The debate arises from time to time on social networks: were the territories of Spanish America colonies or kingdoms on an equal footing with those of the peninsula? It is possible to find supporters of both possibilities. Thus, for Emilio Lamo de Espinosa, emeritus professor of Sociology at the Complutense University, it would be anachronistic to describe the overseas domains of the Hispanic monarchy as “colonies.” To do so would be to use a concept from the 19th or 20th century for a reality from the 16th and 17th centuries. However, already in 1611 Sebastián de Covarrubias, in his Treasure of the Castilian Language, defined “colony” as a territory populated by foreign people. And just that, foreigners, were the conquerors upon their arrival in Mexico or Peru.
Lamo de Espinosa also suggests that perhaps Spain was the colony of Mexico, and not the other way around, since the Aztec capital far surpassed Madrid for its commercial and cosmopolitan character. That is true, without a doubt, but it is also true that the orders traveled from Spain to America, and not in the opposite direction. Power resided in the peninsula, where viceroys were appointed.
Legal historians have denied that the American viceroyalties were, legally, colonies. They are right, on paper, although some clarifications should be made. In the New World, no kingdom had its own laws. As the historian Tomás Pérez Vejo points out, “the Laws of the Indies were not those of a particular kingdom, but of all Americans as a whole.” Furthermore, nowhere did there exist Courts like those of Castile, Aragon, Catalonia or Valencia. Americans, therefore, lacked a channel to make requests to the monarchy. They had no choice but to expect from the king as a grace what they could have demanded in an Assembly.
“De jure” realities are one thing and “de facto” realities are another. With the law in hand, Algeria was a French province and Western Sahara, since 1958, a Spanish province. In practice, it is evident that the people of both territories did not receive the same treatment as the inhabitants of their respective metropolises.
In America, inequality was evident. The historian José Antonio Piqueras, in Bicentenarios de Libertad (Península, 2010), points out that in the New World the word “kingdom”, without the political content it had in the peninsula, was nothing more than a fiction. In the economic field, meanwhile, a similar imbalance existed. The Americans, in addition to being deprived of certain rights, were forced to contribute to the expenses of the Crown with an unusually high proportion of their income.
Piqueras explains to us a situation that justifies the application of the term “colony” in a more than adequate way: “New Spain contributed to the Spanish Treasury more than two-thirds of the net American income, it directly contributed 6 million pesos, to which They added three and a half to cover the expenses of other American dominions. Of the total revenue collected, about 20 million pesos, a little more than half was allocated to expenses in the viceroyalty."
Obviously, the silver never went from Spain to Mexico or Peru. The relationship between the metropolis and its domains was not established from equality, but from the submission of one of the parties. Madrid, in addition, established a monopoly so that the peninsular people, and not others, would benefit from the trade. That was the way to ensure political dominance, as the enlightened Pedro Rodríguez de Campomanes noted in the 18th century: “If Spain left the Indies free trade with foreign countries, she would turn them into an independent state from colonies.”
So, how is it that the Central Junta, on January 22, 1809, proclaimed that the Spanish dominions in the Indies were not properly colonies, but an essential part of the monarchy? In the middle of the War of Independence, a gesture had to be made to win the support of the Americans against the French. Another matter is whether we should take that statement seriously. Although a new language was used, the old customs still weighed too heavily.
In May of that year, the same Board implied, probably without realizing it, that it had not yet abandoned the old mentality: “Our Americas and other colonies will be equal to the Metropolis in all rights.” This was a paradoxical recognition that, until that moment, the aforementioned equality had been conspicuous by its absence: the American territories were indeed colonies.
Shortly afterwards, during the Cortes of Cádiz, the overseas domains had a parliamentary representation much lower than what would have corresponded to them due to the volume of their population. This discrimination showed that Lima or Mexico City were not the same as Seville or Valladolid. Hispanic liberals were not willing to see Spain lose its imperial preeminence to the benefit of an America with a much greater demographic and economic weight.
From the peninsula, the New World was seen as something, deep down, alien. When Gibraltar was lost at the beginning of the 18th century, attempts to recover it were constant. On the other hand, in 1802, by the Treaty of Amiens, Trinidad was ceded to the English without major problems. This attitude was a psychological blow for many Creoles: although they considered themselves perfectly Spanish, it was clear that the metropolis believed it had the right to alienate its lands without too many scruples. The Government's actions showed them that they were expendable.
What matters, ultimately, is what America was in practice, and not so much whether its lands were called “kingdoms” or “colonies.” For Esteban Mira Caballos, a well-known expert on the 16th century, there is no doubt that its condition was colonial, since its function was to supply the metropolis with precious metals. In 1794, the viceroy of Mexico, count of Revillagigedo, expressed this idea in a stark way: “We must not lose sight of the fact that this is a colony that must depend on its parent company, Spain, and must correspond to it with some profits for the benefits it receives from its protection.”
