Black Cattle:
Church and slavery
The following text is specifically written about the stance of the Dutch churches regarding the slave trade. It was likely not much different in the United States or England. Nevertheless, if readers with knowledge of this topic have anything to add with regard to those countries, please feel free to provide comments or text contributions via info@blackcattle.net.
Church and religion play a significant role in the novels Black Cattle and Asiento.
For the “common man” – the soldier or the impoverished sailor on a WIC ship – it likely never occurred that the slave trade was immoral. In their eyes, it couldn't be, as by the 1680s, the Protestant church had already been proclaiming for more than half a century the doctrine that "blacks" were cursed by the patriarch Noah and eternally condemned to servitude (see Sons of Japheth). Furthermore, had not the Apostle Paul himself returned a converted, runaway slave to his master, thereby upholding the institution of slavery? The Bible is filled with references to, and the apparent normalization of, slavery (as seen in the numerous quotes featured in the chapter headings of the book series).
Additionally, it was preached to communities that transporting godless Africans to a Christian culture (the colonies in the West) was essentially a virtuous act. Christianized slaves, it was argued, were freed from their heathen fate: eternal damnation. It’s hard to imagine a more cynical justification when considering the harsh realities of their later lives on the plantations. Yet, given the iron grip of the church over morality and worldview at the time, there was little room for alternative thought; the Bible and the minister were always right. By the end of the 17th century, three generations had already been raised under this doctrine.
A striking example of the complete acceptance of slavery is the Reverend Willem Kals, who traveled to Suriname on a mission in 1731 and later provided a detailed account of his experiences. Reverend Kals was, in every respect, a decent and devout man who abhorred injustice and hypocrisy. In Suriname, he advocated for slaves who were mistreated and boldly confronted the sinful and cruel behavior of the colonists. However, in his comprehensive report from 1756, he never once questioned the institution of slavery itself. Such a thought likely never even crossed his mind.
Within the church, criticism of the slave trade was rare. As early as 1665, Reverend G. de Raad accused defenders of slavery and the slave trade of relying on arguments that did not align with the truth: that it wasn’t only prisoners of war and serious criminals sold as slaves but that abductions were rampant in Africa. Similarly, his colleague J. Hondius (1679) briefly and firmly condemned human trafficking and abductions as contrary to God's will and law. Yet, these figures were outliers; it wasn’t until the latter half of the 18th century that such criticisms began to gain some substance. In the 17th century, there was no public debate about the moral implications of the transatlantic slave trade. Even among ministers, addressing the moral or immoral aspects of slavery was not a central concern. No works from that period focus solely on the ethical dimensions of the transatlantic slave trade.
Sources: Georgius de Raad en zijn traktaat tegen de slavenhandel; Predikanten, slavernij en slavenhandel, 1640-1740;
Nederlandse literatuur en slavernij ten tijde van de Verlichting,
Wist men beter? De Nederlandse opinie over de morele kant van de slavenhandel in de zeventiende eeuw
In the novel Asiento, we primarily encounter the (Spanish) Catholic Church, which held similar views. Many popes quoted Augustine (354–430 AD), who asserted that the institution of slavery was ordained by God and beneficial for both slaves and masters. In the 13th century, the pope formulated "justifiable reasons" for keeping slaves, and slavery was justified by church jurists as part of "natural law" and "the law of nations." When the 15th century ushered in a New World and slavery became crucial for European interests, the popes did not excel in condemning it. While the indiscriminate enslavement of the indigenous peoples of the Americas was denounced, the "justifiable reasons" for keeping slaves were not.
As late as 1685, the Spanish king commissioned an investigation, which concluded:
“Slaves are essential for the survival of the colonies, and slavery is a deeply rooted custom common in the kingdoms of Castile, America, and Portugal, which is not condemned by His Holiness the Pope and the Church but, on the contrary, is approved by all.”
A shift finally came in 1888—well after slavery had been abolished by many European nations, including the Netherlands—when Pope Leo XIII condemned slavery in general terms. However, explicitly denouncing the ownership of other human beings did not occur until 1965. The Second Vatican Council defended fundamental human rights and condemned any violation of human integrity, including slavery. It wasn’t until 2020 that the Vatican formally rejected the old concept of "justifiable reasons."
But apologies? No way.
Source: Het slavernijverleden en de paus, by Werkgroep Caraïbische letteren
Slavery was officially abolished in the Netherlands in 1863. It took the church another 150 years to acknowledge its "guilt." A statement finally came in 2013 from the joint Council of Churches in the Netherlands:
"(...) We acknowledge our past involvement as individual church members and church organizations in sustaining and legitimizing the slave trade. (...) As churches, we recognize our share in this guilty history and must acknowledge that theology was, in certain circumstances, misused to justify slavery. (...) We realize that we are speaking too late, that we lacked the proper insights at the right time, and allowed ourselves to be led by misplaced greed and abuse of power. (...) We acknowledge to the descendants of the enslaved that we caused great suffering."
These seem like noble words until you read more closely: it was not the church as a whole that was at fault, but individual believers and denominations. And this should not be interpreted as an apology, as the then-secretary of the Council of Churches, Klaas van der Kamp, explained in an afterword:
“There was lengthy debate about whether there should be a confession of guilt, an apology, or a formal ‘sorry.’ Ultimately, it was decided not to include such terms in the title, but the word ‘guilt’ was included in the text—phrased as a question, albeit a rhetorical one, and intended to convey more than a mere confession of guilt. (...)"
In short: a lot of harm was caused—that is admitted—but guilt is acknowledged only rhetorically (not genuinely), framed as a question, and that is not enough to say sorry. The church does not do mea culpa.
Since then, it has been quiet. “The message from the Council of Churches in 2013 still stands,” says Hugo Bulk, spokesperson for the Protestant Church in the Netherlands (PKN). “But it’s true, we haven’t heard much about it since 2013.” Finally, in 2021, there were signs of movement: church historians, art historians, and theologians from the Protestant Theological University (PThU) and Vrije Universiteit joined forces to investigate the involvement of Protestant churches in slavery and colonialism. The PKN is participating in this effort to come to terms with its past.
It’s long overdue, but still. René de Reuver of the PKN stated in an article in the Dutch newspaper Trouw: "We are only at the beginning of the discussion, but the discomfort with it is growing."
Fortunately, the call to reflect on the church’s role grew louder during the commemorative year 2023 (160 years since the abolition of slavery in the Netherlands). Jeroen Sytsma, a pastor in Zwolle, was a pioneer in this regard. “Slavery was so extensive, lasted so long, and the role of the church was so significant that this issue must resonate within the church.”