There are soldiers on the beach. A couple of them appear at one end and then, after sauntering leisurely, overdressed in their camos for this heat, they disappear around some rocks at the far end. I’m reminded of my military prejudices. Although in some countries and in some places they are seen as representatives of the people — they are usually ordinary boys from ordinary homes — I cannot help but view them as representatives of power, the government and politics. To me they represent the government’s will to manage the people, often their own people, not to protect them.
Some of this prejudice probably stems from my youthful experience and politics — the debacle of Vietnam and then the Cold War paranoia established in my mind the military as oppressive, righteous, frightening and narrow-minded. They were by nature, in this view, serving the interests of the ruling class — and still are. The lads have been brainwashed to believe they are fighting for freedom and peace — lies that have been told to soldiers for thousands of years.
So, when I see them on the beach my instinct is to stiffen, though I suspect that in Mexico it might be some poor Mayan community that is being squashed and not a handful of pale tourists.
I realize that my instincts are unfair. In some places and at some times the military does indeed represent the people and not just the greedy adventuring of those in power. Sometimes the military persist as politicians come and go, are made up of skilled professionals out to do a clear-cut job, and will stand up to the lying politicians and ally themselves with the population. There comes a point where their own professionalism is at stake.
This happened with the People Power movement in the Philippines in the mid 80s, and it threatens to happen now in Iraq. The U.S. military may just bring the Bush-Cheney adventure to a speedier close. The soldiers are being stretched beyond reasonable limits, the troop commanders are being asked to put their men in danger — and for what? They’re approaching their limits. Has there ever been a revolt emerging from within the U.S. military?
The Maya have many Gods and “saints” — some dedicated to tattoo artists, comedians, lovers and….suicides! And, of course — corn (maize). Their staff of life. Archeologists and anthropologists propose that the structure of their mythology is at heart maize-related. They see their myth of a God who dies and goes into the ground only to miraculously sprout back to life as a metaphor for planting and of the mystery of agriculture. The God is a seed, dead it would seem, who, when buried in the earth, suddenly returns, living again, bringing benefits for all.
Isn’t Jesus the same thing? Dead, buried in the ground, a seed in a hole, miraculously returning to life with benefits for all.
What do we have now, when for many that faith is gone? Post Enlightenment we put our faith in science and technology. Jung proposed that Flying Saucers were mechanical God metaphors — perfect mandala-shaped symbols from the sky — technology perfected, transcendent, loving, beneficent.
I would look at our art and museums as well for an answer — our contemporary secular temples. Modernism certainly celebrated the machine, the machine-made, the shiny and mass-produced. The cult of scientific self-improvement — perfection, progress. It’s all a kind of faith.
Modernism, for the most part, has passed. Science and intellectual rigor — its handmaidens — are revealed to be as slanted and biased as religions ever were. The great industrial revolutions did not deliver utopia. What will take their place?
A surge of millennial movements is everywhere. The oil and fossil fuels that powered the explosion, expansion and development of previous centuries are running out. An end is within imagination if not within sight. A way of life is coming to an end. The plains Indians created a millennial cult as their world collapsed under the Westward expansion — the Ghost Dance.
This movement found its origin in a Paiute Indian named Wovoka, who announced that he was the messiah come to earth to prepare the Indians for their salvation. Representatives from tribes all over the nation came to Nevada to meet with Wovoka and learn to dance the Ghost Dance and to sing Ghost Dance songs.
In early October of 1890, Kicking Bear, a Minneconjou, visited Sitting Bull at Standing Rock. He told him of the visit he and his brother-in-law, Short Bull, had made to Nevada to visit Wovoka. They told him of the great number of other Indians who were there as well. They referred to Wovoka as the Christ and told of the Ghost Dance that they had learned and the way that the Christ had flown over them on their horseback ride back to the railroad tracks, teaching them Ghost Dance songs. And they told him of the prophecy that, next spring, when the grass was high, the earth would be covered with new soil, burying all the white men. The new soil would be covered with sweet grass, running water and trees; the great herds of buffalo and wild horses would return. All Indians who danced the Ghost Dance would be taken up into the air and suspended there while the new earth was being laid down. Then they would be replaced there, with the ghosts of their ancestors, on the new earth. Only Indians would live there then.
On our way to Coba we stop at a large roadside restaurant. A giant thatched roof over an open area with plastic chairs and wooden tables. A sign on the way in says “Di no a las drogas” (Say no to drugs). As we’re leaving the girls point out to me that one of the waiters was dealing to a group of guys in a pickup parked near us in the parking lot.
Over one of our meals the girls trade notes on who at school is faking ADD. It seems that if you are certified as having ADD, and better yet if you are on medication, you get extra time to do homework, take tests (including SATs) and it doesn’t go on your record. You’ve got a built-in excuse and the world will cut you some slack. So at least half the students are on Ritalin or some similar drug. Some are “diagnosed” but don’t take the drug, as it interferes with their other activities (sports). But many are zonked much of the time.
I tend to see this as a big pharma conspiracy. Create a public awareness of a new medical “disease”, supply “experts” to document it and then, miraculously and conveniently, provide the “cure”. The aim of big Pharma is naturally not to get everyone well, but to convince everyone they are sick.
I am constantly reminding myself of what was happening in Europe while the classic Mayan civilization was at its height. Early middle ages, massive cathedrals being built as well as scattered walled cites. Learning and knowledge confined to proscribed sects — priests and alchemists. Little general exchange of information, goods or communication. The general population fairly well off and content as far as diet and health goes. (This contradicts what we were taught...but from reading the French historian Braudel he seemed to imply that daily life was O.K. — my sense is that there was some revisionism going on and the middle ages — the "dark" ages — were the victim of Enlightenment propaganda.)
The art too was similar — exaggerated and stylized. It is sometimes assumed that this approach was a regression from the high realism of the classic period, but that attitude is not universally accepted now (particularly as our own art is so abstract and stylized.) Stylization and abstraction of figures and scenes taps into a more transcendent and universal emotion. It’s a choice, not a lack of technique.
The Mayan images are filled, overflowing, with resonant symbols. The king stands in profile, animal faces surround his waist, curlicues of smoke emerge from his brow, and on his head there is a massive biomorphic crown surmounted by yet another creature. He is a piece of living theater. His sandals are jaguar skin, his cloak, puma. He appropriates attributes from these animals. Feathers form a huge array behind him, like a heavenly aura or the rays emanating from the Virgin de Guadalupe. He’s a walking palimpsest of mythological symbols. Layer upon layer, super dense and baroque. He can be emotionally felt and read. He’s a mobile temple.
The Maya survive. After decades of U.S.-supported genocide and persecution in Guatemala they are achieving some measure of power and respect there — the survivors, anyway. In Mexico the government push for tourism has had a profound effect on the culture. It destroys what it reveres. Like stockbrokers and merchant bankers moving into an arty neighborhood. There are still completely Mayan towns, but much of the land often gets appropriated and turned into gated resorts.
I suppose our little group is a guilty party too, even though we were staying in more modest “eco” accommodations.
4 days ago a photo-op at Chichen Itza:
