In August 1492, Christopher Columbus eased his three ships out of the Palos, Spain, harbor. Queen Isabella commissioned him to explore and return, as he had promised, with riches, gold particularly, that would justify the expenses.

Almost assuredly, Columbus sailed on past boats that contained 8,000 Jews who had refused to recant their religion and convert to Roman Catholicism. Relieved of all valuables — reliable sources indicate that profits from the sale of these stolen Jewish belongings were used, in part, to finance future excursions by Columbus — many of these Jewish sojourners relocated in France and, ironically, Germany.

Lost, Columbus landed on an island populated by 2 million to 5 million people. In his journal, Columbus said the Tainos were “gentle, gave all, naked and they appeared intelligent. They would make good servants and they appeared to me that they had no creed.”

No creed except a reverent understanding and love for the natural environment surrounding them and a wisdom far exceeding their European “discoverers” of the interdependence of our kind and nature, coupled with a trusting, sharing and loving attitude toward everyone.

Failing to find the quantity of gold he wanted, Columbus planned his excuses. Within three days, the Tainos were ordered to bring him gold and spend all their waking time searching for more; he kidnapped 10 Tainos to take with him back to Spain to serve (thus beginning European-style slavery) and in a letter to the monarchy he lied by declaring on Española, “there are many spices and great mines of gold and of other metals.”

Within two decades, this man we honor with a national holiday had — by slavery, murder and disease — initiated a genocide that eradicated — except for a few hundred survivors — up to 5 million people.

Perhaps we need to reconsider this “hero.”

Allan Watson, Manchester