Another View of Columbus Day
Today’s world is a place of incredibly rich diversity. Technology, in
such manifestations as quick and easy intercontinental travel, mass media,
and the Internet, has created a truly global village, the citizens of
which blend together in varying combinations with individual stories, life
circumstances, challenges, and opportunities; yet even in their diversity,
groups often maintain some commonality according to language, ethnicity,
gender, race, or sexual orientation.
As the world proceeds along this trajectory, it is no longer possible
for one to be isolated or unconnected to others in some way; nor is it
possible for anyone to go very far without encountering others who are
different from oneself in some way, shape, or form. Such interaction in
more ways with more people is welcomed by some and feared by others.
Often what we do not know, we fear; and what we fear, we label so that
we may push it (or them) away. Polarities of "us" and
"them" multiply, however, when we do not see the diversity
around us as an opportunity to grow in knowledge and experience without
sacrificing our uniqueness and individuality.
Over the course of world history, explorers have traveled to foreign
lands and have regarded the "them" as an "Other" to be
changed, captured, or colonized. The quest for power and wealth led those
with might to believe they were right in conquering the Other and forcing
them to submit to their authority. Nowadays, even when we know so much
more about "foreign" lands, peoples, and customs, those in
dominant societies still have the need to make the Other conform through
political, economic, military, and even religious means. In the
twenty-first century this is often accompanied by a religious and
political fundamentalism that recognizes only one way of thinking and
living in community.
Some voices in the last fifty years or so, however, have dared to
confront those in power and call their systems of hegemony
"colonial," "imperial," "tyrannical,"
"fascist," or "totalitarian." Most United States
citizens (except for some radical fringe) would have no trouble so
labeling Hitler, Amin, or Milosevi?; yet many of these same people would
be extremely reticent to label Bill Clinton or Margaret Thatcher or even
George W. Bush or Tony Blair in this way, even though there are no doubt
many in the world who would not hesitate to do so. Of these daring voices,
some of the most significant are those who call their ideological stance
"post-colonialism"—a radical questioning of the notion and
manifestation of Empire.
As the pastor of a Christian church rooted in and reaching beyond the
Rainbow Community, I constantly struggle with how to bridge the gap
between the ancient world and the contemporary scene, the premodern and
the postmodern, the spiritual and the secular. If our world and its people
are indeed interconnected, there must be more and better ways of speaking
spiritual truth and breaking down the barriers that exist between people.
Thus, though we just passed our national holiday in honor of Christopher
Columbus’ "discovery" of America in 1492, I am reluctant to
wave the flag and prattle on about the "New World" and the
"progress" it has made. A postcolonial sensibility makes me
remind myself and those who will listen that Columbus was not some
romantic wanderer but an aggressive adventurer paid handsomely from the
coffers of the court of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, with the aim of
enriching the Crown still further and claiming new lands for the Catholic
Church and these Catholic monarchs.
Schools in the United States still teach children that Iberian
explorers like Columbus, Vasco de Gama, Cortes, and Magellan, succeeded by
the British colonists in Massachusetts and Virginia, not only
"discovered" this continent they named America but also
"civilized" it by rescuing it from the savages whom they
incorrectly called "Indians." What is less talked about is the
extraordinary culture that these Native Americans or First Nations People
already had in place—a culture that respected life, revered the earth
and its wildlife, and worshiped the Divine in unique and holy ways. The
Europeans utilized the biblical warrant of the book of Joshua as a
blueprint for how to overrun and conquer a land, destroying its
inhabitants, their ways of life, and their religious rituals—all in
order to amass lands, resources, and fortunes for the wealthy governments
and churches in the Old World.
We often romanticize this history, but we do so at our peril, for the
theology of manifest destiny that has undergirded all colonial movements
throughout history is alive and well today in the foreign policy of the
United States. We think nothing of taking over other lands and their
resources, overthrowing their governments, and taking people prisoner.
While many give lip-service to the idea of religious pluralism in America,
the highest places of government are run as a thinly-disguised theocracy
that caters to a militant and aberrant Christianity that bears little
relation to its roots in the Jesus Movement. I believe that an alternative
is out there if we are willing to learn from history: the great Empires of
the past—Rome, Spain, Holland, Britain—declined because they were
blinded by their own arrogance and acquisitiveness, coupled with a mindset
of Divine mandate. If people of faith would look beyond their sloganeering
and their differences, we would see that together we could make the world
better, safer, and more loving, but not if we duplicate colonial and
imperial ambitions, whatever we may call them.