Reflection #13

In The Conquest of America, Todorov examines the individual’s relationship with the Other: how we recognize and react to the surface and internal differences of those around us. Intrinsically, humans exercise caution in the presence of difference, for it forces them to instinctively question which side of difference is the correct? Whose difference is acceptable and whose must be changed to match what is “proper” or “normal”?

I believe that this was the case of the Spanish conquistadors that Todorov seeks to examine, dissect, and condemn in his book. These men arrive in America and encounter beings that are entirely unknown to them, and who also conveniently occupy resource-rich land. Some men, such as Columbus, immediately refuse to acknowledge the possibility that the Indian livelihood could be equivalent (and therefore comparable) to the European way of life. Therefore, the Indian population becomes a resource itself, from which can be gleaned human capital, slave labor, and the confirmation of Spanish superiority. Columbus can confidently say that his side of difference is the correct one, simply because he survives and the Indians do not. He is a God-fearing Christian, and the Indians are not. Yet the perpetual discussion of Christianity throughout Conquest contains a substantial degree of mockery on Todorov’s part. He writes, “Far from the central government, far from royal law, all prohibitions give way, the social link, already loosened, snaps, revealing not a primitive nature, the best sleeping in each of us, but a modern being, one with a great future in fact, restrained by no morality and inflicting death because and when he pleases.” (145). The colonizers involved in the conquest were oceans and continents away from their motherland. Yet what can we say about their remoteness from morality? The conquistadors continually mention their commitment to Christianity and its tenets. Yet their actions display an inherent disrespect for the “love thy neighbor” commandment. Todorov states, “Everything occurs as if the Spaniards were finding an intrinsic pleasure in cruelty, in the fact of exerting their power over others, in the demonstration of their capacity to inflict death.” (143). The exertion of power relates directly to the dilemma of “I” versus “the Other.” The fact that the conquistadors could, in fact, conquer equates (in their minds) to the verification that they are in the right, that they should force the Indians to bow to their demands as a sign of acceptance of the European side of difference. They conduct God’s work, and He facilitates the conquest; therefore, their cause is just. They are in the right.

What I find so frightening is the tenacity of this way of thinking. People wage wars and prolong conflict because of divine right, or because their form of government is the only workable model, or because they simply know best. We still cannot confront our differences honestly, without clinging to accusations and justifications that our side of difference must be right, that we cannot possibly be the ones who will be forced to change. I do not understand why that change is necessary, why this question demands a winner and loser. What would the result be if we sought for understanding and acceptance rather than condemnations and forced compliance?