Rhetorical Strategies of Conquest Term Paper

Introduction

This paper analyses how the aesthetics of conquest are initially deployed in the original colonial texts and adapted or revised in subsequent film and literary interpretations. The conquistadores implement various rhetorical techniques to justify their conquests in the four original conquest texts. The identified strategies utilize God’s divinity as validation, appeal to authority, division of peoples by color, geography, Christian status, possession, and the nobility of purpose. The rhetoric of division is subsequently manipulated in film adaptations; additionally, these adaptations introduce new strategies like self-validating conquest success and possession. Lastly, the revision text challenges and ultimately rejects principles of possession and nobility of purpose.

Conquest

The Four Voyages of Columbus by Columbus, The Chronicle of The Discovery and Conquest of Guinea by Azurara, and Letters from Mexico by Cortes report the colonial exploits back to the Portuguese and Spanish royalty. The original colonial texts appeal to authority and refer to the divine power, often simultaneously, for validating conquistadores’ actions like indigenous people’s enslavement, land seizure, and conversion to Christianity. For instance, Azurara applies the aesthetic of utilizing God’s grace as a validation, thereby justifying the enslavement of the Moors in and around Cape Bojador. In Azurara’s words, “do thou at least put before the eyes of that miserable race some understanding of matters to come; that they may receive some consolation in the midst of their great sorrow” (82). Here, the chronicler is praying to Christ, asking for mercy, and stating that colonizers might bring hope to the locals while the latter suffer from the invasion. This prayer demonstrates a lack of understanding in having colonizers be the very source of the ‘great sorrow’ rather than ‘consolation.’ Therefore, the God’s grace validation rhetoric is used to solidify the storyteller’s ignorance toward the impact.

Furthermore, the conquest rhetoric of conquistadores’ actions appealing for the authorities’ approval is engaged in this text. Azurara often simultaneously pays respects to the royal and the religious authority: “And to this he was stirred up by his zeal for the service of God and of the King Edward his Lord and brother, who then reigned. And this was the first reason of his action” (28). Azurara flatters Prince Henry while describing Antam Gonçalvez’s exploration advancements: “[to] satisfy the desire of our Prince… that he who sent us here may have some example of our good wills” (39). This tribute may convince the prince that conquistadores are doing everything for the royal authority, potentially enhancing their social rank.

The ingratiation that Azurara shows is akin to that of the other texts, especially Columbus’s first voyage description. Comparing Azurara’s appeals to “satisfy the desire of our Prince” and Columbus’s address to “the most illustrious king and queen” who “will be pleased at the great victory” allows one to trace that parallel (Azurara 49, Columbus 1). Moreover, both authors often refer to the royal and the religious authorities simultaneously. Azurara explicitly describes the actions as “performed for the service of God and the honour of the Kingdom” (16). Columbus, similarly, commences conquest descriptions with “Our Lord has crowned my voyage… with the fleet that … our sovereigns gave to me” (1). Thus, Columbus combines his religious justifications and appeal to authority.

The last two texts incorporating both discussed aesthetics are letters by Cortes. For instance, Cortes prefaces the story by listing “what profit Your Highnesses may gain” from his exploits (3). Further, the strive to discriminate against potential competitors, such as Diego Velasquez, pushes Cortes to appeal to the royalty explicitly. The author claims that Velasquez did not explore enough to find treasure, undermined the royalty, and lied about his private exploration of the central and south American lands. Cortes writes, “We have reason to believe that Your Royal Highnesses have been informed, by letters of Diego Velasquez… of a new land… in the island of Fernandina… how it was discovered and other details which have been described, were not, nor could have been true” (3). Thus, Cortes intends to earn the royal family of Spain’s trust and keep them from believing Velasquez.

A vital function of God’s divinity rhetoric in Cortes’s texts is to justify the conversion of the indigenous and provide self-validation. Like with Columbus’s and Azurara’s texts, the letters often appeal to the authority and the divine justification simultaneously. Cortes habitually describes conquistadores as “zealous in the service of God and of Your Royal Highnesses” (24). Cortes highlights that conquistadores succeed due to the divine power’s aid. Cortes writes, “God has always shown diligence in guiding the Royal affairs of Your Sacred Majesty… so he shows us [a] road which … was not so dangerous” (77). Further, he demonizes indigenous Chief Priests and upholds his leadership and missionary qualities to highlight that divine power is necessary to defeat evil. “[The indigenous] asked me to protect them from that great lord who held them by tyranny and force and sacrificed their children for his idols….” (Cortes 50-51). Thus, the author utilizes the ‘divine power’ rhetorical strategy to justify the colonial exploits by presenting it as necessary to rid locals of the presumed tyranny and lead them toward a Christian god.

Adaptations

In addition to the aesthetics of divine validation and authority appeal, the conquest texts from Spanish and Portuguese colonizers utilize the rhetoric of division of peoples by color, geography, and Christian status. Overall, the rhetoric of division in the conquest descriptions is used to present indigenous peoples as sub-human and thus rationalize exploitation and colonization. Further, it is manipulated and commonly upheld in the subsequent film adaptations by portraying indigenous communities as ‘wild,’ uncultured, and disorderly. Lastly, new tropes of conquest are introduced in film adaptations, such as the self-justifying success of the conquest and colonial possession.

All the texts separate the indigenous groups from the ‘conquistadores’ along the racial, geographical, and religious lines. For instance, Azurara disparages “white enough” and “well-proportioned” captive locals with those “black as Ethiops” and “ugly in features” (Azurara 81). Moreover, Columbus condescendingly refers to the locals as “no more malformed than the others,” potentially suitable “savages” for accepting Christianity and “servicing” the superior colonizers (Columbus 16, 8). Lastly, Cortes adamantly insists on erasing the indigenous political and geographical order and renaming the land “New Spain” (158). Overall, each text engages with the core conquest principle of separating and dehumanizing the ‘other’ to justify the colonial exploits.

The first film adaptation of the conquest texts is Apocalypto by Gibson, which presents a deep division between the colonialists and the Mayan civilization. The rhetoric of the flawed and unorganized political structure suggested by Cortes and the savagery mentioned by Azurara and Columbus are upheld by presenting the corrupted, blood-soaked, slavery-reliant Maya government. A scene of human sacrifice to Kukulkan, one of the Mayan gods, illustrates the ‘savagery’ with high priests repeatedly ripping hearts out of the victim’s chests (Apocalypto). Showing the gruesome depths of humanity’s downfall is arguably used to pass judgement on the societal order, with the oracle stating that “[those] who are vile” will die when “the sacred time” comes (Apocalypto). However, even the protagonists in the story, portrayed as brave and honest, elect not to approach a Spanish fleet in the final scene, choosing to go back into the forest and start anew (Apocalypto). The movie thus shows that the indigenous people, regardless of their values, do not wish to be one with the conquerors. Hence, the first film adaptation highlights the division aesthetic through the indigenous government’s sheer ‘savagery’ and the protagonists’ conscious choice.

The second film adaptation is The New World by Malick, which reimagines a romance between an indigenous girl, Pocahontas, and a colonizer, John Smith. The plot presents Pocahontas so in love that she was willing to betray her tribe by warning the colonizers about the natives’ attack (The New World). The love story sentiment is reminiscent of Columbus’s perception of locals as suitable for ‘servicing’ – only valuable when helpful and friendly and immediately suppressed when resisting. Further, the narrative uses the scenes of placing the indigenous people in the ‘unusual’ settings to adapt the division rhetoric. A telling scene is when Opechancanough, Pocahontas’s uncle, walks through pristine English gardens, examining the sculpted trees and trimmed lawns while looking somewhat at a loss (The New World). The film preserves the division between the colonizers and uncultured ‘others’ by depicting their cultures as incompatible and natives as perpetually foreign in the ‘civilized’ setting. Thus, it upholds Columbus’s rhetoric of Christian superiority over ‘noble savages.’

Another adaptation is The Last of the Mohicans, filmed in the French and Indian war setting, reinforcing the original texts’ legacy of presenting indigenous people’s fate and history as predetermined by the French (The Last of the Mohicans). The Native Americans are shown to the viewers through colonizers’ eyes as unruly, exotic, and destined for disappearance from their land, which becomes a “place for people like my white son” (The Last of the Mohicans). An example of the cultural divide is the scene depicting Cora’s shock when Hawkeye refuses to bury the murdered inhabitants of Cameron’s farm, saying that it would reveal their trail (The Last of the Mohicans). The narrative thus brings forward Columbus, Azurara, and Cortes’ rhetoric of racial division in arguing that indigenous communities could not coexist with the colonizers due to how vastly different they are.

The last film adaptation discussed is Far and Away by Howard, which describes poor Irish farmers rebelling against farm owners and eventually fleeing for the unclaimed lands in Oklahoma. America in the narrative is described as a “distant world,” and the division between Irish and American communities is evident (Far and Away). For instance, Shannon’s expression of rebellion is to play American piano compositions, clearly disturbing her traditional Irish mother (Far and Away). Nonetheless, the scene of the final horse race and the triumphal flag installment pushes the audience to empathize with the settlers who are not in the position of power, unlike in original conquest texts (Far and Away). Thus, the rhetoric of division is transformed by depicting the struggles and triumph of initially disadvantaged settlers, with the inferior-superior dynamic erased in this adaptation.

Further, self-validation and colonial possession rhetoric are introduced in the film adaptations. Far and Away vividly pictures Irish tenant farmers’ hardships. Before the father of the protagonist passes, he tells his son that “[a] land is a man’s very own soul” (Far and Away). Therefore, by the time the main characters begin the Oklahoma venture, the narrative has justified their conquest’s success. The film’s message stresses success as the ultimate validation, stressing the protagonists’ happiness in claiming the land itself. In contrast, Columbus, Azurara, and Cortes all sought to present concrete material outcomes to their royal superiors.

The second introduced trope is the principle of colonial possession. It is especially apparent in The New World, with Smith walking through the forests and idyllically talking about the locals having “no sense of possession” (The New World). Similarly, The Last of the Mohicans’ initial portrayal of the landscape as uninhabited justifies the imperialist take-over of the land and its resources, wholly disregarding the “vanishing people” (The Last of the Mohicans). Both these examples introduce the rhetoric of indigenous people as having no claim to their land, thus making it viable for colonization. Therefore, while the rhetoric of division is present in every adaptation, some films reimagine it, and some introduce new strategies.

Revision

The last two conquest principles to be discussed are possession and the nobility of purpose. The Sea of Lentils by Benitez-Rojo engages and rejects extant principles of rhetorical conquest strategies introduced in The Four Voyages of Columbus. This transformation is successfully achieved by portraying the natives as resistant and questioning common colonial justifications. Specifically, rhetorical strategies such as appealing to emotions of despair, mocking language, and imagery of struggles are used by Benítez-Rojo to subvert these rhetorical principles.

The Four Voyages of Columbus describe the colonial exploits reported back to the Portuguese and Spanish royalty. It presents Columbus’s colonial exploits as a nearly effortless and self-righteous process. The first principle of conquest invoked is the possession of land, resources, or people – with ease. Columbus describes countless supplies of the land, which could be taken with “no opposition” from the locals (2). Columbus seems to mock the local population for taking “even the pieces of the broken hoops of the wine barrels” (8). He further portrays himself standing on a moral soapbox – displaying his moral superiority – when islanders, “like savages, gave what they had… it seemed to me to be wrong, and I forbade it” (8). Moreover, Columbus feels more entitled to these possessions than the locals since those are “things they have in abundance, and which are necessary to us” (8). The conquest principle of possession works as a tool for establishing the ‘rightful’ order of things, reinforcing the colonialists’ superiority. By portraying natives as naive and permissive, the author justifies taking their belongings.

The second principle of conquest is the strategically demonstrated nobility of purpose. Aside from forcefully taking the ‘much-needed’ natural resources of the colonized lands, Columbus also discusses at length the greatness of converting so many “savages” “to our holy faith,” expressing that the locals should be grateful to be converted to Christianity (18). Moreover, Columbus highlights that possession was taken “for their highness” (2). This principle works by establishing a double standard for gaining and losing possession of personal belongings, lands, and even people. Ultimately, it justifies the exploitation and cruelty perpetrated by the colonizers.

The second discussed text is The Sea of Lentils by Antonio Benítez-Rojo. The book describes four intertwined stories of colonization and the slave trade. According to Columbus, the locals’ ease and willingness to submit to the colonizers are not present in the author’s description. While characters like Antón Babtista seemingly embrace the conquest mentality, the narrative portrays a more dark and gloomy reality. Most locals “could not be persuaded to join,” so, eventually, some were taken “by force” (Benítez-Rojo 52). In contrast to painting locals as cheerful and primitive ‘savages,’ the author uses language tropes to highlight their “scarcely [to] be believed” cruelty and boldness that leads them to “neither surrender nor admit defeat” (Benítez-Rojo 53, 57). The conquest principle of possession is manipulated through the unequivocal determination of the indigenous groups to defend themselves and their land. Therefore, Columbus’s claim of effortless possession is moot: the indigenous people’s determination to resist and defend their land defies the colonial rhetoric of taking something because colonizers ‘need it more.’

Consequentially, doubt, uncertainty, and a particular fear increasingly penetrate the main characters’ minds. Benítez-Rojo implements the trope of imagery when describing Antón Babtista’s island struggles; “feet moldering with sores and chiggers” and “loins festooned with pustules” (Benítez-Rojo 77). Further, the author uses specific language and appeals to emotions to twist the words ‘lord’ and ‘master’ that usually signify the reigning authority over the colonizers. After describing his suffering, Antón Babtista refers to himself as a “lord and master of unhappy Indians, lord of fear, lord of iron and bad dreams, master of death” (Benítez-Rojo 77). Moreover, King Philip fearfully orders that “no one born there in those savage lands would ever hold a high position” (Benítez-Rojo 157). Ultimately, the characters in the story do not know whether their actions are dignified, “whether [they are] doing right or wrong, whether [they] should spare a life or cut it down” (Benítez-Rojo 70). In contrast to Columbus’s letters, the author does not justify colonial exploitation and oppression by showing a lack of nobility and doubt. In fact, he successfully rejects the principle of the strategically demonstrated nobility of purpose by persistently showing cruelty, suffering, hesitation, and prejudice.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Azurara, Columbus, and Cortes utilize various rhetorical strategies to impress their royal superiors. Some of these sentiments persist in modern-time cinematic adaptations. However, other works, like those of Benítez-Rojo, successfully demonstrate the absurdity of colonial justifications. The first strategy is a direct authority appeal, the authors either praise the Crown or list their achievements, which is commonly paired with using divine power to justify occupation and conversion to Christianity. The next rhetoric is peoples’ division, originally utilized to separate and dehumanize the ‘other’ for justifying the colonial exploits. It echoes through modern adaptations, like Apocalypto showing the protagonists suffering from Mayan society’s flawed order. Further, The New World and The Last of the Mohicans contemplate irredeemable differences and being unable to coexist. However, Far and Away alters the inferior-superior power dynamic and introduces the trope of self-validating conquest success. Another one is the postulation of possession, downplaying indigenous peoples’ contention to their land in The New World and The Last of the Mohicans. Lastly, colonial notions of possession and nobility of purpose are subverted in The Sea of Lentils through showing cruelty, lack of justification, and chaotic struggle.

Works Cited

Apocalypto. Directed by Mel Gibson, Icon Productions, Mayan Ruins, Touchstone Pictures, 2006.

Azurara, Gomes Eannes. The Chronicle of The Discovery and Conquest of Guinea. Translated by Charles Raymond Beazley and Edgar Prestage, vol. I, Burt Franklin, 2011, pp. 1–127, Web.

Benítez Rojo, Antonio. Sea of Lentils. Translated by James Maraniss, University of Massachusetts Press, 1990.

Columbus, Christopher. The Four Voyages of Columbus: A History in Eight Documents, Including Five by Christopher Columbus, in the Original Spanish, With English Translations. Edited & translated by Jane Cecil, Dover Publications, Inc., 1988, pp. 1-19.

Cortes, Hernán. “The First Letter.” Letters from Mexico, edited & translated by Anthony Pagden, Yale University Press, 2001, pp. 3–46.

Cortes, Hernán. “The Second Letter.” Letters from Mexico, edited & translated by Anthony Pagden, Yale University Press, 2001, pp. 47–159.

Far and Away. Directed by Ron Howard, Imagine Films Entertainment, Universal Pictures, 1992.

The Last of the Mohicans. Directed by Michael Mann, Morgan Creek Entertainment, Twentieth Century Fox, 1992.

The New World. Directed by Terrence Malick, New Line Cinema, Sunflower Productions, Sarah Green Film, 2006.