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 JIM KRANE

ENERGY
KINGDOMS
Oil and Political Survival
in the Persian Gulf
 ENERGY KINGDOMS

C E N T E R O N G LO B A L E N E R GY P O L I CY S E R I E S
 C E N T E R O N G LO B A L E N E R GY P O L I CY S E R I E S

Jason Bordoff, series editor

Making smart energy policy choices requires approaching energy as a complex

and multifaceted system in which decision makers must balance economic,
security, and environmental priorities. Too often, the public debate is dominated
by platitudes and polarization. Columbia University’s Center on Global Energy
Policy at SIPA seeks to enrich the quality of energy dialogue and policy by pro-
viding an independent and nonpartisan platform for timely analysis and recom-
mendations to address today’s most pressing energy challenges. The Center on
Global Energy Policy Series extends that mission by offering readers accessible,
policy-relevant books that have as their foundation the academic rigor of one of
the world’s great research universities.
Robert McNally, Crude Volatility: The History and the Future of Boom-Bust Oil Prices

Daniel Raimi, The Fracking Debate: The Risks, Benefits, and Uncertainties
of the Shale Revolution

Richard Nephew, The Art of Sanctions: A View from the Field

 E N E R GY
KINGDOMS

OIL AND POLITICAL

S U R V I VA L I N T H E
PERSIAN GULF

JIM KRANE

Columbia University Press

New York
 Columbia University Press
Publishers Since 1893
New York Chichester, West Sussex
cup.columbia.edu

Copyright © 2019 Columbia University Press

All rights reserved

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Krane, Jim, author.
Title: Energy kingdoms : oil and political survival in the Persian Gulf /
Jim Krane.
Other titles: Center on Global Energy Policy series.
Description: New York : Columbia University Press, 2019. | Series: Center on
Global Energy Policy series | Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018027640 | ISBN 9780231179300 (cloth : alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Petroleum industry and trade—Persian Gulf Region. |
Petroleum industry and trade—Political aspects—Persian Gulf Region. |
Energy consumption—Persian Gulf Region. | Energy policy—Persian
Gulf Region.
Classification: LCC HD9576.P52 K73 2019 | DDC 338.2/72809536—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018027640

Columbia University Press books are printed on permanent

and durable acid-free paper.
Printed in the United States of America

Cover image: © Hansmusa / Alamy Stock Photo

FOR CONNIE

•
 CONTENTS

Acknowledgments ix

Introduction 1

1. Before Oil 7

2. The Oil Age Arrives 28

3. The Big Payback 43

4. From Energy Poverty to Energy Extremism 52

5. Unnaturally Cool 63

6. We Have a Serious Problem 85

7. Iran and Dubai Lead the Way 98

8. Shifting Gears in Saudi Arabia 116

9. The Politics of Reform 136

Conclusion: The Climate Hedge 160

Notes 173
Index 199
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I
spent four and a half years living in the Persian Gulf, from 2005
through 2009, and have had the good fortune to return many times
since. I found in these six countries a disarming warmth and hospi-
tality and a profound natural beauty. I was unprepared for the huge
amount of personal interest that I would develop in the region.
The Gulf is beset by a number of urgent problems, just one of which
is covered here. The importance of energy to daily life was driven home
to me during a blackout in Dubai. There was no escaping the 110°F (40°C)
heat, which was magnified by the design of buildings that quickly trapped
heat and offered no means to vent it. The experience made tangible for
me that energy policy in these producer states needs to be recalibrated
for the longer term, rather than for a short era of conspicuous consump-
tion. This book examines the drivers behind the Gulf’s profligate treat-
ment of its domestic energy resources, the damage that overconsump-
tion has brought, and the pathways toward a more sustainable and
enlightened understanding of the fossil fuels that have transformed the
region.
None of the research in this book would have been possible without
the assistance of dozens of people, who contributed in ways large and
small. I made numerous friends in the region, many of whom helped in
some way, whether offering places to sleep, shared meals, anecdotes over
 xAC K NOW LE D GM E N TS

a beer, arguments (clarifications!), emailed links, or even copies of their

electricity bills.
I also met my wonderful wife, Chloe, in nearby Baghdad, and the
explorations of the Gulf that I describe in this book and my previous one
were done as much through Chloe’s eyes as mine. Saying I couldn’t have
done it without her is an understatement. Our adventures ranged from
hikes among the mountain villages and canyons of Ras al-Khaimah to
our secret campsites in Fujairah, the Musandam, Jebel Misht, and, most
memorably, Jebel Rawdah; our breakfasts on the beach; and cocktails
among the dunes and atop the Burj al-Arab. Best of all was the birth and
first year of life of our son, Jay.
After leaving the Gulf, we spent our next four years together in Cam-
bridge, where—on the first day of my doctoral studies—Chloe gave birth
to our daughter, Connie, to whom this work is dedicated. While Cam-
bridge was more work than fun, I came to enjoy its eccentricities, its
medieval pubs, and cycling under vast East Anglian skies churning with
clouds. Chloe’s backing was crucial in allowing me to spend a year doing
fieldwork in the Gulf, which I did in numerous three-week jaunts to all
six countries.
At Cambridge I was lucky to work under the impressive faculties of
David Reiner, whose knowledge of literature in political science, eco-
nomics, and energy policy is matched by his affability and dedication.
I am grateful for his diligence in providing comments and edits that
helped shape this book. We held many of our discussions at ancient pubs
in the medieval city as well as in attendance at two fabulous Cambridge
Beer Festivals.
Since leaving Cambridge, I have been extremely lucky to find myself
employed by the Baker Institute for Public Policy at Rice University, in
Houston. Rice deftly combines intellectual power and Southern grace
on a campus replete with live oaks, drenching humidity, and high-level
policy discussions. At Baker, I owe a huge thank you to Ken Medlock,
the director at the Center for Energy Studies, and Ambassador Edward
Djerejian, the institute’s founding director. Ken in particular has helped
shape my thinking on energy, as have the regular debates and events at
the center. For endowing my research fellowship at the institute I also
 ACK NOW LE D GM E NTS x i

owe a giant debt of gratitude to Wally Wilson, a supremely kind and

generous Houstonian with whom I’ve swapped many a tale of Middle
Eastern intrigue. Also at Rice, I am indebted to Elsie Hung for diligent
research support, particularly with data gathered to illustrate this man-
uscript; Marwa Shalaby, who provided statistical assistance with one
of my chapters; Mohammad Tabaar, who provided comments and
insights on my Iran material; and my colleagues Nathan Citino and
Yasser Faquih, who provided input or source material. Pedro Rodriguez
of the IMF helped me convert his demand equation for use with my
price-elasticity calculations in chapter 5, as did Rice’s Mark Agerton and
Sean Leong. Also helpful along the way were Kristian Coates-Ulrichsen,
now a colleague at Rice, who provided comments on my nearly finished
manuscript and often read and critiqued early work, as did Mary Ann
Tétreault, Pete Moore, Jocelyn Sage Mitchell, and Matthew Gray. Mike
Wood at the Kuwait Ministry of Electricity and Water provided useful
details and encouragement, and Abdullah Baabood at Qatar University
helped with the accuracy of my Oman anecdotes.
I must also offer profuse thanks to my ever-diligent editor, Bridget
Flannery-McCoy, at Columbia University Press. Bridget has been exactly
what I wanted in an editor: thorough, exacting, professional, kind, and
enthusiastic.
Finally, my family. This book would have emerged much earlier if it
weren’t for Jay and Connie, whose infectious personalities lured me home
by dinnertime most nights—even earlier during little-league baseball
season. My wife, Chloe, deserves a Ghawar-sized reservoir of my love
and gratitude for helping with the most important aspects of writing this
book: allowing me the indulgence of going back to school, putting up
with the resulting economic privations, and being the stabilizing cor-
nerstone of our new life in Houston. Chloe did all this while keeping the
home fires burning, raising our kids, helping Syrian and Iraqi refugees
adjust to life in America, and being an outrageously lovable wife in gen-
eral, all in good humor.
ENERGY KINGDOMS
 INTRODUCTION

In one generation we went from riding camels to riding

Cadillacs. The way we are wasting money, I fear the next
generation will be riding camels again.
— K I N G FA I S A L O F S A U D I A R A B I A , A S Q U O T E D I N M A I YA M A N I ,

C H A N G E D I D E N T I T I E S : T H E C H A L L E N G E O F T H E N E W G E N E R AT I O N

I N S AU D I A R A B I A

S
ubstitute “oil” for “money” in this cynical prophecy, and you
get an idea of the quandary facing the Persian Gulf monarchies:
Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Kuwait, Qatar, Oman,
and Bahrain. These six small states developed at a breakneck pace thanks
to the oil reserves discovered under their desert sands less than a century
ago. But they are now in the throes of a mighty energy dilemma. This
problem stems not from the depletion of this oil—the “peak oil” hypo-
thesis of a decade ago—but from skyrocketing demand for the very fuel
that drove their rapid ascent into the modern world.1
During King Faisal’s reign, in the 1960s and 1970s, there was little to
suggest that his own subjects might someday require so much energy
that their needs would interfere with the kingdom’s exports. The
 2INTRO D U C TIO N

monarchies were flush with oil, which flowed from supergiant fields dis-
covered from the 1930s through the 1970s—Ghawar in Saudi Arabia,
Kuwait’s Burgan field, the Murban structure in Abu Dhabi.
These repositories provided the petroleum that powered the postwar
Free World. Gulf oil fueled the West German Wirtschaftswunder, Japan’s
economic miracle, and the suburban commuter belts of the American
colossus. It was easy oil, pooled in boundless reservoirs that practically
geysered into action with the prick of a drill bit. Almost all the oil pro-
duced could be sold abroad; Gulf populations were tiny, their economies
undeveloped. Oil demand in the six monarchies was a mere rounding
error on global consumption.
The Gulf became the strategic heartland of America’s energy security.
When the Soviets invaded Afghanistan in 1979, Washington saw a threat
to the oil; US president Jimmy Carter declared that America would go
to war, if necessary, to defend the monarchies. A decade later, President
George H. W. Bush put the Carter Doctrine into action, rolling back Sad-
dam Hussein’s 1990 invasion of Kuwait. The doctrine remains in force
today. Since the early 1970s, America has provided security for these
weak, young states and made sure tankers brimming with oil could
thread their way through the Strait of Hormuz and other chokepoints
to keep the world supplied.
In each of the six Gulf monarchies, a traditional ruling sheikh divided
up the riches. With oil’s help, they lifted their subjects out of the pov-
erty that had entrapped countless previous generations. Rulers lavished
their countrymen with cheap gasoline, cheap electricity, and cheap water.
Subsidies on energy were a key part of national development plans that
also provided jobs, housing, medicine, and education. Oil allowed rul-
ing sheikhs to make their subjects wealthy and complacent. In return,
subjects threw their support behind the sheikhs. It was a virtuous cycle.
Those days are gone. Forty years of compounding annual growth have
raised Gulf energy consumption to some of the highest levels in the
world, measured on a per capita basis or—more importantly—in terms
of oil consumed per unit of gross domestic product. As the rest of the
world grows more energy efficient, the sheikhdoms of the Gulf are going
the other way, using ever more energy to produce a dollar of economic
 INTRO D U C TIO N3

growth. Saudi Arabia consumes ten times more oil than the global aver-
age per unit of GDP.2 The situation in neighboring monarchies is no less
startling. For economies based on oil exports, such inefficiency is bad
news. If these trends continue, the Gulf monarchies could lose their long-
held roles as the world’s premier energy suppliers.
The prodigious burning of fossil fuels in the Gulf not only is under-
mining national economies but also is a major global source of the
greenhouse gases warming the climate—including, disastrously, their
own. The fiery summers of 2016 and 2017 have tormented inhabitants
with record-setting temperatures above 120°F (50°C).
Carbon dioxide emissions from the Gulf have grown by an average of
5 percent per year since 1990 versus 2 percent for the world as a whole.3 In
2015, the International Energy Agency joined the chorus of multilateral
organizations calling for reductions in Middle East oil consumption and
associated emissions. Global climate goals cannot be met without a major
change in behavior in the Gulf. Nor can climate objectives be met with-
out a reduction in oil demand globally.
For a century, oil has been the world’s paramount fuel: it is energy
dense, plentiful, and simple to transport and use. It has held a virtual
monopoly over transportation since the early 1900s, when Henry Ford’s
gasoline-powered Model T proved superior to Edison’s electric vehicles
and the coal-powered Stanley Steamer. While natural gas and coal both
compete with other fuels and technologies in power generation, oil has
no ready substitutes. Before the ascendance of climate concerns, the only
times humanity sought oil substitutes such as biofuels and electric vehi-
cles were when oil prices spiked. Now, the battle against carbon dioxide
has created an active market for oil substitutes, no matter how low the
price of oil.
The Gulf countries are caught in the pincers of a climate dilemma. On
the one hand, the region is one of the most climate stressed and depen-
dent on greenhouse gas mitigation. Higher temperatures could render it
uninhabitable within the current century. On the other hand, oil exports
remain the region’s economic livelihood and the source of its longstand-
ing protection by the United States. Actions to address climate change—
specifically, global efforts to reduce consumption of fossil fuels—pose
 4INTRO D U C TIO N

both an economic and a security threat. It is a predicament that requires

thoughtful long-term planning and sacrifice.
What forces are behind the Gulf’s feverish demand for its chief export
commodity? Many other countries have experienced fast-growing pop-
ulation and income but never reached the levels of energy inefficiency
that characterize these six. What makes the Gulf different? Can the
region’s tribal elites tame demand without jeopardizing their control
over the state? Can the ruling sheikhs cope with the global transition to
cleaner energy?
These are the questions that drive this book. The early chapters exam-
ine the history of energy demand in the region and outline the events
and practices that have pushed the Gulf from a negligible to a world-
beating consumer of its own resources. Further chapters look at oppor-
tunities for reform not just to energy consumption but to the political
structures that have contributed to inefficiency. The closing section pro-
vides a sobering preview of the challenges facing the world’s premier
petrostates and their top export.
The central argument is that the Gulf monarchies’ political and
economic systems contain contradictory properties. One of their key
political institutions, subsidization of energy, undermines their chief
economic institution, the export of oil and gas. Over the long term, these
two crucial components of governance cannot remain in conflict. Either
the political structures will bend or the economy will yield.
Academic wisdom is that the political structures cannot bend with-
out grave consequences. Scholars theorizing about Gulf politics since the
1980s have nearly unanimously dismissed the possibility of reforming
energy subsidies, arguing that subsidies are key parts of the all-important
social contract between state and society. Citizens get cheap oil, water,
and power and in return bestow fealty upon the families who rule them.
Touch these offerings, and the whole bargain is liable to unravel.
In this book, I dispel this long-held idea. Political structures can and
must bend. Subsidies are reformable because the distortions they have
created are too big to ignore. Energy policy in the Gulf is the polar oppo-
site of the policies in place in Europe, North America, and other energy
importers of the developed world. In those places, rationalized pricing
instills in consumers a clear understanding of energy’s value. Buildings
 INTRO D U CTIO N5

are fitted with insulation and other features that minimize energy
demand. Fuel efficiency is a key variable in car and appliance purchases.
When energy prices rise, consumers reduce energy use. They use less air
conditioning, heating, lighting, or fuel, or they upgrade to more efficient
technology. In some countries, electricity prices are high enough to
encourage building owners to generate their own electricity with roof-
top solar panels.
An altogether different incentive structure governs energy use in the
Gulf. When international oil prices are high, exporting countries of
the Gulf undergo an increase in demand and reduced efficiency. Why?
Because high oil prices bring windfall profits, and policy makers come
under pressure to share the wealth. They distribute the windfall in ways
that exacerbate energy demand—by boosting government salaries and
embarking on building programs that increase per capita energy con-
sumption at the very moment the rest of the world struggles to limit it.
Ruling sheikhs have even been known to respond to high international
prices by reducing domestic energy prices, widening the gap between
local and international prices. High oil prices incentivize wasteful energy
consumption in the Gulf because residents receive different signals than
those that moderate consumption elsewhere.
In 2008, while oil had spiked to an all-time high of more than $140
per barrel—and with natural gas prices at similar highs—people in the
Gulf were partying like it was 1999. As I chronicled in my 2009 book on
Dubai, gargantuan SUVs filled the superhighways of the Gulf even as
they were being traded in for Toyota Priuses in the West. While Ger-
mans lusted for the zero-emission Passivhaus, the Gulf underwent a
frenzied building boom that covered the landscape in energy-intensive
sprawl. Building insulation, long a standard component elsewhere,
remained a frivolity. On hot summer days, residents swam in artificially
chilled pools or, in Dubai, flocked to the Emirates Mall to ski in full view
of shoppers wearing shorts and tank tops. At the office tower where I
worked, colleagues propped open lobby doors when they went outside
to smoke, so that they could feel a steady blast of artificially chilled air.
I found this kind of energy waste jarring, but it is absolutely rational
given government policy in the Gulf. Electricity, desalinated water, and
transportation fuels are provided at a fraction of world prices and—in
 6 INTRO D U CTIO N

the case of electricity and water—at a fraction of the cost of production.

These subsidized energy products are among the sheaf of welfare benefits
extended by the Gulf regimes to society in exchange for public support.
Energy is a tool of political control. Since it is provided so inexpensively,
the public treats energy as if it has little value. This is true of citizens born
and raised in the Gulf, but it is also true of expatriate residents: although
they may have come to the Gulf from countries where energy is priced at
or above market levels, they change their behavior when provided with
subsidized energy.
This behavior is now backfiring. With the exception of gas-rich
Qatar, these monarchies face the unintended consequences of using
energy as a political tool: an increasingly acute conflict between sus-
taining exports and maintaining subsidies. As suggested by King Faisal’s
prediction, regimes face a choice between short-term political stability
and longer-term economic sustainability. As populations rise and
energy production reaches a plateau, domestic consumption will gradu-
ally displace exports, as has happened in other oil-exporting states.
Reforms that moderate consumption will be difficult, no doubt; citi-
zens have gotten used to subsidies and won’t want to see them go. But
while difficult, they are not impossible, and such reforms are the only
hope these states have in extending the longevity of oil exports and,
perhaps, the regimes themselves.
 1
BEFORE OIL

T
he ruling sheikhs of the Gulf, with their perfumed headscarves
and gold-trimmed cloaks, can seem like exotic anachronisms in
this age of global standardization. But the enduring trappings
of old Arabia go beyond dress; they also include a successful brand of
tribal politics. Today’s reigning sheikhs and their families arose from
ruling lineages that extend back millennia.
Oil, of course, plays a big part in the politics of the Gulf. But oil’s role
is a recent one. Before oil, there was isolation. This isolation was protec-
tive and rewarded toughness and specialization. It incubated a unique
society and a political culture that remains surprisingly relevant today.
For most of its history, the Arabian Peninsula drifted in an eddy of time,
close to but apart from the main historical currents that convulsed the
neighboring lands of the Arab and Persian Middle East.
Nearby Mesopotamia was the site of the first highly advanced human
society, which coalesced around the bountiful waters of the Tigris and
Euphrates Rivers some five thousand years ago. The seas, isthmuses, and
caravan routes of the Middle East lay at the center of the Old World, fun-
neling travelers between Asia and Europe. From 3000 BC until the thir-
teenth century, the Middle East was the cultural, economic, and often
political center of all humanity west of India and China.1 But despite the
grand sweep of Middle Eastern history—the Silk Road trade, the advent
 8BE FO RE O IL

of Christianity, the great civilizations—the deserts of the Arabian Pen-

insula languished outside this current. Most of the action took place else-
where, in Mesopotamia, the Levant, and Egypt, where plentiful fresh
water enabled food surpluses and the construction of great cities.
For two distinct periods, however, the Arabian Peninsula played a
central role in human history. The first dates to 622, when the Prophet
Muhammad founded the Islamic faith. The formation of Islam launched
the golden age of the Arabs, enshrining the Arabian Peninsula forever
as the geographic and cultural heart of the Islamic world. By the thir-
teenth century, Arabs had conquered much of the known world and
spread their faith from Spain to China. For four centuries, Arabs led the
Western world in philosophy, science, medicine, and poetry, even pre-
serving European knowledge during the medieval “dark age” that
gripped that continent.
But as Islam spread into more temperate lands, its command centers
followed. In a paradoxical turn of fate, the glories of the Arab Empire
largely bypassed Arabia. The western Arabian cities where Muhammad
began preaching, Mecca and Medina, remained holy shrines of pilgrim-
age, but after the prophet’s death in 632, most of the Arabian Peninsula
sank back into isolation. The caliphates were administered from faraway
capitals: Damascus, Cordoba, Baghdad, and Cairo. Punishing geogra-
phy mired Arabia in a thousand-year time warp. Human settlement was
deterred by the endless dunes and jagged wadis (canyons), the searing
climate, the dearth of fresh water, and the limits of sea navigation.
The second golden age of the Arabian Peninsula is the one this book
focuses on: the age of oil, which unfolded on Arabia’s Persian Gulf coast
1,300 years after the Prophet’s death. The birth of this new era is the focus
of chapter 2.
Between the two golden ages of Islam and oil was a long epoch of iso-
lation. Elsewhere in the world, global empires rose and fell, and civili-
zations were transformed by conquest, colonization, and technology. The
Arabian Peninsula’s geographic quarantine allowed the sheikhdoms of
the Gulf to develop traits that remain relevant to this day, including
a robust tribal culture and distributional autocratic rule that has its
basis in the earliest forms of Arabian societal organization. The Gulf’s
 BE FO RE O IL9

inaccessibility also secured a mineral-rich realm for a small number

of distant ancestors of the early Arabs. The meager size of the popula-
tion ensured that, once resources were discovered, the size of the bounty
relative to the size of the populace would bring prosperity.

IMPERIAL INTRUSION AND THE FOUNDATION

OF HEREDITARY RULE

Early breaches of the Gulf’s historical sequestration came in the form

of contacts with European and Ottoman military delegations in the early
1500s. The Portuguese arrived first, maintaining a nominal but brutal
presence until fading away in the mid-1700s.2 The British and Ottomans
were the most influential of the interlopers. Although neither empire
spent much blood or treasure defending interests on the Arabian Pen-
insula, their authority had two lasting effects. First, since the imperial
powers were unwilling to send their own citizens to colonize these lands
formally, they instead concentrated power in the hands of preexisting
tribal ruling families. Second, they pushed the Arab tribal leaders to
define the boundaries of the territories they controlled. Many of these
boundaries later became international borders.
The Ottomans and British regarded their Arabian territories as buf-
fer zones that could shield more important possessions from enemy
inroads. From the early 1500s until their empire dissolved during World
War I, the Ottomans held superficial control over the peninsula’s Red
Sea coast, including the trading and pilgrimage cities of Jeddah, Mecca,
and Medina. The Ottomans also maintained a tenuous grip on parts of
eastern Arabia: Kuwait, Qatar, and the al-Hasa Oasis in today’s Eastern
Province of Saudi Arabia. Istanbul used its Arabian presence to thwart
European inroads into its strategic eastern trading cities of Baghdad and
Basra, in today’s Iraq.
The British were the strongest external power in the Persian Gulf for
350 years. They arrived tentatively in the early 1600s, rose to dominance
during the height of the British Raj in India in the late 1800s, and finally
 10 BEFO RE O IL

sailed away amid the crumbling of the imperium in 1971. They were
interested in Arabia for its strategic location on trade routes between
Europe and India. The British imposed their dominance around a series
of truces, starting in 1835, which granted protection and political back-
ing for ruling sheikhs who relinquished control over foreign affairs and
trade. The last of these was signed with Qatar in 1916.3
While the Ottomans and British were rival intruders, they presided
over a crucial change in the system of tribal rule on the peninsula. Before
their arrival, communities in Arabia were not organized under the cur-
rent system of hereditary sheikhly rule. Instead, a more ad hoc system
prevailed, where the head of a respected family agreed to mediate dis-
putes and manage relations with neighbors and distant powers.4
British and Ottoman treaty relations amended the old system. The
British had a particular problem with ill-defined tribal rule and nebu-
lous concepts of territorial control. They wanted to deal with identifi-
able rulers who controlled sovereign territory with clear boundaries.5
Since these institutions did not exist, the British created them. British
authorities gave political and financial backing to sheikhs who followed
the terms of the queen’s treaties. Once imperial powers recognized a local
sheikh, they had vested interests in ensuring that “their” ruler and his
family remained in control to enforce the treaty. This practice had the
effect of solidifying and, later, legitimizing hereditary rule.
Afterward, British surveyors laid out borders between sheikhdoms
that have, in many cases, become accepted international boundaries.
These practices allowed the Gulf sheikhs to extend control over their ter-
ritories and encouraged the settlement and loyalty of nomadic tribes.

SIX INDEPENDENT MONARCHIES

By the time the British folded their flags and set sail from the region in
1971, six independent Persian Gulf monarchies had emerged. Over time,
the six have developed strong governing institutions and, for the most
part, remained politically stable through momentous social and
 BE FO RE O IL11

economic change. The disparate sheikhdoms quickly integrated with

counterparts in the region and within the global economy. By 1971, all six
were members of the United Nations. Between 1960 and 1967, all but Bah-
rain and Oman joined the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting
Countries (OPEC). In 1981, the six monarchies banded together to form
the Gulf Cooperation Council, or GCC, a loose union based on monar-
chical rule, self-defense, free movement, and coordinated laws. The
GCC states (shown in figure 1.1) comprise all the countries of the Ara-
bian Peninsula except Yemen, left out of the union because of its major
differences with the six monarchies. These start with Yemen’s chronic
instability and underdevelopment and extend to the country’s large
population and small natural resource base as well as its republican
(nonmonarchical) government.

LEBANON SYRIA AFGH.

ISRAEL
PALESTINE IRAN
IRAQ
30
JORDAN
PAK.
Kuwait
KUWAIT
Tabuk Hafar Pe
rs
ian
Gulf of Ha’il Al-Batin Gu
Aqaba Jubail lf
Dammam BAHRAIN
Buraydah Dhahran
QATAR Dubai OMAN
Al-Khobar Gulf of
Doha Abu Oman
EGYPT Riyadh
Yanbu Medina Dhabi Muscat
UNITED ARAB
SAUDI EMIRATES
Administrative
Boundary ARABIA
Jeddah OMAN
Mecca 20
Red
Sea

SUDAN Abha
Salalah
Jizan

ERITREA
Arabian Sea
YEMEN
Blue

Gulf of Aden Socotra

Nile

(YEMEN)
ETHIOPIA DJIBOUTI
10

FIGURE 1.1 The Persian Gulf countries.

 TA B L E 1 .1 Basic statistical indicators

Year of
data 2015 2010–2015 2015 2015 2014 2012 2012

Hydrocarbon
reserves per Hydrocarbon
Total oil citizen revenue per
Area Pop. GDP PPP GDP per capita output (barrels of oil citizen
Country (sq. mi.)1 (millions)1 Citizen %2 Foreign %2 (2011 US$bn)1 (current US$)1 (kbbl/d)3 equivalent)4 (2012 US$)4

Bahrain 268 1.4 48% 52% 60.85 $22,600 64 4,000 11,000

Kuwait 6,880 3.9 31% 69% 261.21 $29,301 2,767 92,000 73,000
Oman 82,030 4.5 56% 44% 161.58 $15,551 952 6,000 11,000
Qatar 4,427 2.2 14% 86% 302.49 $73,653 2,055 724,000 183,000
Saudi 830,000 31.5 67% 33% 1585.98 $20,482 11,624 16,000 11,000
Arabia
UAE 30,000 9.2 12% 89% 605.3 $40,439 3,474 139,000 98,000

1
World Data Bank, World Bank Group.
2
GCC: Total population and percentage of nationals and non-nationals in GCC countries (latest national statistics, 2010–2015), Gulf Research Center, http://gulfmigration
.eu/total-population-and-percentage-of-nationals-and-non-nationals-in-gcc-countries-latest-national-statistics-2010-2015/.
3
International Energy Statistics, US EIA.
4
BP, International Monetary Fund, and Qatar National Bank 2014.
 BE FO RE O IL13

The GCC countries are typically studied as a group, but the various
monarchies bear widely different characteristics (some of the major sta-
tistics for each state are given in table 1.1).

SAU DI AR A B I A

The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is the world’s only nation-state named for
the family that rules it. The kingdom is dominant over other Gulf mon-
archies in terms of population, physical area, natural resources, and geo-
political influence (table 1.1). The organizing structures of Saudi society
are among the world’s purest—meaning that Saudi culture has under-
gone relatively little influence from outsiders, making it unique in many
ways.
The al-Saud family’s power flows from two sources: its origins in
the central Arabian Desert, in the region known as the Nejd, and an
eighteenth-century alliance with the Ikhwan, an army of nomadic
Islamist followers of Muhammad ibn Abdul Wahhab.6
A Saudi kingdom emerged in the central Arabian Peninsula twice in
previous eras and both times lasted less than a century. The first Saudi
state, known as the Emirate of Diriyah after the ancestral hometown of
the al-Saud, rose in the mid–eighteenth century and lasted until the
Ottoman invaders crushed it in 1818. The Emirate of Diriyah sprawled
between Oman and the Shia holy city of Karbala in southern Iraq, where
Sunni jihadis destroyed Shia shrines and put thousands to the sword.
The second Saudi state, the Emirate of the Nejd, held about half as much
territory, concentrated in the eastern half of the peninsula. The Nejdi
state lasted from 1824 to 1891, when Riyadh fell to the al-Saud’s historic
Nejdi rivals, the al-Rashid clan.
The modern kingdom is the al-Saud family’s third attempt at state-
craft. It has been in place about as long as the first. The kingdom’s found-
ing father, Abdulaziz al-Saud, or Ibn Saud, seized Riyadh and the Nejd
from the al-Rashid in 1902. Over the next thirty years, Ibn Saud and his
Ikhwan irregulars fought more than fifty battles in their quest to reas-
semble a vast kingdom covering most of the Arabian Peninsula. When
 14BE FO RE O IL

the fighting was done, Ibn Saud melded four disparate territories into a
country that he named for himself. Ibn Saud’s Arabia was recognized
as a sovereign and independent state in 1932.
The al-Saud rulers imposed the Nejdi’s austere brand of Sunni Salafi
Islam on all inhabitants, whether minority Shia in the east or the more
liberal Hijazis in the west. Salafi, or Wahhabi, Islam remains a key pil-
lar of the al-Saud’s claims of religious legitimacy, stemming from state
enforcement of conservative principles and its seizure and guardianship
of holy places in Mecca and Medina. Like their counterparts in neigh-
boring Gulf monarchies, Ibn Saud’s sons continued to rule the Saudi
kingdom based on indigenous institutions that evolved from long-held
traditions.
For the Saudis, this singularity is a matter of pride. No outside power
ever colonized the Nejd, the al-Saud heartland. Ottoman imperial-
ists, also Muslim, made inroads, but considered the Nejd and much of
Arabia a “hornets’ nest.” For non-Muslims, Arabia’s holy cities have
always been off-limits.7 Chas Freeman, a former US ambassador to
Saudi Arabia, maintains that Saudi Arabia’s never-colonized status still
shapes relations with its neighbors and the West.8 “Saudi Arabia is
the only society on the planet never to have experienced coercive intru-
sion by Western militaries, missionaries, or merchants. The kingdom
has never compromised its independence. When the West finally came
here, it came not as a conqueror, spiritual tutor, or mercantile exploiter,
but as hired help.”9
Saudi Arabia modernized more gradually than the other Gulf states.
While its early independence and discovery of oil gave it a head start,
the kingdom’s larger area and its ultraconservative religious and social
preferences slowed development. The rise of the modern Saudi state owes
much to its oil-derived friendship with the United States.
The Americans capitalized on the strategic importance of a sparsely
populated land endowed with so much oil. The 1945 meeting between
President Franklin D. Roosevelt and Ibn Saud, aboard the USS Quincy
in the Suez Canal, established the core principles of the relationship: US
diplomatic and military backing in exchange for a commitment to oil
Another random document with
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Ojeda and Pizarro, he was not altogether unfit to hold a Spanish
commission.
 CHAPTER XIV.
DIFFICULTIES AND DISCOURAGEMENTS.

[Æt. 59; 1495]

MARGARITE and Father Boyle, as has been mentioned, had

sailed for Spain while Columbus was absent on his cruise in search
of China. Arriving in Spain, they told a series of able and effective
falsehoods, judiciously seasoned with a little genuine truth. They
said it gave them the greatest pain to speak in disparaging terms of
their superior officer, but a stern sense of duty compelled them to
say that the misguided man was a liar and a scoundrel. All the
Admiral’s stories of fertile islands, rich gold-mines, delightful climate,
and amiable heathens clamoring for conversion, were without any
foundation. Hispaniola was a wretched, fever-stricken place, wholly
unfit for colonization. As for Columbus and his brother Bartholomew,
they were cruel tyrants, who required Spanish gentlemen to work
and made sick men get out of their beds, where they were
comparatively comfortable, in order to engage in ridiculous
expeditions after gold that never existed. Of the two, Don
Bartholomew was perhaps the more objectionable, which was
unfortunate, inasmuch as the Admiral, having put to sea in search of
more of his worthless islands, had undoubtedly been drowned.
It must be confessed that, in one respect, Margarite and Boyle
did tell the truth. There were chills and fever in the new colony, and
when the King and Queen saw the returned colonists visibly shaking
before them, they believed in the unhealthfulness of Hispaniola and
all the accompanying lies told by the malicious and malarious
complainants. They therefore resolved to send one Diego Carillo to
Hispaniola as an investigating committee, to ascertain if there was
anybody capable of telling the exact truth about the state of affairs.
 But before Carillo could sail, Don Diego Columbus arrived, and
as he brought considerable gold with him, the monarchs formed the
opinion that he had the air of a man of strict veracity. He admitted
that there was a part of the island of Hispaniola, a long distance from
the colony, where it was said that chills and fever prevailed, and he
was inclined to believe that the report was true. As for the climate of
Isabella and its vicinity, he regarded it as exceptionally healthful. He
reported that the Admiral had positively been to the mainland of
China, and regretted that he had thoughtlessly forgotten to bring
back confirmatory tea-chests.
Don Diego further assured the King and Queen that since the
fortunate departure from Hispaniola of two objectionable persons
whom he would not name, but who, he was informed, had recently
arrived in Spain with a full cargo of assorted falsehoods, the affairs
of the colony had been very prosperous. Of course, to bold and
restless spirits there was a certain monotony in swinging in
hammocks all day long, and eating delicious fruit, in a climate that
was really perfect, and there were men who even grew tired of
picking up nuggets of gold; but Don Diego was confident that, with a
very few exceptions, the colonists enjoyed their luxurious life and, on
the whole, preferred Hispaniola to Paradise.
Ferdinand and Isabella weighed the gold brought by Don Diego,
and decided to believe him. They thereupon cancelled Carillo’s
appointment, and appointed in his place Juan Aguado, a personal
friend of Columbus, who, it was understood, would go to Hispaniola
in the character of a visiting statesman, and, after examining such
witnesses as Columbus might introduce to him, would return home
and make a report that would completely satisfy the Admiral.
In spite of this apparently friendly action, they gave Columbus
just cause of complaint by throwing open the business of exploration,
the monopoly of which they had formally given to him. They
authorized any Spaniard to fit out exploring expeditions, under
certain restrictions, and to discover continents, islands, and seas,
without any limitation as to number; the discoverers to pay the
Crown one third of all the gold they might find. Columbus was greatly
grieved at this, not only because he feared that injudicious explorers
would discover unhealthy islands, and would thus bring exploration
into disrepute, but because it was a distinct breach of faith on the
part of the King and Queen. As for the gracious permission which
they gave him to freight a vessel to trade with the New World
whenever any other explorer should freight one for the like purpose,
he evidently did not trust himself to express his opinion of such a
hollow mockery of his rights.
In August, 1495, Don Juan Aguado sailed for Hispaniola with a
fleet loaded with supplies and a pocket filled with a royal decree,
written on the best of parchment and ordering that the colony of
Isabella should consist of not over five hundred people. The astute
monarchs had perceived that the larger the colony might be the
more numerous and contradictory would be the complaints which the
colonists would make, and hence they resolved to limit the
complaint-producing capacity of the colony, and to render it
impossible for more than five hundred distinct accounts of the infamy
of Columbus and the climate to be brought to their royal ears.
As Aguado was supposed to be a firm friend of the Admiral, Don
Diego Columbus decided to return with him to Isabella, which he
accordingly did, arriving some time in October. We can imagine how
glad Columbus must have been to find that his good though tedious
brother’s affection forbade him to desert his own dear Christopher.
The latter was in the interior when Aguado arrived, and that officer
immediately proceeded to astonish Don Bartholomew by putting on
what Bartholomew rightly characterized as airs. Aguado announced
that he had come to put things to rights, and that the colonists now
had a real friend to whom they could complain when insulted and
oppressed by domineering Italians. As Isabella was undoubtedly a
dull place, the colonists eagerly availed themselves of the new
occupation of making complaints against Columbus and his brother,
and displayed a promptness and industry of which they had never
before given any signs. Don Bartholomew instantly sent word to his
brother that a new and alarming kind of lunatic had arrived from
Spain, with a royal commission authorizing him to raise the great
adversary of mankind, and that the sooner the Admiral returned the
better.
 Columbus hastened to Isabella, where he greeted Aguado with
such overwhelming politeness that the fellow became wretchedly
unhappy. He had hoped to be able to report that Columbus had
insulted him and treated the royal commission with contempt, but he
was disappointed. He was a little cheered up, however, by a
tremendous hurricane which wrecked all the Spanish ships except
one, and kept the air for a time full of Spanish colonists, natives, and
fragments of ruined buildings. This he thought would read very well
in his intended report on the general infamy of the climate, and,
despairing of obtaining anything better, he resolved to return to
Spain as soon as a new vessel could be built. The Admiral
announced that he intended to return with him, a piece of news that
greatly discontented Aguado, who foresaw that after he had made
his report concerning Columbus the latter would be entirely capable
of making a report concerning Aguado.
[Æt. 60; 1496]

About this time a young Spaniard arrived from the interior with a
most welcome story. He had run away from Isabella on account of
having nearly killed a fellow-colonist, and had met a beautiful female
cacique living on the river Ozema, near the present site of San
Domingo, who had fallen violently in love with him. From her he had
learned of rich gold-mines, and he humbly trusted that Columbus
would condescend to look at them and to overlook his little
indiscretion in the matter of his fellow-colonist. The Admiral, secretly
feeling that any man who killed one of his colonists was a benefactor
of the human race, kindly forgave him and went with him to inspect
the mines, which he found to be apparently so rich that he instantly
overhauled his Old Testament and his Geography, and decided that
he had found the original land of Ophir.
A new scientific person, who had been sent out to supersede the
worthless Fermin Cedo, was ordered to take his crucibles, transit
instruments, and other apparatus, and make a satisfactory assay of
the mines. He did so, and, being a clever man, reported to the
Admiral that the gold was unusually genuine, and that the ore would
probably average three hundred dollars to the ton. At least, that is
what he would have reported had he been a modern expert
investigating mining property in behalf of British capitalists, and we
need not suppose that there were no able assayers prior to the
discovery of silver in Colorado. Columbus read the report, expressed
a high opinion of the scientific abilities of the assayer, and ordered a
fort to be built in the neighborhood of the mines.
Carrying with him specimens of gold from the new mines, and
the report of the scientific person, Columbus sailed for Spain, in
company with Aguado, on the 10th of March, 1496. He left Don
Bartholomew as Governor during his absence, and took with him the
captive chief Caonabo, either as a specimen of the kind of heathen
produced by the island, or because he thought it might be possible to
convert the chief with the help of the many appliances in the
possession of the church at home. He wisely refrained from taking
any slaves, Don Diego having informed him that the Queen had
ordered his previous consignment of five hundred to be sent back to
Hispaniola and set at liberty.
The homeward-bound fleet consisted of only two vessels, but
they met with as much head-wind as if they had been a dozen ships
of the largest size, and on the 10th of April they were compelled to
stop at Guadaloupe for water and provisions. Here they were
attacked by armed women as well as men. Several of these early
American advocates of the equality of the sexes were captured, and
set at liberty again when the ships sailed. One of them, however,
improved the time by falling in love with Caonabo, whom she insisted
upon accompanying, and Columbus consented to carry her to Spain
as a beautiful illustration of the affectionate character of the Western
heathen.
It was the 20th of April when the fleet left Guadaloupe, and
Cadiz was not reached until the 11th of June. The provisions were so
nearly exhausted that during the latter part of the voyage the sailors
were almost in a state of starvation. Of course, when the provisions
were scarce and the men were put on short allowance, the prisoner
Caonabo and his affectionate female friend received their share of
food, for Columbus would never have permitted the unfortunate pair
to starve. Still, it did happen that Caonabo died on the voyage, and
history is silent as to what became of his companion.
 [Æt. 60–62; 1496–98]

The returned colonists told dismal stories of their sufferings, but

their stories were superfluous. Their wretched appearance; the way
in which they clung to the lamp-posts and shook them till the glass
rattled; and the promptness with which they rushed into the drug-
stores and demanded—each for himself, in a single breath—“Six-
dozen-two-grain-quinine-pills-and-be-quick-about-it!” furnished
sufficient evidence of the sort of climate in which they had lived. It
was useless for Columbus and his friends to say that the
appearance and conduct of the shaking colonists were due to sea-
sickness and long confinement on shipboard without proper
provisions. The incredulous public of Cadiz could not be thus
imposed upon, and the visible facts as to the colonists offset in the
popular mind the magnificent stories of the mines of Ophir which the
Admiral circulated as soon as he landed. The monarchs sent him a
courteous invitation to visit the court, but he was in great doubt as to
the kind of reception which Margarite, Father Boyle, and Aguado
would prepare for him. In order to show that he felt himself greatly
humiliated by the credence which had been given to the reports
against him, he dressed himself in a Franciscan’s coarse gown, and
let his beard grow. On his way to court he paraded some thirty
Indians whom he had brought with him, dressed principally in gold
bracelets, and thereby created the false and alarming impression on
the public mind that the Black Crook had broken out with much
violence.
The King and Queen, when they saw the gold that Columbus
had brought, and read the scientific person’s certificates that it was
genuine, decided to disregard all the complaints against the Admiral.
Aguado had nothing to repay him for his long voyage, and no one
would listen to his report. It is believed that he finally published it as
an advertisement at so much a line in the local Cadiz paper, and
sent marked copies to all his friends. If so, he benefited no one but
the printers, and did Columbus no apparent injury.
[Æt. 60; 1496–98]

Columbus was promised eight ships for a third exploring

expedition, but the money was not in the treasury, or, at all events,
the King and Queen could not make up their minds to spare it. They
were engaged in two or three expensive wars and one or two difficult
marriages, and were really quite pinched for money. At last, however,
they gave Columbus an order for the amount; but before it was paid,
Pedro Alonzo Niño, who had been sent with supplies to Hispaniola,
returned to Cadiz and announced that his ships were filled with gold.
The monarchs therefore recalled their order, and in its stead gave
Columbus a draft on Niño, to be paid from his cargo of gold. Further
investigation showed that Niño had spoken figuratively, and that he
had no actual gold, but only a cargo of slaves, who, he estimated,
would bring more or less gold if sold in the market.
Meanwhile the monarchs had appropriated all their ready money
for purposes of slaughter and matrimony, and so were compelled to
decline advancing funds for the new expedition until their business
should improve.
Columbus had already lost much of his original popularity, and
was daily losing what remained. That he had discovered new
countries nobody denied; but the complaint was that he had selected
cheap and undesirable countries. The Queen, however, still admired
and trusted him, for the Admiral was a man of remarkably fine
personal appearance. She confirmed all the previous honors and
privileges that had been promised to him, which looks as if in those
days a royal promise became outlawed, as the lawyers say, in one or
two years unless it was renewed—a rule which must have greatly
simplified the practice of diplomacy. Inasmuch as there had been a
vast excess of expenses over receipts in the exploration business,
Columbus was released from the obligation to pay an eighth of the
cost of every expedition, and was given a large tract of land in
Hispaniola, with the title of Duke, which title he refused, since it was
inferior in rank to his title of Admiral.
[Æt. 62; 1498]

While waiting for the expedition to be made ready, Columbus

improved the time by making his will. In this document he committed
the task of recovering the Holy Sepulchre to his son Diego, and
directed him to save up his money by putting it in the savings bank,
until he should have enough to pay for a crusade. Curiously enough,
Don Diego never was able to accumulate the necessary sum, and
the Holy Sepulchre is still waiting to be delivered. It was wise,
however, in the Admiral to delegate this great duty to his son, and
thus to free himself from an obligation which could not but interfere
with the business of exploration. The more we can shift our burdens
upon our descendants, the better time we shall have. This is the
great principle upon which all enlightened nations base their financial
policy.
Early in 1498 the royal business had so far improved that two
vessels loaded with supplies were sent to Hispaniola, and
preparations were made for fitting out a fleet of six ships and a force
of five hundred men. The five hundred men were not easily found. It
was the popular belief that chills and fever were not worth the trouble
of so long a voyage, and that there was little else to be got by
serving under Columbus. In this emergency, the sentences of
criminals in the Spanish jails were commuted to transportation to the
New World, and a pardon was offered to all persons for whom the
police were looking—with the exception of heretics and a few other
choice criminals—who should surrender themselves and volunteer to
join the fleet. In this way the required number of men was gradually
obtained. In point of moral character the expedition might have
competed with an equal number of Malay pirates or New York
plumbers. We are even told that some hardened and habitual
musicians were thus carried by Columbus to the once peaceful and
happy island of Hispaniola, taking with them their accordions and
guitars. This is a blot upon the Admiral’s character which his most
ardent admirers cannot overlook.
 CHAPTER XV.
HIS THIRD EXPEDITION.

[Æt. 62; 1498]

THE perseverance of Columbus triumphed over all obstacles.

The expedition was finally ready, and on the 30th of May, 1498, the
Admiral went on board the flag-ship and, after remarking “All ashore
that’s goin’!” and “All aboard!” rang the final bell and started once
more for the New World. Just as he was about to embark, one
Breviesca, a clerk in the Indian Agents’ Bureau, met him on the
wharf and told Columbus that he would never return.
“What, never?” exclaimed the astonished Admiral.
“Well, hardly ever,” replied the miscreant.
Of course Columbus instantly knocked him down, and went on
board his vessel in a just but tremendous rage. He wrote to the
Queen, informing her of the affair, and sincerely regretting that he
had lost his temper. Long afterwards his enemies were accustomed
to refer to the brutal way in which he had attacked an estimable and
inoffensive gentleman, as a proof of his ungovernable temper, his
Italian fondness for revenge, and his general unfitness for any post
of responsibility.
The fleet steered first for Madeira, and then for the Canary
Islands, touching at both places; and at the latter surprising—as
historians assure us—a French privateer with two Spanish prizes.
What there was about Columbus or his fleet that was so surprising,
has, of course, been left to our imagination, in accordance with the
habit of historians to omit mentioning details of real interest. The
Frenchman was attacked by the Spaniards, but managed to escape
together with one of his prizes. The other prize was retaken by the
Spanish prisoners on board of her, and given up to Columbus, who
turned the vessel over to the local authorities.
From the Canaries the fleet sailed to the Cape Verde Islands,
where the Admiral divided his forces. Three ships he sent direct to
Hispaniola, and with the other three he steered in a south-westerly
direction, to make new discoveries. He soon discovered the hottest
region in which he had ever yet been—the great champion belt of
equatorial calms. There was not a breath of wind, and the very
seams of the ships opened with the intense heat. It was evident to
the sailors that they must be very close to the region where,
according to the scientific persons of the period, the sea was
perpetually boiling, and they began to fear that they would be
roasted before the boiling process could begin. Luckily, a gentle
breeze finally sprung up, and Columbus, abandoning the rash
attempt to sail farther south, steered directly west, and soon passed
into a comforting, cool, and pleasant climate.
On the 31st of July he discovered the island of Trinidad, and in
view of the fact that his ships were leaky, his water almost gone, and
his body alternately shaken by fever and twisted by gout, it was high
time that land should have been found.
The following day the flag-ship was suddenly attacked by a
canoe full of fierce natives, who threw spears and other unpleasant
things at the Spaniards, and fought with great bravery. Columbus,
determined to strike terror into the enemy, ordered his musicians to
assemble on deck and play familiar airs—probably from “Pinafore.”
The result surpassed his most sanguine expectations. The unhappy
natives fled in wild dismay as soon as the music began, and yelled
with anguish when the first cornet blew a staccato note, and the man
with the bass trombone played half a tone flat. When we remember
that the good Queen Isabella had particularly ordered Columbus to
treat the natives kindly, we must earnestly hope that this cruel
incident never came to her presumably pretty ears.
The fleet was now off the south shore of Trinidad, and the
mainland was in plain sight farther west. Columbus at first supposed
that the mainland was only another island, and after taking in water
he sailed west, with the intention of sailing beyond it. Passing
through the narrow strait between Trinidad and the continent, he
entered the placid Gulf of Paria, where to his astonishment he found
that the water was fresh. Sailing along the shore, he landed here and
there and made friendly calls on the natives, whom he found to be a
pleasant, light-colored race, with a commendable fondness for
exchanging pearls for bits of broken china and glass beads. No
opening could be found through which to sail farther westward, and
Columbus soon came to the opinion that he had this time reached
the continent of Asia.
One thing greatly astonished him. He had been fully convinced
that the nearer he should approach the equator the blacker would be
the people and the hotter the climate. Yet the people of Paria were
light-colored, and the climate was vastly cooler than the scorching
regions of the equatorial calms. Remembering also the remarkable
conduct of the stars, which had materially altered their places since
he had left the Cape Verde Islands, and reflecting upon the unusual
force of the currents which had latterly interfered severely with the
progress of the ship, Columbus proceeded to elaborate a new and
attractive geographical theory. He wrote to Ferdinand and Isabella
that, in his opinion, the world was not exactly round, like a ball or an
orange, as he had hitherto maintained, but that it was shaped like a
large yellow pear. He assumed that the region which he had now
reached corresponded to the long neck of the pear, near the stem,
as it appears when the pear is resting on its larger end. He had
consequently sailed up a steep ascent since leaving Spain, and had
by this means reached a cool climate and found light-colored
heathen.
This was a very pretty theory, and one which ought to have
satisfied any reasonable inventor of geographical theories; but
Columbus, warming with his work, proceeded still further to
embellish it. He maintained that the highest point of the earth was
situated a short distance west of the coast of Paria, and that on its
apex the Garden of Eden could be found. He expressed the opinion
that the Garden was substantially in the same condition as when
Adam and Eve left it. Of course a few weeds might have sprung up
in the neglected flower-beds, but Columbus was confident that the
original tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and the
conversationally disposed animals, were all to be found in their
accustomed places. As for the angel with the two-edged sword, who
had been doing sentry duty at the gate for several thousand years,
there could be no doubt that should an explorer present to him a
written pass signed by the Pope, the angel would instantly admit him
into the Garden.
Columbus now felt that, whatever failures might seem to
characterize his new exploring expedition, he had forever secured
the gratitude and admiration of the pious Queen. To have almost
discovered the Garden of Eden in a nearly perfect state of repair was
certainly more satisfactory than the discovery of any amount of gold
would have been. Still, he thought it could do no harm to mention in
his letter to the Queen that pearls of enormous value abounded on
the coast, and that the land was fertile, full of excellent trees and
desirable fruits, and populous with parrots of most correct
conversational habits, and monkeys of unusual moral worth and
comic genius.
Although Columbus failed to visit the Garden of Eden, either
because he had no pass from the Pope or because he could not
spare the time, it must not be imagined that he did not believe his
new and surprising theory. In those happy days men had a capacity
for belief which they have since totally lost, and Columbus himself
was probably capable of honestly believing even wilder theories than
the one which gave to the earth the shape of a pear and perched the
Garden on the top of an imaginary South American mountain.
As the provisions were getting low, and the Admiral’s fever was
getting high—not to speak of his gout, which manifested a tendency
to rise to his stomach—he resolved to cease exploring for a time,
and to sail for Hispaniola. He arrived there on the 19th of August,
after discovering and naming a quantity of new islands. The currents
had drifted him so far out of his course, that he reached the coast of
Hispaniola a hundred and fifty miles west of Ozima, his port of
destination. Sending an Indian messenger to warn Bartholomew of
his approach, he sailed for Ozima, where he arrived on the 30th of
August, looking as worn out and haggard as if he had been engaged
in a prolonged pleasure-trip to the Fishing Banks.
Don Bartholomew received his brother with the utmost joy, and
proceeded to make him happy by telling him how badly affairs had
gone during his absence. Bartholomew had followed the Admiral’s
orders, and had proved himself a gallant and able commander. He
had built a fort and founded a city at the mouth of the Ozima, which
is now known as San Domingo. Leaving Don Diego Columbus in
command of the colony, he had marched to Xaragua, the western
part of the island, and induced the Cacique Behechio and his sister
Anacaona, the widow of Caonabo, to acknowledge the Spanish rule
and to pay tribute. He had also crushed a conspiracy of the natives,
which was due chiefly to the burning of several Indians at the stake
who had committed sacrilege by destroying a chapel. These were
the first Indians who were burnt for religious purposes, and it is a pity
that Father Boyle had not remained in Hispaniola long enough to
witness the ceremony which he had so often vainly urged the
Admiral to permit him to perform. Probably Don Bartholomew was
not responsible for the burning of the savages, for he evidently
sympathized with the revolted natives, and suppressed the
conspiracy with hardly any bloodshed.
[Æt. 62–64; 1498–1500]

The colonists, both old and new, were of course always

discontented, and cordially disliked the two brothers of the Admiral.
The chief judge of the colony, Francisco Roldan, undertook to
overthrow the authority of the Adelentado, and to make himself the
ruler of the island. After much preliminary rioting and strong
language Roldan openly rebelled, and with his followers besieged
Don Bartholomew in Fort Concepcion, in which he had taken refuge,
and from which he did not dare to sally, not feeling any confidence in
his men. Roldan was unable to capture the fort, but he instigated the
natives to throw off Bartholomew’s authority, and convinced them
that he, and not the Adelentado, was their real friend.
The opportune arrival of the two supply ships, which sailed from
Spain while Columbus was fitting out his third expedition, probably
saved the authority and the life of Don Bartholomew. He immediately
left the fort and, going to San Domingo, took command of the newly
arrived troops, and proclaimed Roldan a traitor, which greatly
relieved his mind. The traitor thereupon marched with his men to
Xaragua, where they led a simple and happy life of vice and
immorality. The discord among the Spaniards induced the natives to
make another attempt to gain their liberty, but the Adelentado, in a
brilliant campaign, once more reduced them to subjection. Two
native insurrections, a Spanish rebellion, and unusual discontent
were thus the chief features of the pleasant story with which
Columbus was welcomed to Hispaniola.
Before he could take any active measures against Roldan,
except to issue a proclamation expressly confirming Don
Bartholomew’s assertion that he was a traitor, the three ships which
he had sent direct to Hispaniola when he divided his fleet at the
Cape Verde Islands, arrived off the coast of Xaragua, and perceiving
Spaniards on the shore, imagined that they were respectable
colonists. Roldan fostered that delusion until he had obtained arms
and supplies, when he admitted that from the holiest motives he had
rebelled against the tyranny of the Adelentado.
The men of the fleet, learning that Roldan’s followers were a set
of reckless scoundrels, were inclined to think that perhaps
transportation was not such a terrible affair after all, and began to
desert with great alacrity, and to join the rebels. The ships therefore
put to sea, and their commander, on arriving at San Domingo,
informed Columbus that Roldan would probably surrender if it was
made an object to him to do so.
The Admiral was anxious to march on Xaragua, capture Roldan,
and make an example of him; but his unpopularity and that of his
brothers was so great that he did not dare to risk leaving San
Domingo, lest it should rebel as soon as his back was turned. In
order to rid himself of some of the malcontents, he fitted out five
vessels, and offered a free passage to Spain to every one who
wished to return. The ships sailed, carrying letters from both
Columbus and Roldan, in which each described the other in
uncomplimentary terms.
 Columbus would now have marched against Roldan, but he
could not find more than seventy men who felt well enough to march
with him. The rest said they had headaches, or had sprained their
ankles, and really must be excused. There was nothing left to do but
to negotiate with the rebel leader, and compromise matters.
Columbus began by offering a free pardon to Roldan if he would
immediately surrender. Roldan, in his turn, offered to pardon
Columbus if he would agree to certain conditions. These
negotiations were continued for a long time, and after various
failures the Admiral succeeded in obtaining a compromise. He
agreed to reappoint Roldan Chief Judge of the colony; to grant him a
certificate that all the charges which had been made against him
were malicious lies; to give him and his followers back pay, slaves,
and compensation for their property which had been destroyed; to
send back to Spain such of the rebels as might wish to return, and to
give the remainder large grants of land. On these conditions Roldan
agreed to overlook what had passed and to rejoin the colony. This
successful compromise served years afterwards as a model for
Northern Americans when dealing with their dissatisfied brethren,
and entitles Columbus to the honor of being the first great American
compromiser.
Having thus settled the dispute, the Admiral wrote to Spain,
explaining that the conditions to which he had agreed had been
extorted by force and were therefore not binding, and that on
Roldan’s massive cheek deserved to be branded the legend Fraud
first triumphant in American History. He asked that a commissioner
should be sent out to arrest and punish the rebel chief, and to take
the place of Chief Judge now fraudulently held by Roldan.
There is of course no doubt that Columbus would have hung
Roldan with great pleasure had he been able to do so. He was
compelled by force of circumstances to yield to all the rebel’s
demands, but nevertheless it was hardly fair for him to claim that his
acts and promises were not binding. Still, it should be remembered
that he was suffering from malarial fever, and it is notorious that even
the best of men will tell lies without remorse if they live in a malarious
region and have houses for sale or to let.
 The Admiral, having thus restored order, was about to return to
Spain to explain more fully his conduct and that of Don Bartholomew,
when he heard that four ships commanded by Alonzo de Ojeda had
arrived at Xaragua. He immediately suspected that something was
wrong, and that in Ojeda he would have a new and utterly
unscrupulous enemy to deal with. Foreseeing that an emergency
was about to occur in which a skilful scoundrel might be of great
assistance to him, he gave Roldan the command of two ships, and
sent him to ascertain what Ojeda intended to do. The wily Roldan
anchored just out of sight of Ojeda’s fleet, while the latter, with fifteen
men only, was on shore. Landing with a strong force, and placing
himself between Ojeda and his ships, he waited for the latter to meet
him and explain matters.
Ojeda soon appeared, and was delighted to see a gentleman of
whom he had heard such favorable reports. He said he was on his
way to San Domingo, and had merely landed for supplies. He had
been authorized to make discoveries by Fonseca, the Secretary of
Indian Affairs, and his expedition had been fitted out with the
assistance of Amerigo Vespucci and other enterprising merchants.
He had been cruising in the Gulf of Paria, and had his ships loaded
with slaves. As soon as he could he intended to visit Columbus, who,
he regretted to say, was probably the most unpopular man in Spain,
and would soon be removed from his command. Roldan returned to
San Domingo with this information, and both he and the Admiral
agreed that they did not believe anything that Ojeda had said.
Meanwhile Ojeda, having met with many of Roldan’s former
adherents, who still lingered in Xaragua, was informed by them that
Columbus had not given them their back pay. Ojeda said that such
injustice made his blood boil, and that if they would join him he would
march to San Domingo and put an end to the base Italian tyrant. The
new rebellion was prevented by the arrival of Roldan with a
respectable array of troops, and Ojeda promptly went on board his
flag-ship. Roldan wrote to him asking for an interview, and reminding
him that rebellion was a crime which every good man ought to abhor.
Ojeda, replied that such was precisely his opinion, and he must
refuse to have anything to do with a man who had lately been a
rebel.
Soon afterward Ojeda sailed away in a northerly direction,
keeping near the shore, and Roldan marched along the coast to
intercept him in case he should land. Arriving at a place called by the
natives Cahay, Ojeda sent a boat ashore, which was captured by
Roldan, and in order to regain it he was finally forced to consent to
parley with his antagonist. The result was that Ojeda promised to sail
immediately for Spain. Having made this promise he naturally landed
soon after on another part of the island, but being followed by
Roldan he finally abandoned Hispaniola and sailed for Cadiz with his
cargo of slaves.
The Admiral was greatly pleased at this signal illustration of the
wisdom of the proverb about setting a rogue to catch a rogue, and
writing Roldan a complimentary letter, requested him to remain for a
little while in Xaragua.
While Ojeda’s ships were at Xaragua, Columbus had passed
sentence of banishment on Hernando de Guevara, a dissolute young
Spaniard, and sent him to embark on board one of Ojeda’s vessels.
He arrived at Xaragua after the ships had left, and Roldan ordered
him to go into banishment at Cahay. Guevara, however, had fallen in
love with an Indian maid, the daughter of Anacaona, and wanted to
remain in Xaragua and marry her. Roldan would not listen to him,
and the unhappy youth went to Cahay, where he stayed three days
and then returned. There was a spirited quarrel between him and
Roldan, and the latter finally yielded and allowed Guevara to remain.
The grateful young man immediately conspired against Roldan
and the Admiral. He had a cousin, De Mexica, a former associate of
Roldan’s in rebellion, who immediately took up the cause of the
exile. De Mexica soon convinced his ex-rebel friends that the
spectacle of Roldan, as an upright, law-abiding man, was simply
revolting, and that he and Columbus ought to be killed. He had
gathered a small force together, when he and his chief associates
were suddenly surprised by the Admiral, arrested, tried, and hanged
before they had time to realize that anything was the matter.
 Don Bartholomew was dispatched to Xaragua to aid Roldan, and
the two, after arresting Guevara, stamped out the new rebellion with
remorseless energy. This time there was no compromise, and a
suspicion began to prevail that rebellion was not so safe and
profitable an industry as it had been hitherto.
 CHAPTER XVI.
HIS RETURN IN DISGRACE.

[Æt. 64; 1500]

ON the 23d of August, 1500, two ships arrived at San Domingo,

commanded by Don Francisco de Bobadilla, who had been sent out
by the Spanish monarchs as a commissioner to investigate the state
of the colony. The enemies of Columbus had at last succeeded in
prejudicing Ferdinand and Isabella against him. Ojeda, the returned
colonists, Roldan’s rebels, and the letters of Roldan himself, all
agreed in representing the Admiral as a new kind of fiend, with
Italian improvements, for whom no punishment could be sufficiently
severe.
Ferdinand calculated the total amount of gold which Columbus
had either carried or sent to Spain, and, finding it smaller than he
had expected, could no longer conceal his conviction that Columbus
was a cruel, tyrannical, and wicked man. Isabella had hitherto
believed in the Admiral, and had steadily stood by him while under
fire, but in face of the evidence which had latterly been submitted to
her, and in view of the cargo of slaves that had been sent from
Hispaniola to Spain in spite of her orders, she was compelled to
admit that an investigation should be made, and sanctioned the
appointment of Bobadilla, with the understanding that he would let
no guilty man escape.
The average historian is always very indignant with the
monarchs for sending Bobadilla to San Domingo, and regards that
act as a wanton persecution of a great and good man. But the cold
and sceptical inquirer will ask how it happened that every person
who came under the Admiral’s authority, with the exception of his two
brothers, invariably made complaints against him. It is true that the