The World Before Columbus

As the 15th century drew to a close, Europe stood on the brink of a transformation that would redefine global power structures. Contrary to apocalyptic fears circulating among Europeans—who had anticipated the world might end with the century—time marched forward, ushering in an era of unprecedented connection. Spanish and Portuguese expeditions began stitching together continents, creating new trade routes that sometimes supplemented and sometimes supplanted ancient networks. For the first time in human history, ideas, goods, and people moved farther, faster, and in greater quantities than ever before.

This new dawn placed Europe at the center of the global stage, wrapping it in a golden glow of prosperity. Yet this ascent came at a horrific cost for the newly “discovered” regions. Behind Europe’s glittering cathedrals, artistic masterpieces, and rising living standards lay a brutal reality: the continent’s expansion was built on military dominance, technological superiority, and the systematic exploitation of distant lands. The so-called Age of Enlightenment and the progress toward democracy and human rights were not inevitable outcomes of European intellectual tradition—they were, in part, financed by the suffering inflicted across the Atlantic and beyond.

The Spark of Exploration

When Christopher Columbus set sail in 1492, his voyage was driven by a mix of desperation, ambition, and miscalculation. Reading his journals today, one can still sense his alternating currents of excitement and dread. Though he claimed to seek a western route to the Great Khan—hoping to enlist his aid in liberating Jerusalem—Columbus was acutely aware that death and disaster lurked at every turn. His chosen path, he wrote, was not “the route men were accustomed to take, but one leading west—a path no one knew if anyone had traveled before.”

Yet Columbus was not the first to dream of distant riches. By the late 15th century, Iberian explorers had already begun probing the Atlantic and African coasts, driven by legends of unimaginable wealth. West Africa, in particular, had long been mythologized as a “Land of Gold,” where the precious metal supposedly grew like carrots in the sand or emerged magically from enchanted waters. Muslim traders had for centuries transported West African gold across the Sahara, minting it into the famed coins of Egypt.

The African Gold Empires

The trans-Saharan trade was dominated by the Wangara merchants, a network akin to the Silk Road’s Sogdian traders. Their routes birthed thriving cities like Djenné, Gao, and Timbuktu—centers of commerce and scholarship where grand mosques and palaces stood as testaments to the region’s wealth. By the 14th century, Timbuktu had become an intellectual hub, home to vast libraries and attracting scholars from across Africa and the Islamic world.

The Mali Empire’s ruler, Mansa Musa, became legendary after his 1324 pilgrimage to Mecca. His caravan, laden with gold, reportedly caused inflation in Cairo from the sheer volume of wealth distributed. Arab travelers like Ibn Battuta documented Musa’s court with awe—describing a king draped in gold-embroidered robes, seated beneath a pavilion topped with a golden falcon, yet dismissing him as “a miserly king” for his underwhelming gifts.

Europe’s Hunger for Wealth

European merchants had long traded in North African ports like Ceuta and Tunis, but the origins of Africa’s gold remained a mystery. The Catalan Atlas of 1375 depicted a black-skinned ruler (likely Mansa Musa) holding a massive gold nugget, captioned: “This lord is the richest and most noble king in all the land.” Yet accessing these riches directly seemed impossible—until Portuguese explorers began venturing down Africa’s coast.

The colonization of Atlantic islands like the Azores and Madeira proved crucial. These became sugar-producing hubs, exporting millions of pounds annually—though at catastrophic ecological cost. Forests were razed, invasive species multiplied, and scholars later termed it an early example of “ecocide.” Meanwhile, Portugal’s 1415 capture of Ceuta, a Muslim stronghold, marked its aggressive entry into African affairs, though the campaign backfired by disrupting established trade networks.

The Turning Point: Slavery and Expansion

The real breakthrough came when Portuguese captains realized that human cargo was even more profitable than gold. By the mid-15th century, the African slave trade was booming. Captives taken from raids along the West African coast were paraded in Lagos, where one chronicler described their anguish: “What heart could be so hard as not to be pierced by piteous feelings?” Yet such empathy was rare. Prince Henry the Navigator saw slaves merely as labor and a source of royal taxes, even blessing slave ships with the banner of the Order of Christ.

Portugal’s systematic exploration continued. Diogo Cão reached the Congo River in the 1480s, establishing ties with local rulers, while Bartolomeu Dias rounded the Cape of Good Hope in 1488. Yet when Columbus proposed sailing west to Portugal’s King João II in 1484, he was ignored—Portugal was focused on consolidating its African gains, not further expansion.

The Legacy of 15th-Century Expansion

The 15th century laid the foundations for European global dominance. The slave trade, colonial plantations, and extractive economies enriched Europe while devastating other continents. The “Age of Discovery” was also an age of exploitation, its cultural achievements shadowed by violence. Yet it undeniably created the interconnected world we know today—for better and for worse. The gold of Mali financed Renaissance art; the labor of enslaved Africans built New World fortunes; and the routes opened by Portuguese navigators became the arteries of globalization.

As we grapple with this legacy, the 15th century reminds us that progress for some often comes at the expense of others—a lesson as relevant now as it was then.