Showing posts with label Mexico history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mexico history. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Mexico: Culture and Public Education

The article translated below calls for some historical and cultural context. My insightful Spanish teacher once commented, "First you have to learn how to read the Spanish, then how to read between the lines." These introductory remarks are intended to help you read between the lines of Hermann Bellinghausen's culture-rich article.
The headline itself—Culture and Education—refers to the quite recent passage of congressional legislation granting secretariat status to the National Council for Culture and Arts (Conaculta). Initially established in 1988 as a decentralized agency of the Secretariat of Public Education (SEP), Conaculta was put in charge of the nation's museums and monuments, promoting and protecting the arts (visual, plastic, theatrical, musical, dance, architectural, literary, televisual and cinematographic), and managing the national archives. The new Secretariat of Culture is the 'easy divorce' mentioned in the article.
The ongoing struggle between the government and the so-called "dissident wing of the teachers' union" alluded to in the article is yet one more example of a stubborn fracture between the country's political and cultural elite (los de arriba, those from above) and everyone else (los de abajo, those from below; most especially the rural underclass served by the 'dissident' teachers).
Next is the controversial 2013 Education Reform regarded by many observers as the government's attempt to regain control over the teaching ranks rather than as a reflection of official desire to implement a reform of teaching methods or a reform of the country's notoriously poor infrastructure in public schools, especially those in rural, often indigenous remote areas.  
The article's historical references aren't chronological, but thematic. Historical context, however, relies on chronology, so here's the short version starting from Mexico's Independence from Spain, confirmed September 16, 1821:
  • Reform Era 1855-1876: Attempting to recover from the more than a decade-long struggle (1810-1821) for independence, the fledgling country was nonetheless strongly divided between two broad groups: Liberals and Conservatives. 
Conservatives favored a strong centralized government, with many wanting a European-style monarchy. They also favored protecting many institutions inherited from the colonial period, including tax and legal exemptions for the Catholic Church and the military. 
Liberals favored establishment of a federalist republic based on ideas coming out of the European Enlightenment, with limits put on Church and military privileges. Until the end of the Reform period (1876, when Porfirio Díaz was elected President), Mexico’s history was dominated by these two factions vying for control and fighting against foreign incursions at the same time; i.e., Mexican-American War, 1846-47; French Intervention (aka Maximillian Affair), 1861-67.
  • Maximilian: Ferdinand Maximilian Joseph (born 1832, Vienna, Austria; died 1867, near Querétaro, Mexico), archduke of Austria and emperor of Mexico from 1864 to 1867, when he was executed. Maximilian's naive liberalism proved unequal to the international intrigues that had put him on the throne and to the brutal struggles within Mexico that led to his execution.
  • Benito Juárez (born 1806, in a Zapotec pueblo in Oaxaca; died 1872, Mexico City), national hero, President of Mexico (1861–72) and the country's only indigenous (Zapotec) President. For three years (1864–67), Juárez fought against foreign [French] occupation under the emperor Maximilian and sought constitutional reforms to create a democratic federal republic. Juárez's followers are known as Juaristas.
  • Porfirio Díaz (1830-1915), President of Mexico (1876-1911). The thirty-year period of Díaz's reign is known as the Porfiriato. A controversial figure in Mexican history, Díaz commands villain status among the revolutionaries who overthrew him, but he is something of a capitalist hero in the business community. The Porfiriato was marked by significant internal stability (known as the "paz porfiriana"), modernization and national economic growth—due in part to heavy investment in mining and railways by U.S. and British business. Porfiriano refers to features that resemble Porfirio.
Díaz's regime, however, grew unpopular due to civil repression and political stagnation. His economic policies helped a few wealthy estate-owners acquire huge areas of land, but they left rural campesinos (small, indigenous and mestizo farmers) unable to make a living. The resulting job shortage and depressingly low wages for the Mexican peasantry was a direct, precipitating cause of the Mexican Revolution.
  • Bola, (lit. ball) was a popular 19th century term used to evoke popular, unorganized uprisings; hence, 'la Bola de 1910' is an indirect reference to the rabble-rousing 1910 outbreak of the Mexican Revolution that would convulse Mexico until 1917, with scattered uprisings continuing into the 1930s.
  • Lázaro Cárdenas (born 1895; died 1970), general in the Mexican Revolution and an able statesman, President of Mexico 1934-1940, Cárdenas is perhaps best known for nationalizing the oil industry in 1938 and creating the government oil monopoly, Pemex. 
Early on, Cárdenas distanced himself from his presidential predecessor, establishing legitimacy and power in his own right. His administration overhauled the agrarian reform of the agricultural sector begun by the Mexican Revolution, created ejidos—lands owned and worked collectively by peasants; and strengthened the system of Public Education. Notably, Lázaro Cárdenas surrendered complete power to his successor at the end of his presidential term in 1940.
Two cultural references complete this introduction:
  • 'The' Mexican Epic Novel. Mariano Azuela, Los de Abajo (1915), The Underdogs  [available in transl.], is based on the author's experiences as an Army doctor during the Revolution. Los de Abajo is regarded by many as the quintessential Mexican epic novel or, as historian José Luis Martínez explains:
“The novel of the Revolution had its roots in the appearance at the end of the 19th and at the beginning of the 20th century of such works as: La bola (1887) by Emilio Rabasa; La parcela, The [Indigenous Farmer's Tiny] Plot (1898) by José López Portillo y Rojas, and Federico Gamboa's theater piece, The Serf's Revenge (transl.), La venganza de la gleba (1905)."
  • Silvestre Revueltas (born 1899, Durango; died 1940, Mexico City) was a Mexican composer of classical music, a violinist and a conductor.
La Jornada: Hermann Bellinghausen*

Invoking culture with your mouth full is an old nineteenth-century habit that, in a manner of speaking, always presents Conservative (realistic, imperial, Porfiriano[1]) and Liberal sides. From the beginning, the Liberal side encouraged the idea that the young Nation deserved to be instructed, enlightened, educated. Works of creation and thought were undertaken with that perspective in mind. Members of the nineteenth century Liberal or Juarista[2] generation took on the role of being the Nation's teachers in a broad and profound sense.

This Liberal generation sought to put knowledge into circulation through creation, chronicles and pedagogy. When Guillermo Prieto [poet, 1818-1897], Ignacio Manuel Altamirano [lawyer, teacher, journalist, essayist, politician, 1834-1893], Ignacio Ramírez [writer, poet, journalist, lawyer, atheist, and political libertarian, 1818-1879], even Vicente Riva Palacio [liberal politician and intellectual, 1832-1896], invoked knowledge—they were thinking not of the Athenians but of the Mexicans, for the benighted commoners that they were.

Battered by the disorder accompanying Independence from Spain [1810-1821], the neoclassical tradition recomposed itself in schools and private salons, directing their tastes and aspirations toward Europe, namely France, seeking acceptance in the longed for royal courts .... The Hapsburgs had settled in Austria, and good for them.

There were those who dreamed of "restoring them" here and brought Maximilian[3], the first neocolonial experiment in what the 21st century now seems to be achieving—even though petty tyrants and managers are deemed good enough for the current globalism. These "restorers"—for descriptive purposes, let's brand them Conservative (they always consider themselves "modernizers")—often have neither any clear idea of who "the pueblo" [refers both to the people and their village] are, nor do the people awaken in Conservatives any interest greater than as folkloric ornamentation.

The Liberals had a stereotyped and general, but nonetheless generous, idea. Inspired by the egalitarianism of the revolutions in France and the United States, they nurtured the ideal of making us all equal. Mid-nineteenth Mexico remained overwhelmingly indigenous. Where it wasn't, it was dominated by a mestizaje [mixed heritage, mestizo] that descended mainly from the indigenous side, either for being rural or for belonging to the nascent working class that for practical reasons Karl Marx began studying in England. It all had to do with one thing: Mexicans. Plurality, multiculturalism and diversity were not fashionable concepts.

With the positivists, "scientists" and generals influenced by the Porfiriato, education and culture were concentrated in the male minority that could choose to attend Preparatory [High] School. Although by the end of the 19th century, the Catholic Church was at a low point, what it or the State didn't teach wasn't taught by anyone. The ideals of the Reforma[4] became accustomed to academicism, modernist manners and decadent bohemianism.

La Bola de 1910[5] disrupted the prolonged siesta. Moreover, to the dismay of the (more rancid than ever) aristocracy, it brought to the forefront the ignorant, the uneducated, the rabble.

But they [the people] were noticed by a new generation of painters, writers, thinkers, lawyers, composers and educators who not only noticed them, they joined or led them. Guided by the steady, intelligent hand of José Vasconcelos [Secretary of Public Education, 1921-24], they threw out the culture in order to educate the nation. This time the people came: their history was The History

The murals of Diego Rivera [Mexican Muralists[6]] and the epic fiction[7] coincided with [post-Revolution] labor laws and land reform. Education and culture, together, became a crusade that during the Cárdenas[8] era would be heroic, with background music by Revueltas[9]. And what did the Right do with the teachers? It turned a deaf ear to them.

Independent of the progressive corruption, decadence and institutionalization that hollowed out and emptied this "popular" discourse of any meaning, government rhetoric was nonetheless nourished by this Mexico of the redeemable masses and, in fact, held on to it well into the 1970s.

Beyond the inertia, however, education was culture, and culture, didactic or not, was education—at least in the regulations. Free textbooks were an established fact. From the office [Secretary of Public Education] occupied by José Vasconcelos [1921-24] and, later, by Jaime Torres Bodet [1943-46], they continued administering not just bilingual elementary education and literacy, but the fine arts as well with publishing projects, historical and archaeological conservation, museums, ethnological research. The two faces of Janus that the country was not able to separate.

There followed a deviant period (today's so-called neoliberal cycle, still underway) where the elite cultural sphere obtained niches of power and well-being, guaranteed their creative freedoms and economic solvency, with passports necessary for the market of prestige. Meanwhile, education itself—in the minds of its administrators, public education—is thrown in the garbage heap. The education priority passed into private hands, extremely conservative and wealthy. (It is appropriate to recognize the role of public universities in resisting full dismantlement.)

The easy divorce that the neoliberal State has finally imposed between education and culture[9] rounds off the distance from high culture, corporatized by the soft path, with what relates to the eternally educable masses who [they say] are better off with a new TV [Mexico is currently switching to digital TV and the government is providing free TVs to those on welfare programs] and a bag of cookies than with a book.

When the bottom falls out of the long, but fragile dream of fairs, festivals, awards, scholarships, complete works and retrospective exhibits, the Culture will come around to bumping up once again against the stubborn people, those dark-skinned and bedraggled hicks.

What do they think? Sometimes the people think, believe, organize and educate themselves in autonomy. It comes from below, the same as their original roots. This is less likely to evaporate into the air. Spanish original

*Hermann Bellinghausen (born Mexico City, 1953) obtained his medical degree from the National Autonomous University of Mexico. He has been a contributor to the Mexican weekly magazines En Solidaridad [In Solidarity] and Mundo Médico [Medical World]. As editorialist and correspondent, he covers the state of Chiapas and the activities of the Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN) for La Jornada.

Footnotes:
[1] Porfiriano: Reference to Porfirio Díaz (1830-1915), President of Mexico (1876-1911). The thirty-year period of Díaz's reign is known as the Porfiriato. A controversial figure in Mexican history, Díaz holds villain status among the revolutionaries who overthrew him, but he is something of a capitalist hero in the business community. The Porfiriato was marked by significant internal stability (known as the "paz porfiriana"), modernization and national economic growth—due in part to heavy investment in mining and railways by U.S. and British business.
The Díaz regime grew unpopular, however, due to civil repression and political stagnation. His economic policies helped a few wealthy estate-owning hacendados acquire huge areas of land, but they left rural campesinos (small, indigenous and mestizo farmers) unable to make a living. The resulting shortage of jobs and depressingly low wages for the Mexican peasantry was a direct, precipitating cause of the Mexican Revolution. 
[2] Juarista: Followers of Benito Juárez (born 1806, in a Zapotec pueblo in Oaxaca; died 1872, Mexico City), national hero, president of Mexico (1861–72) and the country's only indigenous (Zapotec) president. For three years (1864–67), Juárez fought against foreign occupation under the emperor Maximilian and sought constitutional reforms to create a democratic federal republic. 
[3] Maximilian: Ferdinand Maximilian Joseph (born 1832, Vienna, Austria; died 1867, near Querétaro), archduke of Austria and emperor of Mexico from 1864 to 1867, when he was executed. Maximilian's naive liberalism proved unequal to the international intrigues that had put him on the throne and to the brutal struggles within Mexico that led to his execution.  
[4] Reform Era 1855-1876: Attempting to recover from more than a decade (1810-1821) spent fighting for its Independence from Spain, the fledgling country was nonetheless strongly divided between two broad groups: Liberals and Conservatives. 
Conservatives favored a strong centralized government, with many wanting a European-style monarch. They also favored protecting many institutions inherited from the colonial period, including tax and legal exemptions for the Catholic Church and the military. 
Liberals favored establishment of a federalist republic based on ideas coming out of the European Enlightenment, with limits put on Church and military privileges. Until the end of the Reform period (1876; with Porfirio Díaz's election), Mexico’s history was dominated by these two factions vying for control and fighting against foreign incursions at the same time; i.e., Mexican-American War, 1846-47; French Intervention, 1861-67.
[5] Bola(lit. ball) was a popular 19th century term used to evoke popular, unorganized uprisings; hence, 'la Bola de 1910' is an indirect reference to the rabble-rousing outbreak of the Mexican Revolution in 1910 that would convulse Mexico until 1917, with scattered uprisings continuing until 1920.
[6] Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco and David Alfaro Siqueiros are the three great Mexican Muralists.
[7] 'The' Mexican Epic Novel. Mariano Azuela's Los de Abajo (1915), The Underdogs  [available in transl.], is regarded by many Mexicans as the quintessential Mexican epic novel. It is based on the author's experiences as an Army physician during the Revolution. Historian José Luis Martínez explains:
“The novel of the Revolution had its roots in the appearance at the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century of such works as: La bola (1887) by Emilio Rabasa; La parcela, The [Indigenous Farmer's Tiny] Plot (1898) by José López Portillo y Rojas, and Federico Gamboa's theater piece, The Serf's Revenge (transl.), La venganza de la gleba (1905)." 
One other novel deserve mentions: Carlos Fuentes' The Death of Artemio Cruz (La muerte de Artemio Cruz, 1962), is today "widely regarded as a seminal work of modern Spanish American literature". The novel begins with the titular protagonist on his deathbed; the story of Cruz's life is then filled in by flashbacks. Cruz is a former soldier of the Mexican Revolution who has become wealthy and powerful through "violence, blackmail, bribery, and brutal exploitation of the workers". The novel explores the corrupting effects of power and criticizes the distortion of the revolutionaries' original aims through "class domination, Americanization, financial corruption, and failure of land reform".
[8] Lázaro Cárdenas (born 1895; died 1970), general in the Mexican Revolution and an able statesman. President of Mexico from 1934 to 1940, Cárdenas is perhaps best known for nationalizing the oil industry in 1938 and creating the government oil monopoly, Pemex. 
Early in his presidency, Cárdenas distanced himself from his predecessor (forcing him into exile) and establishing legitimacy and power in his own right. Overhauling the agrarian reform of the agricultural sector begun by the Mexican Revolution, the Cárdenas administration created ejidos—lands owned and worked collectively by peasants; and strengthened the Public Education system. Notably, Lázaro Cárdenas surrendered complete power to his successor at the end of his presidential term in 1940.
[9] Silvestre Revueltas (born 1899, Durango; died 1940, Mexico City) was a Mexican composer of classical music, a violinist and a conductor.

For more on Bellinghausen's last point—"Sometimes the people think, believe, organize and educate themselves in autonomy"—see Green Shoots.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Reflections on "America" From Mexico

At the Coyoacán Plaza, Reed captured this mural, titled "Posada's Nightmare," commemorating 100 years since the death of José Guadalupe Posada, beloved Mexican cartoonist and political satirist, seated at left. CLICK TO ENLARGE so you get the impact of former President Felipe Calderón brandishing a broken sword and riding atop the stooped-over skeleton in the shape of a dinosaur. Both Diego Rivera (center in short pants, tan jacket) and the bald-headed character are smoking marijuana! The skeleton in the black sombrero wearing charro trousers is a narco-trafficker. You can't miss Uncle Sam spying on the goings-on, or the Devil carrying oil Mexican North to "the other side."
One of the pleasures of writing Jenny's Journal is being able to post photos like this one. Drawn in Posada's style, the mural lampoons not only Mexico's foibles but Mexicans' view of the U.S.

Another pleasure is hearing from readers. One recently sent me the post, Ten Things Most Americans Don't Know About America, by self-described world traveller Mark Manson.* Mark discusses these 'Ten Things':
  1. Few People Are Impressed by Us;
  2. Few People Hate Us;
  3. We Know Nothing About the Rest of the World;
  4. We Are Poor At Expressing Gratitude And Affection;
  5. The Quality of Life For The Average American Is Not That Great;
  6. The Rest Of The World Is Not A Slum-Ridden Hell-Hole Compared To Us;
  7. We're Paranoid;
  8. We Are Status-Obsessed And Seek Attention;
  9. We Are Very Unhealthy;
  10. We Mistake Comfort For Happiness.
The reader's email ends with the query, "How do you respond to this?"

Mark's points triggered a veritable rush of thoughts and feelings. When they finally stopped ricocheting around, I came to realize that they boiled down to three distinct spheres of understanding that have slowly developed over the past five years. For this post, I found myself jumping off from Mark's Ten Points to reflect on:
  1. How Mexicans look at the United States;
  2. My understanding of what makes up "the" Mexican point of view—it's complex, just like in the U.S.;
  3. How my own view of the United States is evolving even as my ability to see and understand my birth country from the perspective of someone living outside the U.S. continues to deepen and change.

Let's Ease Into This

Let me say upfront that in general I applaud Mark's intent and his observations. First, his intent:
"... we don't really get perspective on what’s close to us until we spend time away from it. ... You often don't see what’s messed up about your country and culture until you step outside of it. 
"And so even though this article is going to come across as fairly scathing, I want my American readers to know: some of the stuff we do, some of the stuff that we always assumed was normal, it’s kind of screwed up. And that’s OK. Because that’s true with every culture. It’s just easier to spot it in others (e.g., the French) so we don't always notice it in ourselves."
Mark makes a point of stating that he speaks several languages and avoids hotels and hostels, renting apartments and attempting to enter into neighborhood life as much as possible. His observations are not only insightful but utterly unambiguous. Mark leaves no doubt about what he has experienced and what he thinks about it!

Even when I don't agree with him 100%, the article is thought-provoking and that alone recommends it. Reed and I share his approach: learning and using the language, living locally and entering into the life of our Mexico City community. In the case of Mexico, however, some further clarification and amplification is appropriate.

Let me begin by quoting the oft-repeated saying attributed to President Porfirio Díaz (1876-1910):
"Poor Mexico: so far from God and so close to the United States."
Curious about the origin of the quotation, I came upon this comment on Yahoo Respuestas México, Mexico Responses, where an clearly informed Mexican posted this explanation:
"Attributed to General Porfirio Díaz, who ruled Mexico for over 30 years, the phrase was actually written by Nemesio García Naranjo, Monterrey intellectual, journalist, Federal Deputy [Congress] editor of The Tribune and contributor to the weekly Siempre [Always]. Garcíá Naranjo died in the early 1960's.
"Taken together and regardless of their origin, the twelve words make up a kind of national lament of the geographic fatalism that encloses us, and that is very present today [Emphasis added]."
Geography

Aside from the Río Grande (known in Mexico as the Río Bravo), the 1,954 mile border between Mexico and the United States is arbitrary, quite literally a line drawn in the sand. At the conclusion of the Mexican-American War (1846-1848), the U.S. and Mexican governments established a joint survey commission made up of surveyors from both countries. The commission was sent out to determine the location of the border—the official international boundary ("Line in the Sand")—that would delineate land the U.S. was 'annexing' (1848) from Mexico.

No less a respected authority than George Friedman (founder of the Stratfor Report, which objectively applies a geopolitical perspective to global intelligence issues) lays out the geographic and cultural reality: Northern Mexico and the Southwest United States are a single geographic unit whose culture reflects and sustains its Spanish-Mexican heritage. Nowhere is this cultural fusion more evident than in the everyday realities and shared histories of the towns along the border. Nogales, for example, literally straddles the border—part in Arizona, part in Mexico. But these paired towns also share histories and everyday realities:
  • Ciudad Juárez, México / El Paso, Texas;
  • Matamoros, México / Brownsville, Texas; 
  • Nuevo Laredo, México / Laredo, Texas; 
  • Reynosa, México / McAllen, Texas; and
  • Tijuana, México / San Diego, California.
Until quite recently, the border was a mere formality that did not affect the life of these vibrant communities. Residents typically shopped on both sides of the border, and it was common for large, extended families to have members living on both sides.

Notably, the State of Texas—first in line to insist on separation from Mexico in the mid-nineteenth century—has also arguably been the first to take advantage of this geographic reality to power its economy. When Rick Perry was sworn into his third term of office as Governor in 2011, he invited the governors of the four Mexican states that border on Texas: Tamaulipas, Nuevo León, Coahuila, and Chihuahua. After the ceremony, they held a business meeting. Nothing—not even anti-immigrant ideology—gets in the way of profit.

The "Americans"

Considering how to relate Mark's comments to Mexico, I found myself bumping up against what I understand of Mexican perceptions about the policies of the United States government, of the "Americans," the "American Dream," and the "American Way of Life."

Let's start with the article's title. Responding to Reader Comments, Mark writes that as a three-year resident of South America he's aware that it's offensive to designate U.S. citizens as "Americans."

Twenty years ago in the early months of a two-year project at Pemex (Mexican Oil Company), I learned this lesson first-hand from an engineer who gently, courteously, chastised me:
"We know that you in the U.S. think of yourselves as 'Americans', but the truth is that here in the Western Hemisphere we are all Americans."
Mark accepts the criticism, noting that he deliberately chose the term to help U.S. readers identify with the article's central theme. In Spanish, the formal adjective is estadounidenseUSian. In Mexico we gringos are commonly referred to as norteamericanos.

As I see it, that's the big picture. Now let's take Mark Manson's Ten Points one by one.

1. Few People Are Impressed By Us

Mark's point is that most people outside the U.S. are far more focused on their own everyday concernsfamilies, jobs, communitythan on the U.S. Then he adds:
"As Americans, we're brought up our entire lives being taught that we're the best, we did everything first, and that the rest of the world follows our lead. Not only is this not true, but people get irritated when you bring it to their country with you. So don't [do it]."
Mark notes two exceptions: the English and the Australians. Notably missing are two other rather obvious exceptions: Mexico, which shares a 1,954 mile border with the U.S., and Canada, whose 5,525 mile border with the U.S. is two-thirds longer than Mexico's.

A Canadian friend, who lived in the U.S. for sixteen years and now lives in Mexico during the winter months, has generously shared her experiences of Canadian impressions of U.S. society and its people. In a nutshell, Canadians would agree with Mark's observations...but even more so. More about this later in this post. Here's what she writes:
"Most American people I know, truly, deeply believe that America is THE BEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD....with a deep, abiding fervor. 
"And that hurts, 'cause Canada is pretty nice, so are Mexico, Italy and France. I love New Zealand, too." 
Over a three-year period in the 1980s, I had a number of projects with Xerox-Canada not only in Toronto, Ontario, but in Calgary, Alberta, and Victoria, British Columbia. Invariably, I would be invited to lunch; at some point, my client-host would carefully, tactfully, explain to me the various ways in which Canadians are "not like the Americans." The message was unmistakable:
Do not assume that we Canadians are simply U.S.-North.
For historical reasons we'll touch on later, when Mexico's people come up against this U.S. attitude, their feelings of hurt are added to another longstanding sting. Given the geographic realities, Mexicans are very aware of the United States. It took us awhile to understand that oft-repeated phrase "el otro lado" (the other side) means, "in the United States," which suggests to me how fluid the border is in the Mexican mind. In our circle of friends and acquaintances alone, the number of people with family members on "the other side" is sobering.

If the number of people who have told us, "I worked in [pick one!] Houston, Washington, Utah, Oregon, North Dakota, Tennessee, North Carolina, New York, New Jersey, New Hampshire for x-years," are added in, the number rises even higher. Taxi drivers work for a time al otro lado and return to buy their own taxis. Others work to build a house for their family. In 2010 one acquaintance joined family members already living in Utah but he had to return to Pátzcuaro because he couldn't find work during the anemic economic recovery.

The amorphous border works both ways. A Mexican-American friend told us that his mother was 'Old Texas'. It took some explaining for us to understand that her family's ownership of Texas land predated the Mexican-American War (1847). The deed to their land was, in fact, granted to them by the king of Spain before Mexico's War of Independence From Spain (1810-1821). PBS senior correspondent Ray Suarez recently published a book, Latino Americans: The 500-Year Legacy That Shaped a Nation, that addresses the 500-year presence of first the Spanish, then the Hispanics on lands we know as the United States.

One criticism I would make of Mark's observations is that he fails to distinguish between the people of the U.S. and U.S. government policy. I have in mind the Soviet-U.S. citizen-to-citizen exchange programs conducted during the Cold War; similar exchange programs exist now for Israeli and Palestinian youth. Invariably, the surprised comment of people returning from such experiences is a variation on,

"They are just human beings like us; it's their government that's the problem."

2. Few People Hate Us

Fortunately for us, the majority of Mexico's people do distinguish between us and the policies of our government, which have often had devastating consequences on way too many ordinary Mexicans. NAFTA (1994), for example, has wreaked havoc on the country's small rural farmers. Unable to support their families as in the past, the men head north, but the people who stay behind—women, children, the elderly—struggle mightily to survive. The government now acknowledges the reality of women working land abandoned by their husbands, sons and fathers.

Taken together, the ill-conceived "War on Drugs," the illicit southbound arms flow, and the collateral criminal activity (extortion, human trafficking, etc.) arising from that "war" have had serious negative consequences not only on Mexico's social fabric, but on the country's young and fragile democracy.

Except for what amounts to this throw-away line, Mark doesn't address the consequences of U.S. economic and political-military policies on the peoples of the world:
"...unless we're invading someone’s country or threatening to invade someone’s country (which is likely), then there’s a 99.99% chance they don't care about us."
Given its geographic proximity to the U.S., the simple fact is that Mexico does not have the luxury of ignoring the United States. In fact, Mexicans do think about the U.S. Last week a Mexican friend, an attorney, asked me in obvious confusion and distress,
"What is going on with the U.S. government shutdown?"
The entire Mexican economy is tightly linked to the U.S. economy. Another Mexican saying perfectly captures the resulting dependency:
"When the U.S. gets a cold, Mexico gets pneumonia."
If it's remarkable that ordinary Mexicans don't hate us, it's equally remarkable both how much they know about us...and how much they misunderstand about us.

Last year Reed traveled with the Caravan for Peace with Justice and Dignity to the U.S. led by Mexican poet and activist Javier Sicilia. The caravaneros stayed in modest accommodations, often sleeping in sleeping bags on the floors of churches in poorer sections of such major cities as Chicago, New York and Washington, D.C. As the bus traveled through devastated, abandoned neighborhoods in Baltimore, Maryland, a middle-class Mexican woman remarked to him in amazement,
"I had no idea there are neighborhoods like this in the United States. I thought ...."
3. We Know Nothing Little About The Rest Of The World 

The more I worked on this post, the less tolerance I had for Mark's use of the word "Nothing" because it just isn't true. What is true, in our experience, is that USians know little about the outside world compared to what people outside the U.S. know about the United States. Students in Canada, Europe and Asia learn about the U.S. in school. Mexicans learn a lot about U.S. society, customs and the "rule of law" from relatives and friends al otro lado.

In the post's closing paragraphs, Mark makes a very good point about the U.S. attitude toward other countries:
"... I think the greatest flaw of American culture is our blind self-absorption. In the past it only hurt other countries. But now it’s starting to hurt ourselves."
I would add that we continue to be surprised by how widespread xenophobiaan unreasonable fear or hatred of foreigners or strangers or of that which is foreign or strange—seems to be throughout wide swathes of U.S. society. The fear is longstanding. In the nineteenth century the U.S. initially imported Chinese laborers to build the railroads. When fears arose that there were too many Chinese, the U.S. passed the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882; subsequent laws excluded all Asians from immigrating to the U.S.  In reaction to fears of Southern and Eastern European Catholics and Jews in the 1920s, the U.S. restricted immigration from those countries in order to "preserve the ideal of American homogeneity" [U.S. Department of State Office of Historian].

To illustrate his point, Mark challenges our limited understanding of historical events:
"We did not invent democracy. We didn't even invent modern democracy. There were parliamentary systems in England and other parts of Europe for over a hundred years before we created government."
I wish Mark had included examples from Mexico and South America. He could begin with the Mexican-American War (1846-1848), known in Mexico as La Intervención Estadounidense en Méxicoyes, the U.S. Intervention in Mexico. One of the key battles was fought less than a mile from where we now live in Coyoacán, in the southern part of Mexico City.

A museum to that battle is housed in the ex-Convento Churubusco. One of the first complexes constructed by Cortés (1521), the Convent served multiple purposes: it housed friars evangelizing the indigenous peoples, provided overnight traveler accommodations and served as a fort to guard the causeway that gave access to Tenochtitlán (central Mexico City) from the south. The battle was fought by Mexican soldiers, but with an interesting twist. Irish deserters from the U.S. Army—refusing to take up arms against fellow Catholics—formed the St. Patrick's Brigade, which fought alongside the Mexicans.

It is probably fair to say that even today Mexico's people feel a sense of humiliation over the loss of slightly more than half their national territory. This feeling comes out in resentment of U.S. 'intervention' in Mexico's 'Drug War' and its current "structural reforms"; specifically, opening Pemex (National Oil Company) to activity by the transnational oil companies, but especially to the oil companies of 'los norteamericanos'.

Not surprisingly, the Wall erected to reinforce the U.S. border with Mexico is viewed with a mixture of disbelief, outrage and a keen sense of irony, if not outright humor. The irony is that rather than fencing Mexicans out, the border has served to fence in on the U.S. side Mexicans who would much prefer to return home, but no longer can.

There is also a keen sensitivity toward behavior perceived as over-bearing in the attitudes of U.S. politicians in Mexico today. Need I add that the same goes for tourists and resident expats.

I was personally embarrassed by photos of President Obama looking inattentive at best and bored at worst during the last meeting of heads of state of the Organization of American States. His body language communicated disdain, which is offensive to the nth degree.

Similarly embarrassing was Hillary Clinton's gaffe at the Basílica of the Virgin of Guadalupe. Her seemingly innocent query—"Who painted this picture of the Virgin?"—revealed her ignorance of one of the foundation pillars of Mexican society. Thus her naive question betrayed a failure to prepare for her visit that was, to Mexicans, disrespectful.

4. We Are Poor At Expressing Gratitude And Affection

Here's how Mark introduces this section:
"...open displays of affection in American culture are tepid and rare. Latin and some European cultures describe us as “cold” and “passionless” and for good reason. In our social lives we don’t say what we mean, and we don't mean what we say."
Yes, Mexican people often perceive USians to be "cold," but the cultural roots of their perception are both so numerous and profound that it isn't easy to know where to begin. My Spanish teacher in Pátzcuaro spent several years working and going to school in Los Angeles. Whenever I brought up cultural differences between the U.S. and Mexico, his reply was unequivocal: "The U.S. is totally different."

It's taken years for me to gain enough cultural experience to understand what he meant. The basic pillars of social order in the two countries are indeed different. U.S. social structure is grounded in a set of common rules that ideally apply equally to all. Given a reliable civil authority, people in the U.S. have confidence to act directly on their own behalf. U.S. speech conventions, our directness, is one outgrowth. Another is our almost compulsive striving to "better ourselves," grounded in our general belief in "progress."

In Mexico, the beliefs are different. For all that Mexico is changing (and I believe it is, albeit slowly), the country's authoritarian and hierarchical cultural roots remain strong. As a practical matter, implementation of the formal rules ('laws') is often arbitrary and dependent on whoever's in charge, whether the local "jefe," work boss, or "cacique," political boss. Individual Mexicans deal with this general arbitrariness of civil authority by finding 'safety' in their family and network of trusted friends (personas de confianza). Thus, it is not surprising that interpersonal relations are highly valued and tended to with utmost care. Like families everywhere, there are issues, but ultimately families not only stick together, they stick up for each other. Resources of the extended family are pooled to loan each other money (bypassing the banks) and to provide the skills needed to build and repair houses, cars, care for children, feed the hungry...whatever is needed!

The arbitrary nature of civil authority also lends itself to indirect speech forms. Mexican Spanish luxuriates in indirectness: reflexive verbs and passive voice abound. Where USians are direct, Mexicans are the epitome of indirectness.

One Mexican friend is an attorney specializing in family law. Her German father taught her to speak directly—to say what she means and mean what she says—and she pushes her clients to do the same. She says that her directness causes problems because
"Mexicans aren't used to being direct, but for a good legal outcome, it's essential that my clients be direct and tell the truth."
One source of Mexicans' perception that USians are "cold" derives from instances where the Mexican preference for indirectness bumps up against USians' natural directness.

Intricate formulas of social courtesies, la cortesía, are also very important. The oft remarked graciousness of Mexico's people may serve as a protective device, the social formulas an effective buffer between persons of differing status. 

But Mexico's people seem quite willing to accept foreigners who learn the language and the basics of la cortesía, which can be as simple as greeting people with a "Buenos días" before a business transaction even, say, in a store. When greeting a colleague, it is courteous to ask, "Cómo está?" and to inquire about the family. In a nutshell, establishing personal relationships and re-establishing personal connections after even the briefest absence, these come before all else.

5. Quality of Life For Average American Is Not That Great

Here Mark observes U.S. culture from the outside looking in:
"If you're extremely talented or intelligent, the U.S. is probably the best place in the world to live. The system is stacked heavily to allow people of talent and advantage to rise to the top quickly. 
"The problem with the U.S. is that everyone thinks they are of talent and advantage. As John Steinbeck famously said, the problem with poor Americans is that 'they don't believe they're poor, but rather temporarily embarrassed millionaires'.”
After remarking on the U.S. culture of delusion, Mark continues:
"It’s this culture of self-delusion that allows America to continue to innovate and churn out new industry more than anyone else in the world. But this shared delusion also unfortunately keeps perpetuating large social inequalities and a quality of life for the average citizen lower than most other developed countries. It’s the price we pay to maintain our growth and economic dominance." [Emphasis added.]
Mark might be dismayed to learn that his belief in our "growth and economic dominance" may also be partially delusional. Here's from the Global Innovation Index (GII) launched in 2013 (p. 3):
"Innovation is a global game. Those at the top of the list are highest performers in
innovation and include Switzerland, the UK, Sweden, USA and the Netherlands.
Switzerland remains number one in all rankings, and together with Sweden, are the
only two countries that are in the top 25 of all pillars of 2013 GII.
" [Emphasis added.]
Mark mentions that we work more and vacation less than workers in other countries, we spend more time commuting, and U.S. household carry an average of $10,000 debt.

I would add that:
  • U.S. students appear to be consistently scoring below students in other countries. 
Note: Economic Policy Institute suggests a more nuanced interpretation based on a more detailed analysis; worth a read. Consider this: New York Times (10/23/2013): U.S. Adults Fare Poorly in a Study of Skills.
Note: As of 2009, the U.S. rate was 743 per 100,000 of national population (0.743%); Russia had the second highest, at 577 per 100,000; Canada was 123rd worldwide at 117 per 100,000; and China had 120 per 100,000.
People in Mexico are deeply disturbed by the regularly recurring mass shootings in the U.S. In a word, both Canadians and Mexicans are flabbergasted by widespread gun ownership. As my Canadian friend writes:
"But the biggie really is: The God-given right to bear ARMS. That separates us...way more than our French or our climate or the loudness of our voices. We just don't get the American attachment to their guns."
For our Mexican friends, the notion of a 'Right to Bear Arms' is very strange. Incredulously, they remark, "It's in your Constitution that you can own guns." Needless to say, the threat posed to ordinary Mexicans by the illegal influx of weapons into their lands from the U.S. is terrifying, as is the ensuing violence which threatens the social fabric of communities unfortunate enough to be located on key drug routes.

6. Compared to U.S., Rest Of The World Is Not A Slum-Ridden Hell-Hole

Mark:
"If there’s one constant in my travels over the past three years, it has been that almost every place I've visited (especially in Asia and South America) is much nicer and safer than I expected it to be. Singapore is pristine. Hong Kong makes Manhattan look like a suburb. My neighborhood in Colombia is nicer than the one I lived in in Boston (and cheaper). 
"As Americans, we have this naïve assumption that people all over the world are struggling and way behind us. They're not. Sweden and South Korea have more advanced high speed internet networks. Japan has the most advanced trains and transportation systems. Norwegians make more money. The biggest and most advanced airplane in the world is flown out of Singapore. The tallest buildings in the world are now in Dubai and Shanghai. Meanwhile, the U.S. has the highest incarceration rate in the world."
In the first place, Mexico City is one of the world's great cosmopolitan cities. The aesthetic of the architectural style is striking, many streets are tree-lined, and parks dot the cityscape. The same is true of Mexico's other major cities. The best of Mexico's professional and business class are on a par with any in the world. Mexico's elite society is highly cultured.

Years ago I read an anecdote written by a USian who had been invited to attend the birthday party of a Mexican friend. As I recall, he wrote something like this:
"Their home was modest, yet they generously, proudly, offered me their hospitality with no sense of embarrassment over their humble condition. The Mexican people seem to be much more comfortable with poverty than are their northern neighbors. They enjoy life more."
It's noteworthy that the observation has stuck with me for years. As I was revising this post, I suddenly realized that actually his remark can also be understood as a comment on the consumer mentality ("keeping up with the Joneses") that dominates in the U.S. 

Fiestas

Fiestas are held to celebrate the patron saint of each town and the patron saint of each church. Fiestas are a very big deal, which took us awhile to understand. Far more than a mere party, fiestas sustain the identity of the community and its members. 

In a post about fiestas in Purhépecha communities of Michoacán, I wrote:  
"For a pueblo's fiestas are much more than an annual 'party'. In these communal societies, continuity of family and community is top priority. In this context, fiestas are essential social rituals for reinforcing familial and communal identity essential for preserving millenia-old cultural traditions rooted in Mesoamerican culture. 
"Community members living afuera (outside the pueblo, either in other regions of Mexico or in the U.S.) make annual visits—one might say pilgrimages—to attend their pueblo's fiesta. At this time and in this way, communal identity is affirmed by reaffirming Who I belong to, and Who belongs to me."
Unlike in the U.S., where we tend to be defined by the work we do, Mexican identity is grounded in family and in place, where one was born and hence one's community. 

In Mexico's urban settings, like Mexico City itself, fiestas are held in each of the parish churches. We hear the cohetes (rockets) going off to announce mañanitas (predawn prayers) and at intervals during the day to announce mass. Let it be said that Mexico's people thoroughly enjoy a party. They know how to enjoy themselves ... chatting endlessly, laughing easily, teasing relentlessly and joking incessantly.

Awareness of Mortality 

Coming back today from the supermarket in a taxi, the driver and I were chatting about the rain that was still falling in October! He said, "Of course, it always rains during the Fiesta of San Lucas," which is now in progress at the nearby Church of San Lucas. My reply was the traditional saying, "Pues, el agua es vida," well, water is life. 


After mentioning that another client had told him that the weather patterns are changing because the earth is shifting slightly on its axis, followed by a brief comment about the immensity of the universe and how small the Planet Earth is, he concluded, "Life and Death, that is what we have before us."

It may be an effect of the Catholic tradition, but as a people the Mexicans are acutely aware that they will one day die. We are approaching Día de los Muertos, Day of the Dead, with its rich traditions and whimsical depictions of la Catrina, Death, created by Diego Rivera. Given this reality, which comes equally to all of usyoung and old, rich and poor, good people and bad people, no one is exemptit behooves us to live each day to the fullest, to enjoy each other and to enjoy life. 

7. We're Paranoid

Mark:
"Not only are we emotionally insecure as a culture, but I've come to realize how paranoid we are about our physical security. You don't have to watch Fox News or CNN for more than 10 minutes to hear about how our drinking water is going to kill us, our neighbor is going to rape our children, some terrorist in Yemen is going to kill us because we didn't torture him, Mexicans are going to kill us, or some virus from a bird is going to kill us. There’s a reason we have more guns than people. 
"In the US, security trumps everything, even liberty. We're paranoid. 
"I've probably been to 10 countries now that friends and family back home told me explicitly not to go because someone was going to kill me, kidnap me, stab me, rob me, rape me, sell me into sex trade, give me HIV, or whatever else. None of that has happened. I've never been robbed and I've walked through some of the shittiest parts of Asia, Latin America and Eastern Europe. 
"In fact, the experience has been the opposite. In countries like Russia, Colombia or Guatemala, people were so honest and open with me, it actually scared me." [Emphasis added.]
Mark's observations are very interesting. In fact, friends in the U.S. find ways to ask us, "How safe do you feel living in Mexico?" A few months ago, I wrote a post to answer that very question.

But it's Mark's last sentence that intrigues me. I don't know Russia, but if Colombia and Guatemala are like Mexico, there is a certain kind of person whose quality is so "honest and open" that Reed and I have identified it as ingenuousness. Usually old enough to be their grandparents, we feel a particular responsibility to do everything in our power to respond to and respect that quality of open-hearted innocence. It's fair to say we have only rarely, if ever, come across anything comparable in the U.S.
The driver who took us to Migration last week displayed an endearing openness. He let us know he spoke English. When asked if he'd like to practice his English, his reply was a quick, eager 'yes'. He told us that he'd just bought his own taxi and, in fact, his new baby had arrived on the same day as his new taxi! He's studying law on the weekends. His uncle, an attorney, makes himself available to answer questions. How can we help but be touched?
There's another type of Mexican who responds to us by putting up the "mask" that Octavio Paz memorably described in his landmark work The Labyrinth of Solitude. The mask is the complete absence of emotion or affect. Confronted by such expressionless, it's easy to feel intimidated, which is probably its purpose. It's not difficult to see the mask as the perfect defensive barrier against danger posed by anyone perceived to be a threat.

I can't resist recalling an experience from when we lived in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán:
I was walking back home along the dirt lane that passed along the railroad tracks that ran between the lane-way and the two-lane highway passing in front of our house. Where the land dips, the railroad tracks are elevated as much as six feet or so to keep the tracks level. Hence, I realized, I was no longer visible from the highway. 
As I approached the gate to a house, I noticed a young man leaning against the wall. I was indeed intimidated by his facial mask, devoid of expression. I had a decision to make: what was I going to do? 
I decided that I was in my neighborhood and that all the people I have met are kindly. So I decided to take the risk. As I neared the gate, I smilingly greeted him, "Buenas tardes," before adding, in clear reference to the threatening skies overhead, "¿Está esperando la lluvia?"Are you waiting for the rain? 
In the blink of an eye, the mask fell to be replaced by a sweet smile that utterly transformed his face. We chuckled together in a neighborly way, and I continued on my way.
8. We Are Status-Obsessed And Seek Attention

Mark:
"I've noticed that the way we Americans communicate is usually designed to create a lot of attention and hype. ... I think this is a product of our consumer culture: the belief that something isn't worthwhile or important unless it’s perceived to be the best ... or unless it gets a lot of attention. 
"This is why Americans have a peculiar habit of thinking everything is “totally awesome,” ... It’s the unconscious drive we share for importance and significance, this unmentioned belief, socially beaten into us since birth that if we're not the best at something, then we don't matter
"We're status-obsessed. Our culture is built around achievement, production and being exceptional. Therefore comparing ourselves and attempting to outdo one another has infiltrated our social relationships as well. ... Socializing becomes objectified and turned into a competition. And if you're not winning, the implication is that you are not important and no one will like you." [Emphasis added.]
How can I refrain from quoting Albert Einstein here?
"Everybody is a Genius. But if you judge a Fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is Stupid."
Traditional Mexican society is not generally competitive. People are honored for the role they provide to the groupfamily or community, not for what they have achieved. They are parents, grandparents, community leaders, merchants. USians are known to be competitive, but it is not a quality that is particularly admired. Work is work and has its own cultural dynamics, but work doesn't convey identity. Everyone works to assure the well-being of the entire community (starting with the family)—the common good.

For the people of Mexico, life is so much more than work. Life is what happens everyday. Life is familyweddings, births and birthdays and, yes, deaths and funerals. Life is fiesta—public celebrations and private ones. Life is enjoying each day for what it brings.

9. We Are Very Unhealthy

Mark:
"Our food is killing us. I’m not going to go crazy with the details, but we eat chemically-laced crap because it’s cheaper and tastes better (profit, profit). Our portion sizes are absurd (more profit). And we're by far the most prescribed nation in the world AND our drugs cost five to ten times more than they do even in Canada (ohhhhhhh, profit, you sexy bitch). 
"In terms of life expectancy, despite being the richest country in the world, we come in a paltry 38th. Right behind Cuba, Malta and the United Arab Emirates, and slightly ahead of Slovenia, Kuwait and Uruguay. Enjoy your Big Mac."
That's the least of it! We're also exporting ill-health around the world. I wince every time I see a Mexican mother giving her infant a bottle of formula.

During last winter's drought, I was appalled to read that although remote pueblos lacked adequate supplies of clean drinking water, trucks carrying Pepsi and Coca-Cola made regular deliveries. The reporter pointed out that sodas cost less than water.
  • Mexico City's Christmas Parade is sponsored by Coca-Cola, which is nowhere near as harmless as Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City;
  • Kellogg sponsored a "Come Have Breakfast With Us" event one weekend in Mexico City's popular Chapultepec Park. The menu featured ... Kellogg's Corn Flakes, which is no replacement for the traditional Mexican breakfast of corn tortillas, stuffed with a little chicken and cheese seasoned with a salsa rojo (tomato-based sauce) or salsa verde (green tomato sauce).
  • Oxxo, a copycat 7-11, is filled with little more than shelves and shelves of junk food.
Diabetes is the leading health problem in Mexico. Obesity in Mexico is widely attributed to over-consumption of junk food and sweet drinks. It's not uncommon to pass a day laborer with a HUGE3 liter; 3 quart!bottle of Pepsi or Coke sitting nearby.

Yesterday (10/17/2013) the Chamber of Deputies passed a law taxing sodas, sweetened drinks and junk food. A headline in today's newspaper reads "Obesity Is Not Combated with Taxes, Say Soda Companies."

Consider these headlines:

10. We Mistake Comfort For Happiness

Mark:
"The United States is a country built on the exaltation of economic growth and personal ingenuity. Small businesses and constant growth are celebrated and supported above all else — above affordable health care, above respectable education, above everything. Americans believe it’s your responsibility to take care of yourself and make something of yourself, not the state’s, not your community’s, not even your friend’s or family’s in some instances. 
"Comfort sells easier than happiness. Comfort is easy. It requires no effort and no work. Happiness takes effort. It requires being proactive, confronting fears, facing difficult situations, and having unpleasant conversations. 
"Comfort equals sales. We've been sold comfort for generations and for generations we bought: bigger houses, separated further and further out into the suburbs; bigger TV’s, more movies, and take-out. The American public is becoming docile and complacent. We're obese and [feel ourselves to be] entitled. 
"When we travel, we look for giant hotels that will insulate and pamper us rather than [seeking outlegitimate cultural experiences that may challenge our perspectives or help us grow as individuals." [Emphasis added]
This may be Mark's most important observation. It seems to me that what Mark terms "U.S. consumer society" has hijacked or subverted the values of 'community' and notions of the 'common good' that were considerably more common when Reed and I were growing up in the 1950s. We remember when CEOs even felt a sense of corporate responsibility to the communities in which their companies were located.

In 1989 we watched mesmerized as the Berlin Wall come down. I remember Reed commenting thoughtfully,
"I wonder what will happen now. Communism's socialist ideals (although most assuredly not the reality) has always served as an ideological counterweight to capitalism. With that counterweight gone, it's going to be interesting to see how this plays out."
Bloomberg News (by no stretch of the imagination a leftist entity) reports that the pay of Fortune 500 CEOs has increased 1000 percent since the 1950s. Here's Bloomberg's analysis of the ratio of CEO pay to the pay of regular workers:
  • 1950: ratio was 20-to-1;
  • 1980: ratio was 42-to-1;
  • 2000: ratio was 120-to-1;
  • 2013: ratio is 204-to-1.
Roger Martin, dean of the University of Toronto’s [Canada!] Rotman School of Management, told Bloomberg:
“When CEOs switched from asking the question of ‘how much is enough’ to ‘how much can I get,’ investor capital and executive talent started scrapping like hyenas for every morsel.”
What an image: hyenas! Some label it unbridled capitalism; others call it savage capitalism. Whatever it's called, it is wreaking havoc on the ordinary peoples of the world. The U.S. is not immune to these effects. U.S. academics and economists report a "hollowing out" of the U.S. middle class. Around the world, the impact is even more devastating.

Perhaps especially so in Mexico, which is experiencing a two-way squeeze. On one side are the transnational companies seeking to exploit Mexico's natural resources:
  • Spanish companies building wind farms on the Isthmus of Tehuántepec are facing fierce opposition from affected indigenous communities;
  • Canadian mining companies are everywhere in Mexico where there's gold, silver and other minerals to be extracted; 
  • Monsanto is engaged in an ongoing attemptrecently suspended by the Mexican Courtsto grow genetically-modified corn in Mexico, which is the biological origin of maize and where hundreds of species have developed to adapt to Mexico's myriad micro-systems (GM seeds are banned in Europe and India); 
  • U.S. transnationals are going after every conceivable kind of consumer market, not just Pepsi and Coca-Cola, but Walmart (of course), CostCo, Radio Shack, Office Maxyou name it, either they have a presence in Mexico now, or they are seeking one. 
Just as in the U.S. itself, these transnational companies are squeezing not only traditional Mexican businesses, but traditional indigenous communities as well.

On the other side are the devastating effects of criminal activities fed by the obscene sums of money involved in the illicit drug and arms markets, together with related crimesextortion, kidnapping, human trafficking, etc.

Mexico's president is currently seeking to gain passage of a series of so-called "structural reforms" that many Mexicans from respected academics and thought leaders to ordinary people link to outside influence, such as the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD: An "international organisation helping governments tackle the economic, social and governance challenges of a globalized [i.e., neoliberal capitalist] economy").

It should be noted that many thoughtful Mexicans harbor grave concerns about the capitalist system, which they see as counter to the communal ethos rooted in the Mesoamerican culture that was in place when the Spanish arrived. For that reason and due to numerous 'invasions'beginning with the Spanish, of course but also including incursions by both the French and the United States—the people of Mexico are inordinately sensitive to perceived outside influence on internal Mexican affairs.

Ongoing protests by the dissident wing of the Teachers' Union over the education reform are one manifestation. Protests over the pending energy and tax reforms are another. For the time being, protest is mainly limited to opinion pieces published in newspapers, but protest is widely expected to take to the streets as the reforms come up for vote.
However, this is not the only viewpoint. The business class, mostly but not entirely descendants of the original Spanish 'invaders', is robustly behind most of the reforms. Reed just published a paper that analyzes the "fractures and fragments" of Mexican society. His discussion is useful for understanding the country's complex dynamics.
Given all this complexity, what does one make of the finding that Mexicans Score Themselves at 8 out of 10 on Happiness Scale?  Yes, it's for real, and it's actually quite remarkable.

If I were to characterize the Mexican style of life, most agree that it focuses on family and close friends, and it is far more experience-oriented than thing-oriented—themes we've already discussed.

Let me close by sending you to an opinion piece that explores the findings of the "Happiness" survey mentioned above. Dr. Octavio Rodríguez Araujo, emeritus professor in Political Science at the National Autonomous University of Mexico, disagrees with the results of the Happiness Survey and casts doubt on its methodology. According to the survey's logic, Dr. Rodríguez's highly-educated colleagues should be very satisfied with their lives; however, he reports that when he asked them, none are. In order that we not throw the baby out with the bathwater, let me recommend his analysis, The Mystery of Mexican Happiness. It's worth a read and a fitting end to this post.
*Mark Manson began traveling in 2009 after having gone-broke in 2007 following college graduation. Over the three-year period, 2009-1012, Mark lived in 40 countries, and he now resides in Medillín, Colombia. Poking around on Mark's website, which includes posts on Minimalism (living with less is more) and Why Young Americans Should Work Overseas, sheds light on how the generation 'lost' in the 2008-2009 economic crash is coping. If Mark is any indicator, they are coping quite well.

Still Curious?
  • Ray Suárez, former PBS NewsHour senior correspondent, recently published a new book, Latino Americans: The 500-Year Legacy That Shaped a Nation. In the Introduction, Ray writes, "As you read this book, if you don't say to yourself more than once, 'I didn't know that', then I haven't done my job." Ray relates the history by telling the stories of Latinos. I guarantee that it's not possible to read this highly engaging work without saying, multiple times, 'I didn't know that'.
  •  PBS is now airing its 6-part Documentary Series by the same name: Here's the link: Latino Americans: The 500-Year Legacy That Shaped a Nation.

    Episode 1: Foreigners in Their Own Land;
    Episode 2: Empire of Dreams;
    Episode 3: War and Peace;
    Episode 4: The New Latinos;
    Episode 5: Prejudice and Pride;
    Episode 6: Peril and Promise.
  • Bill Moyers interviews Robert Reich to discuss his new documentary film, Inequality for All.
  • Jason Hickel, PhD in Anthropology, is a researcher and consultant at the London School of Economics and Political Science who has considerable experience working with African nations. Hickel's observations about the impact of neoliberal economic policies on those nations jibes remarkably well with Mexico's experience, starting with NAFTA (1994). Highly recommended: A Short History of Neoliberalism (And How We Can Fix It) is not only readable but important.
  • Finally, here's just the book I've been looking for: The Mexico Reader: History, Culture, Politics (Gilbert M. Joseph, Editor). The Table of Contents lists an eye-catching selection of essays by a full spectrum of Mexicansfrom Nobel Laureate Octavio Paz to Revolutionaries Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata, former Mexican Presidents from all eras, but also including Sor (Sister) Juana Inés de la Cruz, the 17th c. nun widely recognized as the first feminist in the Western Hemisphere. Amazon reports 14 Reader Reviews: 5 Stars (12); 4 Stars (2). Reader comments are not only positive, but insightful. 
Related Jenny's Posts:
Mexico Voices translations:

Friday, May 11, 2012

El Tajín I: Beauty and Mystery

El Tajín is on the coastal plain of Northern Veracruz, about forty miles from the Gulf of Mexico. The city of Poza Rica, newly created from oil revenues, is nearby, as is Papantla. 
This post owes a great deal to the insights of Leonardo Zaleta in his meticulously researched, highly readable introduction to the site, titled 'El Tajín: Misterio y Belleza' (El Tajín: Mystery and Beauty). In quoting Zaleta's superb sources, I have translated from the Spanish and appended the original text to this post. 
Now's a good time to mention that I've made a 'Translate' feature available to readers. Go to the side tabs; the first tab shows an "A". Click to translate Jenny's Blog into another language. I checked it by translating English to Spanish. The result was surprisingly good.
El Tajín is a beautiful archaeological site slightly off the beaten tourist path in northern Veracruz.  For us it translated into less hassle, more tranquility...reflected, I believe, in this post. Enjoy!
To walk onto the grounds of El Tajín is to enter another world. It had rained a couple of weeks before our arrival, so both the jungle surrounding El Tajín and the grassy site itself were cast in the emerald green of early spring. There were few visitors. We practically had the place to ourselves.

Looking down into the center of El Tajín from the upper city.
The temples built close together reminds me of Palenque (Maya site on the Yucatán Península).
Photo: Reed

And it is beautiful! At Teohihuacán, we climbed up to the massive gran plataforma then descended down onto the Avenue of the Dead, but it is different here at El Tajín, which rose to prominence as Teotihuacán fell and Monte Albán (built by the Zapotecs in Oaxaca) was enduring a long, slow decline.

Arroyo Group

At El Tajín we entered a ground level area that enclosed and embraced us. This area is called the Arroyo (Stream) Group because two small streams surround the space on three sides. The oldest part of El Tajín, its temple buildings were erected between 300 and 600 C.E.

Chronology studies suggest the area has been occupied at least since 5600 B.C., with nomadic hunters and gatherers eventually becoming sedentary farmers, building more complex societies prior to the rise of the city of El Tajin. The first settlement was established in the first century C.E.

Monumental construction started around 300 C.E. and by 600 C.E., El Tajín was an urban ceremonial center. Like Xochicalco, El Tajín rose rapidly because of its strategic position along the old Mesoamerican trade routes, which gave it control over the flow of commodities—both exports such as vanilla, and imports from other locations in what is now Mexico and Central America. 

From the early centuries, objects from Teotihuacán are abundant at El Tajín, which suggests at least strong trading relationship between the two ceremonial centers. It is believed that the area's large, central open space might have been the marketplace, which would have been lined with vendors' stalls.


Stairway to a temple now lost to time...has nonetheless not lost its ability to define the space as we enter the ceremonial center
Photo: Reed

But today, the space enchants...like this....

We probably walked a good 100 yards (roughly 92 meters) through the Arroyo Group before we reached the next group of buildings, which includes the Pyramid of Niches.
Photo: Reed

The walk is a transitional space in which the newcomer leaves behind the ordinary world and prepares physically and emotionally to enter a sacred space...set apart from the tasks of daily life.

Awed and pensive, Blogger Jenny enters El Tajín's sacred space
Note the temple in the background.
Photo: Reed

Unlike most other Mesoamerican sites, El Tajín has a labyrinthine feeling....

Many temples were constructed almost on top of one another
Photo: Reed

El Tajín: What Does It Mean?

Veracruz is subject to frequent hurricanes and lightning strikes. In the Totonaca dialect, the name El Tajín means thunder, hurricane, lightning. Remember that during the rainy season (June to October), the Gulf Coast region is subject to cyclones and extremely heavy rains, which means that annually the people faced the destructive threat of fierce winds and flooding.


This three-sided, column sculpture is possibly a representation of the deity, Tajín, god of thunder, lightning, or hurricaneor possibly all three!  Photo: George DeLange

This sculpture was thrown down from the top of the pyramid and broken, possibly by the Chichimecas who drove out the Totonacas and sacked the ceremonial center. Archaeologists reassembled the sculpture at the spot where it was found.

Given the people's dependence on agriculture, it stands to reason that their economic and religious life was focused on influencing the meteorological phenomena that determined whether the crops were to be magnificent harvests leading to abundant life, or catastrophes that could spell death. Above all, like all the peoples of Mesoamerica, they honored the water deity in all his forms.

It is noteworthy that in the Totonaca dialect "Taajín" can also be translated as "Place of Smoke" or "Place that Smokes". As a dedicated ceremonial center where torches were lit and incense or copal were burned, El Tajín presented never-ending columns of smoke ascending to a cerulean sky, the Heavens, that arched over and enclosed the verdant countryside.

Surely, the sight impressed itself upon the psyches and imaginations of those living in the surrounding countryside. It certainly impressed the poet who wrote these words that come to us from a fragment found at El Tajín (Lazara Meldiu):
Tajín; I am your race
and for your race I come
with the voice that fell from my lips
with the word that flows blood
on the first day of your history.
With your splendid stone you yourself tell your elegy
Strung together in the night of the centuries;
Hard and beautiful expression
in the hidden code of your rituals.
Over a hundred years ago, renowned archaeologist W.H. Holmes observed:
"In the art of [the Mesoamerican] peoples, no motiv or artistic labor lacks allegorical meaning, an 'aesthetic myth'...."
Pyramid of the Niches

Today the Pyramid of the Niches presents itself in the sandy color of its aged stones, but it was originally plastered over and painted red. Centers of the niches were painted dark red. Niche frames (easily visible) were painted blue. Undoubtedly, the Totonaca people approached this pyramid with awe.

Pyramid of the Niches
Notice the niches set in the center of the staircase.
Niche openings measure 52 x 61 cms. (20.5" x 24") and 55 x 70 cms. (21.5" x 27.5") 

What does the Pyramid of the Niches represent?

The short answer is the pyramid is a visual-spatial representation of the solar year. In earlier posts [click on live links], I have written about the use of visual-spatial metaphors in the design of Mesoamerican ceremonial centers. From Teotihuacán to Monte Albán, from Xochicalco to Palenque, the intent of the planners and architects was always the same: to construct a ceremonial center in the image of their cosmology—their view of the universe.

Paul Westheim, German-born art historian who fled to Mexico from Nazi Germany, made intensive studies of Mesoamerican art, and his conclusions are held in high esteem by Mexican experts. Of El Tajín, Westheim speculates:
The Grand Pyramid at El Tajín is organized geometrically, but it is also organized in harmony with astronomic principles....
  • The original number of niches was 364, which is the number of days in the solar year;  
  • The Grand Pyramid is structured in 7 zones [6 levels topped by a temple now lost to time] as is the pyramid at Yohualichán (State of Puebla); hence, we have to suppose that the number 7 was a magic number for the Totonaca people; 
  • The Grand Pyramid's 7 zones contain a total of 364 niches, or 7 times 52 niches [7 x 52 = 364].  Setting aside the fact that we have 52 weeks in our year, the El Tajín Pyramid established a relationship with the Mesoamerican calendrical cycle of 52 years: 52 serpent heads have been found at the pyramid at Tenayuca, and 52 tableros have been identified at the pyramid of Kukulcán at Chichén Itzá; 
  • The 18 niches of the staircase at El Tajín correspond to the 18 months of the solar year.
The Pyramid of the Niches at El Tajín was, in effect, a three-dimensional, climb-up, walk-in, walk-around solar calendar that represented the Totonaca's cosmology, their view of the universe.

There is some speculation that at one time each niche housed an object, such as a palm, axe, statue of a deity or incense-burner. The object might have been related to the specific day represented by each niche. It is impossible to confirm or refute such speculation because the objects were destroyed by Chichimeca invaders who drove out the Totonacas and sacked the site.

Others take a more personal approach, seeing in these niches a chiaroscuro grounded in the Mesoamerican concept of the essential duality of all life: light/darkness, day/night, wet/dry, and time itself, that is, life/death.

 El Tajín's famed Pyramid of the Niches
Also notice the niches embedded in the stairway.  Photo: Reed
(Left click to enlarge image)

Octavio Paz, winner of the Nobel Prize for literature, had these thoughts about El Tajín:
The art of the Totonacas rejects the monumental because it knows that true grandeur is found in balance... These stones are alive...and they dance [Emphasis added].
Two buildings at El Tajín epitomize Paz's description. The stately geometry of Building 5 (below) is an elegant statement of architectural, even geometric balance. The stones constituting the Pyramid of the Niches (above) do indeed seem to dance. How were these effects achieved?


The classic design of Building 5' is remarkable. Note the three-sided sculpture is at the base of the broad staircase, atop the level with niches.  Left click for details, including niches, flying cornices and greca escalonada (described later).
Photo: Reed
Flying Cornices

One of El Tajín's distinguishing architectural features are its 'flying cornices'—diagonals that jut outward, 'fly', from the vertical face of a building layer. Their shape animates the building with movement, creating in the mind's eye the sense of dance that Paz describes.

Here's a bit of architectural history: The Pyramid of the Niches was constructed in the Talud-tablero style typical throughout Mesoamerica.

Figure 1: Talud creates the diagonal of the pyramid; Tablero is a vertical level bounded by a horizontal 'floor' and 'roof' that serve to  stabilize the Talud levels.  (Source: Wikipedia, public domain)

At El Tajín the niches were set into the vertical face of the Tablero, and the Tablero's 'roof' took the distinctive form of 'flying' cornices, as shown on the drawing below (Middle Row, Second from Left).    

Figure 2:  Talud-tablero styles used at major Mesoamerican ceremonial centers
El Tajín is middle row, second from left
(Source: Wikipedia, public domain)

Reed took this corner shot of the Pyramid of the Niches, with its prominent 'flying' cornices.

Flying Cornices are clearly evident in Reed's corner shot of the Pyramid of the Niches
(Left click to enlarge imageyou'll be glad you did!)

On the enlarged image, it's possible to see that the diagonal of each cornice is formed by three stone layers—each stone layer stepped out from the preceding, supporting layer.

Reed reminds me that although the Maya lacked knowledge needed to build true arches; they nonetheless were able to construct 'false arches' (corbel arches) by stepping each successive block, from opposite sides, closer to the center, then capping the structure at the peak to close the arch. The flying cornices at El Tajín are a variation on the Maya technique and reflect Maya influence.

Greca Escalonada

Another architectural feature that distinguishes El Tajín is the greca escalonada:

The black, geometric, spiral figure at the right is the greca; the staircase at the left is the escalonada. The complete figure is known as a greca escalonada

Okay, I admit it, I've spent way too much time figuring out what exactly this term means. Arte Historia has the shortest, best definition:
  • Greca: Meandering or undulating line with corners or right angles; this line is so typical of the Greeks during their Geometric Period that art historians refer to this shape as greca.
  • Escalonada: Architectural ornament that combines a greca with a figure in the form of a staircase.
German linguist and archaeologist Edward Seler would take exception to the notion that the greca escalonada might be 'ornamental'.  Here are his reflections on El Tajín:
...with difficulty we are able to think that one of the principal ornaments of the precortesian world might have been merely decorative. In the first place, the frequency with which the greca escalonada appears and its preservation across centuries and millenia contradicts this thesis. A solely ornamental form would have worn itself out in time, as has happened with the 'dying' styles of Europe. It would have lost its attraction and been replaced by new forms to provide revitalized fascination and suggestive force. 
If the greca escalonada were not replaced with new ornaments, it is because, for the peoples who first employed it, it had a psychological or magical value beyond the aesthetic. Just as the cross isn't a purely decorative form, neither is the greca escalonada
Experts differ on the meaning of the greca escalonada. For Octavio Paz, it symbolizes the serpent who comes from the earth. But most experts, persuasively, agree that the spiral greca signifies the whirling winds of the hurricane or cyclone.

The staircase is sometimes interpreted as 'falling rain'—a concept that had me puzzled until I figured out that stairs may be descended! Archaeologist José García Payón spent forty years guiding restoration of the ruins at El Tajín. Here are his thoughts:
The greca escalonada is the product of a profound rootedness in meteorological phenomena, in religious sentiment, in the twin concepts of the economic necessities [balanced with] the most urgent, collective longings and anxieties. That is to say, it seems that the greca escalonada, which probably was originally in the form of a spiral before it became the familiar geometric form, represents to us the wind and the rain. Or even better, it symbolizes the deity of the hurricane with the name Tajín. 
But other experts suggest that the staircase represents the earth itself, which may be the more plausible explanation. A terrestrial staircase allows for priestly, ritual ascent to the top of the pyramid—where the gods descended to meet the priestly intermediary who petitioned the gods. Petition completed, the priest descended down the same staircase to the earthly plane.

Mexican historical investigator Leonardo Zaleta writes:
Understanding the symbolism behind El Tajín requires us to keep in mind a fundamental principle: the prehispanic peoples were eminently theocratic. For the original people, man was impossible in a world without deities.
Now is a good time to return to the photographs of the Pyramid of the Niches and Building 5. Left-click to enlarge the image and note the prominence of the greca escalonada figures. This symbol was part of El Tajín's symbolic and architectural vocabulary from the culture's earliest days.  

Tajín Chico

The last part of El Tajín was built behind a retaining wall that was back-filled to create a level area, which is sometimes dubbed an acropolis. The buildings at Tajín Chico were not temples, but palaces that housed Tajin's priestly and ruling elite, and civil structures that were used for administration.

Building in Tajín Chico.
Note the flying cornices and greca escalonada figures. Interestingly, the staircase is 'upside down' (wide above; narrow below), which gives the impression that it is falling (rain?) from the flying cornice above, thus supporting Payón's interpretation. 

But there's more...Great Xicalcaliuhqui

Just below Tajín Chico to the east is a labyrinthine temple complex built to imitate the hurricane's swirling winds—either Xicalcaliuhqui, god of thunder who lives in the sea; or Quetzalcóatl, the feathered serpent deity (also god of wind) revered throughout Mesoamerica.

Reed photographed the sign to show the layout of the complex, which is one of the last set of buildings constructed at El Tajín.

Built as a 360 m (1,181 ft) structure covering 1 hectar (2.5 acres) shaped as a squared spiral, or greca; the escalonada, staircase, is the entrance at the left. 

The labyrinthine, temple complex in the form of a spiral recreates on the earthly plane the whirling winds of the hurricanes. Given the prominent appearance of the greca escalonada on El Tajín's earliest buildings, we can assume that construction of this complex was simply the most mature expression of a cosmology, view of the universe, that was an essential component of Totonaca culture from its earliest days.

The wall has 158 niches, which equal the number of days of hurricane season (June to October). Tellingly, pilgrims arrived at El Tajín and fiestas were held during the hurricane season. As Reed observed elsewhere, "Myth arises when man confronts the forces of nature," and so it must have been at El Tajín.


The exterior wall of the Xicalcaliuhqui complex; the center is totally overgrown. 
Here is the staircase entrance:

Stairway entrance to Xicalcaliuhqui complex; the modest size of staircase and doorway invites speculation that access to this 'inner sanctum' was tightly controlled.

Final Reflections 

During a ride in the countryside near Papantla, Veracruz, I was startled to see the windows of an upscale house under construction styled in the same proportion as the niches at nearby El Tajín. It's remarkable to see that the ancient style lingers as a contemporary architectural motiv. Edward Seler would say, "Of course!"

In March of each year, the Cumbre de El Tajín is held in Papantla, Veracruz, and at the archaeological site itself. One of cumbre's meanings in Spanish is high point, or outstanding (another is summit). The purpose of the week-long cumbre, or fiesta, is to reinforce ancient Totonaca traditions, including the Danza de los Voladores (Dance of the Flyers).

Site Map of El Tajín

I didn't want to interrupt the flow by putting this site map earlier. Sorry.

Taken from Andrew Coe's Archaeological Mexico.
Left-click to enlarge.

Still Curious?

Here's the link to Reed's Photo-Essay of our visit to El Tajín.

Here's the link to the latest archaeological findings—including the legend of the "cerro de los mantenimientos" ("Hill of Plenty"): El Tajín II: Of Ants,Gods and the Hill of Plenty.

Beautiful photographs on a sunny day: Slide Show of El Tajín.

Good description/good pics of El Tajín by George DeLange, who has "thirty years experience in astronomy"; his comments on the subject are intriguing.

George DeLange's account of the legend surrounding the origin of the Dance of the Voladores (Flyers) of Papantla is well-told and accompanied by a good video. My palms start sweating just thinking of their 'dance'—which occurs atop a 100' pole!

MexConnect has an excellent article on Dance of the Voladores, including the numeric symbolism, which is remarkably similar to the numeric symbols found on the Pyramid of the Niches.

These links are both to Spanish-language sites, but the content is mostly visual and hence nearly 'language-free'; the photos are worth giving the sites a shot:
Great photos of archaeological site at Yohualichán in state of Puebla, which reflects major architectural influence of El Tajín. It's interesting to see the architectural vocabulary repeated, i.e., the niches.

Web site provides images of greca escalonada on contemporary pottery, woven rugs, textiles, etc. The greca escalonada figure is alive and well, which would undoubtedly also please Eduardo Seler!

Terrific web site about the Maya developed by Jeeni Criscenzo del Rio, author of Place of Mirrors, a novel about the ancient Maya. I haven't read the novel, but the web site is surprisingly useful.

Biography of Paul Westheim

In Spanish:

Cumbre de El Tajín 2012, as reported by the Mexican newspaper Milenio.

Appendix: Original Texts in Spanish 

Octavio Paz, Risa y Penitencia: "El arte totonaca rehúsa el monumental porque sabe que la verdadera grandeza es equilibrio... Estas piedras están vivas y danzan".

Fragment found at El Tajín:
Tajín; yo soy tu raza
y por tu raza vengo
con la voz que cayó sobre mis labios,
con la palabra que brotó la sangre
en el primer día de tus anales.
 
Con tu roca soberbia dices tú mismo tu elegía
enhebrada en la noche de los siglos;
ruda y bella expresión
en el códice oculto de tus ritos.
Eduardo Seler:
"...con dificultad podremos pensar que uno de los ornamentos principales del mundo precortesiano hay sido mero elemento decorativo. En primer lugar, la frecuencia con que aparece la greca escalonada y su conservación a través de centurias y milenios se oponen a esta tesis. Una forma sólo ornamental se habría gastado a través del tiempo, como ocurrió con los estilos 'agonizantes' de Europa. Habría perdido su atracción y habría sido substituida por nuevas creaciones formales, de renovada fascinación y fuerza sugestiva. Si la greca escalonada no fue reemplazada por nuevos ornamentos, es porque, para los pueblos que primero la emplearon, tenía un valor psíquico o mágico más allá de lo estético. Así como la cruz no es una forma puramente decorativa, no lo es tampoco la greca escalonada".
José García Payón:
"La greca escalonada es el producto de un profundo enraizamiento en la fenómena meteorológica, en la emoción religiosa, en los conceptos mutuos, en las necesidades económicas y en los anhelos colectivos más angustiosos y apremiantes. Es decir, parece que la greca escalonada, que probablamente fue de forma espiral y se transformó en su forma geométrico conocida, nos representa al viento y la lluvia. O más bien simboliza al huracán deidificado con el nombre Tajín."