Bartolom De Las Casas Human Rights Activist

Bartoleme De Las Casas

An Analysis of the Activism of Bartoleme De Las Casas

Often characterized by modern historians as the "Defender and the apostle to the Indians," Bartolome de Las Casas is known for exposing and condemning as well as exaggerating and misrepresenting the violent practices of Spanish colonizers of the New World against Native Americans. Marked by emotional polemic and often embellished statistics, Las Casas' voluminous works brought him both support and opposition in his own time. While being harshly criticized as a threat to Spanish rule in America, De Las Casas was also continually financially supported by the Crown and offered high offices by the Church (Benzoni 48). Though more than four hundred years have passed since his death, the works of this controversial Dominican friar continue to elicit strong reactions from both detractors and defenders -- from both those who condemn him and those who praise him -- for his humanitarian view of the indigenous peoples of the Americas and his revolutionary activism on their behalf. This paper will discuss the life of De Las Casas during the period in history when the New World was still being colonized by Spain -- when Mexico was known as Mexica -- and when the question of whether the natives could be considered the equals of the creoles was still debated in Europe. It will show how De Las Casas' own purity, pride, idealism, and religious life prompted him to a course of action that may be considered as the work of a radical humanist -- or an early human rights activist.

Historical Background

Spain was formed ultimately as an extension of the Castilian Kingdom in response to the Muslim threat of the medieval age. The language of Castile was the official language of Spain -- and Catholicism its official religion. The Empire of Spain stretched far and wide, with language and religion taking root in many places in the New World and elsewhere the Spanish crown carried out its enterprise for gold, God, and glory.

Even though the language survived, Imperial Spain died in a sense with Isabella. Columbus, the explorer who received her patronage, virtually knew as much upon hearing of her death. Isabella encompassed the regalia and glory of Spain that was exceptionally and violently Catholic, seen to a high degree in Columbus' own response to the queen's demise: "Her life was always Catholic and holy, and prompt in all things in His holy service; for this reason we may rest assured that she is received into His glory, and beyond the care of this rough and weary world" (Walsh 1930: 484). Yet, if with Isabella died the Empire, the conquest of the Americas continued on. The problem, however, was that the conquistadors had little to no understanding of the peoples they were conquering. They understood nothing of the cultures, their backgrounds, their habits, customs, work life, etc. Oftentimes, they lacked the supernatural charity that so had so marked the spiritual life of their Queen.

Nonetheless, many missionaries took the opportunity to understand the natives and accommodate them as best they could. De Las Casas was one such example: a very vocal critic of countrymen when he realized the native's sufferings; indeed, De Las Casas lost all patience with anyone who failed to adopt his perspective. He was adamant, unyielding, and passionate in his defense of the natives. Thus, he gained both popularity and notoriety in Spain.

Spain during the Golden Age (16th c. -- 17th c.) had become a very unique center of cultural creativity (not only in painting, but also in architecture, music, conquest, and literature). It was, in a word, inspired. Columbus had set sail under the Spanish flag, and Spain's Empire was colonizing the Americas. Gold, God and glory were themes of tremendous importance -- but so were the humanistic themes that had developed out of the Renaissance -- and these humanistic themes are what De Las Casas appealed to.

The High Renaissance drew from many sources: if likened to a mighty river, it can be said that its main source was the Church and that its many tributaries came from such disparate sources as classicalism, humanism, new wealth among the merchant class, artistic fervor, scientific revolution, and reformation. That out of it grew the Protestant Reformation and its challenge to institutional authority is a point only mentioned because parallel to that challenge may be seen De Las Casas' challenge to overturn the system of governance in the New World and curb the abuses of the natives at the hands of the conquistadors. This quixotic figure (a pre-cursor, in a way, of the Spaniard Cervantes' most famous hero) was armed not with a lance and helmet but with a powerful rhetoric that did not let facts get in the way of the picture he wished to paint. Yet, despite his embellishments and idealism, he was a genuine defender of the natives.

De Las Casas was certainly a man of integrity, who chafed at the treatment which the natives received from his own countrymen; but he was also an idealist -- a product of that Renaissance age, which was often unrealistic, highly humanistic, and on the verge of breaking out into revolution all throughout Europe. In one sense, De Las Casas may be said to be the personification of Europe's struggles with the new and approaching modern worldview in the Americas. Three years before Luther nailed his Theses to the church door in Wittenberg, De Las Casas began preaching against the Spaniards' treatment of the natives. As Iris Engstrand observes, it was a battle that would not easily be won: "The Spanish Crown, in its Royal Orders for New Discoveries of 1573, decreed that Indians should be taught 'to live in a civilized manner, clothed and wearing shoes…given the use of bread and wine and oil and many other essentials of life….Instructed in the trades and skills with which they might live richly" (13). Considering that De Las Casas had observed the need for such a decree as early as 1514 -- more than half a century earlier -- it is no surprise that he is still remembered today as an advocate of the indigenous peoples, the Apostle to the Indians.

From Seeker of Wealth to Fighter for Justice: Las Casas' Change of Heart

As Paul S. Vickery asserts, De Las Casas "came to the New World to acquire wealth and prestige," but his experiences in New Spain "caused him to undergo a complete change of both mind and heart" (2). As a chaplain in Hispaniola, the Spanish colony in Cuba, De Las Casas "lived off the toil of the Indians of his encomienda -- the system by which Spanish colonists were given tracts of land and the rights to the forced labor of the native people in return for a promise to instruct them in the faith" (Carozza 289).

It may be said that De Las Casas was blind to the injustice which he himself participated in for a time. The Dominican missionaries were the loudest voices of protest against the slave-based system of the conquerors. It was not until after "one Dominican refused to hear Las Casas' confession because he owned slaves" that seed of change began to take root in the future Apostle to the Indians.

The impetus for this change came from the fact that what he believed according to his Catholic faith was definitely not being realized or actualized in the land before him. In other words, there was a discernible discrepancy between his words in preaching the Gospel and the actions of the supposed hearers of the Gospel in the new colonies. "Las Casas experienced a crisis of faith, and instead of ignoring or dismissing his ethical inconsistencies, he changed his actions to conform to his beliefs" (Vickery 2). He became an agitator, a lobbiest, an activist and constant thorn in the sides of those who saw the native as nothing more than a source of labor to be exploited for gold, God and glory. If De Las Casas had also come to the New World in pursuit of gold, God and glory, he was not willing to sacrifice God for either of the other two.

De Las Casas was not alone in his newfound belief that the way to a Christian New World lay through "proclamation of the gospel and by demonstration of the love of Christ" rather than by brute force and oppression. Where he differed from other missionaries, however, was in his method of conveying this fact. To drive home his point, he utilized a rhetoric much given over to embellishment. His facts were exaggerated and his points contrived -- but the overall thesis of his work, the intention of his writings, was not to convict the Spaniards of crime, but to win for the natives the right to live as free men.

As Paolo G. Carozza notes, De Las Casas became "the midwife of modern human rights talk" (289). It is De Las Casas who most embodies the emergence of the fight for human rights.

Advocate and Radical

Yet, not everyone agrees with his being given such a title. The situation as he described it was not always so utterly black and white. While there were certainly abuses on the part of the conquistadors, they were not always motivated by malice. Oftentimes they were the effect of indifference, ignorance, and lack of consideration. All the same, the abuses were inexcusable, and the missionaries constantly sought to balance the desire of the conquistadors to "erect" New Spain with the welfare of the natives, whose lives were put at risk in the process. In one way, De Las Casas represents the fight to secure for the natives the kind of life the Spaniards sought for themselves. In another way, De Las Casas represents the kind of idealistic, impractical humanism that exaggerated both the cruelty of the creoles and the nobility of the natives.

The New World (or New Spain) was identified by many conquistadors as "Satan's dwelling place" (Rabasa 152). This was partly due to the romantic, Eurocentric view of the colonizers and partly due to the actual elements of savagery, which were easily discernible in the native tribes. Missionaries attempted to educate the tribes and bring them into the Church, while conquerors often viewed them as worker slaves. What was most important in the minds of the conquerors was not the salvation of the native's soul, but the setting of the foundation of Imperial Spain in the New World: Motoloinia, for instance, writes vehemently to the Crown of his desire to see "the fifth kingdom of Jesus Christ, which is signified by the stone cut from the mountain without hands; it will fill and occupy the whole earth…let your majesty order to place all possible diligence so that this kingdom is fulfilled" (Rabasa 153). Dated 1955, some forty years after De Las Casas began his campaign against the abuses of the Spaniards, Motolinia's letter comes off as a reproach "against Las Casas' condemnation of the Spanish enterprise in the Indies. In Motolinia's mind, the work of the conquistadors was firmly united with the Passion of Christ; therefore, De Las Casas' complaints could be considered trivial.

By that time, of course, the New Laws had been put into effect, which forbade the native from being used as a slave and transporter. Needless to say, the New Laws did not bode well for De Las Casas. They were seen as the fruit of his exaggerated and impractical position regarding the plight of the natives in the New World. And yet De Las Casas himself was (typically) unsatisfied with the Laws, which he considered to be still much too soft in terms of the power afforded the conquerors. His constant appeals to the Crown to curb the exercises of the Spaniards is accompanied by lengthy descriptions and exaggerations of abuses (contradicted no less by other reports of missionaries who spent more time with the natives than De Las Casas actually did himself) (Bandelier).

De Las Casas was appointed Protector of the Indians in 1516. He tried to influence the Jeronymite commissioners, but his zeal met determined resistance from the Spaniards who exploited the labor of the natives. When he told Bishop Fonseca of Burgos that seven thousand Cuban children had died of starvation in three months because their parents had been taken to work in the mines, Fonseca asked how that concerned him or the king. The indifference was palpable and to be deplored. But so too was the fact that the conquerors simply did not understand the way the natives worked: the indigenous peoples were not used to such hours of hard labor as the Europeans pressed upon them; moreover, the conquerors brought with them new germs and illnesses that easily took their toll on the inhabitants of the New World. De Las Casas saw the urgent need for reform -- and this need compelled him to become an activist for the natives' cause.

Of course, not everyone took to his cause: in 1519, Bishop Juan de Quevedo, using Aristotle as his authority, argued that Indians are slaves by nature. The aristocratic Gonzalo Fernandez de Oviedo, the first official historian of the Indies, seemed to agree, but Las Casas kept this history from being printed. Las Casas envisioned a settlement where the natives, tributes of the King, were governed by themselves. Ironically, De Las Casas pled that the slave labor of the natives could be made up by the importation of slaves from Africa. This seeming contradiction was not apparent as such to the missionary. He may have been a radical activist, but he was still a man of the 16th century. And aside from this glaring inconsistency, he still saw himself as "the very conscience of Catholic Spain, a nation that grappled not only with the spiritual mandate to save souls but also with the human desire to acquire wealth" (Vickery 1-2).

Thus, De Las Casas could depict such events (as he himself had earlier in his life overlooked) with great detail. For example, following the conquest of Cortes in the 1520s and his subsequent distribution of "the labor and tribute of [the natives'] towns as spoils of war," De Las Casas could write of the conquistadors that they "behaved like ravening wild beasts, wolves, tigers, or lions that had been starved for many days'" (Benjamin 424). This depiction of the Spaniards was designed to rouse the indignation and compassion of his readers oversees. De Las Casas' desire was to change the pursuit of Spain from gold, God and glory to simply God: gold and glory were, in his new state of awareness, an obstacle to the peaceful conversion of the natives.

The kind of polemic visible in the writings of De Las Casas, was of course contradicted by more moderate voices, whose crusade was neither radical nor revolutionary. Fact-based reporters, in other words, describe events without the same kind of commentary or censure which characterize De Las Casas' writings. For that reason, however, they are not remembered today with the same kind of respect (at least from those concerned with human rights) given to the De Las Casas. As Fred Dallmayr states, "The name of Las Casas evokes again the message of 'good news'" (173). His activism is perceived as an inspiration for modern activists: his reproaches against his countrymen for abusing "the underprivileged, the downtrodden, and the dispossessed" is seen as a hallmark in the modern struggle to end inequality. He is viewed as a kind of forerunner of the ideals advocated in the French Revolution; he is honored in Latin America as a father of those who call "for social and economic rights in the era of industrial capitalism" (Dallmayr 173). The radicalism of these ideas (being associated with one of the most notorious revolutions in human history two hundred years before it takes place) casts De Las Casas in a peculiar light, especially when one considers that his polemic was often twisted to fit the conclusion he wished to reach. His writings are not held up for their objective merit and historical accuracy but rather for their passionate plea for what are today known as "human rights." Thus, it is no stretch to assert that De Las Casas was indeed an early activist for the rights of the underprivileged.

But his advocacy was not founded on prudence or restraint. He himself met with disappointment when given the opportunity to allow the natives to govern themselves. An early proposal of his was for the natives to be given wholly to the Church rather than to the conquistadors. The Spanish Crown was not against serving the natives, and it readily agreed to the request of De Las Casas. He was given some land in Venezuela in 1519, where he set up Cumana. While the priest was reporting on his initiatives, the natives revolted, stole the commodities housed for their relief, burned the buildings and killed whatever Spaniards failed to flee during the uprising. When De Las Casas returned, he blamed the events not on the natives but on the Spaniards, whom he saw as instigators in the affair. It was then that he joined the Dominican Order, repaired to the Island of Santo Domingo, and heightened his polemic for the native cause (Bandelier).

Thanks to his influence, the Crown finally drafted a set of New Laws designed to protect the natives from overwork and exploitation at the hand of the colonizers. These laws infuriated many of the colonizers in the New World, but in Spain (removed from the reality of the situation) they were seen as a great step forward. "The New Laws, with their amendments of 1543 and 1544, were a surprise and a source of much concern, especially in America. They did not abolish serfdom, but they limited it in such a manner that the original settlers saw before them utter ruin by the eventual loss of their fiefs" (Bandelier). Essentially, De Las Casas' effect on New Spain was to be felt -- but it did not please those who had come hoping to make their fortune. These settlers saw in De Las Casas a threat to that which they had been promised: "Not only this, but the Indians obtained such favors that, as long as Spanish rule lasted in America, the reproach was justly made to the mother country that a native enjoyed more privileges than a creole" (Bandelier). In other words, De Las Casas, the advocate for Indian equality, was making headway in his activism.