heads the idea that if the settlers were to leave, they would at once fall back into barbarism, degradation, and bestiality" (Fanon 210-11). Once the colonists rid the Tainos of their language, they can reinscribe the Tainos' past through colonial eyes. By making the natives' past seem worthless, the colonists force the Tainos to become dependent upon their colonizer both physically and psychologically. (comment by Jose Berrios)
[17] The portrayal of Utapan in 1492: Conquest of Paradise is also problematic since the movie makes Utapan approach Columbus and seem determined to learn the Spaniard's language. Although Utapan's actions might have been true of a few of the natives, it overlooks the fact that Columbus mainly used kidnapping to force the natives to learn the Spaniard's language. As Columbus writes in his Diario, "Our Lord pleasing, at the time of my departure I will take six of them from here to Your Highnesses in order that they may learn to speak" (69). The line is revealing in that Columbus does not say "that they may learn to speak Castilian" but "that they may learn to speak." Columbus devalues the Tainos' language to such an extent that he does not consider it speaking at all. Only Columbus's own language is valued as speech.
[18] One of the main problems with the movie's portrayal of the natives is that they are all undifferentiated. Sanya Lipsett-Rivera and Sergio Rivera Ayala write, "They [the natives] are not Arawak, Carib, or Siboney but rather the generic native. The individual attributes of their society are missing; their social structure, urban life, art, and agriculture are all ignored" (22). The natives are no different than the ones out of a John Ford movie. Even within each tribe, the natives are shown to be a homogeneous group who have no internal conflicts among each other. The two main portrayals of the natives as individuals are with Utapan and a native with a mask attacking Columbus; they both represent two sides of the natives' attitude towards the Spaniards: either they are willing to be colonized like Utapan or are resistant like the unnamed man. But even this resistance is not humanized but considered animal rage. When the man attacks Columbus, he wears a mask and emits animalistic growling and screeching. Lipsett-Rivera and Ayala write, "These dehumanized beings are contrasted with Columbus's family in Spain in a series of flashbacks before a native assailant is run through with a sword. There are no flashbacks to this man's family" (23). In other words, the natives' resistance to conquest is stereotyped as a "primitive" resistance, devoid of thought where animal urges take precedent. As a result, it seems as if Columbus is correct to kill the man attacking, since the man is no more human nor sane than a rabid dog that must be "put down."
Columbus: Friend Of The Natives . . . Ha-Ha-Ha
[19] As can already be surmised from what I've written, Columbus is no friend of the natives. But it is of interest to see the ways in which 1492: Conquest of Paradise positions Columbus as the natives' ally. Columbus's role to the natives varies from paternal figure to adjudicator.
Paternal Columbus: Hollywood Style
[20] The first scene of contact between the natives and Columbus establishes Columbus's paternal role to them. The Spaniards meet a group of armed natives in the forest (Tape One 0:56:13). When one Spaniard calls for muskets, Columbus stops them and allows the natives to approach and touch the Spaniards. The reason why Columbus does not feel threatened is because he considers the natives childlike and naive, far from a threat. As he says later in the film, "Treat them as you would your own wives and children." He does not say "as your own kinsmen" but instead emasculates the natives into a subservient position. (We will overlook the sexist nature of Columbus's attitude). Just as one would not need to use a musket on his own wife or child, one does not need to use force on the natives, not out of respect but out of condescension.
[21] Columbus's paternal attitude is also reflected in the method in which he converts the natives. In one scene, the viewer sees Columbus writing in his diary. The voice-over states, "If the natives are to be converted to our ways, then it will be by persuasion and not by force." Although the voice-over attempts to place Columbus in a positive light, it must be read in conjunction with his attitude towards the use of muskets. He did not feel that the use of force was wrong but that it was unneeded since the natives were no more of a challenge than women and children. Persuasion can convert the natives to Spanish ways just as easily as force--at least, according to Ridley Scott's Columbus. The word "if" in the beginning of Columbus's statement is irrelevant since the natives with intelligence (e.g. Utapan) will readily see the value of Spanish culture and convert. The ones who object, who resist, are not even natives but animals that growl and screech, and rightfully must be run through by sword--as the example in the prior section exemplified. Force might not be used on the natives who are receptive to Spanish colonization, but anyone who objects to Spanish conquest is subsequently considered dehumanized and killed.
Paternal Columbus: Non-Hollywood Style
[22] Columbus did not initially meet the Tainos in the woods but on the beach. According to Columbus's own journal, "They [the natives] do not carry arms nor are they aquainted with them, because I showed them swords and they took them by the edge and through ignorance cut themselves" (67). The Diario also states, "The Admiral went ashore in the armed launch" (63). Scott's movie completely reverses the first contact between the natives and Spanish. The natives possessed no weapons, yet the Spaniards approached armed. Far from feeling paternal control of the natives, Columbus's actions show how he considered them such a threat that the Spaniards needed to arm themselves against them.
[23] Columbus writes, "They were people who would be better freed [from error] and converted to our Holy Faith by love than force" (Diario 65), but there is no question of "if" they are to be converted as the movie suggests. The conquest's entire success was premised upon converting the natives both spiritually and economically so that the New World would be a profitable investment, and, as countless accounts testify, the natives were converted, regardless if they wanted to be or not. Additionally, love was quickly abandoned to force. Jose Barreiro notes how "the Spanish soldiers captured 700 villagers and stabbed them all to death" (Confronting 41) after a prior attack the natives made on the Spaniards. James Loewen states, "In 1495, the Spanish on Haiti initiated a great slave raid. They rounded up 1,500 Arawaks [Tainos], then selected the 500 best specimens (of whom 200 would die en route to Spain). Another 500 were chosen as slaves for the Spaniards staying on the island" (52). All of this done under the domain of the Viceroy of the Indies, Christopher Columbus. Contrary to popular belief, slavery was not fully endorsed by Spain but was fully endorsed by Columbus. Loewen continues, "To her credit, Queen Isabella opposed outright enslavement and returned some Indians to the Caribbean" (55). Although Spain did institutionalize slavery under the euphemism of the encomienda system, Columbus showed a desire for slavery that even displeased one of his primary backers.
Columbus The Adjudicator: Hollywood Style
[24] Columbus is shown in 1492: Conquest of Paradise putting Adrian de Moxica on trial for de Moxica's ill-treatment of the Tainos, though it has already been indicated that de Moxica was really implementing Columbus's own policy. (Tape Two 0:02:27) Columbus's blind justice is juxtaposed to de Moxica's use of savagery. Columbus tells de Moxica, "You will be held in detention, deprived of your privileges until you are sent back to Spain where you will be judged." Rather than relying on savagery or his own judgment, Columbus defers his own position as Viceroy to the knowledge of the judges in Spain. Furthermore, Columbus holds the Spaniards in no higher regard than the natives since his actions are guided by the blind eyes of justice. It is such equal treatment that makes Brother Buyl leave Hispanola. Buyl condemns Columbus, "You treat Christians equally with heathen savages." Columbus is portrayed as an Enlightened individual who understands true equality while the rest of his men view his sense of justice in disdain since they desire their aristocratic hierarchy to remain in place.
[25] Similarly, after coming across the massacred bodies of his own men at La Navidad, Columbus allows reason to quench his desire for revenge (Tape One 1:23:56). De Moxica, also in the same scene, demands immediate revenge. Columbus mentions that they are outnumbered by the natives ten to one and asks de Moxica which tribe he will kill first. De Moxica replies, "We don't need to know," revealing how he is gripped by pure rage--like the rebelling natives later in the movie--and will kill any native that he encounters. Columbus, on the other hand, by listening to reason, says, "We came here to stay, not to start a crusade. So, we will swallow our anger and in the name of those who died we will accomplish what we came for." Once again, Columbus exemplifies the man of Enlightenment who does not allow his base instincts to affect his higher order of reason. Although this scene does not show complete indifference on Columbus's part -- he knows that even if he made the Spaniards fight, they would be destroyed by the natives-- he does show an "advanced" type of thought that the Spaniards are unable to grasp.
Columbus The Adjudicator: Non-Hollywood Style
[26] Most historians agree that even if Columbus is considered a competent sailor, he was a horrible governor. He installed both his brothers to high posts in the Indies despite neither of them having any governing experience. Columbus himself had no experience governing either. Rebellions began as a result of Columbus's questionable credentials and policy. According to Samuel Morison, "The rebels wanted to remove all restrictions on individual gold hunting and exploiting the Indians" (289). Many rebellions were led by various leaders: de Moxica was one such leader. De Moxica actually rebelled twice. After the second time, he was not held in detention but killed--either pushed off a wall or hung by Columbus. But the rebellions were not based on natives' rights but on the Spaniards' desire versus Columbus's desire for power and profit. Columbus, rightfully, felt his position of Viceroy as well as his system of slave labor were being challenged by the rebellions. He needed to establish his authority if he wanted to remain Viceroy of the Indies, which he never did establish adequately since he was eventually removed from the Indies in chains by Francisco de Bobadilla. Also, the New World had to be profitable for Spain in order to keep the colonization functioning that supported Columbus's position. By keeping an individual Spaniard's ability to go gold hunting limited meant that more of the gold found could go to Spain and justify Columbus's journeys and rule.
[27] Once again, any sense of justice is entirely absent when Columbus came upon the destroyed site of La Navidad (Tape One 1:23:56). The massacre at La Navidad "became justification for retribution upon Columbus's return. The Spanish mounted almost immediate military campaigns against Indian villages. For several years the fights were back and forth, and by 1496, according to Las Casas, only one third of Indian Espanola was left" (Barreiro, Confronting Columbus 40). Rather than being an exemplary individual who subsumed his passion by reason, Columbus was very much a man of his times and prey to the emotions and frustrations that went along with the conquest.
The Conquest Continues
[28] 1492: Conquest of Paradise reveals that the conquest has not ended but continues throughout movie theaters across the nation. Just as Columbus used the written word to colonize the Tainos, 1492 uses images and voice-overs to colonize history (comment by Krystal Kaai). Although the movie appears to show more interest in the Tainos than previous Columbus films, the primary figure still remains Columbus. As a result, the Tainos, despite their extended screen time and some acknowledgment of the genocide created against them, remain caricatures. Columbus, once again, according to the myth of the West that Hollywood perpetuates, is absolved from any culpability at implementing the conquest in the New World. Or, as Gerard Depardieu elegantly states during an interview, "'All of this that the Americans say [against Columbus],' shouted Depardieu, now starting to gesticulate, 'I say non! When Einstein invented the atom, it was used to cure people, bring everything good, he never thought that Roosevelt . . .' Er . . . you mean, Truman? ' . . . yes, yes, Truman, that Truman would drop the atomic bomb. Never" (Gritten 113).
[29] Stephen Greenblatt states that Columbus mainly used narrative in his letters since "the pressure of linked events and the assumed coherence of the tale help pull the reader past the awkwardness of incommensurable positions and silenced voices" (61); the same can be said about Ridley Scott's film. Because Scott wants to keep Columbus in the narrative of the Western hero, he cannot help but offer a stereotyped portrayal of the Tainos and Columbus as people who did not significantly wrong each other, despite the film trying to address the wrongs done to Native Americans and raising the issue of Columbus's questionable character. If the film serves any positive historical function, it is as a reminder that the conquest is still very much with us, and it is up to us as individuals to decide where we ethically stand as a culture in the present. As Octavio Paz writes, "Our lies reflect both what we lack and what we desire, both what we are not and what we would like to be" (40-41). In order to become what we desire, though, we must first disrupt the myths of conquest that prevent us from realizing that much of our history about Columbus and the New World in the past is a lie.
Comments
Megan Snyder (after reading Las Casas and Sepulveda) 9/19/02
[1] The difference between fact and fiction becomes seemingly muddied when a production such as Ridley Scott’s hits the big screen. With a director so well known and a subject so often taught to us as children -- it seems almost common place to have a patriotic portrayal of the discovery of the Americas, right? Some may see this as history re-written; however it seems to be history erased. Does the common viewer notice? Perhaps not.
[2] In opposition to Las Casas’s plea for justice was a man named Juan Gines de Sepulveda. As a citizen of the human race, the reasons Sepulveda gives for waging "just war" on the natives are appalling. Unlike the movie by Ridley Scott, this account makes it blatantly evident to the public the grounds by which the explorers acted in such poor taste and judgment. The ideology that the explorers had inherited was formed in distant Spain; this man Sepulveda never visited the new land when he created these canons. It was also evident that by using such vernacular in his arguments as "barbarian" he subtracted any human aspect from these societies and civilizations. Furthermore, he created a “loophole†through which his explorers could rationalize the atrocities committed henceforth. He displayed that these native people lacked the "rationality to observe the law." He also rationalized the Spaniard’s acts with the concept that this was a society of "creatures" who were far surpassed by the Spanish in "every virtue." It was almost as if his sole purpose was to de-humanize these people so that his explorers would, without hesitation or question, "convert" these people and do so by any means necessary. These people were flooded with Spanish language and were expected to immediately heed and fully understand a newly introduced requirement to convert. One can only imagine the confusion they must have felt.
[3] Ideologies such as Sepulveda's were never presented in Ridley Scott’s film; thus, an unquestioning American viewer might find the portrayals of the explorers acceptable. There is a vast amount of material selectively left out in his rendition. The sole purpose of Scott’s film was patriotism and not education. How would we truly feel if we had seen an account of the "debate" between Las Casas and Sepulveda in this film on the big screen? My guess is probably not too patriotic, but rather shameful.
Again history and its manipulation become the central focus of the movie. We can consider three forms of historical manipulation: the manipulation of the Taino people, the manipulation of Columbus's achievements (or lack thereof), and the film's view of the events. Control is a key factor in determining a. colonial success by Spain, b. Spain's future on the islands and how some have come to manipulate Columbus's endeavors, and c. showing the movie with an historically different Columbus on the bicentennial. Identity remains an ambiguous term as most characters struggle to maintain their personal beliefs against others, and in contempt with the Spanish powers. But the fact remains that control, physically and mentally, leads to possession, where in this case the proper word is invasion. We do not control history through events but through perception and information. 1492 has reinforced in me the purpose of studying history, not to absorb and regurgitate facts but rather to confront events with transparency and resist what they say. Control history and do not let it control you. The Taino's past does not become worthless but rather forgotten because they did not resist the Spanish culture and look through its transparency. In fact, 1492 proves that a culture was thriving before contact and asks the audience to look at both sides. The other word for Puerto Rico, Borinquen, is still alive and well used in Puerto Rican culture and also proves a hint a resistance from natives to fully adapt to a foreign and assumingly greater force.
Whether intentional or not, Ridley Scott’s film serves a historical purpose: to re-inscribe the illustrious image of Christopher Columbus as a cherished American hero. Released during the quincentennial year of Christopher Columbus's great “discovery†of the New World, 1492 predictably portrays Columbus as a flawed, though ultimately sympathetic character--a hero whose idealism we should honor, whose courage we should praise, and whose discoveries we should commemorate for all of time. Because Scott wants to portray Columbus in a glorified manner consistent with our modern perceptions of the discovery as a great American hero, he goes through great lengths to paint Columbus and his men not as malicious conquerors, but as benevolent benefactors who, initially, interact peacefully with the natives they encounter. Despite this, it would be overly simplistic to say that Scott’s film is completely one-sided. As the film progresses, Scott incorporates scenes that both allude to and demonstrate some of the atrocities committed against the Tainos; however, far from making the film more historically accurate, these scenes merely add flair to the traditional Columbus myth by creating a less idealized, though still amiable “hero†with whom we can empathize.
By perpetuating this positive image of Columbus--knowing that the common viewer will remain oblivious to the historical liberties taken in the film--Scott immortalizes the oft-told myth that most Americans unquestionably accept as truth. Because Scott’s film is not entirely one-sided, though, Scott works his cinematic magic to allay any qualms the modern viewer may have about Columbus's questionable character. He accomplishes this in three ways: first, in order to absolve our “great†hero of any wrongdoing, he projects the greed and the cruelty of the Spanish conquistadors unto Columbus's nemesis Moxica; second, he downplays the significance of the monstrosity committed against the natives by stereotypically depicting them as animalistic savages who are clearly inferior to the “civilized†Spanish; and third, he glosses over the enslavement, dismemberment, and killing of the natives as necessary means to reach a noble end. What we are left with, then, is a film in which Moxica becomes the scapegoatâ€"â€"thus allowing Columbus's “hero†status to remain intactâ€"â€"and the Tainos are left forgotten, their story untold in a movie that simply continues to colonize history.
There seem to be a ubiquitous complaint that 1492 does not delve into the "complex and atrocious relations between Columbus and the natives," and although I agree that the film portrays him as much more of a "hero" than he was in reality, I can't complain because the film's purpose is obviously not to reflect on the real happenings. The film was made to be a celebration of the 500th anniversary of the discovery of the New World - marketed towards the very inhabitants of the United States who have all benefited from whatever pillaging and genocide Columbus and the Spaniards committed. So why is anybody surprised that he is portrayed as a hero when his actions then have enabled us to live so comfortably now?
I agree with this first comment discussing the biased lens through which history is constantly toldâ€"from the point of view of the victor. I think a great scene from 1492: Conquest of Paradise that exemplifies this continuing problem with the retelling of history is one of the final scenes in which Christopher Columbus is not recognized at all for his various voyages. Although he did not discover the intended shorter passage to Asia, he was the first to reach the Caribbean, a great accomplishment in itself. The facial expression and tears of utter disappointment on Columbus’s face when his name is not announced represent years of toil: wasted, and unrecognized. Although Columbus was not the discoverer of America, Vespucci, who was, and other later voyagers would not have made such strides without Columbus's initial accomplishments. If it weren’t for Columbus’s son recording his autobiography, we may never have known his true importance in history. This presents the possibility of fallacies in other recorded histories. Does this make us view history differently or with skepticism? How do we know what we can trust?
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