The Spanish invasion and rapid conquest of the Americas is one of the most incredible and consequential events in human history. As everyone knows, a few small bands of intrepid Spanish soldiers quickly toppled the great indigenous empires, wiping out most of their peoples and imposing new religions and cultures on the survivors. This all happened because Spanish weaponry, horses, and advanced tactics overawed the indigenous nations. It is truly an incredible story, unparalleled in any other realm of history — the only trouble with it is that almost everything I just wrote above is wrong.
‘Seven Myths’ presents a more nuanced history of the Spanish conquest by demolishing a series of widely held beliefs — the seven myths of the title — partially contained in the outline above. While this could a prove gimmicky approach (like ‘100 Lies My Teacher Told Me’ or some such book), Restall has the material to back up each revisionist claim, and the revelations completely change the picture of the conquest sketched above.
He begins with Columbus. By now, I hope, most people know that the old legend about his unique insight into the roundness of the earth is entirely false. Europeans knew very well that the earth was round and actually had a very accurate idea of its size; indeed, it was Columbus who was incorrect because he thought the earth smaller than it is. Restall situates his voyage into broader context, showing how it was really just another step in the gradual Atlantic expansion that had occurred over the previous century as Portuguese and Genoese sailors discovered and settled various island chains. Queen Isabella of Castile, desperate to catch up with Portugal in the race to chart a path to India, gambled on a lesser known Genoese navigator and ignored the advice of her officials, who warned that his claims about the earth were incorrect. She — and Columbus — got extraordinarily lucky when he stumbled onto a new, unknown island chain in 1492 that proved the gateway to a new world.
Yet Columbus continued to claim that he had found a path to the Indies, even as evidence from further Spanish and Portuguese explorers mounted against him. The reason lay in the terms of his contract: Isabella had granted him trade rights and honors conditional on the discovery of a path to the *Indies* — not this mysterious new land. When his prevarications were discovered by further exploration, he ended up in serious trouble with the Castilian crown and spent much of his life in ignominy.
But the pattern was to hold. Many of the myths highlighted in this book originate from Spanish exaggerations, which owed to the conquistadores’ need to justify their deeds and fulfill legal/contractual terms set by the Crown. Spaniards claimed a greater share of glory and pacification, minimized their indigenous alliances, and attributed their victories to God and the superiority of Spanish arms — all to magnify themselves in the eyes of their king. Restall surveys and summarizes this pattern across hundreds of letters and petitions, from famous leaders like Cortes down to obscure drifters and tag-alongs.
So what really happened? Briefly, the story that Restall tells goes something like this:
Spanish adventurers, mostly craftsmen and minor gentry bound together in patron-client networks, sought opportunities for titles and rewards on the Caribbean islands discovered and seized by Columbus and his immediate successors. Becoming aware of the larger continent nearby, a few renegade bands broke with their patron in Cuba and landed in Mexico. There, through a mixture of luck, daring, and diplomatic skill, they forged alliances with several powerful indigenous tribes who were seeking to throw off the yoke of the Aztec (Triple Alliance) Empire. These tribes, most notably the Tlaxcala, were using the Spaniards to accomplish their own ends — they saw them as strange new allies in longstanding native disputes. The combined forces of Cortes and his native allies eventually overwhelmed Tenochtitlan and forced the Mexica to compromise, which allowed Cortes to become the head of an uneasy, unstable new force. With indigenous warriors and whatever Spaniards and African slaves he could find, he launched a series of further invasions into other parts of Central America (e.g. Oaxaca). Often these were just continuations of ongoing native disputes that he was able to exploit — and in one prominent case (Guatemala) the objective was actually to punish a renegade Spanish lieutenant, who was trying to do to Cortes what Cortes had done to his own patron!
Pizarro’s expedition, modeled heavily on that of Cortes, was similarly lucky. Pizarro walked into the middle of an Incan civil war precipitated by the death of their emperor from a new disease, likely smallpox. These diseases ran ahead of the Spanish and wreaked havoc across the continents, which opened up space for the waves of Europeans who followed the conquistadores.
The Spaniards weren’t soldiers in any sense of the word, and they weren’t sent by order of Emperor Charles V or any other official leader. Restall describes them as ‘armed entrepreneurs,’ and the term is fitting: they had more in common with hungry and amoral Silicon Valley startups or private equity corporate raiders than any professional army. The goal of these men was, above all, to receive an encomienda, a grant to a chunk of land and the output of the indigenous people living on it, reminiscent of feudal rights. To do so, they had to win the approval of the crown and at least pretend to fulfill its legal requirements.
Of course, most of us are only familiar with the dramatic encounters of Cortes and Pizarro, but these give a false illusion of rapid completeness of conquest. Lines on maps deceive further; it was very easy for the Spanish or later Europeans to draw boundaries and claim territories, but they often had little effect on the ground-level reality. Indigenous communities in “Spanish” land adapted and persevered for centuries, often retaining considerable autonomy, and some areas remained entirely under native control well into the 19th century (e.g. the Mayan kingdoms of the Yucatán or the Yaquis of Sonora). The newly independent states of Latin America in the 19th century, like the United States to the north, were often the agents of final indigenous conquest and enclosure.
Restall expounds how and why the various myths emerged and persisted, which often tells us more about the contemporary politics in which they were propagated than about historical reality. He shows how these myths are being demolished in modern historiography, largely through the expanded inclusion of native sources. As in the (U.S.) American West, there are many layers of false beliefs, propaganda, and misunderstandings that must be scraped away for a comprehensive account of the actual history, and this book goes a long way toward that end.
A wonderful, quick read that I highly recommend for anybody with an interest in Mesoamerican history.