Latest / The Rise of Colonialism: How Europe Divided the World — Fexingo History / The Portuguese Inquisition in Goa: Faith, Fear and Empire
Transcript
- Lucas: So, we've talked a lot about the Portuguese presence in India — the feitorias, the cartaz system, the battles. But there's this one institution that really shaped life in Goa for over two centuries, and it's not the Viceroy's palace or the custom house. It's the Goa Inquisition. Luna: The Inquisition — I know about the Spanish one, but I didn't realize Portugal had its own version in India. Lucas: Exactly. It was formally established in 1560, about twenty years after the Portuguese Inquisition back home. But the context here is totally different. Goa was a hub of trade and cultural mixing, with Hindus, Muslims, Jews, and a growing Christian population. The Portuguese crown and the Church saw religious uniformity as essential for control. So they set up a tribunal to root out heresy — and by 'heresy' they meant any deviation from Catholic orthodoxy. Luna: Who did they target? I imagine it wasn't just Europeans. Lucas: No, the vast majority of those tried were native Goans. The Inquisition went after Hindus who had converted to Christianity but were suspected of continuing their old practices — they called them 'crypto-Hindus'. Also Jews and Muslims, though the Portuguese had already expelled or forcibly converted many of them. But even New Christians — people of Jewish or Muslim descent who had converted — were under constant surveillance. The first inquisitor was a Dominican friar named Aleixo Dias Falcão, and he set up shop in the old palace of the Adil Shahi sultans. Luna: Wait, the same building? The one I've seen pictures of? Lucas: Yes, the very same — the Palace of the Inquisition, as it became known. It's now the Goa Medical College, but back then it was a place of interrogation and imprisonment. The Inquisition had its own prisons, its own archives, and its own procedures. The most famous public events were the autos-da-fé, where sentences were pronounced in a grand ceremony. These could include public penance, flogging, or execution by burning. The first auto-da-fé in Goa was in 1563, and they continued well into the 1700s. Luna: That's terrifying. But how did ordinary Goans resist? I mean, it's not like they could just leave. Lucas: Resistance took many forms. Some crypto-Hindus went to great lengths to practice their rituals in secret. The Inquisition records — which survive in large part — are full of cases where people were caught with idols, or performing pujas at night. There's a famous case of a Brahmin named Soiro, who was denounced for bathing in the river before dawn. Others simply migrated to areas outside Portuguese control, like the Kingdom of Maratha or the Sultanate of Bijapur. There's also evidence of collective resistance — like the Mangeshi Temple, which was secretly moved to a remote location to avoid destruction. But the Inquisition had a long reach. Luna: It sounds like the Inquisition wasn't just about religion — it was also about social control. Lucas: Absolutely. And it wasn't just individuals — the Inquisition also censored books. They had a list of prohibited books, and anyone caught with them could be tried. This included not just theological works but also scientific and literary texts. For example, the works of Galileo were banned in Goa just as they were in Europe. In a place where knowledge was already scarce, this had a chilling effect. But here's something remarkable: despite the repression, Goan society remained incredibly diverse. The Inquisition couldn't erase centuries of culture. Even today, Goan Catholicism has a unique flavor, with some Hindu elements woven in. Luna: So how did it end? Lucas: The Inquisition was abolished in 1774 by the Marquis of Pombal, Portugal's powerful reformist prime minister. He saw it as an obstacle to modernization and a drain on resources. He also had personal reasons — he'd had a falling out with the Jesuits, who were closely tied to the Inquisition. But the suppression wasn't immediate; the tribunal lingered on in some form until 1812, when the last inquisitor left Goa. By then, the British were the dominant power in India, and the Portuguese Estado da Índia was a shadow of its former self. Luna: It's fascinating how something that lasted so long could just be shut down by one decree. Lucas: Well, it wasn't that simple. There was pushback from the Church and local elites. But Pombal had the backing of the king, and he was ruthless. After 1774, the Inquisition's archives were sealed, and many documents were lost or destroyed. But enough survived to give historians a window into the lives of ordinary people in colonial Goa. Those records are now a goldmine — they tell us about everything from food habits to family disputes. They're a testament to both the cruelty of the system and the resilience of those who lived under it. Luna: I'd love to know more about one of those cases, just to understand what everyday life was like. Lucas: Sure. Let's take the case of a woman named Maria da Silva, who was arrested in 1646. She was a converted Christian, but neighbors reported her for offering flowers to a Hindu idol in her garden. The inquisitors interrogated her for months, trying to get her to confess. She eventually admitted to the act but said she did it out of habit, not belief. She was sentenced to public penance — wearing a sanbenito, a penitential garment — and her property was confiscated. But she wasn't executed. Most cases didn't end in burning; the Inquisition was more interested in penance and social humiliation. Luna: That's still horrific, but it's a nuance I didn't expect. So it wasn't just a killing machine. Lucas: Exactly. The Inquisition was a bureaucratic machine for social discipline. It kept meticulous records, and it used the threat of punishment to enforce conformity. Over its existence, it tried about 16,000 cases, and of those, only about 60 people were actually executed. But the fear it instilled was enormous. People lived in constant suspicion of their neighbors, because anyone could denounce you. And the Inquisition encouraged denunciations — you even got a reward if your tip led to a conviction. Luna: That's the kind of detail that really brings it home. So, were there any famous figures who opposed the Inquisition openly? Lucas: A few. One notable voice was the Jesuit missionary Thomas Stephens, who wrote the first grammar of Konkani and translated Christian texts into the local language. He actually defended the use of Konkani in worship, which the Inquisition frowned upon. Another was the Goan Brahmin turned Christian, Ornato — he wrote a protest against the destruction of Hindu temples. But open opposition was rare and dangerous. Most resistance was quiet, like hiding idols in walls or continuing to celebrate Hindu festivals in secret. The Inquisition archives are full of such cases — they show a hidden world beneath the official Catholic veneer. Luna: It makes me think about how we remember these things. Is the Inquisition a sensitive topic in Goa today? Lucas: It is, but in complex ways. Some Goan Catholics see it as a dark chapter that they've moved past. Others, especially Hindus, remember it as a period of persecution. In recent years, there's been a push to open the Inquisition archives for more research, and some museums have exhibits on it. But there's also a lot of mythologizing — some narratives exaggerate the number of deaths, others downplay the repression. The truth, as always, is somewhere in between. The Inquisition was a brutal institution, but it also coexisted with a vibrant, syncretic culture that refused to disappear. Luna: I think that's what makes this so fascinating. It's not just a story of oppression — it's a story of people finding ways to survive and adapt. Lucas: Exactly. And that's a theme we've seen in so many episodes — whether it's the cartaz system or the zamindari, colonial power was never total. People always found cracks. The Goa Inquisition is a powerful example of that. And if today's episode gave you a new perspective on colonial history, that's the kind of deep dive we love to do here. Luna: Yeah, I feel like I understand Goa in a whole new light. Thanks, Lucas. Lucas: And if you found that useful, here's a small thing: our show stays ad-free because of listener support. So if you'd like to help keep these conversations going, you can buy me a coffee at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. No pressure, just a way to say this content matters to you. Luna: Absolutely. It's a small gesture that makes a big difference. And we're back to our topic — but I think we've only scratched the surface. What else should we know about the Inquisition's legacy? Lucas: One legacy is the sheer volume of documentation. The Inquisition archives in Goa and Lisbon contain thousands of case files. They're a treasure trove for social historians. For example, we can trace how the Inquisition's policies affected family structures. Many cases involve women who were denounced by their own husbands or sons. The Inquisition sometimes used family members as informants, which shattered trust. But at the same time, families often closed ranks to protect one another. It's a contradiction that's hard to resolve. Luna: So the archives give us a very human picture. Lucas: Yes. And they also reveal the limits of the Inquisition's power. Despite its best efforts, it couldn't stamp out all traces of pre-Christian religion. For instance, the practice of wearing a sacred thread by converted Brahmins continued for generations. The Inquisition would punish it, but it would pop up again. That persistence is a form of resistance in itself. Luna: It's almost like the Inquisition failed in its ultimate goal, even though it caused immense suffering. Lucas: In a way, yes. It failed to create a completely uniform Catholic society. The Goa we know today is a blend of influences — Hindu, Catholic, Islamic, Portuguese. The Inquisition tried to force a monoculture, but history is messier than that. And that's what makes studying it so rewarding — you see the cracks in the system. Luna: I think that's a great note to end on. Thanks for this deep dive, Lucas. Lucas: My pleasure. As always, keep questioning history. We'll see you next time.