Tropes and Fictions in Iberian Encounters

As the Portuguese began their conquest of the Caribbean, West Africa, and Brazil during the 16th century, common narratives emerged regarding the nature of Indigenous and African communities, as well as the justification and mission of Portuguese explorers in their accounts, both fact and fiction. The motivations for Iberian conquest in the New World and Africa mirrored many stereotypes and expectations of Indigenous societies across voyager accounts. By examining accounts of early encounters with these communities, common threads of Catholic religious responsibility and an “unintellectual” or “misguided” image of Indigenous communities emerge. Through these depictions of a religious, societal, and economic justification to colonize, early Iberian explorers across new lands were able to establish a narrative of moral superiority to fuel their conquest.

The Portuguese justified their territorial expansion through the Catholic mission to spread Christianity. However, multiple accounts reveal that economic and political motives often underpinned Iberian exploration, despite being framed as primarily spiritual. In the conquest of West Africa, particularly in Equatorial Guinea and Ghana, economic motives worked hand in hand with religious sentiments as Portuguese partnerships pre-conquest “targeted West African gold”, fueled by “the ideological fervor of the crusades” (Konadu xxxiii). Growing financial gains for the Portuguese mean that, with time, “Gold came to matter more than the rhetoric of saving souls (Konadu xxxiv). João de Barros, a Portuguese chronicler from the mid-1400s, suggested the need to free Africans of their “rude and barbarian” behavior which is possible through “the truth” of Christian belief (Barros 1). He notes that after Africans were told the truth of Christianity and received benefits in their “souls” and “reasoning, they became so tame” that they sold Portuguese goods back to the kingdom which “were given to them in exchange for souls, who came to receive salvation rather than captivity” (Barros 1). In these descriptions, it is clear that connotations of bestowing faith in God onto African communities necessitated trade and ownership. Africans having to metaphorically trade their souls for Portuguese goods ties traditions and tropes of spiritual salvation to the Portuguese’s concretely defined economic goals. Many negatives portrayal of Africans, especially in the Mina territory, are justified with the prospect of God’s grace, such as Duarte Pereira (a Portuguese explorer)’s description of Africans being “naked from the waist up”, “uncircumcised and heathen”, and concluding with “but, God willing, they will soon become Christians” (Pereira 1). While these accounts show a clear loyalty to Christian values and beliefs, they often surround detailed explanations of the economic prospects of the region. For example, Pereira’s description of Africans follows an account of a mine yielding “20,000 doubloons or more”, and the remainder of the text focuses on rumors of gold in the Hanta region, mentioning Christianity primarily when giving accounts of African communities with gold (Pereira 1). By intertwining morality with economic development, Iberian explorers on the African Gold Coast used Christianity to assert moral superiority and justify economic control. The Romanus Pontifex, a papal bull issued by Nicholas V of Portugal, gave the Portuguese the right to slavery in Africa to exercise Christianity’s moral right to be “published, extolled, and revered throughout the whole world” (Davenport 1). The document’s language implies deeply economic motives for this, especially with regards to other groups competing for African resources, such as African Muslims. For example, there is a suggestion made to find pockets of society “entirely free from the infection by the sect of the most impious Mahomet [Prophet Muhammad]”, followed by an glorification of the economic possessions of Portuguese explorers who have “very many harbors, islands, and seas”, as well as ownership of people, with “many Guineaman and other [redacted]” enslaved “by force” or “by lawful contract of purchase” (Davenport 2). The Portuguese papacy’s view that deviant spiritual groups needed to be subdued through economic control highlights the link between colonial Christianity and economics. While framed as a religious mission, the project was largely implemented via economy, especially given the stress on slavery and regional resources. Another clear example of this economic agenda is the order to “capture, vanquish and subdue all Saracens [primarily Muslims] and pagans whatsoever,” seize their goods, and “reduce their persons to perpetual slavery” (Davenport 3). This highlights not only the drive to eliminate religious deviance but also the push to “convert them to his and their use and profit,” underscoring the deeply economic nature of the Iberian Christian narrative in practice. A contradiction also materializes, as the Portuguese government does encourage explorers to “enter into any contracts” and “transact business” with “Sacarens and infidels”, as long as they bring economic gains to the Christians, and do not empower enemies enough to overthrow them (Davenport 4). As a result, economic success ultimately took precedence over spiritual incompatibility. The distinction between religious salvation and economic trade becomes increasingly blurred, casting doubt on the true religious convictions of those involved. This perspective reframes the notion of religious enlightenment as a tool for superiority—both moral and economic—within the broader framework of Portuguese expansion.

This pattern of economic undertones continues in other Portuguese colonial projects, especially on the coasts of Brazil and the Caribbean. In Pero Vaz de Caminha (an early explorer of Brazil)’s letter to King Manuel of Portugal, he outlines the process of understanding the Indigenous peoples, paying particular attention to economic ownership and its validation through religious duties. Multiple judgements of Indigenous people reflect a desire to impose Christian values, such as people who refused to “cover their privy parts, which were not circumcised” and how a mother’s legs “and the rest of her were not concealed by any cloth” (Caminha 3 and 6). In addition, the author details the Indigenous’ participation in religious practice such that “when it came to the Gospel, they rose with us and lifted their hands” (Caminha 6). These descriptions, while critical in nature, seem to express more judgement rather than a call for action or complete dismissal of the Indigenous, as their participation in Christian rituals seems to place them in the favor of the writer as the two groups “intermingled” heavily (Caminha 5). This slight difference in portrayal compared to descriptions of Africans could be tied to the potential for economic gain in Africa through the notorious “gold coast” trope, which, as shown previously, harbored a great deal of tension and disdain for all African, Saracen, and generally non-Christian practices. The correlation between reluctance and potential for economic gain resurfaces at the slightest presence of the potential for gold mining in Brazil, which seems to escalate the generally calm attitude in Caminha’s account. For example, Pero Vaz notes that Indigenous Brazilians, upon encountering a Portuguese captain, signaled that there was gold to trade for rosary beads. An Indigenous villager “made a sign towards the land and then to the beads and to the collar of the captain” in what the captain and crew saw to be a request to trade the beads for gold (Caminha 2). It is then noted that the Portuguese “interpreted this so, because we wished to, but if he meant that he would take the beads and also the collar we did not wish to understand because we did not intend to give it to him” (Caminha 3). While the trading of rosary beads would surely be a way of fulfilling the papacy’s vision of spreading Christianity across the world, it is subverted by the potential for a loss of resources. Despite some differences between the Portuguese’s tone towards Africans and Indigenous Brazilians, the presence of economic loss or gain seems to reignite an urge to establish Portugal’s economic wishes, even in small encounters.

Christopher Columbus’ letter to Luis de Santángel regarding his experiences among the Indigenous in the Caribbean echo similar sentiments with regards to Iberian colonization. He stresses the importance of Christianity in the Iberian conquest, noting that Juana (modern day Cuba) “has many ports along the sea-coast excelling in Christendom” (“Letter to Luis de Santángel”). Yet, he spends a larger portion of the text outlining the potential for economic gains in the region, with “numerous mines of metals”, “many spices and vast mines of gold and other metals” (“Letter to Luis de Santángel”). In this text, Columbus also seems to adopt a less critical view of the Indigenous, writing that the Indigenous “show so much love”, are “far from being ignorant” and are generally inclined towards Christianity (“Letter to Luis de Santángel”). However, the reader soon comes to understand that this favorable portrayal could be rooted in the lack of active resistance against Portuguese trade and economic upheaval, a defensive force heavily present in West Africa that may have swayed its depiction more negatively. Columbus provides accounts of extreme generosity from the communities of Juana, and their ease in giving up their items in exchange for very little. The cannibal groups of the Caribbean, however, are portrayed as “monsters” who are “ferocious”, while also detailing their political power in the region, “stealing and seizing all they can” as they “overrun all the isles of India [the Caribbean]” (“Letter to Luis de Santángel”). Interestingly, the most negatively portrayed group by Columbus who, unlike those he favors, are not cowardly or timid, also have some kind of economic and political control over the region that would position them as competitors for economic resources. In this reading, a clear priority for economic control emerges beneath a right towards establishing moral Christian values, just as it was presented for the competing African communities among a thriving gold coast.

Another continued trope of Iberian colonization is the supposed unintellectual nature of Indigenous peoples as a means to justify a need for a new Iberian moral framework under Christianity. This assumption lays the foundation for establishing a moral right to “teach” the Indigenous every aspect of life, facilitating a slow uptake of society by its colonizers. Amerigo Vespucci describes societies in Brazil as “naked, not covering any part of their bodies, just as they came from their mothers’ wombs, and so they go until their deaths”, carrying a heavy connotation of everlasting ignorance under the Christian tradition (Vespucci 1). Nakedness is a common trope employed by these Christian accounts as a way of highlighting the supposed immorality of Indigenous norms. This is also prevalent in Caminha’s accounts, as he describes Brazilians as “entirely naked” and without shame (Caminha 2). Politically, they are also described as living “without a king or ruler, each man being his own master”, with “no commerce among each other”, “no private property” and “war without art or order”, creating a gap in leadership and social order that Iberian encounters aimed to fill via political control (Vespucci 5). Strategically, the nakedness of Brazilians is used to justify their docile nature, as “they have not the courage to face [wild animals] naked and without any defence” (Vespucci 6). Yet, the author simultaneously notes technical excellence and continued health in these societies, writing that “they are expert fishermen”, “live for 150 years”, and have even discovered gold of their own, without charging the Portuguese (Vespucci 6-7). Each of these examples, such as nakedness, common ownership, and little exploitation of resources, are values that conflict with Western, Christian ideas among Iberian society. From Vespucci and Caminha’s perspectives, this justifies colonizing the land and framing the Iberian conquest as an effort to impose order, even though the perceived lack of structure could simply be a different way of life.

This sentiment is continued in accounts of African and Caribbean communities. Despite Africans being “uncircumcised and heathen” as described before, and therefore uncivilized from an Iberian perspective, the accounts themselves acknowledged “black merchants who bring gold from distant lands”, leverage the Christian presence for their own political disputes, and maintain firearms and war tactics (Pereira 1-2 and Pina 1). While these Africans are portrayed as “always hostile” shown through “war raids and attacks”, these reactions are rarely portrayed as political and are instead seen as uncivilized because they oppose the interests of the explorers in attaining resources. Among Caribbean accounts, Christopher Columbus presents the indigenous Caribbeans as having “no iron, nor steel, nor weapons, nor are they fit for them,” due to them being “hopelessly timid” (“Letter to Luis de Santángel”). These descriptions, much like those of African communities, emphasize a supposed inability to defend themselves or organize politically, framing the indigenous people as uncivilized. Yet, from the reader’s perspective, there is a clear formation of society, war, and intelligent strategy, as mentioned previously in the cannibal communities across the islands, suggesting an agenda of simplifying the enemies of the colonial state, no matter how sophisticated. Columbus also notes that the Indigenous Caribbeans are “like fools” and have “no religion” but could easily be converted to Christianity, further supporting the notion that they are intellectually and morally inferior and require the Portuguese to rescue them (“Letter to Luis de Santángel”). The indigenous Caribbean and African reaction to European intrusion was seen through the lens of colonial needs, ignoring their agency in favor of portraying them as obstacles to European control. The framing of these societies as without law, order, or dignity aids in creating this stereotype, planting the seeds for an Iberian colonial project.

Early Iberian accounts of colonial exploration in Africa, the Caribbean, and Brazil reveal how tropes about Indigenous peoples justified acquisition through spiritual, military, and economic means. The fusion of religion with economic motives and the critique of Indigenous intelligence reinforced Iberian claims to moral superiority through colonization. Unraveling these narratives, however, reveals a complex and culturally rich Indigenous history.