Traveling Diaries 18 – The Myth of El Dorado

Since I started my last entry by drawing reference from a video game, I’ll continue the tradition. This time, I want to talk about another game series by Paradox (hmmm there seems to be a trend here) called Europa Universalis. It’s rare for a video game to have an apparent central theme or thesis, but I always felt like EU had one – namely, the sheer futility of trying to control all of Europe. While other grand strategy series like Civilization and Total War enable the human desire to grow and dominate to an unrealistic extent (which is not to say that I don’t enjoy them), EU has always exemplified the saying “mo’ money mo’ problems” in all its aspects. Here, being bigger just meant having to deal with more hostility from without  and insurrections from within, while the most carefully laid out political schemes can be toppled by untimely deaths and sheer happenstance.

Plaza Vázquez in Úbeda

Spain learned this lesson firsthand starting from the 16th century. One could hardly say that the then nascent empire was not favored to become the new European hegemon – champion of the faith, with most of the Americas as its treasury, and territories as far reaching and strategically vital as Sicily, Naples, and the Spanish Netherlands. “God is Spanish,” declares Gaspar de Guzmán, as he marshals his forces into Germany, Italy, and France. Of course, his own downfall came about not much later, and by the time of the War of Spanish Succession, Spain had become almost devoid of agency, a mere morsel to be divided among the dynastic powers of Vienna, Paris, and London, never again to become the central focus of international politics.

The palace complex of San Lorenzo de el Escorial

So how did all this come about? How did a kingdom whose supply of New World silver was nearly endless end up declaring bankruptcy continuously? How did Spain repeatedly come within an inch of becoming the first global superpower, only to be thwarted each time? These are the questions I brought with me as the first leg of my journey ended, I departed Andalusia, and the Spain of the Reconquista unfolded into the Spain of the High Renaissance, of the Age of Sail, and of the Spanish Golden Age. I knew what I was looking for was not some singular event like when the armada was broken at the isles, what I was looking for was a pattern, an overarching plot.

Monastery of San Juan de los Reyes, Toledo

What I found were the soaring rooftops of Toledo, and I was wowed. I found the gilded chambers of the royal palace of Madrid, and I was stunned. I was blown away by the elegant hallways of El Escorial, made speechless by the towering heights of its royal chapel… the sights to be found just in Madrid alone would take a lifetime to explore. The same can be said for a few other places – Rome, perhaps, but that has millenia of utmost historical signifiance as opposed to a mere 500. Whereas there is but one Versailles in France, it seems no city in Spain is complete without its own palace complex. Therein, I think, lies the problem. You must understand that these things were not constructed separately – their origins can all be traced to that same time period at the height of the golden age. I’m not saying that building a few extra palaces bankrupted Spain, but it betrays a mentality that poisoned the actions of the Spanish rulers – a grandiosity that cannot be sated, reaching too far and aspiring to too much. This was a Spain that tried to do everything at once: to subjugate Italy, to encircle France, to contest the Holy Roman Empire, and economically dominate the Maritime Powers. Meanwhile to assert religious authority she had to fight the Ottomans. All this required gold, and so the American colonies, still in need of pacification, were instead brutally exploited. At the same time, religious divide lingering from the Reconquista was still present, thus the inquisition was born to persecute and control the populace. All this, I think, are symptoms of a monster that consumed too much and grew too fast, only to eventually have to spit it all back out again.

Foyer of the Royal Palace in Madrid. This is the only room where pictures were allowed but I can attest that every other one matched or exceeded it in splendor.

Ultimately, perhaps the follies of the Spanish Empire were such because she was the first to have a real opportunity at true global domination. We will see that those who came after, such as the British, employed much more subtle strategies. This is perhaps why the Victorian Golden Age left seemingly more legacies around the world than the ephemeral Spanish one. Alas, that is also why El Escorial is not to be found in England.

 

My Route:

 

Traveling Diaries 17 – Arrival at Andalusia

The “traveling diaries” concept originally suggested that I would write about my daily insights on the same night in the hotel. This of course immediately proved untenable. I gradually trailed days behind on my writings, and then eventually weeks… at some point it no longer felt like a diary in any sense and, once work stopped, the motivation to resume was hard to find. Some day I hope to return to the topic of my previous journeys, about which there are still much I’d like to record – for my own future reference if nothing else. Presently, the “diary” continues with the occurrences of my current life.

 

I’d missed Spain in my previous European escapades, so it was a no-brainer for me to extend a wedding invitation to a full vacation. Generally, before I visit a place, I can attribute my existing notions about it to some second hand source I’d seen or heard. For example, my original impression of London came from the tales of so many British friends and coworkers. My original impression of Vatican City, as mentioned before, came from a Dan Brown novel. For southern Spain, my familiarity with both people and popular media proved lacking, and my only impression comes from a computer game called Crusader Kings 2.

Alhambra complex in Granada, once the last Muslim foothold in Hispania.

In a sense, CK2 is not so much a game as an examination of the feudal system in medieval Europe. Considering the gameplay itself basically constitutes spreadsheet management, it’s really that examination which bears any cause for interest. In that game, playing as a northern Iberian kingdom like Castile or León at the start of the Reconquista is considered easy mode: you had natural allies in your Christian neighbors (whom you could also annex through marriage), and boundless Muslim lands to the south to conquer – for which you always have a casus belli, and will also positively reap in papal approval. Meanwhile, if the Muslims counter attacked, you can call upon powerful and eager allies such as France with only the slightest of diplomatic maneuverings. With enough papal influence you could even spark Crusades to specifically thwart the Muslim advance.

This Moorish fortification in Alcaudete is just one of many examples of such cultural remnants found on the wayside.

So the game made it seem like the triumph of Christendom and the eventual Spanish unification were all but inevitable. Real life is, of course, rarely so simple; and the Reconquista represents 800 years of almost continuous warfare in the subcontinent. Today, Spain is littered with the relics of this era, and the high point of my trip has been in visiting Moorish fortifications that tell the story of these conflicts. However, my takeaway has been surprisingly positive. Today we are too used to any religious confrontation – especially those involving Islam – to be unforgiving and bloodthirsty to the extreme. Spain of 1200 years ago paints a different picture. Increasingly, my understanding of the Reconquista has changed from cavalry charges and siege engines to a gradual cultural shift combined with political give-and-take between the Christen kingdoms and the caliphate/emirates. In terms of actual bloodshed, I’d even wager that infighting among Christians and Muslims outweigh those between the groups.

The fabulous Alcázar of Seville

I believe this relatively low amount of casualty and destruction was inspired by the Iberian Muslim rulers in the first place. The cathedral of Córdoba makes for an interesting case study. Not only was the original Christian church not destroyed when the Muslims took over, but it was later shared by worshipers of both religions. Then as the Umayyad emirs (whose religious tolerance apparently bordered on the absurd) sought to create a great mosque to match their opulence, they did so by buying out the Christian rights to the land. Later when the Christians retook Córdoba, the mosque was converted forthright to a cathedral. If anything, we show less religious tolerance today, as Muslims are now forbidden from worship on the cathedral grounds. Indeed, at the time, Córdoba was just one of a myraid jewels that marked an Islamic golden age fueled by temperance and rationality. In Seville, I could only marvel at the Muslim architecture of the real alcázar, with all its infinitely complex geometries and the unique designs of each palace. But my true amazement came from the fact that this palace had survived so many years unscathed – indeed, many parts were added under Christian rule despite the obvious Islamic influence: the so called mudéjar style. In contrast, in India I could not find any Muslim palaces so well preserved, and that is with the Mughal empire being such a more recent affair.

 

I would not be so bold as to say that there are lessons to be learned here by the people of today. Suffice it to say that seeing the Spanish past firsthand gives me a bit of hope for the future.