When I was a child, Columbus Day honored the man who proved the world was round and, in the process, discovered America.  I am not sure if I ever watched Christopher Columbus (1960), but its approach to Columbus is consistent with what I was taught.

When I read Francis Jennings’ The Invasion of America:  Indians, Colonials, and the Cant of Conquest (1975), I had an intellectual catharsis.  I do not remember the details of his book or whether I thought it was good history.  What I do remember is that Jennings forced me to consider the story of Columbus and the European role in the Americas from alternative perspectives such as those found in “Columbus Day: ‘We Have Our Stories to Tell’”  (2010).

Inspired by Columbus Day, individuals in the Americas celebrate and condemn Christopher Columbus.  Although he knew the world was not flat when he left Spain for India, Columbus is, unquestionably, an important figure in the development of world history and there are strong arguments as to why he should be honored.  Others, such as Peta Lindsay in “The Legacy of Christopher Columbus” (2006) argue that “To celebrate Columbus is to celebrate a legacy of genocide, slavery, rape and plunder.”  Her assessment that he was America’s first slave trader is not unique.

In an interview with Carol Delaney, the Knights of Columbus downplay Columbus’ subjugation of Indians and his involvement with slavery.  Delaney apologetically argues:

As far as I can tell, Columbus never had any slaves, nor did he intend to get slaves when he went across the ocean. There was no possibility of enslaving the Grand Khan and his people…. Slavery was common, even among people in the Caribbean. People ignore that fact and seem to think that Columbus instituted slavery.

Delaney goes on to compare Columbus to Bartolomé de Las Casas:

Meanwhile, Bartolomé de Las Casas, an admirer of Columbus, is remembered for writing in defense of the Indians. But unlike Columbus, Las Casas owned slaves and operated encomiendas in the beginning. He didn’t have a change of heart until long after Columbus’ death, and even as late as the mid-16th century, he proposed slavery of African blacks as a substitute for the Indians.

To demonize de Las Casas—especially by omitting that he came to realize that his position on African slavery was reprehensible—does not alter Columbus’ actions.  By ignoring de Las Casas’ later writing, Delaney’s language is misleading at best; deceptive at worse.    [Aldipzi, in a “Digital Story—Bartolomé de Las Casas” (2009) provides an overview of de Las Casas’ spiritual growth.]

Columbus’ detractors, like his supporters, are guilty of sloppy language that contributes to misunderstanding.  In the “Truth About Christopher Columbus—Crimes Against Humanity,” an excerpt from The Canary Effect (2006), argues that

Columbus is symbolic, but what Columbus symbolizes is insidious. Columbus being valorized in the mythology of the United States is roughly the same as Germany valorizing Heinrich Himmler.

Himmler was Hitler’s architect for the final solution and advocated for the genocide of Jews and other undesirables.  While it might be true that “what Columbus symbolizes is insidious,” his actions cannot rightly be compared to Himmler’s.  While genocide was Himmler’s intent, genocide was not Columbus’ goal.  A sloppy comparison to Himmler does not help us better understand Columbus, his role in world history, or his relationship with the Indians with whom he interacted.

To promote Columbus, the Knights of Columbus are willing to marginalize de Las Casas whose life models the spiritual growth and development of a man struggling with his faith in a changing world; a man who did his best to live the principles of the Knights of Columbus:  charity, unity, fraternity, and patriotism.  When The Canary Effect compares Columbus to Himmler, they make Himmler’s intentional genocidal actions less morally reprehensible because they equate them with actions that were not intended to destroy the entire race of Indians.  Inflated language minimizes the horrific and serves as a distraction when attempting to promote understanding.

One way to honor Columbus’ legacy is to identify how the misuse of language and sloppy historical examples not only impacts our understanding of Columbus but also serves as a distraction when discussing contemporary American political problems.

In September 2013, Robert Benmosche, President of AIG, argued that questioning large bonuses awarded to those on Wall Street “was intended to stir public anger, to get everybody out there with their pitch forks and their hangman nooses, and all that–sort of like what we did in the Deep South.”  Does questioning executive bonuses really compare to the lynching of Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith in Marion, Indiana on 7 August 1930; a photograph of which was matted with a lock of either Shipp or Smith’s hair?

A few days ago, just before Bobby Ferguson was sentenced to 21 years in jail, he told Judge Nancy Edmund that “In America, it seems like genocide on black people.”  Ferguson’s treatment by the judicial system cannot reasonably be equated to events in Nazi Germany and other places where attempts at genocide have taken place.  Ferguson’s claim trivializes the real racism found in contemporary American society.  Furthermore, his words distract from the issue at hand; that he had been found guilty of some terrible crimes against Detroit and the city’s citizens: racketeering, extortion, and bribery.

On 7 October 2013, in “Nazis, Lynching, and Obamacare,” Frank Bruni addresses the problems caused by inflated rhetorical language.  His essay begins with the observation:

You might think that the methodical extermination of millions of Jews by a brutal regime intent on world domination would resist appropriation as an all-purpose metaphor. You might think that genocide, of all things, would be safe from conversion into sloppy simile.  You’d be wrong.

Genocide is a sloppy metaphor to describe Christopher Columbus, the condition faced by black people in the United States, Obamacare, and other issues facing Americans.

Maybe the best way we can honor Christopher Columbus on his national holiday is to remember that language is important.  The words we choose have consequences.  Sloppy language benefits neither those who reflect on history nor those who inappropriately appropriate historical examples to promote partisan politics.  Like Bartolomé de Las Casas, we are currently struggling to adapt to a changing world.  Calling each other Nazis does not lead to an understanding of the human experience; either historically or in contemporary times.

–Steven L. Berg, PhD

Photo Caption:  Screen capture from Christopher Columbus (1960).