Latest / The Rise of Colonialism: How Europe Divided the World — Fexingo History / The Spanish Inquisition in Manila: The First Auto-da-Fé
Transcript
- Lucas: We've talked about the Spanish Inquisition in Manila before — how it was officially established in 1583, how it targeted Jewish converts and Chinese merchants. But I want to zoom in on a specific moment: the very first auto-da-fé held in Manila, on February 11, 1583. Luna: That's only a few years after the city was founded, isn't it? Lucas: Exactly. Manila was officially founded in 1571 by Miguel López de Legazpi. So just over a decade later, the Inquisition was already burning people alive. The auto-da-fé — that's Portuguese for 'act of faith' — was the public ceremony where sentences were read and executions carried out. In Manila, it took place in the main plaza, right in front of the cathedral. Two men were executed: one was a Spanish soldier named Diego de Oseguera, the other a Chinese merchant whose name we don't know. Luna: Wait — a Spanish soldier? I thought the Inquisition mainly went after Chinese traders or indigenous converts. Lucas: That's a common assumption, and it's partly true — especially later on. But Oseguera's case shows that the Inquisition came for Europeans too. He was a soldier from Extremadura, and he was accused of 'Judaizing' — meaning he practiced Judaism in secret. At the time, many Spanish soldiers in the Philippines were 'New Christians,' people of Jewish ancestry who had converted to Catholicism, often under duress. Oseguera apparently kept kosher, observed the Sabbath, and refused to eat pork. His neighbors reported him to the authorities, and the Inquisition's commissioner in Manila, a Dominican friar, investigated. Luna: So the Inquisition in Manila was run by Dominicans, not by a separate tribunal? Lucas: That's the key difference. Unlike in Spain, where the Inquisition had its own independent bureaucracy, in the Philippines it was delegated to the local bishops and religious orders — mostly Dominicans and Augustinians. The actual Tribunal of the Holy Office was based in Mexico City, which oversaw all of New Spain, including the Philippines. So Manila had a 'commissioner' — a local friar who gathered evidence and sent reports across the Pacific. It could take years to get a verdict back from Mexico. In Oseguera's case, his trial started in 1581, but the auto-da-fé wasn't until 1583. Luna: Two years for a death sentence. That's actually faster than I'd expect, given the distance. Lucas: It was relatively fast, probably because Oseguera's crimes were considered so serious — apostasy by a Christian. The Chinese merchant executed alongside him was likely a Sangley who had converted and then relapsed into Buddhism or ancestor worship. The Sangley community in Manila was huge — they lived in a district called the Parián, just outside the city walls. Many were merchants who traded silk and porcelain for Mexican silver. The Spanish authorities both needed and distrusted them. The Inquisition was a tool to control them. Luna: But was the Inquisition actually effective in a place like Manila? I mean, it's so far from the center of power. Lucas: That's the tension at the heart of this story. On paper, the Inquisition had enormous authority: it could arrest anyone, seize property, and impose penances or death. But in practice, Manila's distance from Mexico and Spain meant the local commissioners had a lot of independence, and they often clashed with the civil authorities — the governor, the city council, even the archbishop. For example, in 1583, the governor at the time, Juan de Peñalosa, actually opposed the auto-da-fé, arguing that executing a Spanish soldier would destabilize the colony. But the Dominicans pushed ahead. Luna: So the Inquisition wasn't just a rubber stamp for the crown. It had its own agenda. Lucas: Exactly. The friars saw themselves as guardians of the faith, and they often acted against the interests of the colonial administration. After Oseguera's execution, the governor sent a letter to the king, Philip II, complaining that the Inquisition was too harsh and scared away Chinese traders. The king actually instructed the Inquisition to be more lenient with the Sangley — but that didn't stop the trials. Over the next decades, dozens of Chinese were tried for 'idolatry' and 'superstition,' though most were given penances rather than death. Luna: It sounds like the Inquisition in Manila was more about social control than religious purity. Lucas: In many ways, yes. The colony was a fragile outpost — a tiny Spanish population surrounded by a vast indigenous majority and a commercially vital Chinese minority. The Inquisition helped enforce boundaries: who was a Christian, who was loyal, who could be trusted. But it also created resentment. The Sangley merchants, in particular, were vital to the Manila-Acapulco galleon trade. When the Inquisition targeted them, it risked disrupting the economy. So there was a constant push and pull between faith and profit. Luna: Did the Inquisition ever execute anyone else after 1583? Lucas: Yes, but not many. In 1587, a Japanese Christian convert was burned at the stake for apostasy. In 1599, a Spanish sailor was executed for blasphemy. But by the early 1600s, the death penalty became rare. The last auto-da-fé with an execution was in 1656, when a Mexican soldier was burned for Judaizing. After that, the Inquisition in the Philippines focused more on penances, confiscations, and public shaming. The goal shifted from killing heretics to making them confess and rejoin the community. Luna: It's interesting — the Inquisition in Manila was brutal, but also constrained by reality. They couldn't afford to alienate the Chinese completely. Lucas: Right. And that's what makes the Manila Inquisition different from its Spanish counterpart. In Spain, the Inquisition was a centralized machine that could root out conversos and Moriscos with impunity. In Manila, it was a nervous institution, always aware of its vulnerability. The colony was a frontier, and the Inquisition's power was limited by geography, politics, and economics. Luna: So the first auto-da-fé in 1583 set a precedent — but also showed the limits of what the Inquisition could actually do. Lucas: Exactly. And it's a story that reminds us that colonial institutions were never simple transplants from Europe. They adapted, often in messy ways, to local conditions. The Manila Inquisition was a hybrid: Spanish in its theology, but Filipino in its compromises. Luna: You know, talking about all this — the complexities of maintaining a colony, the trade-offs between faith and commerce — it makes me think about how much work goes into keeping a show like this going. Lucas: It does, doesn't it? And honestly, if today's episode was worth a coffee to you, that's the link — buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Just a small way to keep these conversations ad-free and independent. Luna: Yeah, it really helps. And we're grateful for every bit of support. Lucas: So, back to the Inquisition. After that first auto-da-fé, the Inquisition in Manila continued to hold these public ceremonies, but they became more symbolic than deadly. By the 18th century, the Tribunal in Mexico City had tightened its oversight, and the Manila commissioners had to get approval for every major sentence. The last auto-da-fé with an execution was in 1656, as I mentioned, but the Inquisition itself wasn't abolished until 1834. Luna: So for nearly 250 years, the Inquisition was a fixture in Manila — even if its power waxed and waned. Lucas: Exactly. And its legacy is complicated. On one hand, it enforced a rigid Catholicism that suppressed indigenous beliefs and Chinese religions. On the other hand, it created a record — a paper trail of accusations, confessions, and verdicts — that gives us a window into the lives of ordinary people in the colonial Philippines. The Inquisitors' files are a goldmine for historians. Luna: I imagine those files tell stories that official histories don't. Lucas: Absolutely. You find accounts of Chinese merchants who prayed to both Christ and Buddha, of Spanish soldiers who doubted the Trinity, of indigenous women who mixed Catholic saints with local spirits. The Inquisition was trying to stamp out that kind of syncretism, but in trying, it documented it. So in a way, the Inquisition preserved the very diversity it sought to destroy. Luna: That's a really powerful way to think about it. Lucas: And it brings us back to where we started: the first auto-da-fé. That day in 1583, when Oseguera and the unnamed Chinese merchant were burned in the plaza, the Inquisition was making a statement — but it was also revealing its own fears. The colony was young, the faith was fragile, and the distance from Spain meant that every heretic was a threat to the entire project. The auto-da-fé was a spectacle of control, but it was also a sign of anxiety. Luna: So the Inquisition's power was real, but it was never absolute. Lucas: Never. And that's the lesson, I think. Colonial empires always look more unified and efficient in retrospect than they really were. The Spanish Inquisition in Manila was a messy, human institution — full of zeal, compromise, and unintended consequences. Luna: It's a reminder that history is never as clean as the maps make it look. Lucas: Exactly. And that's what keeps me going — finding those messy stories behind the official narrative.