When the Spanish arrived in the Inca Empire, they found its last great leader, Huayna Capac, dead and one of his sons, Atahualpa, holding tentative power over the kingdom after defeating his brother in a years-long battle of succession. Disease and war had ravaged the population, severely hindering their ability to fend off the colonizers. That’s not to say they didn’t try. Though the initial battle during which the conquistadors captured the Inca ruler was relatively short, rebellion soon followed and raged for decades.

Ruling an Empire: Puppet King

Having first misled Atahualpa into believing they would ransom him and move on to plunder elsewhere and then killing him, the Spanish put a brother of Huayna Capac’s on the throne as puppet emperor, believing they would have more success in conquering the empire with someone the natives saw as a rightful heir as titular power. He died after just a few months, however, leaving Francisco Pizarro and the Spanish in a quandary: who could sit on the throne that would convince the Empire’s inhabitants their divine rulers were still in charge while the Spanish ran things behind the scenes?

In what must have seemed like divine providence, the solution fell in their lap: Manco Inca, another son of Huayna Capac, just 17 years old, suddenly reappeared. Manco shared a bloodline with the recently defeated Huascar and had gone into hiding when he lost the battle of succession; with Atahualpa’s death, he believed himself rightful heir and presented himself to the Spanish as an ally in their mission to rid the land of Atahualpa’s army and followers. Misleading yet another member of the Inca nobility, convincing this one they fully supported his claims to the throne his brother had lost, the Spanish crowned Manco the new Sapa Inca.

The new Sapa Inca, taking the Spanish at their word, set about trying, as best he could, to reestablish the complex network of governance and economic management that made the Empire what it was. His puppeteers set about looting the Empire of all its gold and silver, constantly demanding more. After two years—and the theft of his primary wife and sister—Manco had had enough. Realizing the Spanish had no intention of relinquishing control to him, let alone leaving, the Sapa Inca slipped out of Cuzco and launched a rebellion in 1536.

Inca on the Run

The Inca quickly managed to pen the majority of the conquistadors into Cuzco, surrounding the ancient capital with tens, perhaps hundreds, of thousands of warriors, compared with a few hundred Spaniards and approximately 500 of their native allies. Yet they were unable to secure a victory. Indigenous attacks that Manco ordered in other parts of the Empire, particularly the mountainous north, had more success, killing dozens of Spaniards. But with a strong foothold in the region, including the settlement that would go on to become the capital of Peru, Lima, the conquistadors were now receiving steady reinforcements, and their numbers were far greater than the small contingent that had captured Atahualpa four years earlier.

After the greatest surviving Inca general, Quizo, was slain in a failed attack on Lima, hundreds of Spanish reinforcements headed toward Cuzco. Realizing he would be defeated, Manco lifted his siege of the city, at which point two factions of conquistadors began battling each other for its control.

First managing his rebellion from Ollantaytambo, where he secured a decisive victory against the Spanish, Manco Inca ultimately retreated further from Cusco, relinquishing control of large portions of his empire to the Spanish and their new puppet emperor: Manco’s brother, Paullu. Manco fled first to Vitcos, which the Spanish shortly thereafter raided, stealing untold treasures as well as Manco’s son, and ultimately to Vilcabamba, in the Amazon.

It was here, in dense, difficult terrain nearly inaccessible to Spanish horses, that he established the rebel capital, determined to preserve the Inca way of life, free from the colonizers’ interference. From their jungle refuge, the Indigenous peoples opposed to Spanish rule continued to wage war for nearly 40 years. No longer in command of tens of thousands of troops, Manco and the much-diminished free Inca state adopted guerilla warfare: ambushing small Spanish contingents, cutting supply lines and stealing weapons and horses.

Assassination Fever

In addition to contending with ongoing attacks by natives still loyal to Manco, the Spanish also faced internal conflict, ultimately leading to the assassination of Francisco Pizarro by conquistadors loyal to his rival, Diego de Almagro, who had been executed by one of Pizarro’s brothers. The assassins fled into the countryside and sought refuge with Manco, who, for his part, wisely housed them in Vitcos, rather than his new capital. Ultimately it didn’t protect him; once Spain appointed a new viceroy to replace Pizarro in 1544, the assassins saw an opportunity to ingratiate themselves with the new leadership: kill the Sapa Inca of the rebellious free Inca state.

Patiently waiting for the man who had housed and protected them for two years to visit Vitcos, they then stabbed him to death while he was playing horseshoes. Unfortunately for them, they hadn’t thought their plan out much beyond this assassination and were all slain by Manco’s loyal subjects as they fled toward Cusco.

Manco’s dream of recapturing his empire died with him, and a period of relative peace with the Spanish followed as his nine-year-old son ruled through several regents, but the holdout free Inca state remained. When Sayri-Tupac finally came of age, the Spanish managed to lure him to Cusco with promises of wealth and a lifestyle befitting an emperor, hoping this would finally bring an end to the ersatz kingdom of Vilcabamba.

But when he died shortly after arriving in 1560, the remnants of Tawantinsuyu then crowned Manco’s oldest son, Titu Cusi, who had once been kidnapped by the Spanish and witnessed his father’s assassination, Sapa Inca. Titu Cusi, who provides his own history of the Spanish conquest in An Inca Account of the Conquest of Peru, was quick to reignite guerrilla efforts against the Spanish colonizers that had slaughtered his family and enslaved* his subjects. Though he had no intention of recapturing the territory lost, he would not give up his father’s fight to protect what remained of the once great empire.

Vilcabamba Falls

Throughout Titu Cusi’s rule, as small-scale attacks against the Spanish were launched,  entrance into Vilcabamba—not only the capital city but the surrounding area—was tightly controlled. The Sapa Inca continued to negotiate with the Spanish, refusing to abandon Vilcabamba but always leaving the impression he might be convinced. He went so far as to be baptized in the Catholic Church. But in 1569, Titu Cusi made what would be a crucial mistake: under threat of large-scale Spanish incursion, he allowed missionaries into Vilcabamba.

Horrified by the “pagan” rituals of the Inca kingdom, the two friars sent to Christianize the natives took a hardline approach, ultimately destroying an Inca temple. One was banished while the more popular friar was allowed to remain, but the damage was done. When Titu Cusi suddenly died shortly thereafter, the remaining friar was quickly blamed for what looked to be poisoning and killed in retribution.

Not wanting the Spanish to learn of the Sapa Inca’s death, the kingdom of Vilcabamba fell silent, no longer communicating with the capital and refusing all envoys. When one of these envoys was killed, the newest Spanish viceroy, Francisco de Toledo, decided enough was enough. He amassed a force to finally conquer Vilcabamba—but when they arrived, they found the capital abandoned. Its citizens themselves sacked and burned the city before they left, leaving nothing for the Spanish to recover. The Spanish searched the countryside, determined to capture the latest Sapa Inca, Tupac Amaru. When they finally tracked him down, he was brought to Cuzco, tried, and condemned to death. He was beheaded in the town square on September 24, 1572.

The Inca Empire was no more.

Rediscovering Vilcabamba

Once abandoned, Vilcabamba was reclaimed by the Amazon and its location lost to time. Though certainly local Indigenous peoples were aware of the ancient city hidden in the jungle, the location of Vilcabamba puzzled historians and researchers for centuries. When he “discovered” Machu Picchu, Hiram Bingham was convinced he’d finally found the “lost city of the Incas,” despite all evidence to the contrary. It would take another half century for Vilcabamba to actually be identified.

In 1964, amateur explorer Gene Savoy set out to take a deeper look at some overgrown ruins Bingham had been shown in 1911 and dismissed as too insignificant to be the lost Inca capital. He brought workers with him to clear out the layers of jungle encasing the ancient structures, revealing not a few scattered buildings but a city complex. Bingham, it seemed, had explored just the outskirts of the city and, unimpressed, moved on. Savoy and his team, in contrast, spent weeks digging further into the jungle and found the heart of the ancient city.

Years later, an architect, Vincent Lee, with some guidance from Savoy, embarked on a new expedition to the site. Guided by the early Spanish chronicles, which largely hadn’t been published in English until the 20th century, he was able to identify specific sites, including forts, included in descriptions of Vilcabamba, definitively proving that the lost city of the Incas had at last been found.

Vilcabamba is still being excavated today. Its ruins cover an estimated 20-25 square miles, suggesting that Manco and his successors expanded a small outpost into a true Inca capital. Though far less accessible than Machu Picchu, it can be visited by intrepid tourists willing to undertake a trek through the jungle to explore the mysterious city where the Inca made their last stand.

*The Spanish used the term encomienda for their own brand of de facto slavery; encomenderos were granted tracts of land as well as Indigenous peoples to labor on it, purportedly in exchange for their protection.

Further reading: The Last Days of the Incas, Kim MacQuarrie, 2007

San Agustín is an archaeological park in the region of Huila, southern Colombia. It is known as a major complex of megalithic sculptures in pre-Hispanic America. The archaeological park conserves the lithic remains of one of the most mysterious pre-Columbian cultures in the country, whose origins and disappearance remain shrouded in mystery.

What Do We Know About the San Agustín Culture?

The archaeological complex of San Agustín is considered the world’s biggest necropolis. The temples and sculptures correspond to various local communities that shared social structures and systems of beliefs. Starting in the 18th century, archaeological research has been unfolding the story of the site and the San Agustín culture.

The people of the San Agustín culture settled on the macizo Colombiano, a mountain cluster that marks the end of the Andes Cordillera and splits into three smaller mountain ranges to the north, shaping Colombia’s topography. The culture takes its name from the village of San Agustin, an urban settlement close to where the archaeological remains were found.

Archaeological evidence linked to San Agustín has been found in over 300 archaeological sites across a 3,000 square meter area (Duque, 2017). The lithic elements are spread over a geographical area bounded by the Chocoan rainforest to the west, the Andean Cordillera to the south, and the Amazonian rainforest to the east. Primary sites include Mesitas, where the oldest tombs were found, and La Estación, the most important architectural structure (Duque, 2017). Other important sites include the Alto de los Ídolos, the Alto de las Piedras, El Purutal, La Pelota, and La Chaquira.

The last is a big rock carved in situ facing a valley and exhibiting three faces pointing towards different directions: a jaguar to the east, a human face looking north, and a female entity looking south (Palomo, 2023). The location of nearby rock deposits suggests that this community had sophisticated knowledge of techniques for moving heavy loads over uneven terrain.

Rediscovery of San Agustín

What is peculiar about this culture is that it vanished from the historical record among local inhabitants. They knew about the monolithic rests but could not identify the makers or purposes (Duque, 2017). Ritual elements, residential units, mortuary temples, and tombs caught the attention of explorers during the Conquest of the Americas. This led to pillaging, even after the region was declared a site of national interest.

In the 18th century, the first person to record San Agustín’s lithic industry was the Spanish Franciscan priest Juan de Santa Gertrudis, who arrived on the continent in 1755. This was the period when Spanish colonial power settled in what was known as the Viceroyalty of Nueva Granada. Juan de Santa Gertrudis published his “discoveries” in an essay called Maravillas de la Naturaleza (Marvels of Nature). Later, Francisco José de Caldas in 1797 and Agustín Codazzi in the mid-19th century made considerable contributions to the illustration of the archaeological site. Colombian researchers took the lead in the 19th and 20th centuries (Palomo, 2023).

German archaeologist Konrad Theodor Preuss was the first scientist to research the archaeological sites. He arrived in the Colombian city of Barranquilla in 1913 and traveled down the River Magdalena until he reached the region where the sculptures were covered by soil and vegetation. Fascinated by his discoveries, he illegally packed 21 statues and sent them to Europe, now retained by the Ethnological Museum in Berlin (Silva, 2016). There is an active campaign for repatriating these sculptures.

Constant looting led the state to buy land and properties and declare the zone an archaeologically protected region in 1941 (Duque, 2017). In 1993, the park was declared a national monument, and in 1995, it was included in UNESCO’s World Heritage List.

Where Did the San Agustín Community Come From?

Colombian archaeological research proposes a timeline that dates the start of the San Agustín culture to between 1000 BCE and the 1st century BCE (Duque, 2017). However, more recent research proposes earlier origins as far back as 3000 BCE (González, 2013). The monolithic monuments and lithic temples are believed to have been built during what is called the Classical Regional Period, dated to between 100 and 900 CE (Duque, 2017). It is believed to have been a gathering of different social settlements that shared common social structures and beliefs with origins in the Amazon Jungle (González, 2013).

It is still unknown why, at the time of the Conquest of Colombia, the monuments were abandoned despite the continued occupation of the area by pre-Hispanic Colombian cultures. The lithic temples and residencies were believed to have been abandoned around 1530, only a few decades after Christopher Columbus inaugurated the colonial era in the Americas. Because the monuments are smaller than those of other more well-known pre-Hispanic cultures, such as the Inca (Tahuantisuyo), Maya-Mexica, or Aztec, it is believed that nature rapidly covered most of the rocks, hiding them from explorers and inhabitants alike.

Houses & Mortuary Buildings

The San Agustín houses are believed to have been built with wooden pillars stuck on a circular platform. The walls were made of bahareque, an ancient building material found in many communities in the Americas, consisting of a mixture of mud and hay intercalated with wooden sticks. The roofs consisted of conical structures made of hay. The residential units sometimes also appear to have had mortuary functions. They were found scattered around the territory and not in urban clusters.

Local archaeology suggests that mortuary temples served as places for commemorating the deaths of individuals believed to have a special connection with spiritual forces (Jáuregui, 2022). This suggests that there was a hierarchical social structure linked to cosmological entities represented in the ceremonial sculptures.

Although the meaning of all lithic representations remains unknown, most were monumental representations of mythical zoomorphic and anthropomorphic figures. The monuments are characterized by detailed carved features and the use of color and pigments. Many statues represent life and death, the forces of nature, felines, reptiles, and mythical ancestry (Arango, 2010).

Some design motifs include a squared mouth with prominent fangs related to the myth of the Jaguar found in other Amazonian indigenous communities. The depiction of the dual eagle-snake is also found among other pre-Hispanic civilizations (Arango, 2010).

Artistic Styles

Other features include small facial details such as soft smiles and wrist accessories. Most of the statues show the articulation of animal forms and a basic human figure, reflecting a different approach to Western civilization. Instead of conceiving nature from the perspective of culture, these images represent a zoomorphic vision conceived from the perception of nature (Velandia, 1999).

One of the most beautiful sites is the fountain of Lavapatas, a series of channels carved in the stone where a small river runs down the hill. This site and its carved figures are believed to have been used for ritual and ceremonial purification rites (Duque, 2017). The architectural constructions have also revealed the community’s deep knowledge of astronomy, yearly cycles, and astral alignments.

The Current State of the San Agustín

Exploration of the archaeological site of San Agustín kick-started the development of Colombian archaeology as a formal discipline. It raises questions about the still unknown origins of pre-Hispanic cultures, whose routes of migration and adaptive processes are subject to research. As with many other archaeological sites explored by foreigners, much of San Agustin’s material culture is held overseas, and the battle for its return continues.

Bibliography

Arango, T. (2010) Cultura Megalítica de San Agustín. Universidad Distrital Francisco José de Caldas, Museo del Oro del Banco de la República.

Duque, J. P. (2017). San Agustín. Banco de República, Columbia.

González, V. (2013). ¿Qué sabemos de San Agustín? Boletín de Historia y Antigüedades – Enero.

Jáuregui, D. (2022). ¿Qué tan antiguas son las estatuas de San Agustín? San Columbia.

Palomo, A. (2023). San Agustín, una visita a la misteriosa “biblioteca en piedra” más importante de América Latina. Senal Columbia.

Silva, V. (2016). Preuss, el alemán que descubrió San Agustín y se robó 21 estatuas. Las 2 Orillas.

Velandia, C. (1999). The Archaeological Culture of San Agustín. Towards a new interpretation. Archeology in Latin America. Routledge, London.

St. Rose of Lima, born Isabel Flores de Oliva in Lima, Peru, was the first person from the Americas to be venerated as a Saint. She is best known for her emulation of Saint Catherine of Siena through fasting, dedicated prayer, and even self-inflicted pain. Though her life began in Peru, tales of her allegiance to her faith spread throughout the world, in some cases inspiring religious cults.

Origins of the Rose

Saint Rose of Lima was born Isabel Flores de Oliva in Lima, Peru, on April 22, 1586. She was the daughter of a Spanish cavalryman, Gaspar Flores, and a mixed Native woman, Maria de Oliva y Herrera. Isabel was just one of 10 other children born to Gaspar and Maria. Some sources claim that the name Isabel came from her grandmother, while others claim that it came from her aunt and godmother. Whatever the case, Isabel was soon dubbed Rosa by her mother and some servants of the household. The stories surrounding the introduction of this nickname vary greatly. One source claims that through some holy miracle, Isabel’s face was temporarily transformed into the image of a rose. Another simply states that Isabel was beautiful, like a rose, which earned her the name. Isabel formally took on the name Rosa after her confirmation in 1597.

From an early age, Rosa looked up to Saint Catherine of Siena and often undertook long periods of fasting and prayer in an attempt to emulate her. When she came of age, Rosa took a vow of virginity, pledging herself only to God and Jesus. This was to the dismay of her parents, who had hoped to marry her to a wealthy young man. In response to receiving the attention of young men, Rosa reportedly cut off her hair and rubbed chili peppers on her face to drive them away. This would only be the beginning of a short life of dedication to God and her faith.

Rosa’s Life of Dedication

Despite Rosa’s fervent wishes, her parents did not allow her to enter the convent once she became an adult. Instead, Rosa became a tertiary in the Third Order of Saint Dominic. The position of tertiary allowed her to lead a deeply religious life but remain within the public as her family wished. She had a hut built behind her parents’ house, which can still be visited today, where she could pray in silence. It was during this period that Rosa took on extreme forms of devotion to her beliefs. It was reported that she regularly engaged in long fasts, denied herself sleep, and even inflicted wounds on her body. Rosa felt that she deserved the pain that she experienced from these things for the sins that she had committed. Later, Rosa stated that the Christ Child had come to her bearing a ring and asking her to marry him. The idea of being “married” to Christ was far from unusual among nuns and other religious women of the period.

Rosa was also recognized for her good deeds. In the time that she wasn’t praying, she would practice her embroidery and gardening. The results of her work would be sold at the market to provide money for her family and for the less fortunate. Her mother also remarked that when Rosa encountered enslaved Black people in the streets, she would bring them in to care for them. Her selfless actions, along with the suffering that she purposefully inflicted on herself, were enough to bring a wave of international popularity her way.

Death and Beatification

Sadly, Rosa passed away at the early age of 31 on August 24, 1617. Her death was the result of an illness that had plagued her for an extended period. The process of her beatification began just days after her death, though proceedings were halted due to the recent passing of a law stating that beatification could not begin until 50 years after a person’s death. However, King Philip IV of Spain rallied for the cause of Rose of Lima’s beatification, asking the pope to continue the process.

Her veneration was completed by Pope Clement IX in 1668 at St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, and she was later canonized by his successor, Pope Clement X, in 1671. In 1669, she was declared the patron of Lima and Peru and was later named patron saint of the Indies and the Philippines as well. Afterward, her home was purchased by the auditor Andres de Vilela on the city’s behalf and donated to the Dominican Order that she had been a part of.

Rosa was investigated by the Spanish Inquisition twice, both during her life and after her passing, for the uproar she had caused, possibly due to her miracles. St. Rose is cited as having performed many miracles, both before and after her death. It is said that when the Dutch came in ships to invade Lima in 1615, St. Rose climbed onto the altar of the Church of St. Dominic to protect the Holy Sacraments. This, some chroniclers claim, scared the Dutch away. Another popular story claims that the entire city of Lima smelled of roses on the day of her death. However, Rosa is most popularly credited with having saved Lima from countless earthquakes.

St. Rose Beyond the Americas

Though Rosa began her work in the Americas, soon, word of her actions and devotion would spread across countries and continents. Poland and Lithuania are two countries that developed a particularly strong attachment to St. Rose of Lima. This is especially true in Lithuania, where a sort of cult following developed. Many churches in this small country began to create and display imagery of the Saint, marveling at her power and the miracles she is said to have performed. She is often displayed alongside her role model, Catherine of Siena, as well as Saint Hyacinth.

Rosa is also revered in the town of Sittard in the Netherlands. In the years between 1620 and 1670, the land surrounding the town had been experiencing waves of plague and dysentery. Following the advice of the local Dominicans, the town declared St. Rose of Lima to be their patron in 1669. Miraculously, the wave of dysentery completely bypassed the town, leaving everyone untouched. This action is considered another one of the miracles performed by the saint after her death.

Rosa’s Inspiration: St. Catherine of Siena

It is well known that from a very young age, Rosa had looked up to the Italian Saint Catherine of Siena, who had been canonized by Pope Pius II in 1461. In fact, Rosa’s life mirrored that of Catherine’s in many ways. Catherine had devoted herself to Catholicism from a young age, and when her parents arranged a marriage for her, she fasted and cut her hair to make her appearance unseemly. This pattern of fasting would continue and become more severe as she grew older. Catherine had also refused to become a nun and instead joined a group of dedicated women within the Order of St. Dominic, where she spent the rest of her life assisting the poor and ill. This group would eventually develop into the Third Order of St. Dominic, the very order that Rosa would join.

Rosa was also not the only saint to claim to have married Jesus—St. Catherine of Siena had also stated this. Another aspect that they shared was their propensity toward isolation, though both ended up leaving behind the life of the convent to remain in the public eye. St. Rose would spend hours praying alone in the hut she had built on her parents’ property. St. Catherine, meanwhile, was reported to have spent three years in seclusion before God requested that she leave her room and return to the world. It is clear that St. Rose looked upon St. Catherine with great admiration and wished to continue the work that she had started.

Modern Interpretations

Many modern scholars writing on St. Rose’s life point out that the extremes of her dedication to Catholicism could indicate mental health problems. Many connect her symptoms with an eating disorder, anorexia nervosa, which is characterized by long stretches of fasting or avoiding food. However, some offer a different perspective on the reasons for Rosa’s and other saints’ extended participation in fasting. Recent theories argue that gluttony was often associated with the Roman Empire, where an excess of food and eating was celebrated. Therefore, starvation, a rejection of those Roman ideals, would bring people closer to God and Jesus.

Other scholars suggest that fasting allowed some women to take control of their lives at a time when they were little more than property. It is said that St. Catherine of Siena starved herself in order to appear less attractive and thus avoid a nearly inevitable marriage arranged by her family. Other women used starvation as a bargaining chip to achieve what would normally be impossible for them. The one thing that most modern scholars agree on is that labeling Rosa “anorexic” erases the entirety of her extraordinary religious and spiritual experience.

Citizens of the 50 United States enjoy a set of protections and rights guaranteed by the US Constitution, but the same can’t be said for those residing in US territories. Puerto Rico, the most populous US territory, has been in political limbo since it was acquired in the late 19th century. Today it is home to more than 3 million US citizens who cannot vote and are not entitled to the same rights as those residing in the states. What’s to blame for this bizarre circumstance? The Insular Cases.

Background: Puerto Rico Becomes a US Territory

By the late 19th century, Spain’s once-dominant empire in the Americas had been reduced to a few remaining island possessions in the Caribbean. Though it had lost all of its colonies in North and South America after various wars of independence, it remained determined to retain its last few strategic outposts. So, when Cuba declared its independence in 1895, Spain responded with military force.

At the same time, the United States had come to see the Caribbean region as essential to its business interests, particularly Cuba. As such, it was sympathetic to Cuba’s fight for independence. When a US naval ship sent to protect US interests in Cuba, the USS Maine, exploded in Havana harbor in early 1898, the US saw it as an act of war—though various investigations since have failed to determine the cause of the explosion.

By April, the US had declared war on Spain. It launched offensive operations in the Philippines, Cuba and Puerto Rico, defeating the Spanish easily, particularly in Puerto Rico, where it faced almost no opposition. With the signing of the Treaty of Paris in December 1898, Puerto Rico became a US territory.

Statehood Off the Table

Once Puerto Rico became a US territory, the issue of how to govern it—and what rights its citizens would have—quickly came to the forefront. For the first year, it was largely treated the same way any other newly acquired territory had been as the US expanded westward. In 1899, a military government was put in place, but by 1900 the Foraker Act established a civilian government in Puerto Rico. While its highest representatives were appointed by the federal government, Puerto Ricans were permitted to elect their own House of Representatives. It was widely believed that the island would ultimately become a state and its residents entitled to the same protections, and subject to the same requirements, as US citizens.

However, after President William McKinley was reelected in 1900, it became clear that his administration intended to pursue a different approach to Puerto Rico and other newly acquired territories. Unlike the newest territories in the continental US, which were largely populated by white settlers of European descent, Puerto Rico’s population was largely mixed race and Black. In the minds of McKinley and his successor, Teddy Roosevelt, these “rescued peoples” and “mere savages” warranted a different approach. A colonial one.

The Supreme Court Steps In: The Insular Cases

In 1901, the US Supreme Court (SCOTUS) began hearing a series of cases that would ultimately determine the political fate of Puerto Rico and other recently acquired territories—though disagreements over which specific cases are included among them persist. Now referred to as the Insular Cases, they arguably began with Downes vs. Bidwell, a pivotal dispute ostensibly about duties: were shipments from Puerto Rico to New York international or intercontinental? The decision, however, didn’t just answer that question. It established a new category of US territories—one arguably based explicitly on race.

The court’s 5-4 decision in this case ruled that Puerto Rico was “a territory appurtenant and belonging to the United States, but not a part of the United States within the revenue clauses of the Constitution.” Justice Henry Brown, writing for the Court, argued that being “inhabited by alien races,” Puerto Rico could not be governed “by Anglo-Saxon principles.” The decision went on to establish an entirely new concept for the expanding US empire: incorporated vs. unincorporated territories. Puerto Rico, being the latter, did not merit the full protections of the Constitution or the full rights of US citizenship. Instead, it was declared, cryptically, “foreign to the United States in a domestic sense” and only undefined “fundamental rights” were guaranteed.

The Downes vs. Bidwell decision laid the groundwork for the subsequent series of cases that, based on the ruling that Puerto Rico was not part of the United States, allowed the federal government to pick and choose which Constitutional protections were “fundamental” and therefore applied to the island and its residents and which did not. Another crucial decision came in Gonzales vs. Williams, a 1904 case that denied Puerto Ricans US citizenship but created an entirely new and largely undefined category for residents of these unincorporated territories: non-citizen national.

Another case the same year, Dorr vs. United States, ruled that residents of unincorporated territories had no right to a jury trial. Even after Congress bestowed citizenship on Puerto Ricans with 1917’s Jones Act, the decision in what’s generally considered the final Insular Case, 1922’s Balzac vs. Porto Rico, asserted that the island’s unincorporated status meant that not all Constitutional protections applied—creating an island of US citizens who did not have equal rights under the law. Further, unlike other citizens’ whose Constitutional rights are (ostensibly) guaranteed, basic rights and protections for Puerto Ricans have been subject to ongoing litigation and re-litigation, creating a sense of impermanence and confusion.

Life After the Insular Cases: Separate and Unequal

The piecemeal and seemingly arbitrary awarding or denial of various Constitutional rights and protections to the island of Puerto Rico and its people resulted in haphazard development throughout the 20th century. For several decades the federal government maintained direct rule over the island, appointing its governor. In 1947, Congress granted the island the right to elect its own governor and in 1952 approved Puerto Rico’s Constitution—but not without making its own revisions first.

The island was redesignated a commonwealth with a degree of political autonomy, yet it remained subject to federal laws and the US retained the authority to strike down any local or territorial laws it determined violated those federal laws. No representation in Congress was apportioned to the territory, so Puerto Ricans largely remained voiceless in the process of developing the federal laws it was subject to, as well as in selecting the President and Congressional representatives that held ultimate authority over the island. Lawsuits continued to be filed throughout the 20th century in an attempt to iron out which rights and protections of the Constitution were “fundamental” and which were not.

Even into the 21st century, rulings in court cases suggest the Fifth Amendment right to equal protection under the law, among others, is still not considered fundamental. It was determined, for example, that it was legal to impose federal payroll taxes for Social Security and Medicare but to provide said benefits at a lower level on the island. Unequal access to veterans’ benefits on the island has also been documented, with testimony provided in a recent statement by the Puerto Rico Advisory Committee to the US Commission on Civil Rights. Most recently, in a 2022 case, United States v. Vaello Madero, the SCOTUS ruled that Puerto Ricans were not eligible for the Supplemental Security Income program.

Some high-profile SCOTUS rulings have also demonstrated the lack of clarity on how far Puerto Rico’s sovereignty extends. For example, there was a period of confusion when, in the Obergefell v. Hodges case, SCOTUS ruled that bans on same-sex marriage were unconstitutional. A Puerto Rican judge argued that the basis of that ruling, the Fourteenth Amendment, did not apply on the island, and therefore neither did the decision. The subsequent series of decisions and appeals regarding the ruling highlights both issues of Puerto Rican autonomy and persistent questions about which parts of the US Constitution apply on the island.

One thing US citizenship has guaranteed Puerto Ricans is the right to live anywhere within the incorporated or unincorporated United States, with the result that several large waves of migration, particularly in the post-WWII period and since 2000, have brought millions of Puerto Ricans to the mainland since the early 20th century. Significantly, the full rights and protections of the Constitution do apply to Puerto Ricans residing in the 50 US states, though, like many other minority groups, Puerto Ricans attempting to exercise their right to vote faced discrimination, somewhat ameliorated by passage of the Voting Rights Act.

Legacy of the Insular Cases

Various legal scholars have argued for over a century that the territorial incorporation doctrine established in Downes vs. Bidwell had no Constitutional basis and that the unequal treatment of US citizens in Puerto Rico and other territories is unconstitutional. Yet, the decisions made in the Insular Cases, despite recognition by the Department of Justice that “the racist language and logic of the Insular Cases deserve no place in our law,” are still used to make rulings in contemporary court cases. In 2022, SCOTUS denied a request to consider whether the Insular Cases should be overturned.

To date, Puerto Ricans living on the island still cannot vote in federal elections, nor do they have equal access to federal support services. They are eligible for the draft and can serve in the Armed Forces but cannot vote for their president. Puerto Rico has no Senators or voting Congressional representation, only a “resident commissioner” who serves as a non-voting delegate. Various non-binding plebiscites carried out over the last several decades have found significant numbers of Puerto Ricans in favor of either independence or statehood, but ultimately only Congress can approve a change in status for the de facto colony.

Autogolpes, or self-coups, occur when a leader who came to power legitimately overthrows themselves as president in favor of an illegitimate but all-powerful leadership position unburdened by his country’s legislature or judiciary. While the best-known autogolpe in the Latin American region occurred in Peru in 1992, successful and attempted self-coups have plagued the region since independence. Is Latin America especially susceptible to autogolpes, and if so, why?

Latin America: Birthplace of the Autogolpe?

While various forms of government overthrow have abounded around the globe, the autogolpe, the name itself born in the region, seems to be especially prevalent in Latin America. The key to this phenomenon may lie in how independent governance evolved in the wake of colonization and the rise of caudillismo.

In the power vacuum left behind after Spain’s withdrawal from the continent, former military leaders often took charge, having gained influential wealth and power from the lands they were granted in reward for their service. In this period of instability, people looked to strong rulers who could protect them. These caudillos, steeped in military traditions of unquestioned authority and strict adherence to orders, led the only way they knew how: with an iron fist. Caudillos might pursue policies that were progressive or conservative, but their governance style was authoritarian.

While caudillismo ultimately fell out of favor with the global push toward participatory democracy, it had left its mark: a practice, both among politicians and the populace, of obedience to a single, strong-willed leader. This tradition was necessarily at odds with the multi-pronged structure of democratic governance, as well as the development of institutions to hold the government accountable. As a result, democracy was slow to take hold in Latin America, undermined by military coups, authoritarian power grabs, and outright dictatorship throughout the late 19th and 20th centuries.

It is perhaps no surprise, then, that when democracy did get a foothold, elected leaders struggled to function under a system designed to impede unilateral rule. While they believed in democracy enough to get themselves elected, such a belief often did not extend to their actual time in office. From here, then, the autogolpe is born.

Self-Coups Without a Name: Early Autogolpes

The term “autogolpe” did not enter the political discourse until, arguably, the late 20th century, and the majority of government overthrows in Latin America prior to that were orchestrated by the military, sometimes with the help of the CIA. Still, there are several historical events for which the term could be applied in retrospect. Mexico’s famous Santa Anna, for example, pursued a number of autogolpe-like tactics during his numerous presidencies, including the dissolution of congress in 1834 and repeal of the constitution in 1835. However, given that representative governments had arguably not been fully consolidated in these countries, these power grabs were often seen as missteps along the path to fully implementing democracy, rather than coups.

One successful autogolpe took place in Brazil in 1937, when the democratically elected  Getúlio Vargas moved to install himself as a dictator. Though his rule, begun in 1930, had already been marked by authoritarian moves like suspending civil rights and declaring successive “states of emergency” that gave the government outsized policing powers, it finally came to a head when he “convinced” congress to sign a new constitution. With that done, the upcoming presidential elections were cancelled, opposition candidates arrested, political parties banned, and the media censored. For the next eight years, the country was largely ruled by decree until the military deposed Vargas in 1945.

Uruguay also faced not one but two events that could be termed self-coups, the first in 1933. Gabriel Terra had been elected in 1931 and faced a spiraling economic situation. He proposed reforming the constitution and dissolving the agency that set economic and social policies. Deciding that these reforms weren’t coming to fruition quickly enough, Terra dissolved the general assembly and began ruling by decree, censoring the press and silencing the opposition. Although a new constitution was ultimately adopted and a constituent assembly elected, Terra won an illegal second term and continued in power until 1938.

Again in 1973, the democratically elected candidate, Juan María Bordaberry, already employing a variety of authoritarian tactics, including the suspension of civil liberties and imprisonment of opposition candidates, moved to rule as a dictator. After just one year in office, Bordaberry dissolved congress and suspended the constitution. Awarding extraordinary powers to the country’s police and military, he ruled by decree, advised only by his security council, until he was forced to resign.

Despite these earlier examples, it was ultimately the dramatic government overthrow orchestrated by Peru’s president Alberto Fujimori in 1992 that brought widespread recognition to the term autogolpe.

Fujimorazo: The Quintessential Self-Coup

The quintessential self-coup, the one that cemented the word autogolpe in the lexicon of history, was Fujimori’s overthrow of his own legitimate government in Peru. Elected two years earlier in a country plagued by terrorist attacks from the Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path) guerrilla movement, Fujimori struggled to move his agenda through the country’s legislature, where his party was in the minority. In particular, opposition parties resisted the adoption of economic austerity measures being pushed by financial institutions such as the IMF and the World Bank.

On April 5, 1992, Fujimori suspended the country’s constitution, dissolved the legislature, dismissed senior judges, and placed prominent opposition officials under house arrest. Former president Alan Garcia barely escaped arrest and sought asylum in Colombia. Fujimori quickly adopted Decree Law 25418, giving himself all legislative powers and overriding the country’s constitution.

Often overlooked in recounting the autogolpe, the country’s military had, years earlier, drawn up plans for a “traditional” military coup, the so-called Plan Verde, which Fujimori adopted to launch his self-coup. It then comes as no surprise that all branches of the military promptly signed a communiqué supporting Fujimori’s new Government of Emergency and National Reconstruction—it was their own plan all along. The military took control of the nation’s media outlets and occupied government buildings, tear-gassing a group of politicians attempting to hold a session after Fujimori’s announcement disbanding the legislature.

International response to the self-coup was underwhelming. Although the general opinion was against Fujimori’s illegal moves, Peru was not suspended from the Organization of American States for violating the Inter-American Democratic Charter. Within two weeks, the US formally recognized Fujimori as Peru’s legitimate president. Domestically, Peru’s politicians and journalists rejected the autogolpe, but the Peruvian people, though perhaps limited in their understanding of events by media blackout, largely supported Fujimori. In fact, they would go on to re-elect him in 1995 in what were broadly considered free and fair elections. The Fujimorazo was a success.

Guatemala 1993: The Failed Copycat Autogolpe

In 1993, the beleaguered president of Guatemala, Jorge Serrano Elías, who had apparently watched Fujimori’s autogolpe with great interest, attempted a similar power grab. Just two years earlier, Serrano’s accession to the presidency had marked the first peaceful and democratic transfer of power from an incumbent to the opposition in 40 years, a promising start. Yet, with the country amid a prolonged civil war and his party holding just 18 seats in the legislature, he was primed for a difficult term.

During his first two years, the country saw modest economic growth, and Serrano was able to reestablish civilian control over the military. Yet, he failed to sufficiently address the issue of human rights abuses by the military and right-wing paramilitaries and made little progress in securing peace with the leftist rebels, both key campaign promises.

Despite his party’s success in the 1993 mayoral elections, Serrano remained relatively weak politically, so his next step has long puzzled political scholars. On May 25, 1993, Serrano suspended the country’s constitution and closed congress, as well as the Supreme Court and the Constitutional Court. Like Fujimori, Serrano proclaimed himself a champion of democracy, implementing these measures in order to root out the corruption in the very institutions of governance that were preventing democracy from thriving.

Unlike Fujimori, Serrano gravely overestimated his popularity and support, particularly with the military, which had been so key in Fujimori’s takeover. Widespread opposition to his maneuvers quickly coalesced among civil society, including key players like the press and the Catholic Church, international organizations condemned his takeover, and foreign governments imposed sanctions. By June 1, Serrano had resigned and fled the country. Democracy, though temporarily thrown into chaos, prevailed.

Autogolpes in the 21st Century

Despite the widespread consolidation of democracy throughout the Western Hemisphere, autogolpes have continued into the modern era, though they have evolved over time. Rather than outright disbanding the co-institutions of government, today’s self-coup often involves illegally co-opting the legislature and judiciary, undermining and ultimately rendering impotent the other branches of government, or simply ignoring them and daring anyone to stop them. There have been quite a number over the last two decades, including another attempted self-coup in Peru in 2022.

With Hugo Chavez’s death in 2013, Nicolas Maduro, then-vice president, took over Venezuela’s presidency. Venezuela was arguably already in dictatorship territory prior to Chavez’s passing, but the vestiges of democracy remained. Even those quickly fell apart. After the opposition won control of the National Assembly in 2015, Maduro quickly moved to fill the country’s Supreme Court with allies during “lame duck” assembly sessions and oversaw the removal of opposition candidates from the new legislature due to supposed electoral irregularities, ending the opposition’s supermajority.

The packed court, cancelling a recall referendum, awarded Maduro more and more authority, until he ultimately ordered it to take over the assembly’s legislative powers in 2017. After elections, widely regarded both at home and abroad as rigged, produced a Constituent Assembly favorable to Maduro, he declared the 2015 assembly dissolved. He remains in power today.

El Salvador’s Nayib Bukele has often referred to himself as the “world’s coolest dictator,” and the dictator part, at least, is not hyperbole. Elected in 2019, his party initially didn’t have enough legislative representation to push his agenda. His response, on one occasion, was to send soldiers into the legislative assembly to intimidate it into approving a loan request. After his party won the majority of seats in 2021, Bukele moved swiftly to ensure his ongoing authority. The five judges on the country’s Constitutional Court were removed, along with the attorney general, and new, Bukele-friendly judges took over. By 2022, Bukele had invoked the country’s infamous “state of exception,” suspending civil liberties like due process and jailing tens of thousands of “gang members” in order to bring order to a country plagued by violence. Despite a constitutional ban on consecutive terms, Bukele was inaugurated for a second time in 2024.

One unifying element of 21st-century autogolpes is that they are commonly referred to as “constitutional crises” until their success or failure is determined. These two examples of modern self-coups were without a doubt successes, but a number of constitutional crises elsewhere present additional threats to the supremacy of democracy over autocracy in the hemisphere.

With no written language, much of the history of the Inca Empire was set to be lost to the Spanish conquest. Chroniclers among the Conquistadors often produced biased or simply inaccurate accounts of their vassals’ history. But an early son of the new era, born to an Inca mother and Spanish father, would capitalize on his unique mestizo heritage to produce an exhaustive history of both the Inca Empire and its conquest that remains a valuable resource in the modern day.

Who Was “El Inca” Garcilaso de la Vega?

The Spanish first made their way to the Inca Empire in 1532 and wasted no time in taking local concubines. The birth of the first mestizos in South America, people of mixed European and Indigenous heritage, soon followed. Garcilaso de la Vega was one of these early mestizos, born Gómez Suárez de Figueroa in 1539 to conquistador Sebastian Garcilaso de la Vega y Vargas and Isabel Suárez Chimpu Ocllo, niece of the last true Sapa Inca, Huayna Capac.

His father never married his mother, instead pushing her off on a commoner in order to marry a high-born Spanish lady and retain his encomienda, leaving Gomez without standing as the first son and, therefore, heir. Nevertheless, he was not abandoned by his father and was raised with knowledge of both cultures: Spanish and Inca. He spent the first 20 years of his life in Cusco, first living with both parents and then with his father when his parents married their respective spouses. As the son of an Inca “princess,” he was surrounded by not only the remnants of Inca culture, but what remained of the Inca nobility, who eagerly shared their history, traditions and mythology with him. He was also taught Quechua, the lingua franca of the Inca Empire, in addition to Spanish.

After his father’s death, de la Vega moved to Spain in 1560 to pursue his education with a modest inheritance, also adopting his father’s name. He would never return to Peru, where life for the remaining Inca nobility had become increasingly unsafe. By 1563, he had added “Inca” to his signature, a title reserved for the nobility in the Empire but one he was entitled to use. De la Vega spent time in Madrid and other Spanish cities, seeking both royal patronage and military status in his new homeland with little success, largely due to rumors of his father’s treason. He ultimately settled in Córdoba and embarked on literary pursuits while also devoting himself to the Church, becoming a minor cleric. He passed away in April 1616.

El Inca began his literary career by translating Leon Hebreo’s philosophical Dialoghi de amore into Spanish and then moved on to his own works, beginning with an account of Hernando de Soto’s conquest of Florida, La Florida del Inca. He also ultimately left behind some poetry and unpublished manuscripts. What he is best known for, however, is his lengthy and detailed two-volume history of Peru, Comentarios reales de los Incas (Royal Commentaries of the Incas), published in 1609, and Historia general del Peru (General History of Peru), published posthumously in 1617.

Comentarios reales de los Incas

Comentarios reales de los Incas in particular provided Europeans with a vivid picture of pre-conquest life in the Inca Empire based on the accounts of the remaining Inca themselves, including de la Vega’s maternal uncle, Francisco Huallpa Tupac, great uncle, Inca Cusi Huallpa, and Juan Pechuta and Chauca Rimachi, Inca generals. De la Vega wrote, “they gave me long accounts of their laws and government, comparing the new Spanish government with that of the Inca … They told me how their Kings acted in peace and in war, how they treated their vassals and were served by them … all of their mythology, their rites, ceremonies and sacrifices, their holidays and how they were celebrated … They told me everything about their republic.” While his history was second hand, subject to exaggerations or omissions like any personal account, it had the weight of coming directly from those who had experienced it themselves.

Over nine books divided into 262 chapters, based on his own memories as well as additional contributions received through letters from friends and family in Cuzco, de la Vega detailed the origins, history, and inner workings of Tawantinsuyu: how it was managed, how its laws were enforced, who played the most important roles, and how its people interacted with their gods and goddesses. His narrative presented a largely peaceful, well-managed Empire that he considered on par with ancient Rome, contrasting sharply with Spanish accounts often determined to paint Indigenous natives as barbarians. In fact, in the prologue to the volume, de la Vega makes clear that while he is not the first to write about the Empire, other writers, those with no direct connection to the Inca themselves and no knowledge of Quechua, often misunderstood and misrepresented their histories. De la Vega was not merely authoring Inca history; as  literature professor Remedios Mataix writes, “The main idea seems to be acting as an interpreter, on various levels: linguistic, intellectual, cultural, spiritual and historical.”

Historia general del Peru

The second volume of his epic, filling eight books divided into 268 chapters, detailed the conquest of the Inca Empire by the Spanish over a period of 40 years, concluding with the execution of the last leader of the Inca resistance, Túpac Amaru I, in 1572. In his words it recounts “how the Spanish won, the civil wars between the Pizarros and Almagros over the division of the territory, the rise and fall of tyrants and other events,” and describes how “our reign was transformed into vassalage.” He also, notably, sought to defend his father against charges of treason related to the inter-warring between the Conquistadors, refuting other chroniclers who claimed the senior de la Vega had joined forces with a rebel faction.

While de la Vega sought to celebrate the glories of the Spanish Empire and justify the conquest, being loyal to his father and European lineage, the second part of his history still paints a sympathetic picture of the fall of the once-great Inca Empire. El Inca refers to the story as a “tragedy” and contrasts the virtues of the Inca, who he claimed pursued diplomacy in their own conquests, with the destruction and cruelty of their Spanish conquerors.

Reception and Legacy

Comentarios reales de los Incas would eventually go on to become one of the primary sources of information about the Inca Empire based on lived experience, filled with the histories related directly to de la Vega by his royal Inca ancestors. It was considered so influential that after the doomed uprising of Túpac Amaru II in the late 18th century, the Spanish Crown outlawed de la Vega’s books in its colonies. Historia general del Peru, in contrast, was more popular contemporarily, as Europeans sought information about what was transpiring in the “New World,” and was eagerly shared by proponents of the Black Legend. Both volumes were ultimately translated into multiple languages: Italian, French, Dutch and English, among others. Numerous editions have been republished in the centuries since he first wrote.

With his royal Inca heritage and upbringing in both cultures, de la Vega was uniquely positioned to both interpret Inca history and relate it to a European audience, a fact that no doubt contributed to the popularity of his work. This is not to say, however, that de la Vega did not bring his own biases to his writing. Critics have painted de la Vega as overly credulous of his family’s stories and accused him of constructing a rosy narrative of life in the Empire that purposefully excluded or downplayed negative aspects—including human sacrifice and the Inca’s own propensity for conquering new territory. It is also worth noting that his writing, intended to garner respect for the Empire and its people, did little to change the way the Spanish approached their new subjects and territory when it was published.

As a mestizo, de la Vega grappled with his mixed identity throughout his life, and this tension is reflected in his work as well. In the introduction to a 1993 edition of Comentarios reales, María Dolores Bravo Arriaga writes, “As a mestizo, el Inca felt it imperative to integrate his two heritages. He sought not only the cultural harmony he depicted in Comentarios reales and Historia general del Peru … Garcilaso sought an internal harmony that would reconcile the divided parts of himself, his complicated identity conflict.” His work also reflects his attempts to reconcile his two conflicting beliefs: that the Spanish had a God-given right to conquer the “New World” and spread Christianity, and that the Inca were a noble people, deserving of respect, who had been mistreated during that conquest. Many readers of mestizo heritage have seen themselves and their struggles represented in de la Vega’s work.

Largely acknowledged as the first literary work of the Americas, today historians also consider de la Vega’s history of Peru to be one of the most important, despite ongoing debates over its accuracy. De la Vega himself has been described as the Americas’ “first mestizo of universal renown and influence” and the “prince of New World writers.”

While people from the United States find using the term “America” to refer to their country natural and logical, many outside the country view this usage as discriminatory or imperialist. Some argue that using “America” to refer to the US is correct because it is part of the country’s official name; others believe that “America” should include all the peoples of the American continent. This debate has arisen throughout US history, during which various names were proposed and used to pursue independence and later imperial interests.

Useful Terms

America: A Geographic and Geological Primer

Although the modern understanding of the term “continent” might seem a relatively stable geographical concept, its definition is subject to some debate. From a geographical and geological perspective, continents are continuous masses of land, preferably separated by water and sometimes corresponding to tectonic plates. However, there are different continental models composed of various numbers of continents, which have been developed for specific cultural and historical reasons. For instance, in English-speaking countries, kids are taught that there are seven continents and that America is divided into North America and South America.

Conversely, in Latin American countries as well as European countries where Latin-descendant languages are spoken (e.g., French, Portuguese, Italian, Spanish), a six-continent model is more common. This model considers America a singular extension of mass (ignoring man-made divisions such as the Panama Canal). Moreover, in Latin American countries, the American continent is divided into three subregions: North America, Central America (sometimes including the Caribbean islands), and South America.

This is not only true in the Western hemisphere. Another example of such differing perspectives is seen in models defining Europe and Asia as a single continent (Eurasia) vs. others defining them as separate continents. Moreover, different international entities might use different models; for instance, the Olympic Games use a five-continent model, whereas the United Nations divides countries into six different continental regions.

Returning to the American continent, geologically, it is divided into two sections corresponding to two different geological plates: the North American and South American. This has been identified as one of the reasons the region is taught as a composition of two distinct continents in English-speaking countries. In contrast, from a cultural and historical perspective, the name America was given to the entire continent in the 16th century. The name was popularized in Europe by German cartographer Martin Waldseemüller, who created a world map called Universalis Cosmographia (Universal Cosmography), where he used the word to refer to the “new” lands that Amerigo Vespucci had “discovered” in 1502 (in contrast to Christopher Columbus, who thought that the lands he stumbled upon were part of India or the “West Indies”). Waldseemüller used the feminine variation of the name to continue the tradition of naming continents with female names in Latin-descendant languages: Europa, Asia, or Africa.

This new information about the existence of an unknown continent produced a great “cosmographic shock” in Europe. European geographers took on an important role as they, by drawing new maps, shaped a world divided into sections and created the idea of continents. America was then “invented,” and the world was reorganized not only geographically but also culturally.

History of the Names “America” and “United States of America”

At first glance, the name “United States of America” appears to simply be a literal description: a union of different states in a defined region of the American continent. However, one of the most common terms people in or from this region use to refer to their country is “America.” This begs the question: why do people call this single country “America” if this is also the name given to the entire continent? It is easy to recognize that using “America” to refer to a single country and “American” to refer to only the people who live or were born in the US ignores the 600 million other people living in this same region but outside that one country—who have many different nationalities and cultures.

Contrary to modern usage, the United States was not always recognized as just “America.” The name “United States of America” first appeared in the first draft of the Articles of Confederation on July 8, 1776, and was later formalized in the 1787 Constitution. It replaced the name “United Colonies,” which was how the US was referred to at that time. The phrase “United States of America” was used descriptively to refer to a geographical and political union of different states within the American continent and not as a proper noun, in contrast with other countries in the region after gaining independence, like Mexico or Venezuela. A more recent historical discovery indicates that the phrase “United States of America” was first coined by an anonymous writer in the Virginia Gazettes, a newspaper published in Williamsburg that documented the unfolding of the US Revolution.

In a recent article entitled “When did the US start calling itself “America,” anyway?” Daniel Immerwahr, an associate professor at Northwestern University, explains the historical development of how and why the name “America” gained relevance in the US. After the country was officially named the United States of America, physician and naturalist Samuel Latham Mitchill complained about the struggles of using the name to refer to its nationals: “United States men?” He proposed Fredonia as a more universal term, while poet Philip Freneau proposed Columbia. This last name gained relevance in the republic as a symbolic separation from the British, from whom they had won independence in 1776. Many institutions then adopted the name to historically align with the independence movements that happened between 1770 and 1836 in other countries of the continent, especially Gran Colombia (Great Colombia), which became a political entity independent from Spanish rule in 1810. An example of this political and linguistic shift is how Columbia University changed its name after the US War of Independence in 1787.

Paradoxically, although the US was sympathetic towards the independence and sovereignty of its neighboring countries in the 18th century, by the early 20th century, the US had annexed Hawaii, the Philippines, Puerto Rico, and some Pacific islands after the war against the Spanish in 1898. The political alignment of the US then shifted toward becoming an imperial power, and the process of territorial expansion pushed the country to find a new name that illustrated the union of states and colonies more effectively. The name “America” gained popularity and was first legitimized by Theodore Roosevelt while giving a speech about their victory against the Spanish.

US residents had been called “Americans” since the 18th century when colonists born or settled in what was then the US territories used the word to distinguish themselves from the British. Moreover, the British spread the term widely, calling their enemies “Americans. Throughout the 20th century, the US signed treaties that referred to themselves as “Americans,” consolidating the meaning in the international landscape.

Opposing View: Hearing From the Other Americans

The wide use of the word “America” to refer only to the US has greatly influenced different sociopolitical debates. The appropriation of the word has been interpreted by some scholars as an imperialist tendency that nationalizes the name of a continent and excludes many other people from their concept of what “American” means and who “Americans” are. This appropriation extends to the United Nations, where US citizens are often called Americans, and to the Diccionario de la Real Academia Española RAE (Royal Spanish Academy Dictionary), where one of the definitions of Americano is “people from the US” and the definition of Americanizado (Americanized), “becoming something related to the US.” Even in other languages and countries, the words “America” and “American” are associated solely with the US, leaving little room for other spaces and communities also inhabiting the American continent.

However, claims about the misuse of the term “America” to refer to only the US aren’t new; they can be traced back to writer James Law, who in 1903 wrote that the people from the US had no right to use the title “America” to refer solely to themselves, as this was unfair to Canadians and Mexicans. He, in turn, proposed the word “Usonian.” However, it is within the Latin American context that the term “American” has been most widely contested, as it has been identified with historical US interests in imperialist expansion and military and economic intervention in different Latin American and Caribbean countries. Moreover, today, the association of the US with “America” has frequently been used with nationalistic, xenophobic, racist, and anti-immigrant intent: for instance, Ronald Reagan’s motto, later appropriated by Donald Trump, “Make America Great Again,” and right-wing aligned claims such as “Make America One Again” or “America for Americans.”

Some have proposed using “US American” or “United Statian” as possible responses to this conflict. The first concept is more descriptive and refers to the people born in the US. While perhaps it doesn’t roll off the tongue, it is a proper noun found in the Merriam-Webster dictionary as a legitimate way to “refer to a native or inhabitant of the United States.”

If no effort is made to advocate for more accurate and culturally and historically sensitive terms to refer to the people in the US, there will always be confusion over having a term used to refer to both a single country and the entire continent. Furthering this confusion, the US is increasingly becoming a multicultural country that demands the recognition of people migrating from abroad and who, if coming from Canada, Latin America, or the Caribbean islands, could rightfully be considered “Americans” as well.

Bibliography

Lewis, M. W., & Wigen, K. (1997). The myth of continents: A critique of metageography. Univ of California Press.

Textile traditions remain in many pockets of the Andes, often combining ancient techniques with innovations introduced by the Spanish colonizers. While these textiles are most often woven using various styles of looms, on one tiny island surrounded by the waters of Lake Titicaca, the islanders produce hand-knit hats that are just as renowned as the region’s fine woven shawls and scarves. And they’re all made by men.

History: Intika to Taquile

Taquile sits inside Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world, nearly 13,000 feet above sea level. The island, just a few miles long and not even two miles wide, has been inhabited for over 1,000 years. Like the other pre-Inca cultures of the Andes, Taquile’s earliest residents farmed potatoes, corn, and quinoa and dabbled in textiles and ceramics. It was likely part of the Aymara polity, though what language was originally spoken is unclear.

As the Inca Empire expanded in the 15th century, Taquile Island was incorporated, but its inhabitants were permitted to retain much of their own culture and traditions. While the Inca made inroads in improving the island’s infrastructure—some ruins of which are still visible today—and shared the secrets of terrace farming, the everyday lives of the island’s inhabitants likely remained relatively unchanged. The Inca policy of resettling loyal citizens in newly conquered lands, mitma, likely led to the adoption of Quechua as the dominant language, which remains true today.

The same cannot be said of the Spanish colonizers, who attempted to impose Western dress, cultural practices, and political systems on the island. The encomienda system was instituted, forcing laborers to abandon their communal style of living in order to produce for the crown.

Even the name of the island was changed. It’s believed that prior to colonization, the Quechua name Intika was used for the island; the name Taquile comes from the Spaniard who purchased the land, Pedro González de Taquila. Yet, due to their isolation, the island’s inhabitants were still able to retain more of their traditions and customs than other groups.

Today, Taquile is home to approximately 2,200 people and remains accessible only by boat; visitors can take a 2.5-hour ride from the nearest city, Puno. Though its residents speak primarily Quechua, some have learned Spanish. There is little electricity or running water. Its residents still practice the community-based governance and economy of the original inhabitants. Notably, while Western dress has been adopted even in some more remote communities in the Andes, the people of Taquile largely continue to wear their traditional attire, combining Spanish peasant-style clothes with Indigenous garments—which they’ve been making for themselves for centuries.

Textile Traditions From Ancient to Modern

Two types of textile traditions are practiced on the island, and like so much of its history, reflect both its ancient roots and the imposition of Western culture: from the ancient peoples of the land, weaving, and from the colonizers, knitting. Both types of textiles use yarns spun, primarily by women, though some men also spin, on spindles and dyed with natural local dyes. Camelid fibers, particularly alpaca, used in the pre-colonial era, are still used. Still, sheep’s wool, introduced by the Spanish, and even synthetic fibers have also made their way into textile production.

Weaving, an ancient tradition at least 12,000 years old, occupies both men and women on Taquile island, though what and how they weave differs. Women primarily use the staked ground loom the island’s people have been using since before the conquest. This style of weaving employs finer spun yarns to produce finer fabric for chumpis (traditional belts), chuspas (bags for carrying coca leaf), and special occasion garments. In contrast, the men use treadle looms introduced by the Spanish to produce coarser fabric with heavier yarns, largely for everyday wear.

Knitting, dating back “just” 1,500 years or so, is a much more recent innovation in textile production. Unlike weaving, it’s believed that knitting did not develop independently in various cultures but largely originated in the Middle East, making its way to Europe by the 13th century. The technique was introduced to the “new world” by the Spanish colonizers.

Knitting on Taquile is reserved almost exclusively for colorful hats and one style of hat in particular that any visitor to the Andes will recognize: the ch’ullu or chullo. Ubiquitous among tourists, chullos are intricate knit caps with earflaps and often tassels or pom poms, with distinctive motifs knit into them using a stranding technique: one color is used to knit a stitch while the unused color is carried along the wrong side until it needs to be used again. This creates a warm double layer of fabric that is particularly helpful in cold climates. Though the earflap hat is perhaps the most well-known, on Taquile, this style is actually primarily reserved for the elder leaders; younger men’s hats don’t have earflaps.

The knitting technique used, in which the knitter works from the wrong side of the fabric and the yarn is tensioned around the back of the neck, sometimes called Portuguese knitting, was first introduced by the Spanish and remains most prevalent among hand knitters in South America today. Taquile’s knitters work at an extremely fine gauge, uncommon by modern hand knitting standards, as tight as 22 stitches per inch of fabric—though items produced for tourists are often worked more loosely. Also uncommon: the knitters are all men.

Knitting and Masculinity

Far from the stereotypical “grandma in a rocking chair” depiction that the word “knitting” often conjures up, Taquile’s knitters can often be found stitching away while walking its narrow stone streets or gathering in public areas. Knitting has long been considered “women’s work” in the Western world. Though at one time exclusive guilds employed only men to knit garments for elites, for the last several hundred years, it has been largely associated with older women and domestic work. Yet, the exact opposite is true on Taquile: only the men knit; not as a hobby, but as a way of life. Perhaps even more unique, it is their knitting skill that helps to define their place in the world.

Beginning at age 8, male children are taught to knit the iconic chullo by their fathers or other male relatives and will go on to knit many throughout their lives. They practice for years to be able to produce hats knit so tightly they can hold water, sometimes using cactus spines or bicycle spokes as needles. They also learn the traditional and family motifs that decorate the hats; while modern hand knitters use charts, these designs are worked from memory and handed down through generations, often incorporating plants and animals native to the island.

The tight gauge at which their hats are worked also allows for the creation of detailed and intricate images, and together, these two elements result in hats that can take months to knit. With so much care taken, it’s no wonder the hats hold so much meaning. The colors used in the hat can reflect the wearer’s marital status (white for single men, red for married), and the position of the long crown—pointed to the left, right, or back—is sometimes used to indicate the wearer’s mood!

Knitting can even be the catalyst for starting a family. The island’s women judge their potential mates by their knitting prowess, as demonstrated in their hats. When courting, a man may present a handknit hat to his potential father-in-law so he can see for himself that it’s watertight. If his work is approved, the wedding can go forward. Then for his wedding, a man will knit himself a special new hat, a pintay, which his father-in-law will present to him on the big day. New hats are also knit to mark other special occasions, particularly as men age and occupy new positions of leadership or status on the island. As their families grow, the men knit caps for their children as well—baby caps feature a distinctive ruffle around the brim.

While women weave the distinctive traditional chumpis, incorporating their own hair into special belts for their new husbands to commemorate their weddings, do the island’s men also knit for their wives? It would seem the answer is no; women do not wear hats, but rather a woven black or dark navy head covering to indicate they are married.

Preserving Taquile’s Cultural Heritage

In 2008, Taquile was added to UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Though it remained relatively isolated until the mid-20th century, today, Taquile’s economy relies heavily on tourism, as well as the sale of its famous textiles. Despite the increasing number of tourists, islanders have sought to maintain their traditional lifestyle. Its people still live by the ancient Inca moral code: ama sua, ama llulla, ama quella, meaning “don’t steal, don’t lie, don’t be lazy.”

Visitors who choose to stay overnight are housed with families rather than in hotels. They arrive by motorboat, but once on the island, they get around on foot—there are no cars. Solar panels provide limited electricity for tourists to recharge their cell phones and the like, but most homes still have none. However, the demands of the tourist industry and increasing interest in these textiles have put additional strain on the island’s resources, with the result that some traditions are being replaced with modern conveniences. For example, though many still spin yarn by hand, commercial yarns have also begun to be used, including synthetics. Several knitting machines have also made their way to the island.

In 2015, Peru’s Ministry of Culture published a book, Traditional Textiles of Taquile, commemorating the island’s ancient textile traditions and creating an organized record of the different styles of traditional garments produced. In addition, a school has been founded to teach traditional weaving methods in order to both preserve cultural traditions and help meet the demand for these unique, high-quality textiles.

The tragedy of Armero was one of the most horrific natural disasters witnessed in Colombia’s history. Occurring almost 40 years ago, the tragedy was caused by the eruption of the Nevado del Ruiz Volcano in the central Andes Cordillera. The deadly eruption happened on November 13, 1985, and triggered the melting of lahars that buried an entire nearby village, Armero, killing most of its residents. Although the volcano had been silent for over 70 years, it had shown signs of possible eruption for several months before the tragedy.

Where Is Armero?

Armero was the third-largest urban center in Tolima, Colombia. It was 48 km (30 m) away from the Nevado del Ruiz volcano and was an important agricultural center known for its rice production.

Volcanic activity in the region was not uncommon. It has been registered since the 16th century, with activity peaks during the 19th century. After the explosion of Mount Pelée in 1902 on the French island of Martinique, Nevado del Ruiz’s eruption is considered the second-largest volcanic event of the 20th century.

Nevado del Ruiz Volcano

This snowy volcano is located in the northern part of the Andes volcanic belt between Tolima and Caldas in Colombia. More specifically, it is part of a national park, the Parque Nacional de los Nevados (Snowy Mountains National Park), which lies on the Pacific Ring of Fire.

The volcano has remained active since the Pleistocene. Typical eruptions include the expulsion of pyroclastic flows that can melt surrounding glacier ice and produce lahars, or volcanic mudflows. The volcano’s ice cover is an important potable water resource for nearby villages. However, due to climate change, it has been decreasing in recent years.

Volcanic activity and eruption events have been documented at Nevado del Ruiz since the 16th century, and especially during the 19th century. Because the last major eruption had happened 140 years before the day of this tragic event, for the locals, it was easy to ignore the potential threat. Moreover, smoke from the volcano had rarely been seen as a cause for alarm by nearby populations. Following the 1985 explosion, the most recent eruption happened in 2012, with the volcano expelling only gases and ash.

Although people had been aware of Nevado del Ruiz’s volcanic activity since early November 1984, geologists had identified increasing seismic activity in the region and a more visible expulsion of smoke from the different volcanic chimneys. Direct contact between magma and water produced an explosion on September 11 of the same year, leading local authorities to prepare evacuation plans and produce risk maps published in different national newspapers. Unfortunately, this information did not reach Armero’s population effectively.

One Year Later: The Night of November 13

At 3 p.m. on November 13, 1985, columns of ash were expelled from the volcano. By 7 p.m., ash rain had started to fall over the village. The director of the Colombian civil defense was informed about the peculiar events and issued recommendations to evacuate nearby villages. Some survivors have shared that the village mayor, informed of the imminent risk of eruption, walked the streets warning the people. Despite his efforts to save Armeros’ people, other authorities recommended that the people remain calm and return to their houses. At the same time, the Colombian Red Cross started organizing evacuation plans in nearby villages. At 9:09 p.m., the volcano erupted, throwing pyroclasts 30 km (19 mi) into the atmosphere. After the explosion, the Colombian National Geological Service recommended immediate evacuation. However, due to storms, these warnings never reached Armero’s authorities.

The volcano’s explosion melted 2% of the mountain’s glaciers, producing lahars that traveled down the mountain through descending river courses, reaching speeds up to 60 km (37 mi) per hour. Lahars mix mud, debris, and water. Before hitting the village, the main lahar traveled through the Lagunillas River, which neighbored Armero.

Around 11:30 p.m., the first lahar reached the village, followed by the arrival of 350 million cubic meters of mud mixed with branches and rocks that reached 30 meters (98 ft) in depth. Almost instantaneously, nearly the entire village was submerged, destroyed below the mudflow. The mud crushed buildings and people and smothered many.

Absent warnings from the government, and due to the timing, with many already sleeping, 20,000 people died, corresponding to around 94% of Armero’s population. After the mud had covered the village and destroyed connecting bridges and roads, it was almost impossible for the emergency services to reach the people. Twelve hours after the event, the first emergency services could finally reach the survivors.

The Next Day: Desolation

The next day, emergency trucks came to begin removing bodies that were buried and stuck between rubble, rocks, and trees. Some of them were cremated. The total toll of affected people reached 230,000, and initial damages were calculated to be approximately USD $218 million. Because the lahars had destroyed the local hospital, wounded people were moved to hospitals in nearby urban areas, most of them forever displaced by the tragedy and separated from their families.

Playing Politics: Delayed Response

After the flooding, recovery operations for the victims were both slow and poor. Colombia’s political landscape was unstable, and the government was directing its attention to other issues. One week before the event, the Colombian Palace of Justice had been occupied by the M19 guerilla movement, which was garnering most of the country’s attention. At the international level, the eruption of Nevado Del Ruiz happened only two months after an 8.1 magnitude earthquake struck Mexico City, which limited the number of supplies sent by the international parties.

Despite the unstable landscape, less than a year after the catastrophe, on July 7, 1986, Pope John Paul II visited the site as part of his six-day tour in Colombia. There, the pope declared the terrain a holy ground. A high cross penetrated the now-dried mud, where the pope knelt and prayed.

Omayra Sánchez, Face of a Tragedy

Omayra Sánchez was a 13-year-old girl who was trapped in the mud for 60 hours before she passed away. She became the symbol of the Armero tragedy because of her story of resilience and hope amid her unavoidable fate. After the flooding, her legs had been trapped in the rubble. A rescue team of divers tried to free her from the debris trapping her, only to realize that the arms of her aunt were holding her tightly from the depths of the water. Efforts to rescue her were broadcast on national television, and a picture of her taken by journalist Frank Fournier was named the photo of the year by World Press Photo of the Year in 1986.

In the subsequent years, Omayra became a source of inspiration for literature and music, in the works of writers such as German Santa María Barragán and Isabel Allende. Her figure also attracted worshipers, who have been trying to secure her beatification. Today, the site of her passing has become a place of pilgrimage and offerings for many who still commemorate and believe in her.

Armero Today

Driving between the cities of Ibagué and Honda, travelers pass by what is left of the village: to the right, abandoned houses half-buried, and to the left, half of a hospital still popping out from the ground. The site is visited by many people who come either as tourists or pilgrims to the sacred site for the curiosity of worship.

Every year, on November 13th, more visitors gather, and different commemorative activities occur. Some are survivors. Others are descendants of the victims. As an act of remembrance, the Colombian Army throws rose petals from helicopters while masses are celebrated on the holy ground. Five kilometers away, a new village called Armero-Guayabal was built to house thousands of survivors. After the tragedy, many orphaned children were lost; some were even kidnapped. However, despite some being rescued, tracking adoptions is basically impossible because of the lack of a functional registry system.

Francisco González, one of the survivors, lost his father and brother on the day of the event and founded an organization called Armando Armero (Building Armero). This institution is currently fighting alongside other survivors to find the lost children who, in some cases, were adopted by foreign families. They have filed a complaint against the Instituto Colombiano de Bienestar Familiar (Colombian Institute for Family Well-Being), which, in 2021, declared that it did not have official records about the protocols used for rescuing and protecting the young survivors.

Lessons Learned

The incredible number of deaths in Armero was caused, in significant part, by misinformation and the inability of mass media to deliver an effective warning message. Geological services could not communicate in a timely fashion with local emergency services in Armero, while local people ignored the signs of imminent danger, beginning with the ash rain that fell that afternoon.

In 1985, Colombia did not have the proper live geological measurement equipment. However, after the Armero tragedy, different geological monitoring services and technologies in Colombia were improved and developed, and today cover 25 active volcanic zones out of 50 present in the nation’s territory. In 1988, Colombia created the Sistema Nacional para la Prevención y Atención a Desastres—SNPAD (National System for Disaster Prevention and Response), and in 2012, the Sistema Nacional de Gestión de Riesgo de Desastres—SNGRD (National Disaster Risk Management System). These, together with the Servicio Geológico Colombiano—SGC (National Geological Service), are today the institutions that work together to safeguard vulnerable communities in high-risk disaster zones. Armero also testified to the importance of an effective preventive organization that takes into consideration Colombia’s complex geological characteristics, which must entail collaboration between government and scientific institutions.

The Amero tragedy is a reminder of the devastation volcanic eruptions can have on nearby urban and rural areas and how preparedness is a vital tool to mitigate such risks. In the case of Armero, miscommunication and misinformation exacerbated the loss of lives, which had a long-lasting social impact on the country, especially for the survivors. Lastly, the search for the young survivors of the tragedy reflects how important it is to have effective rescue and protection protocols in place in the aftermath of disasters.

The Spanish conquest of the Americas is known to have changed world history, marking the transition from the Middle Ages to modern times. It allowed the encounter of two worlds separated for millennia. However, like almost any imperial and colonial project, it was accompanied by violence, exploitation, and oppression. Spain’s true role in this context has been contested by many, some denouncing horrors committed while others defend against this supposedly exaggerated history that served propagandistic purposes. The truth of the Black Legend may fall somewhere in the middle.

The Birth and Development of the Black Legend

The “Black Legend” encompasses a collection of accusations against the Spanish Empire and its people, particularly regarding its colonial activities in the Americas. Its historical origins are in Spain’s wars against the Dutch and the English during the 16th and 17th centuries. During this time, Protestant propaganda used events denounced during the Spanish colonization of the Americas to demonize the empire and the Catholic Church. These accusations often, as argued from the Spanish perspective, exaggerated the allegedly violent and horrific interactions between the conquistadors and Indigenous communities.

The starting point of this propaganda is widely agreed to be the work of Spanish Dominican friar Bartolomé de las Casas, who in 1552 published A Brief Account of the Destruction of the Indies, where he reported the violence being carried out. De las Casas’ father had participated in Christopher Columbus’ trips, and in 1502 he himself arrived in the Antilles. He visited several enclaves of Spanish expansion and denounced the abuses being committed against the Indians. His account reached the emperor Charles V, who, after reading it, promulgated additional laws designed to protect native peoples, 1542’s New Laws of the Indies for the Good Treatment and Preservation of Indians.

One of the most important contributions of this new legal framework was the prohibition of enslavement by instituting the encomienda system. This system consisted of Indigenous peoples exchanging labor for protection from Spanish colonizers. Although intended to give Spanish imperialism a more humane veneer, the change caused discomfort among Spanish colonists, as some saw it as a threat to the profit they were acquiring from Indigenous labor. Other colonists, such as Spanish jurist Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda, argued that Indians were servants by nature.

Although it is difficult to confirm that de las Casas’ account was accurate, his denouncements were indeed used as Protestant propaganda against Catholicism and the Spanish Empire, which led to a change in the perception of Spain in Europe. By the 18th century, Italian Illustration used Spain as an example of despotic imperialism and abusive religious practices. By the 19th century, American nations had become independent from colonial European powers, and the previous years were seen as periods of oppression, particularly under the Spanish political system of viceroyalties.

The Black Legend gained more popularity in the late 19th century, when Spain lost Cuba and the Philippines to the United States. It was especially popularized by one of its most relevant critics and detractors, the conservative Spanish Crown official, historian, and sociologist Julián de Juderías, who claimed that the history of Spain in foreign countries had been perceived through the lenses of exaggeration and manipulation, specifically the horrors committed during the Spanish Inquisition and the Spanish Conquest of America.

A book comprising this work called La Leyenda Negra y la verdad histórica (The Black Legend and Historical Truth), published in 1914 and re-edited several times, gave way to numerous critiques of Spanish history and intense responses from Latin American historians, sociologists, and anthropologists. The latter’s response has been, in part, because Spanish academics have long used pro-Spain rhetoric to deny the oppression and violence the Empire committed in Indigenous Latin American lands during the colonial period.

The Debate Gains Momentum

Spain’s colonial influence in the Americas between the 16th and 18th centuries has become a hot topic in recent years, becoming a contentious political issue between Latin American countries and Spain. More specifically, in 2019, Mexico’s then-president, Andrés Manuel López Obrador (popularly called AMLO), asked the Spanish state to apologize and recognize publicly the horrors and abuses committed during colonial times against the native Indigenous communities of Mexico. This demand led to an ongoing diplomatic crisis between the two countries; the king of Spain, Felipe VI, who never responded to AMLO’s formal request, was not invited to the 2024 presidential inauguration of Mexico’s first female president, Claudia Sheinbaum. Consequently, neither the king nor the president of Spain, Pedro Sanchez, attended the event.

Apologies offered by ex-colonial powers to colonized countries are not new or rare: Germany apologized to Tanzania for colonial violence carried out in 1907; Belgium to the Republic of Congo for the exploitation, domination, and inequality that marked its colonization; The Netherlands to the former colonies impacted by slavery; Portugal for its role in the transatlantic slave trade; and the United Kingdom to the Kenyan Mau Mau people. The question remains, then: why has it been so difficult for contemporary Spain to acknowledge its colonial past and the negative impact it had on other countries that in many ways, still suffer from the echoes of the 16th and 17th centuries?

The Consequences of Spain’s Expansion in the Americas

Although the Black Legend’s use for propaganda is well documented, it does not twist historical realities too much. Because of Spanish expansion in the Americas, most of the Indigenous population was extinguished, up to 90%. People vanished rapidly, not only because of the harsh treatment Spain employed while imposing its foreign social and economic systems and religion, involving executions, mutilations, and violations (Elcofidencial, 2013), but also because of the diseases the Spanish brought with them, such as smallpox, chicken pox, bubonic plague, malaria, and typhus. The disappearance of Indigenous groups was described in detail by Fray Bernardino de Sahagun, a Franciscan missionary who arrived in Mexico in 1529 and wrote an encyclopedic work about central Mexico called The Florentine Codex, also known as the History of the Things of New Spain.

Detractors of the Black Legend argue that no empire cared more for the protection of Indigenous communities who were being colonized than Spain. However, although historical legal evidence may support this argument, including the aforementioned New Laws, the Spanish crown inarguably sought expansion. To achieve this goal, Spain established settlements through land dispossession, prohibited any expression of Indigenous cultures, and created a market trade based on the extraction and exploitation of natural resources. These events had long-lasting negative consequences that shaped Latin American societies through to the present.

Spain’s colonial expansion initiated the erasure of not only Indigenous people but their beliefs and world views. Crosses were planted on native sites of worship and offerings. Catholicism became the dominant religion that prohibited and punished any expression of Indigenous belief, as it was seen as an expression of barbarism or demon worship. As a result, Indigenous communities lost their capacity to sustain their societies at the deepest level of faith and belief, which made them vulnerable and easily co-opted by Spain’s foreign societal structures.

Spain’s establishment of a social structure based on race and caste in the Americas produced deep divisions between communities. While Indigenous groups were disappearing, it is estimated that almost 2 million Spaniards settled in the Americas. At the same time, 1.5 million African slaves were introduced to replace the Indigenous people dying of disease and maltreatment. During the colonial period, different ethnicities would mix, producing diverse ethnic combinations. The system of castes had as its primary objective the classification of these racial variations, stratifying people in a hierarchical social system, where white Spanish would be at the top and Indigenous and Black communities at the bottom.

This system, although it has received some recent skepticism as a historical fact, reflects a discriminatory society that shaped still-present racial divisions in different American countries, where many more privileged sectors of society still discriminate against Black and Indigenous communities.

In economic terms, the relationship between American lands and the Spanish crown was one based on labor and land exploitation. Through the encomienda, Spain was able to dominate Indigenous territory, forcing Indigenous people to become its workforce. Although the encomienda was distinct from outright slavery, it worked comparably: Indigenous people were tasked with the most demanding work and were also traded among merchants and travelers to provide transportation.

Alongside this system, trade between Spain and the American settlements incorporated many forms of looting and exploitation of precious minerals and natural resources that many impoverished merchants saw as an opportunity to gain more social and economic power. This led in many cases to dispossession of native lands and resources.

The Debate Continues (But Reality Remains)

Returning to an earlier point of contention, after the Mexican government asked Spain to apologize for the abuses committed during Spain’s colonial period, many Spanish academics retaliated intensely, offering aggressive counterarguments that sometimes mix moralist opinions with historical revisions. These range from arguing that Spain cannot apologize to Mexico because it did not exist as a state in the 16th century, to arguing that the phenomenon of war and dispossession was common at that time. Perhaps one of the most painful arguments is that, if Latin American people are to ask anyone to apologize, it is their own ancestors, as they are the descendants of the colonizers who arrived in the Americas and committed the alleged crimes.

Many of these academics refuse to acknowledge that, regardless of any historical minutia supporting an alleged altruist attitude from the Spanish crown, its uninvited presence on the American continent broke apart pre-Columbian societies, cultures, and belief systems. This reality is easier to perceive from inside countries in Latin America and the Caribbean, where historians and anthropologists have proven that unequal modern societies are the result of centuries of racial and economic divisions and exploitation that originated in the 16th century. Moreover, in terms of modern geopolitics, historical and anthropological research has shown that ex-colonial powers owe their current economic wealth and power to, precisely, the colonized lands they exploited for resources and labor. As an act of historical reparation and accountability, and in line with its neighboring countries who have already done so, an apology from Spain would be appropriate.