History, as we know, is just a long series of power grabs with better lighting.
Once upon a time, the world was conquered by men in breastplates wielding swords and smallpox. These days, it’s corner offices, TED Talks, and overpriced espresso.
Welcome to Conquistadors 2.0, where ambition still dresses up as virtue, and the only thing sharper than a rapier is a keynote presentation on Disrupting the Anthropocene.
In the 16th century, Spain exported bearded explorers with horses and questionable hygiene to the New World in search of gold, glory, and divine validation.
Now, we export smooth-chinned entrepreneurs with podcasts and eco-merch, on the hunt for carbon neutrality, scalable impact, and Instagrammable sunsets.
Don’t be fooled by the recycled linen. The sword has become a slogan. The empire is now a brand.
Forget Catholicism. The new creed is Apocalypse, but Sustainable™.
Modern Conquistadors roll up in biodiesel SUVs, clutching bamboo keep-cups and PowerPoints on “circular economies” with suspiciously few circles.
Their gospel? Climate salvation via micro-docs, artisanal tofu, and carbon-offset yoga retreats in Bali.
Gone are the cries of “In the name of the King!” Now it’s, “In partnership with the UN SDG 2030 vision statement!”
And where the Conquistadors once handed out rosaries and disease, their spiritual descendants now hand out QR codes to sign up for online petitions and recycled aluminium water bottles that cost more than the average conquistador’s entire wardrobe.
Their jungle is a co-working space. Their battlefield is X. Their armour? A Patagonia vest and a moral superiority complex big enough to require planning permission.
You see, the modern Conquistador doesn’t colonise land; he colonises language.
What once was “plundering” is now “monetising social capital.”
Taking over a community is “building sustainable partnerships.” And if you flood an underdeveloped region with surveillance drones and startup accelerators, that’s not neo-imperialism, it’s “digital empowerment.”
Back in the day, conquest involved bloodshed. Now, it involves press releases and “impact metrics.”
No one dies, although critical thinking does end up on life support. It’s cleaner, tidier, and significantly more profitable. Plus, it can be done remotely from a converted yurt in Byron Bay.
The modern Conquistador has mastered the art of Apocalyptic Evangelism. Once it was about the world just ending, now it is about you ending it personally, probably with your laundry powder.
And if you don’t sign their eco-pledge, switch to bioplastics, and buy their $78 climate-anxiety diffuser, you’re essentially Genghis Khan with a worse haircut.
The old Conquistadors rode into battle on warhorses. These ones roll up on e-scooters and speak exclusively in acronyms. ESG. BIPV. NDCs. If they can’t dazzle you with brilliance, they’ll flatten you with jargon and laminated infographics.
They don’t discover continents. They “launch initiatives.”
They don’t conquer nations. They “co-create regenerative stakeholder ecosystems.”
They don’t sack cities. They “facilitate conversations around de-growth.”
And when their grand ideas fail, as they invariably do, they don’t get court-martialled. They get published in legacy media with a byline titled, “What I Learned From My Failed Eco-Sanctuary Experiment in Uzbekistan.”
But despite all the rebranding, it’s still conquest. The same frantic scramble for relevance, power, and immortal LinkedIn endorsements. It’s just that the violence has gone soft and become emotional extraction instead of gold.
And you can spot them, always.
Their laptops are covered in stickers about climate change and blockchain ethics. They speak in breathless urgency and cite the IPCC report like scripture. They’ve been to Davos “as part of the youth delegation.” They won’t eat meat, but they’ll devour entire communities under the guise of “scaling impact.”
They attend panel discussions called “Can Capitalism Be Conscious?” and nod sagely while drinking cocktails made of fermented mushroom tears.
And underneath it all, beneath the pitch decks and the pious chin-juts, is the same conquistador spirit: Take. Own. Monetise.
Only now it’s wrapped in recycled hemp and sold as purpose.
What was once shouted in Latin is now tweeted in lowercase Helvetica: “We believe in a better world.”
But it’s not better.
It’s just cleverly rebranded.
So the next time someone tells you they’re “launching a planetary stewardship platform” or “co-designing the climate future,” check for bootprints.
Because behind every ethical start-up and carbon-neutral hustle, there might just be a Conquistador in activewear, ready to plant a biodegradable flag in your metaphorical lawn.
And instead of gold, they’ll demand your email address, your carbon footprint, and your monthly donation to the Climate Crisis Coalition of Creatives and Consultants.
Because conquest isn’t dead.
It’s just had a soy flat white and gone to a leadership retreat.
