The Guatemalan Maya Movement:Ethnicity and the Transformation of the ReligiousSphere

When Guatemalan Mayan priests announced in March 2007 that they would cleanse the sacred location and archaeological site Iximché of any ‘bad spirits’ after U. S. President Bush’s visit there, this rather unusual form of social protest aptly introduced the outsider to the creative new ways in which parts of civil society in this small Central American country are now expressing their social and political discontent. There is a great deal more to grasp from this incident, for instance, when we listen to Juan Tiney, co-organizer and director of the Mayan non-governmental organization Fundamaya, an NGO with close ties to Mayan religious and political leaders. “That a person like [Bush, A.A.] with the persecution of our migrant brothers in the United States, with the wars he has provoked is going to walk in our sacred lands is an offense to the Mayan people and their culture.”546 Purification after Bush’s visit would be necessary, he stated, so that their Mayan ancestors could rest in peace. He also said the ritual would prepare the site for the third summit of Latin American Indians at the end of March 2007.

The incident brings to the fore several aspects of the changing contours of the Latin American religious sphere, a transformation that in an unprecedented way connects globalization, ethnicity, politics, and religion. Moreover, it points to the shifts that have taken place in indigenous activism, the contemporary ethnic-political connections of religious claims, and also the transformations that took place in traditional religious-indigenous leadership. This chapter tracks these changes and analyzes the ethnic and religious content of the Maya movement as well as its current religious practices. The chapter does not focus exclusively on the Maya movement, however.547 By including the local level of an indigenous village, it shows that religious meaning, practices, and institutions are by no means uniform among Mayans.548 Recognizing these contextualized versions of faith is important because it uncovers different notions of religious agency among the Mayan population, notions that have mostly been ignored, since research on indigenous activism often focused on the national instead of the local level. Finally, the situation in Mayan communities sheds light on the conflicts attached to different meanings of Mayan spirituality.

Introduction

Over the last three decades, Latin America has seen a striking growth in the number of organizations549 and individuals who struggle for their ethnic rights from a national, regional, and local perspective.550 Guatemala constitutes no exception when compared to developments in other Latin American countries with a large indigenous population.551 Here, as elsewhere, ethnicity has taken the form of ethnic demands for the recognition of the rights to self-determination and autonomy, of cultural distinctiveness, and of a social representation of difference. The recognition of ethnic identities is now part of diverse institutions, movements, groups, political programs, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), scientific conferences, development agencies, and also many Christian churches.

That said, it is rather surprising that although religious claims are one of the principal sources for the revitalization of a collective indigenous identity and at the forefront of indigenous movements, they have been mostly ignored in media coverage and scientific analyses. In short, religion is visible in present protests for the recovery of ethnic identities in almost every Latin American country. Religion is also one of the most vivid and important social expressions in the organization of individual and collective identities, independent of affiliation and membership. Nevertheless, attention in the academic field studying indigenous movements has been more directed towards an analysis of linguistic, economic, and political claims, such as the struggle to recover land or demands for a better representation of indigenous peoples in the educational, judicial, economic, and political systems. Thus, in part, this chapter pursues an answer to the question of why religion has been treated rather poorly in academic literature. Yet one of the main objectives is to find out why religion occupies such an important place in the discourse of the Maya movement. For this purpose, the religious discourse of the Maya movement is analyzed. Moreover, the movement is portrayed in a broader social perspective, in its interactions with other religious and non-religious players (such as the state, Catholicism, and Protestantism). This approach tries to examine the specific sorts of ‘cultural capital’ the Maya movement is producing. In sum, the aim of this chapter is to explain the special role of religion in the struggle for ethnic revitalization. As will become evident, both the religious sphere and religious identities among the Mayan population have experienced profound transformations as a result of ethnic movements and a new ethnic climate.

In order to understand the exceptional growth of the Maya movement with its multiple organizations, it is important to delineate its characteristics. In Guatemala, one of the common denominators of what has been otherwise described as an extremely heterogeneous movement is that it unites different Mayan actors in their main goals: to revitalize Mayan culture, to defend the rights of the Mayan population in terms of being a collective ethnic group, and to enlarge the participation of that group in the nation-state. Based on a schema that was introduced by Didier Boremanse and picked up by Mario Roberto Morales,552 we can distinguish four categories. In the first category are popular organizations; they represent activists who carry a socio-economic, political, and human rights agenda, e. g., the struggle for land, better salaries, and human rights. This group is composed of organizations such as the Coordinadora Nacional Indígena y Campesina (CONIC).553 The second group is composed of Mayan intellectuals. Some of them are professional academics and have studied abroad. Prominent Mayans who belong to this group include Sam Colop, Demetrio Cojtí Cuxil, and Demetrio Rodríguez Guaján. Not surprisingly, this group is often heard in academic circles and consulted by international organizations and foreign or national development agencies. It has been mostly members of this group who have pushed the debate about the ethnic-national problem and the recognition of the cultural and political rights of the Mayan people. The third group is comprised of indigenous NGOs carrying out projects among the indigenous population, mostly in rural areas. These organizations have established good contacts with the local communities. The last group consists of spiritual guides, Mayan priests, and the elders. According to Boremanse, the Mayan actors of the third and fourth groups are very influential at the local and regional levels and solicited the help of non-indigenous people after 1987.554 It is important to note that, with the exception of the third and fourth groups, the Maya movement in general has a distinctly urban and elite character.

Thematically, this chapter is divided into three parts. The first describes the factors and personalities that contributed to the new ethnic agenda. Among them is Rigoberta Menchú, who received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1992. Menchú is clearly a representative case in many respects. Her life exemplifies different stages of Mayan activism that ran parallel to the trajectories of many Mayan protagonists. Menchú, much like others who established Mayan organizations in the 1980s and 1990s, has a history of activism that dates back to the 1970s, when she participated in Catholic projects, the guerrilla insurgency, and the popular movement. Her biography reveals two key characteristics. The first is how religion and religious institutions, above all Catholicism, paved the way for a prospective indigenous activism. This includes the important point that different religious institutions, social movements, and their protagonists are connected through a shared history, discourse, collective identity, and religious practice. The second aspect, closely related to the first, is how Rigoberta Menchú’s biography and writings illustrate a unique attempt to reconcile her Catholic religious background with her Mayan religious roots.

The second part of the chapter takes up the political-religious implications of the struggle for ethnic revitalization. For this purpose, I have scrutinized the Agreement on Identity and Indigenous Rights (AIDPI). This agreement is part of the overall Peace Accords that ended the 36-year internal conflict in December 1996. Because the AIDPI was influenced and crafted primarily by the organized Guatemalan Mayan sector, which included Mayan umbrella organizations such as the Mayan Council of Guatemala (COMG) and the Coordinator of Organizations of the Mayan People of Guatemala (COPMAGUA), I think it is fair to say that it is representative, to a great extent, of the religious positions of the Maya movement.

Furthermore, and independently of the Peace Accords, this section contains a description of shifts in traditional religious institutions, such as the Mayan priesthood.555 The argument is that a new Mayan priesthood emerged, which is not part of the local community structure anymore but rather supports the national agenda of Mayan politicians and Mayan activists. From a religious studies perspective, this new group of Mayan priests also provides fascinating insights. Their biographical narratives show a striking resemblance to those of Christian converts.

Last but not least, I describe the decline of traditional Mayan spirituality in a rural Mayan village and the conflicts related to the attempts of Mayan activists to homogenize and essentialize their religion. Both aspects, decline of traditional religious identities and revitalization of Mayan spirituality, demonstrate that belief, religious practices, and organization are by no means uniform among indigenous people but are contested areas in a new post-modern world. The conclusion highlights the most important religious transformations that occurred through the emergence of the ethnic Guatemalan Maya movement. It also reveals the overall theoretical implications and social contradictions that arise through this new religious discourse, which rejects syncretism in order to revitalize indigenous culture through identity politics by resorting to a religious essentialism.

Factors that Contributed to a New Ethnic-Religious Agenda:Rigoberta Menchú and the Peace Process

When in 1992 the indigenous Mayan-K’iche’ Rigoberta Menchú Tum was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, Guatemala became well-known to the international community. At the same time, the award fostered a greater recognition of indigenous culture on the national level. As such, it prepared the ground for an opening to pursue ethnic issues, including the signing of the Peace Agreement on Identity and Indigenous Rights in 1995 (AIDPI).

Yet it was not only the Nobel Prize that made Rigoberta Menchú famous and catapulted Guatemala and the fate of the Mayans into the international arena. Even before she received the Nobel Prize, she had made headlines with her autobiography. 556 The book became almost an instant international bestseller and was translated into many languages. She continued to receive much media and academic attention, especially after David Stoll published a controversial book in which he disputed the validity of her narrative,557 in particular her claim that she belonged to the poor and oppressed majority of the indigenous Mayan population.558

The story of Rigoberta Menchú and her protagonism is important here for four interrelated reasons. The first and second of these are not so much related to religion but to ethnicity and its global-local dialectics. Awarding the indigenous K’iche’ Mayan Rigoberta Menchú Tum with the Nobel Peace Prize brought international attention to the situation of the Guatemalan indigenous population, 559 contributing to an image of indigenous people as a growing ethnic, political, and religious entity.560 Undoubtedly, this resulted in much greater political clout for indigenous people in the international political arena, at least in organizations such as the United Nations.

Secondly, the award stimulated national mobilization in support of Mayan culture, indicating that national politics and agendas are influenced by what is happening on the international stage. In other words, what has been characterized by others as ‘NGOization,’ a tremendous growth of Mayan organizations in the 1990s, has clearly been fostered by a more supportive international community. More and more non-governmental organizations were established, in part because money and international support were now within reach. At the same time, this meant a more favorable ethnic climate and greater opportunities for Mayan political participation.

Thirdly, and coming back to Rigoberta Menchú’s biography, religion and ethnic identity were starting to represent key aspects in the biographies of Mayan activists. In this sense, Menchú’s story and her family background represent an exemplary case in that they coincide with several stages and issues of indigenous activism. Akin to others, Rigoberta Menchú’s life is closely connected to the Catholic Church and, at a later stage, to the largest guerrilla unit, EGP (Ejército Guerrillero de los Pobres). Her father, Vicente Menchú, was already socially active. At first an active Catholic catechist, he became closely involved with the peasant organization Comité de Unidad Campesina before his death in the protest at the Spanish embassy in 1980.561 He and several other peasants had occupied the embassy to draw international attention to the massacres that were perpetrated in the province of El Quiché. When the government attacked the embassy, 39 people died, among them several former Guatemalan government representatives, employees of the Spanish embassy, and the occupiers. Rigoberta Menchú carried on her father’s work, also participating in the Comité de Unidad Campesina, which at that time was already totally absorbed in the EGP Front Augusto César Sandino (Frente Augusto César Sandino or FACS).562 With the help of Catholic nuns, she fled the country in the early 1980s. At that point, she had lost both her parents, two brothers, a sister-in-law, and three nieces and nephews, all of them killed by the Guatemalan armed forces. While abroad, she worked for the guerrilla unit EGP (Ejército Guerrillero de los Pobres) in order to make the atrocities committed in Guatemala known to the international public and to raise support for the guerrillas.

Last but not least, Rigoberta Menchú’s biography and writings illustrate an attempt to reconcile her Catholic religious background with her Mayan religious roots. Or, to put it differently, Menchú’s writings try to unite what can be depicted as a ‘Western’ Catholic identity with a ‘Mayan’ identity. I argue that this reconciliation attempt is partially a response to her fight for the recognition of human rights563 but also a personal endeavor that reveals the important impact of these two traits – religion and ethnic identity – on both her and other Mayan activists. From the perspective of Menchú Tum, disregarding Catholicism would mean forgetting the close relationship she had with her father, a staunch Catholic and catechist, who was heavily influenced by liberation theology. Ignoring her Mayan background, on the other hand, would mean slighting her mother and the cultural and religious impact she had on Menchú Tum’s identity and education. 564

Yet Menchú’s emphasis on her Mayan religious roots not only gives a voice to a culture that has not been fully explored by Mayans themselves; both the problem of defining Mayan culture apart from Catholicism and reconciling a Western with a Mayan identity pinpoint a dilemma many individual activists as well as the movement in general are facing. The dilemma, to be sure, is also one facing the Catholic Church, as the following remarks by a Jesuit priest indicate:

At the mass in the Cathedral in celebration of Rigoberta Menchú’s Nobel Prize – a fine affair with most of the Church hierarchy in attendance – it was fine to burn pom (traditional incense) and to have Rigoberta carry in a cross made of corn, but when she started to talk about dioses (gods) you can bet that fell like a bucket of water on many of the people there!565

The implications of Menchú’s speech are clear: Neither she nor ‘the Mayas’ have ever renounced their pre-Columbian roots and beliefs. Mayan culture has survived five hundred centuries of oppression and missionary efforts; this was the explicit message. Furthermore, although she is cautious here in not condemning Catholicism or religion per se, in other publications she does sketch Christian religion as a symbol of oppression and indigenous religious beliefs and practices as symbols of liberation.566

This portrayal sums up one of the major transformations when it comes to Mayan religion in the context of ethnic revitalization and Catholicism, that is, a complete turnaround of religious ascriptions in terms of a positive reevaluation of native Mayan religion. The same actors who in the 1970s were members of Catholic Action and experienced liberation theology as a real ‘liberation,’ also in the sense of a political awakening,567 now reject this past and assign the role of oppressor to the Catholic Church.568 As we have seen in the previous chapter, Catholic Action was the main vehicle in promoting an orthodox Catholicism, forcefully trying to eradicate every trace of Mayan superstition and ritual. Now these ‘pagan’ indigenous beliefs and practices are reclaimed, reevaluated positively, and declared a cornerstone of Mayan identity by the very same people. Antonio Otzoy, a Presbyterian pastor and Kaqchiquel Maya, confirms these alterations in the evaluation of indigenous spirituality:

Rigoberta Menchú, to name a concrete person, she is surrounding herself with Mayan priests on every possible official and political occasion. Rosalina Tuyuc is another personality who also has her group of Mayan priests. And from there on: Every group tries to gather Mayan priests around them in order to legitimize their own identity and to confirm it.569

Another significant event that contributed to a new ethnic agenda, marking a political shift in priorities, was the signing of the Agreement on Identity and Indigenous Rights (AIDPI) in March 1995. The agreement was signed by two parties, the government and the military on one side and the Guatemalan National Revolutionary Unity (URNG) on the other. Guatemalan civil society was able to participate only indirectly. They formed the Assembly for Civil Society (Asamblea de la Sociedad Civil) and were represented at the negotiating table by the URNG. The AIDPI is one agreement among many, e. g., the Agreement on Socio-economic Aspects and Agrarian Situation and the Comprehensive Agreement on Human Rights. Many observers, such as the international mission of the United Nations in Guatemala (MINUGUA) as well as non-indigenous and indigenous people alike, praised this partial agreement as the most successful of all.570

The Peace Accords came into force with the official and final signing of the treaties in December 1996. This turned December 1996 into a highly charged time-marker; it symbolized the end of 36 years of civil war and the starting point for what was at first perceived as real democratic change and the achievement of civil society. This perception was reinforced by other important local, regional, and global conventions and events, e. g., the adoption of the Indigenous and Tribal Peoples Convention in Geneva in 1989 (ILO Convention No. 169) and the International Year and Decade of the World’s Indigenous People, starting in 1994. The coincidence in time – all these events took place within ten years –suggest that synergetic forces were at work, strengthening the revitalization efforts of indigenous peoples and ameliorating the existing ethnic climate.

The Maya Movement and Its Religious Discourse

A good starting point for analyzing the religious discourse of the Maya movement is to look at the above-mentioned Agreement on Identity and Indigenous Rights (AIDPI). The AIDPI is relevant for two reasons. First, it was drafted primarily by the organized Guatemalan Mayan sector, including umbrella organizations such as the Mayan Council of Guatemala (COMG) and the Coordinator of Organizations of the Mayan People of Guatemala (COPMAGUA). Second, the AIDPI became an important document in which the state is asked to promote indigenous rights and to transform itself into a more democratic institution. Suddenly the state turned into a decisive partner and recipient of the demands of the indigenous movement, and this in spite of the double, often paradoxical role of the state in Guatemala.571 In other words, the state became a collaborator even though it was responsible for the most shocking abuse imaginable: genocide. In her detailed study, A Finger in the Wound: Body Politics in Quincentennial Guatemala, Diane Nelson referred to President Serrano’s secretary Juan Daniel Alemán to illustrate the contradictory relationship between the state and civil society, including the indigenous sector that emerged after the signing of the Peace Accords in 1996. Alemán used the apt metaphor ‘Piñata effect,’572 saying: “The state is a piñata. Everyone hits us and everyone expects us to give them sweets.”573

As was mentioned earlier, religious issues in the AIPDPI were discussed in the paradigm of nation-states. If the problems affecting society are not resolved, the agreement concluded, Guatemala “will never be able to develop fully and neither will it be able to take the place in the community of nations due to it by virtue of its ancient history and the spiritual grandeur of its peoples.” Later, the agreement clearly indicated that the demands for spiritual and religious rights are considered the central elements of indigenous identity, when it stated that the “recognition of the identity of the indigenous peoples is fundamental to the construction of a national unity based on respect for and the exercise of […] cultural, […] and spiritual rights of all Guatemalans.”574

From this perspective, religious and spiritual practice is not only seen as a vital part of the indigenous culture; it also gains an important functional and strategic role as a means of reaffirmation, revitalization, and self-recognition of ethnic identity. The national aspects of the ethnic claims of the Guatemalan Mayan sector indicate that religion, or in the words of the agreement and the Maya movement “spiritual practices and worldviews,” gain a new role; i.e., religious practice is clearly becoming ethnicized in the discourse of the reaffirmation of ethnic identity. This ethnic-religious connection marks an important shift in indigenous activism and in the traditional role spiritual guides historically played in the indigenous communities. Both spiritual rituals and leadership are taken out of the traditional local context and are set up as part of a political agenda.

Another factor of change related to a new national-ethnic or even international agenda is the role of Mayan spiritual organizations. The agreement assigns the organized Mayan sector special importance. Together with the Guatemalan government, they are responsible to regulate access to ceremonial centers and guarantee the free practice of indigenous spirituality and the preservation of Mayan spirituality in general. It is argued here that this is one of the main factors influencing the large growth in the number of organizations, many of them exclusively dedicated towards a spiritual-religious agenda. Examples include the Gran Confederación de Consejos de Principales Ajq’ijab’ de la Comunidad Maya de Guatemala y América Central (Confederation of Councils of the Spiritual Leader Ajq’ijab’ of the Mayan Community of Guatemala and Central America); the Comisión de la Unidad Nacional Permanente de la Espiritualidad Maya de los Pueblos Indígenas y las Organizaciones e Instituciones Mayas (National Commission for the Permanent National Unity of the Spirituality of the Mayan Peoples and the Mayan Organizations and Institutions); the organization of Mayan Priests Oxlajuj Ajpop, mainly active in the capital; the cultural organization U’k’u’x Mayab’ Tinamit – Corazón del Pueblo (Heart of the People); and the umbrella organization COPMAGUA. In sum, the agreement contributes to the process of institutionalization of traditional religious leadership and authorities, taking the Mayan priests out of the community and converting them into national agents. This process of change is supported by the fact that most of the Mayan organizations operate in urban centers, such as the capital, Chimaltenango, or in Quetzaltenango, the second largest city in Guatemala.575 The shifts taking place, towards nationalization and even globalization of spiritual indigenous leadership, are also documented in the following quote from a public speech of indigenous leaders during an academic conference in the capital. “For the people, el Atxum (the Mayan Priest) is the person who gives orientation on the family level, the community level, and the level of the peoples, helping them to confront the needs of the present and the future.”576

It seems that the transformation into a more political religious indigenous leadership made this group more vulnerable to state and military oppression, a dynamic that is confirmed by various cases where spiritual guides have been murdered or been victims of assaults.577 Mayan priests in the past were seldom a target of political repression, since the field of cultural and religious Mayan activism was regarded as a minor issue of political activism, the effect being that political persecution was mostly directed against those close to the guerrilla (URNG) and the popular movement. In other words, changes in the religious field are paralleled by persecution that is likely to be carried out by old power elites who now consider Mayan priests a threat to their own interests. There is another element confirming this interpretation. The documented cases of murdered Mayan priests concur in one point: all of the Mayan priests were actively providing spiritual support to the families of victims of the Guatemalan army’s counterinsurgency campaigns of the late 1970s and early 1980s. More precisely, they were involved in the forensic work that deals with the exhumation and reburial of victims of the violence that occurred in indigenous villages by providing spiritual comfort to those who were left behind.

Returning to the Peace Agreement, there is yet another significant component to the change it has caused. It forced the Mayan people to define their own ethnic identity in opposition to the non-indigenous ‘Other,’ the Ladino, in order to preserve and revitalize the special characteristics of indigenous culture. This confronts the Maya movement, which is mainly in charge of this definition process, with a unique problem: how to define a culture characterized by its heterogeneous nature in terms of essence and unity. There are twenty-two languages spoken in Guatemala, and religious practices are strongly bound to local communities and vary significantly.578 Additionally, almost no pre-colonial account of Mayan history written by Mayans survived the times of the Spanish conquest. 579 Therefore, it is not surprising that Western, non-indigenous anthropologists, linguists, and scholars whose studies describe elements of the Mesoamerican Mayan culture became an important agent in this process of defining ‘the essence’ of Mayan culture.

The expanding political role of religious rituals and religious leadership in the ethnic struggle for revitalization has become visible on a range of occasions; the summit of Latin American Indians that was referred to at the beginning of the chapter is just one example. Mayan ceremonies are increasingly performed during public political events such as demonstrations and also at inaugurations of new NGO offices and even infrastructure projects, such as the opening of electric power plants. It is evident that even organizations that do not belong exclusively to the indigenous sector, such as (inter-)national development agencies or the Catholic Church, carry out these rituals in order to document their proximity to the indigenous peoples, while at the same time trying to achieve legitimacy and acceptance.

The following quotation from Víctor Montejo, an anthropologist, Mayan activist, and former Secretary of Peace, makes the intersections between the political, the ethnic, and the religious in contemporary Mayan activism evident:

When I affirm my Mayanness, I don’t need to go into a time machine and travel back in time visiting imaginary worlds to see my ancestors as Westerners do, through films and science fiction. Instead, I just have to visit the sanctuary of the Jakaltek hero Xhuwan Q’anil and recharge my identity by participating in the Mayan ceremonies and prayers carried out in my native Mayan language, Popb’alti’. This is to belong to a tradition with roots still strong and deeply embedded in the land, its sacred places, and geography. Also, we Maya can go to Tikal, to Palenque, or other sacred sites in our own communities and see, touch, and feel all around us the presence and power of the ancestors. Mayan spirituality helps us in this way, and that is why the role of the Mayan spiritual leader is also essential in this project of Mayan reconstruction and representation.580

Montejo’s account describes the uniqueness of religion in the discourse of ethnic revitalization, in that religious experience and religious rituals are often accompanied by perceptions and feelings of the body.581 Here, being indigenous is not only a matter of rational or strategic choices; it is underlined by a difference felt on a subjective level. In this way, religious discourse and practices form a specific combination; they are able to combine strands of collective identities (e. g., language and cultural heritage) with group experiences and the perception of being culturally different. In doing so, Mayan religious practices embody and visualize ethnic identity while they are performed.

There is yet another aspect related to religion in the ethnic debate. Religion as a part of one’s own ethnic identity can function as a last resort in drawing boundaries against non-indigenous actors. In the current (academic) debate, in which constructionist theories are favored by some, this gains special importance in that it equips Mayan actors with specific, ethnically-based, advantageous arguments. For instance, there is the idea that those not born into the ethnic group of the Maya are not capable of understanding the essence of ‘being a Maya,’ in particular the cosmovisión, a sort of worldview that draws heavily on religious content. Regarding the cosmovisión, Mayan actors argue that it permeates every aspect of Mayan life. Some radical indigenous actors even push the argument to a biological agenda, stating that blood is the defining factor of a Mayan ethnic identity and, for this reason, intermarriage between Ladinos and Mayas should be prohibited, thus ultimately protecting the Mayan gene pool and culture.

Little by little we have to consolidate and clean our blood. The mestizaje [racial mixing, A.A.] is our form of self-destruction, our ruin. We have to revitalize our genetics, but only between the indigenous people. These last 500 years have ruined us, but now we will start reinitiating history.582

This brings us back to the above-mentioned importance of anthropologists and their ambivalent role. On the one hand, they might serve as a reference point when Mayan cultural communality needs to be defined. On the other, they can be rejected, especially when they argue for theories of constructivism, which hold that (indigenous) cultures are not static and fixed but rather in flux and changing. Thus research material that uses a constructivist theoretical framework can be perceived as a threat to indigenous activism, because it questions the premises of the strategic essentialism of the Maya movement.583

The following excerpt provides an excellent example of strategic essentialism, because the Mayan activist refers to elements of the Mayan religion that traditionally have not been used in a political context. Juan León Alvarado, an indigenous activist since the 1970s, explains his vision of an indigenous political project. This interview was conducted before the general elections in November 2003.

Our political strategy is not developed enough to name a president. We have to establish a broader base. We want to build up a political project that represents indigenous employees, salesmen and saleswomen, and producers. All should be conscious that we are working for the same thing. […] We want to call such a movement into being, but I don’t think that we will be able to do so within the next four years, up to the next elections. Our aim is to realize the project with the ‘baktun,’ in the year 2012. In the Holy Book of the Maya [the Popul Vuh, A.A.] it is said that in the year 2012 a circle would be closed and a new cycle would begin. Processes within our Cosmovisión move in cycles: 500 good years and then 500 bad years. In the year 2012, 500 good years will begin. By that time we will be prepared. A lot of indigenous people are becoming professionals, they study at the universities, and the indigenous consciousness as well as our identity is growing steadily.584

When Alvarado refers to the ancient Mayan calendar to make the political project appear to have a real chance and to give it more political appeal, there is almost a visionary ring attached to his comment. Again, the link between ethnicity, politics, and the use of religion is apparent. Although one cannot speak in this case of ‘the invention of tradition,’585 since the Mayan calendar does exist in Mayan culture, it is questionable to what extent the stated elements are part of the collective identity of all Mayans. Obviously, certain cultural religious elements have been appropriated for a political discourse and applied to a new political project and environment. This process, then, can be more accurately termed a reconfiguration, reinvention, and reconstruction of tradition.

Alvarado’s remarks about the indigenous political project contain several themes often heard in the discourse of the Maya movement, e. g., the Mayan calendar, the cyclical perception within Mayan culture, the Mayan worldview (cosmovisión), and the Popul Vuh, the latter often described as ‘the holy book of the Mayas.’586 Next to the Mayan calendar, the Popul Vuh is perhaps one of the sources most referred to by NGOs and other organizations in contemporary Guatemala. For various reasons, it serves as a highly suitable text in the debate on self-affirmation and cultural revitalization. It is a written account with pre-colonial roots, a myth that has the Mayan people and culture as its base. Consequently, it represents ancient, or at least pre-colonial, aspects of indigenous Mesoamerican culture and signals continuity with the past. At the same time, it contains religious references, characterizing indigenous spirituality as being entirely different from Christian belief and tradition. Primarily, however, the Popul Vuh is used as a cultural unifier, a reference applied to all Mayan ethnic groups and depicted as their essence. As such, its use unites and homogenizes the extremely diverse Guatemalan multilingual and pluricultural ethnic landscape, suggesting that a cultural common denominator exists. The argument here is that this insistence is not only crucial for interactions with the ethnic ‘Other’ and the state; it is equally important for interactions within the Mayan population, e. g., in building up a movement that is able to speak in a united manner about indigenous matters. In sum, by using the Popul Vuh and other cultural references, the Maya movement looks to a symbolic universe that supposedly embeds the norms and values of Mayan culture as a whole. This process contains a variety of advantages, which will be explored next.

Several facets of the Popul Vuh are often set aside in its discursive use. Originally it was an account from one of the many Mayan ethnic groups, the K’iche’. In fact, in pre-colonial times this group was at war with one of the other Mayan groups, the Kakchiquel. Furthermore, the current version is not the original but a text that was saved by a Catholic priest. Last but not least, it is often ignored that very few Mayan professionals of the contemporary indigenous population are familiar with the Popul Vuh, mostly because a sizable percentage of Mayan people are illiterate. Critics might argue that the content of the Popul Vuh is preserved in oral history and that high illiteracy rates do not matter in a country such as Guatemala. The following quote from a Mayan activist contradicts such a hypothesis, however, supporting the thesis that many do not know the text.

Some ideas were taken from the Pop Vuh. But I think not everybody is able to handle the book of the Pop Vuh. The only thing that has been said is that it is an important book. It is like our Bible, etcetera. […] Some, on their own initiative, have searched for it and bought it. But others are waiting for one to tell them: here, take this material, something like that. Therefore I believe that there were elements extracted for workshops, for specific topics, something like that. Something like: here, take this supplement. Old people, people in general, they do not know about it. In school one had to read it, but without interpreting it. It has not been part of the Guatemalan literature. One has to read it, but without a deeper understanding, without an identification of the book. Therefore, I believe that there have been many elements that have been revitalized but without much appropriation of the document itself. 587

Judging from this quotation, the content of the Popul Vuh is rarely known among the literate indigenous elite. Anybody who has read the Popul Vuh will also agree that it is a highly complex and poetic piece of literature, not easily accessible when superficially read. Interestingly, this last aspect only seems to contribute to the already mentioned advantages of using the Popul Vuh for political or other projects, because it opens up a variety of possible interpretations, just like the Bible. Ultimately, this characteristic is a further explanation why such a range of non-indigenous actors and institutions decorate their material with passages from this K’iche’ myth.

Syncretism, Hybrid Identities, and Resistance within the Indigenous MayanCulture

The following paragraphs point to an additional problem that indigenous activists in Latin America are faced with. First, there is the need to demonstrate that the Mayan culture is different from the non-indigenous Ladino culture. This then requires the ability to reflect on one’s own cultural and ethnic background and to articulate and communicate its content to a broader audience. Two interview fragments that stem from a conversation with a Mayan activist who works within the Catholic Church in the pastoral indígena, an agency that promotes Mayan culture, highlight both issues.

I participated in the foundation of the pastoral indígena. Now, during our last evaluation, we found out that many simply talk about syncretism. But how do we solve that problem of Mayas who were always educated as Catholics or Protestants and are in this ‘skin’? Some are searching for radicalization. Those are the worst enemies of Catholicism, because they try to attack from what they know. I tell myself: twenty years of my story, I cannot simply put that away and tell myself it does not serve anything, because I learned a lot about my own people. 588

 

The whole time, they [the Ladinos, A.A.] say that one is not good because one is Indian, because you do not speak the language. One is not good in church, because one does not understand the priest. […] Well, then you believe this, and all of a sudden I am asked: Tell me about yourself. But there is the fear, the language barrier, the problem to articulate our experience, because we had no access to the education system. These days, that creates from my point of view a big problem in every domain. These days the Mayan culture is fashionable and everybody is demanding: tell me about your position and your arguments. However, up to this point we have not articulated our thoughts, because many instruments and elements were missing to do this.589

Thus, boundaries blur when activists acknowledge that the Indian struggle for recognition is not fought in a historic and social vacuum. This acknowledgement further endangers the project to create a pan-American identity as well as the argument of being culturally distinct.

Syncretism is not only part of people’s biographies and personal experiences; it is also part of religious institutions. One such religious institution, which illustrates the blending of Catholic and indigenous traditions par excellence, is the cofradía (religious brotherhood, lay brotherhood, or saint society). Originally, the cofradías were brought to Latin American during the colonial period by Catholic priests or friars from monastic orders. Later, due to the shortage of Catholic priests, this religious institution moved far away from Catholic orthodoxy and control and became the guardian of Mayan traditions and what these days is called popular Catholicism.590 Because of the shifts in cultural ownership, first Spanish and then Mayan, interpretations about their importance among indigenous culture vary. Interestingly, these shifts in interpretation also indicate the importance of the past for the present. Whereas in the 1970s the cofradías were forcefully rejected and interpreted by many, e. g., the Catholic Action movement, as a hindrance to promoting the cause of modernity, these days they are, at least for some, crucial to the survival of indigenous culture, self-representation, and autonomy. Demetrio Cojtí Cuxil, a prominent Mayan intellectual, said in this respect:

The right of the Maya to use and promote Maya law must be recognized, since it establishes the rules of behavior and interaction for the majority of Indians. Maya channels of authority, such as councils of elders and leaders of cofradías, should be accorded a legal status.591

Again, while there is no debating that the cofradías were an important institution that represented customary law and traditional religious practices and customs in the past, there is much debate as to what extent the religious brotherhoods represent ‘authentic,’ pre-colonial religious thought and the practice of Mayan people in the present. Consequently, and contrary to Cojti Cuxil’s statement, other ethnically engaged activists accuse current cofradía members and leaders of serving tourist interests. Not surprisingly, this argument is often heard in the villages around Lake Atitlán, where most of the tourism industry is located.592 For these critics, the contemporary cofradías have a folkloristic function that cannot be reconciled with the aim of revitalizing a pre-colonial Mayan past. Kay B. Warren points to this ambiguous character when she describes the shifts in interpretation within efforts towards revitalization and recognition of the indigenous culture:

Early in Pan-Mayanism, the saint societies were rejected. […] They were seen an [sic: as] another instance of Spanish colonialism in contrast to the autochthonous character of shamanism. […] More recently, with the goal of revitalizing councils of elders, there has been a reassessment of the contribution of the civil-religious hierarchy.593

One way of dealing with a situation in which it is highly problematic to verify that ‘authentic,’ ‘pure,’ pre-colonial indigenous culture – or at least elements of this culture – still exist is to simply state that this culture or these elements of indigenous culture are proof of a cultural resistance on the part of the Mayan population. Flavio Rojas Lima, a non-indigenous (Ladino) anthropologist, was the first to introduce this interpretation and apply it to the cofradías.594 In his view, the cofradías are a ‘cultural relic’ of a pre-colonial indigenous culture, an institution that was originally introduced by the Spanish clergy but appropriated by the Mayan population and used by them as a tool to help the pre-colonial indigenous culture survive. Interestingly, not only cofradías but also the development agencies are understood by some to be a resourse for cultural resistance; one of these is the indigenous lawyer and congress member Amilcar de Jésus Pop:

These days in Cobán, the province of Alta Verapaz, the COEDUCAS, education committees are working. Today in the different villages of Cobán you will find the committees for a better infrastructure, for water, for street construction, committees for everything. We use the same mechanisms, the same methodology of Flavio Rojas Lima. Well, the analysis of Flavio Rojas Lima is maybe not the best we have, but it is very important. Today we say that the committees represent a cultural residue. Today they are the mechanisms of a cultural resistance. […] That means that it is a political identity that we are using, that we need. The cofradías disappeared in a certain historical moment. Today we took off the costume of the cofrades [the members of the cofradías, A.A.] and dressed them with one of the president of a committee.595

This description indicates that for the Maya movement, the battlegrounds for indigenous affairs are not only transnational organizations such as the United Nations or state-bound arenas like the Asamblea de la Sociedad Civil (ASC, Civil Society Assembly) but also regional and even local organizations.596 This underlines the above-mentioned trend that religious organizations formerly bound only to the indigenous communities are becoming increasingly ethnicized, while at the same time a process of institutionalization is occurring, e. g., in the form of Mayan priest associations, NGOs, or the development agencies mentioned previously.

The cofradía is an excellent example of creolization,597 hybridization,598 and syncretism,599 fashionable theoretical terms that all describe a process of cultural mixing in modern or, depending on the theorist, post-modern times. Applying Flavio Rojas Lima to these concepts reveals that he is in accordance with current theories on creolization and hybridization but not with syncretism. Whereas the former underline that cultural mixing contains positive elements that allow colonized societies and subjects to both critique and appropriate elements of dominant cultures, syncretism has more negative and pejorative connotations, at least according to Edward L. Cleary and Timothy J. Steigenga. Syncretism usually denies the subordinated subjects the possibility of agency while it stresses the power of hegemonic forces to impose religious orthodoxy.600 Two things are important in this regard. One is that, in the new political environment and growing awareness of religious and ethnic identity, new organizations that claim to represent the indigenous population are emerging; some of them are indigenous, but some are not. Non-governmental organizations (NGOs) are probably the largest group in this respect. Second, the current social and political context is producing new religious interpretations. In other words, an increase in indigenous activism has changed traditional religious institutions, giving them a different meaning and acknowledgement.

The New Mayan Priests

This section deals with another traditional ethnic-religious institution, the Mayan priests, or in Spanish sacerdote mayas. Similarly to the cofradías, they gained a completely novel meaning and function due to changes in the political-ethnic environment. In order to describe the transitions that took place, I present the case of Audelino Sac Coyoy.

Audelino Sac was about fifty years old when I interviewed him. He is K’iche’, Catholic, and a trained Mayan priest. When I met him, he was working as a counselor for the International Labor Organization (ILK), an institution that is part of the United Nations. He lives with his family in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala’s second largest city, where he also grew up.

His thinking about Mayan identity and Mayan spirituality has been heavily influenced by Carlos Guzmán Böckler, a non-indigenous intellectual, who published the influential book Guatemala: A Socio-Historical Interpretation with the French sociologist Jean Louis Herbert in 1970.601 He calls Guzmán Böckler his teacher.602

As a Mayan priest who is actively involved in asserting and revitalizing Mayan culture and spirituality, what are his views on Mayan spirituality? Is there a connection between the ideas of Gúzman Böckler, who is not explicitly religious in his writings, and Audelino Sac’s religious agenda? This is what Audelino Sac said in terms of his own Mayan identity and spirituality:

First, the Mayan spirituality is something typical of my father, my grandfather, and my ancestors. It has not been developed in other latitudes, but here, in my environment. Because of that, it is more important to me than other religious currents. […] In this sense, it is more authentic and more a part of myself. The other religious currents, well, let us say I had to learn them. These other currents, they planted issues and contexts from other environments into Guatemala. In contrast, what is coming from us is what was here before. It has something to do with the question of belonging. In this sense, I see it as coercion, neither a penalty nor a reward. It is a practice, an exercise that I can execute according to my own will, my own convictions. This allows me to connect with the energy of the universe and ideas about being and spirituality. Through the expressions of nature I am able to get into touch with the spiritual being. For me, this also implies a lifestyle (manera de vivir), a philosophy of life, a way of understanding life, and an interpretation of the universe. 603

It is clear that for Audelino Sac, Mayan spirituality is inextricably connected to his descent, his ancestors, and his culture.604 For him, it conveys a feeling of affiliation while also providing fundamental answers to existential questions. He revealed that Mayan spirituality is more important to him than other religions – more important certainly than Catholicism – and it is also more authentic, because he views it as a part of his own identity. Other religions, e. g., Catholicism, are not part of his identity and not part of Mayan identity in general. He said that he had to study and to learn it, an argument often made by Mayan activists.605 Overall he makes an equation in which Mayan spirituality appears to be synonymous with self-identity, descent, and culture. Moreover, he assigns Mayan spirituality the status of a life philosophy, which influences his interpretation of the world. Additionally, by describing Mayan spirituality as a way of life he seems to subordinate his life to this philosophy and to plan his life accordingly.606

What are the similarities between the theoretical arguments of Gúzman Böckler, Herbert, and Audelino Sac? Similarly to Gúzman Böckler and Herbert, Sac views identity as a key concept determined by his descent and his past. Moreover, there is a strong ethnic antagonism in Sac’s argument, which is described in religious terms. The ethnic dichotomy appears to be a religious one: there are the Mayans and Mayan spirituality on the one hand and non-indigenous people and religions, in particular foreign Catholicism, on the other. Like Gúzman Böckler, the emphasis is on cultural and religious differences. In this regard, Catholicism – or religion in general – becomes a symbol for the identity of the others, the non-indigenous Ladinos. Viewed through the lens of sociological and anthropological theories, for Sac, those Mayans who profess Catholicism – and most likely Protestantism – profess a hybrid religious identity. By contrast, Mayan spirituality is the essence of what it means to be Mayan; it is a way of life and a philosophy. From this perspective, Mayan spirituality and religious identity can only be an essentialized version of faith, whereas other religions and their religious practices are always a bricolage, hybrid and implemented ways of believing and belonging. Sac also made a judgment of these hybrid forms of identity and presented them as post-colonial criticism. Catholicism is obviously viewed negatively and rejected because it was imposed by outsiders and – although he does not say so explicitly – subject to outsiders’ interests.

The division into religious identities that are based on essentialist (or pri-mordialist) versus hybrid theories emerges again later in the interview, when he distinguishes between two groups within the Maya movement. The first group consists of Catholics and Protestants who simultaneously practice Christian and Mayan spiritual practices. The second group, which he himself associates with, is characterized exclusively by its Mayan identity and completely rejects Christianity. Within this group, he said, there is a great enthusiasm to revitalize the Mayan culture and its customs, which have almost been lost.607

A strong irony emerges when we compare Audelino Sac’s own background with his views on Mayan religious identity, in particular his statement that he had to study other religions that were not originally related to his Mayan identity. In this case, he is deliberately ignoring the strong Catholic affiliation that exists in his family. His father Rodrigo Sac was a devoted cofrade in the Cofradía del Justo Juez, and prior to that, his grandfather Ramón had been an important member in the local religious brotherhood.608

Audelino Sac himself was never a devout Catholic, and his interest in Mayan spirituality was not part of his own personal history either. Surprisingly, Irma Alicia Velásquez Nimatuj, a Mayan anthropologist and journalist who chronicled the history of the Sac family in her manuscript From Caballo to Landrover, wrote that he actually had a mocking attitude towards indigenous spirituality:

Although he was raised Catholic, he never practiced the religion by conviction. Moreover, he scorned any kind of expression of Mayan spirituality and was a staunch critic of the Quetzaltenango indigenous society to which his parents belonged […] He participated in the Boy Scouts as a boy and teenager, and during outings to the surrounding hills would laugh at the ajkijab (Mayan priests). The ceremonies were influenced, he says, by Catholic ideas, which reinforced the notion that all Mayan religion was “pure witchcraft.”609

At the beginning of the 1990s his demeaning attitude changed radically. Under the influence of new friends who were very active in the Maya movement and in particular with Mayan spirituality, he decided to become a Mayan priest. He completed his training under the special guidance of Gregorio Camacho and Jaime Lucas from the Gran Confederación de Sacerdotes Mayas. He specialized in the scientific aspects of Mayan spirituality, e. g., the Mayan calendar, mathematics, astronomy, and psychology, and started to offer seminars on Mayan spirituality. Additionally, he found an entry into academic circles and established contacts to development agencies.610

Besides the fact that his own biography by no means reflects an inextricable link between Mayan spirituality and ethnic identity, there is a striking religious pluralism within the Sac family. In her family chronology, Irma Velasquez Nimatuj describes the effect of this religious pluralism within the Sac family. When the above-mentioned Cofradía del Justo Juez celebrated its 75th anniversary, the cofradía committee decided that its patron saint should visit all the houses of former presidents, including that of the Sac family. Rodrigo Sac, who had reached quite an age at this point and was strongly marked by the final stages of cancer, was overjoyed. The saint had played a central role in his life. When the statue arrived in the house he asked his son Audelino not to forget the Catholic heritage of his grandfathers and to commemorate it. When Rodrigo Sac died that same night, his children were present: two daughters who converted from Catholicism to Protestant-Pentecostalism and Audelino, who had already started his training as a Mayan priest. He performed a Mayan ceremony in front of the coffin, whereas the two converted daughters prayed to God to petition eternal peace for the deceased.611

From Velásquez Nimatuj’s family chronicle we can grasp that it was not Sac’s immediate ancestors and family who introduced him to Mayan spirituality. At this point he clearly engages in a re-interpretation of his own religious past, defining it in a way that suits his present spiritual views, including a complete negation of his Catholic education and family values. Now his frame of reference consists of an idealized, romanticized, and generalized past. Interestingly, his biography and his views on Mayan spirituality are astonishingly similar to those of Christian converts.612 Analogous to typical Protestant Pentecostal conversion narratives, he says that he has subordinated his life to the cause of Mayan spirituality, turning from no religion to belief. In fact, conversion is a term used by Mayan intellectuals. Victor Montejo, for instance, explicitly uses the concept when he talks about the need to revitalize Mayan culture. Although he is using it in a cultural rather than a strict religious sense, the call for a radical change in beliefs, values, personal identity, and worldview is apparent.

To avoid the separation of Maya middle-class people and leaders from the less fortunate Maya and the people in the rural villages, I propose a total acceptance or conversion to this key Maya identity. This generative term for our identity has millennia-old historical roots and unifies us through space and time: the ancient Maya, the contemporary Maya, and the Maya of the future.613

An additional thought-provoking aspect is Montejo’s reference to the divide between Mayas from an urban and rural environment. A person who also mentioned this urban-rural Mayan divide was the indigenous Catholic priest Tomás García. According to his view, radical Mayans who reject syncretism and define Mayan spirituality as something entirely different from Catholicism acquire this attitude when living outside their rural communities, for instance, while studying at the university in the city. In other words, contacts beyond the rural community are an important factor, pushing a reassessment of and self-reflection about one’s own ethnic and religious self-identity. Father Tomás acknowledged that he himself had this experience while studying theology in Canada. In sum, these and other cases indicate614 that it is not only descent and origin that are responsible for religious and ethnic self-ascription but also people’s life course, especially their contact with ethnic others.615 From this perspective, ethnic and religious assertiveness can only develop in a society that possesses a certain degree of ethnic-religious pluralism; in fact, pluralism emerges as a necessary pre-condition.

Audelino Sac represents a new type of Mayan priest, one who participates in academia, travels in and out of Guatemala, and looks at Mayan spirituality from a scholarly, some might even say esoteric, perspective. Certainly, Sac does not belong to a rural Mayan community but is part of an urban, indeed global, network. He actually distinguishes himself from traditional and ordinary Mayan priests who use a mix of religious references, from pictures of Catholic saints to all sorts of other daily objects, as long as they think it increases spiritual effectiveness. 616 Interestingly, on this point there is another parallel to charismatic Catholics and Protestant Pentecostals. The latter also reject everything that appears hybrid or syncretistic. Aura Marína Cumes, a Mayan UNESCO employee and, like Sac, a person who discovered her interest in Mayan spirituality only recently and in adulthood, made this comparison herself. She said some of the new Mayan priests have fallen into an extreme viewpoint in which they, like Guatemalan Protestants, reject any expression that conflicts with their image of how a Mayan priest should look.617 As an example, she referred to Mayan activists who established the dictum of wearing the typical Guatemalan sandals (caites) instead of ordinary shoes.

Coming back to the previously discussed concept of conversion, there are two other striking parallels between Mayan priests and Protestant Pentecostals, religious agents who seem, at first sight, to be totally distinct. First, according to the general research consensus, conversion involves a process of radical change in belief, values, and to some degree personal identity and worldview.618 The biographic details given above certainly coincide with such a description, conveying the transformation of the original way of life similar to an experience of secondary socialization. The training to become a Mayan priest then epitomizes this process. On a more general level, and again similar to conversion processes among other religions, the person starts to base and orient important acts and decisions according to the new religious belief system, its norms and values. These become the convert’s center of life. In turn, all other life decisions, e. g., concerning career and family, are grouped around it. In this regard, the strong connection between aspects of identity and religion can be described as a heightened religious consciousness. Second, Mayan spirituality has attained the status of a religion for those Mayan constituents who identify with it. They define it as a coherent religious belief system, making exclusive and absolute claims about it, and contest explicitly hybrid elements within it, e. g., influences of Catholicism.619 Again, a conversion process, namely a transition from one religious community to another, seems to take place. Furthermore, an obvious element is the quest element. That is, conversion is the outcome of this quest for a new identity.620 Finally, affiliation with a group – in this case belonging to the Mayan ethnic community – is of great significance. Without this collective factor, it would be impossible to achieve this new ethnic-religious identity, nor could it survive over time.621

The profound transition provokes a series of questions. What are the social effects of this ethnic religious activism? Do the new actors and agents possess certain legitimacy, a legitimacy that is supported by the broader Mayan population and not just part of a new political agenda in which ‘ethnic’ agents who represent the indigenous population are needed? For instance, what about the religious identity of Mayans who are not part of the movement? Can they identify with the religious discourse of the Maya movement and their religious practices? The following section discusses the complex and contradictory relationship between agents of the Maya movement who are searching for a religious-ethnic mobilization and the Mayan community of a small indigenous town. It demonstrates that religion is by no means uniform among the Mayan people.

Mayan Spirituality in Comitancillo

This analysis of the intersection between the religious and the ethnic sheds light on the impact of Mayan cultural-religious revitalization efforts in a particular rural highland community. It is argued here that the emergence of indigenous NGOs and Mayan ethnic advocates active in the local religious sphere confront the rural Mayan population with religious meanings that are different from the past, and in some cases these competing ethnic-religious identities generate conflicts on a personal and collective level. In order to understand why the creation of a pan-Mayan identity is colliding with the religious identities of the villagers, it is important to understand how religious pluralism in the village developed, in particular those factors that contributed to a decline in the role of Mayan priests and traditional religious practices and spirituality through recent Catholic pastoral policies. Moreover, in paying closer attention to the biographical trajectory of current Mayan indigenous activists, certain ambiguities and contradictions become visible, e. g., some revitalization activists played a pivotal role in dismantling traditional religious practices and institutions.

The Decline of Traditional Mayan Spirituality in Comitancillo

Comitancillo is a Mayan town located 2,280 meters (7,480 feet) above sea level. Including all the surrounding hamlets, the population amounts to approximately 50,000 inhabitants. The town is situated in the Northwestern Highlands of Guatemala, in the province of San Marcos. Similarly to other indigenous communities, it experienced an enormous transition in the execution of traditional religious practices. Not only has there been a tremendous decline in the number of traditional Mayan priests and people who perform traditional rituals, but these days numerous Protestant churches are part of the town and the surrounding hamlets. At weekends, the sound of prayer groups fills the air via loudspeakers. They are not all Protestant, as one might expect given their exuberant form of worship and their use of megaphones. Many of the prayer groups are indeed part of the Catholic parish, led at the time of my research by an energetic eighty-year-old Ladino priest and member of the Catholic Charismatic Renewal, a personality who also turned out to be a key figure in implementing Catholic Action.

In order to understand the current religious pluralism in Comitancillo, I will start with an account of what happened to traditional Mayan practices in this area and the factors that are responsible for their disappearance. I seek to answer two primary questions. First, where are the traditional Mayan priests located in the picture described above? Second, how do all of these religious players interact with each other?

Comitecos, that is the locals, mentioned three major factors responsible for the decline of costumbre, the traditional cultural (including religious) customs. Although these factors are all different in nature, they concur on one point: Non-indigenous agents and institutions arrived with the explicit goal of dismantling and eliminating traditional Mayan religious practices. Moreover, this whole process took place within a decade, from the mid-1950s to the mid-1960s, a synergy in time that enhanced the destructive force of the various measures applied.

It was most likely a Catholic missionary campaign, part of the Catholic Action movement, which was most detrimental to religious practices. In this region, Catholic Action was set in motion during the 1950s and early 1960s. Additionally, the local primary schools, which are staffed by Ladino teachers, tried to ban Mam, the local indigenous language, by establishing a Spanish-only policy in the schools. Children who did not obey this rule were often punished physically. 622 At the same time, a health center opened in town. This factor had a huge impact on traditional indigenous authorities, e. g., midwives,623 and affected a series of cultural practices. Feliciano Pérez, a Comiteco and former employee of a Canadian aid agency, gave an example of how the health center staff tried to prevent people from using the chuj, a traditional steam bath,624 or using plants to treat health problems.

Daniel Muñoz, an elderly Ladino who had been mayor of Comitancillo twice in the 1960s and was still a shopkeeper at the time of my stay, mentioned another aspect responsible for the decline of traditional religious practices. He told me that while he was mayor, he himself had initiated a personal campaign against the Mayan priests, in particular against the objects they used. At the time, he was concerned about what he called the atmosphere of suspicion and conflict emanating from the work of the Mayan priests. He said that many of the villagers lived in constant fear of having been cursed. They considered bad things that happened to be the result of curses invoked and spells cast by the Mayan priests. The Catholic priest Eric Gruloos from the neighboring municipality of San Miguel Ixtahuacán argued in a similar fashion, saying that in indigenous villages full of poverty, economic and social gains are often viewed with jealous eyes and attributed to the losses of someone else. He also thought that belief in transcendental powers such as curses and spells would add to the tensions and conflicts already present in the villages.625 For Muñoz, a seemingly good solution was to confiscate all indispensable objects used in Mayan rituals. He assigned this task to the auxiliary mayors. They did not like this assignment because they attributed special powers to these artifacts and were afraid to touch them. Muñoz laughed as he recounted the incident and obviously did not believe in the power of Mayan priests or the objects they used. As he recalled, it was not easy to convince the auxiliary mayors to execute his order, but in the end they did, and the objects were stored in the office of the local justice of the peace.

Compared to the campaign of the Catholic Church, Daniel Muñoz’s initiative only had a minor impact on local religious traditions, at least if we believe local indigenous Catholics. They have little doubt that it was first and foremost the tactic used by the Catholic Church that contributed to the demise of traditional Mayan religion and the success of implementing orthodox Catholicism. Unlike Protestant missionaries who went from house to house to gain converts, the Catholic Church tried to convert the traditional Mayan priests first. With this strategy, the Catholic Church soon damaged the traditional communal structure of the surrounding villages, because the Mayan priests were important authorities, vital for the collective organization of the communities and important advisors for the individual village member. Furthermore, when a Mayan priest converted, the whole village (or hamlet) often followed. In doing so, whether consciously or unconsciously, the missionaries made use of the cultural significance of family and kin structures as well as generally acclaimed authorities among the Mayan population.

The narrative of the locals, who stress that the religious institution responsible for the decline of Mayan spirituality in Comitancillo costumbre and the reduced number of Mayan priests was initially the Catholic Church and not the Protestant missionaries, offers two challenges to prevailing academic assumptions. The first is limited to incidents in the past, namely the conquest, colonialism, and periods of liberal governments in the nineteenth century, in short, incidents that happened between five hundred and one hundred and fifty years ago; the second describes the loss of indigenous cultural elements as part of the recent armed confrontation in which an estimated 200,000 Guatemalans, most of them indigenous, lost their lives. These versions of events are, of course, not mutually exclusive and in fact often prevail in the same writings. This is not to say that anthropological and ethnological accounts do not cover the modernizing role of the Catholic Church in the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s. However, the ways in which the missionary efforts of the Guatemalan Catholic Church contributed to the decline of traditional Mayan religious practices and institutions largely remain a blind spot.626 Only a few publications, such as Ricardo Falla’s study on San Antonio Ilotenango, reveal how the Catholic Church as a key player influenced the religious fate of its indigenous constituency a few decades ago.627 Even though some academics mention Catholic Action as a part of this missionary campaign,628 the efforts of Catholic Action are mostly described in terms of combating communism in the 1950s, establishing development projects (e. g., peasant cooperatives) in the 1960s, and later fostering a new indigenous activism in the 1970s. In sum, how the Catholic Church itself contributed to religious pluralism, and how it implemented a massive campaign to gain converts among the indigenous population, were not issues on the radar screens of most academics. 629

Another factor that merits attention is the self-perception of Catholic Comitecos, their own religious identity, and their thoughts on the implementation of orthodox Catholicism through the above mentioned missionary campaign. Interestingly, a series of comments indicate that older people did not identify as Catholic before the 1950s. One remark often made was: “The saints have a different meaning these days than they had before. Today they are part of religion; before they were not.”630 Moreover, Comitecos and Comitecas constantly used the formulation that ‘religion,’ by which they meant Christianity, became part of the village only a few decades ago. This clearly indicates that there are different perspectives regarding religious affiliation, ascriptions, and self-ascriptions. While anthropologists usually describe the popular Catholicism of the indigenous population, including the Mayan priests, as a fusion of pre-colonial elements with Spanish Catholicism, the indigenous villagers clearly do not share this interpretation. For them, the town became Catholic only recently, not five hundred years ago. What marked the transition towards becoming Catholic was the above-mentioned missionary campaign and the subsequent arrival of a permanent priest.

In the endeavor to implement orthodox Catholicism, the priest targeted important local customs, such as those related to ancestor worship. The belief that dead ancestors influence the life of the living has an important place in Latin American popular culture. According to this belief, ancestors can support the bereaved, or, when they are not worshiped or adequately remembered, they can castigate and punish them. The belief in the influence of ancestors is therefore directly related to the life of the living. Strictly speaking, this belief is incompatible with Christian doctrine, because religious practices ‘for,’ ‘with,’ or even ‘from’ the dead contradict the sole saving efficacy of Christ, implying that the lives of the living are still influenced by the dead and communication with the dead is possible.

One example of ancestor worship are the ceremonies on the Day of the Dead (el Día de los Muertos), when in Comitancillo and elsewhere people make pilgrimages to the cemeteries and organize picnics on the graves, leaving food for the deceased. In Comitancillo, typical indigenous food is usually prepared for this event, such as tamales and chile ayote. The villagers remember that in the past people would visit a Mayan priest on this day. The Mayan priest would then communicate with the ancestors in order to petition for health, a good harvest, or other things that were important to them. They said that the local Catholic priest tried to ban this important ritual, but as we can see, he was not very successful:

Monseñor asked us why we would leave food on the graves of the dead. This would be the same thing as throwing food away. “Now that you are converted, this is a crime against the Bible,” he said. The Church then prohibited it. They said that it is not good to do this, because the dead would not come to eat these things. It would be better to eat and to drink while one is alive than to give something to the dead who would not benefit from it. The people, however, continued to do it, because it is a custom (costumbre).631

Thus, from the perspective of the Catholic Church, the belief in the power of the ancestors constitutes a heresy, a false, pagan view. The important point here is not only that the position of the villagers is at variance with the doctrine of Catholicism but also that the continued worship of ancestors epitomizes the point at which the influence of Catholic doctrine on people’s lives ends. From this perspective, ancestor worship is a religious space that is not permeated by Catholic doctrine, a space where Mayan belief reigns. Therefore, it exercises an important social function, because it shapes collective identity and harmonizes social action independently of institutionalized religion. Ancestor worship also connects the past with the present and guarantees the link to the past through kin. The following quotation from an interview with a Mayan priest highlights the connection between the continuity of norms and values and the belief in the power of the ancestors. My question to the Mayan priest was whether ancestors are able to do harm to the living. He responded:

Yes, that happens when one is not behaving correctly toward one’s family, for instance one’s wife. Then one gets nightmares, in which the ancestors scare you. Those are signs that they give you. Well, you cannot really speak to them, even though I have done this sometimes in my dreams. When I was close to becoming ill, then they warned me and told me: Be careful. But until now, nothing serious ever happened to me.632

Other situations in which Comitecos believe that ancestors can do harm to the living occur when a person dies before God’s appointed time. These dead suffer in the mountains, and sometimes their spirits come back to their families to gain attention by making noise. “Those dead have not arrived in the kingdom of God,” was the description in one interview.633 The Mayan priests then try to appease the spirits and to prevent them from harming the living. Clearly there is syncretism and religious mixing embedded in these remarks, e. g., the blending of the belief in God’s exclusive power and the belief in the powers of the ancestors.

The last aspect of the Catholic missionary campaign describes the course of action taken by the Catholic Church. In the area of Comitancillo the missionary campaign was launched from other parishes – in particular the small towns of Tejutla and San Lorenzo – adjacent to Comitancillo. Comitancillo did not have a permanent priest during the early 1960s, so the infrastructure of the neighboring parishes was used. According to witnesses, every traditional Mayan priest (Aj Q’ij) who lived in the area was visited. The ultimate goal was to convert the Mayan priests to orthodox Catholicism. Part of the process included convincing them to give up their ‘pagan’ practices. This meant, among other things, the burning of traditional cult objects, as Javier Llamazares remembers:

During the persecution of the Aj Q’ij, all tables (mesas) were burned. They [the Aj Q’ij, A.A.] had tables with all the things they needed for the ceremonies: chains, varas,634 and other things. My father participated in the burning of the tables. He told me that he alone had burned 48 tables. Who knows how many more they burned, when he had already burned 48. […] In some remote areas, they did not even ask the people if they could enter their houses. […] They were sent by the Catholic Church. […] Many of the Aj Q’ij did not want to give away their tables. To convince them, they were told that they were damned and that they would burn in hell if they did not stop doing their practices. To justify the persecution, they quoted the Bible. There were many catechists, but also some evangelicals, who set fire to the tables of the Mayan priests.635

The campaign had both individual and collective effects, because traditionally Mayan priests perform rituals for both an individual and a collective audience. Older locals remembered the execution of collective ceremonies. They remembered that collective ceremonies targeted needs that almost every villager had, e. g., good weather for farming. For specific purposes, like petitioning rain, the whole village gathered on symbolically important mountains, riverbanks, and entrances to caves. A fire would be lit, chompipes (turkeys) would be slaughtered, and their blood would be poured into the fire. People would also throw pom, estoraque (raisins that are mixed with herbs), and miches (red beans) into the fire. The villagers did not mention the Mayan calendar (tzolkin), a calendar with pre-colonial roots that is still in use in some indigenous communities to organize ritual and agricultural life (e. g., planting and harvesting).636 It seems that in Comitancillo its use vanished from collective practices decades ago.

These days, mountains, caves, and riverbanks are still important for Mayan ceremonies performed on an individual level. In this sense, the Catholic missionary campaign fostered a process of individualization of traditional religious practices. Nevertheless, collective ceremonies have not completely disappeared but rather have changed their purpose and intention. Mayan organizations are responsible for these changes and for the revitalization of ceremonies. Indigenous activists and their groups – often organized like NGOs – have started to set up an increasing number of training sessions and workshops to mobilize and educate rural locals regarding ritual performances. In other words, in the process of unifying ceremonial rituals and other Mayan cultural practices, new religious specialists have emerged to represent the indigenous population, claiming expertise and knowledge of indigenous culture. These new religious experts are constantly producing new meanings, e. g., in introducing colors for candles that have not been used before in rituals conducted by local Mayan priests or in the application of fragments of the Popul Vuh as well as anthropological and archeological literature. They also introduced a series of conflicts based on different notions of rationality and knowledge. These conflicts and their effects in the social sphere are discussed in the next section.

The Social Effects of Essentialism: Conflicts over Meaning at the Local Level

Workshops offered by urban Mayan priests in rural Mayan communities illustrate well the above-described conflicts over contextualized versions of faith. Thus, the following paragraphs pick up on the dynamic that is attached to the implementation of workshops. A short account, given by a Mayan priest, ethnic activist, and employee of the United Nations International Labor Organization (ILO) provides some insight into how someone who is not from a rural community understands his contribution.

On Friday we are organizing a seminar that will last the whole morning. […] I will train the Mayan priests in the scientific aspects of the cosmovisión. A lot of them are only carrying out and performing Mayan ceremonies without any analysis. […] They asked me to do this seminar, and they commented that a lot of them have knowledge but nevertheless are not able to explain why they use certain colors for certain ceremonies and why certain days are assigned for certain ceremonies.637

Obviously, the goal of the seminar is to foster a conscious reflection on Mayan spirituality and practice. In a way, this process is comparable to the development of a Mayan theology and liturgy. It is also apparent that the underlying theoretical framework offered here does not emanate from rural Mayan communities but rather from Mayan professionals trained in the city. Differences in meaning appear precisely at this juncture; what is performed at a local level has followed a traditional logic created by the locals over centuries.638 What this traditional logic tried to achieve using Mayan ceremonies was the solution of typical problems for villagers in a rural environment: sickness, conflicts with neighbors, domestic problems, and a better climate to secure a good harvest. In contrast, the logic of the Maya movement follows the principles of a national political agenda, whose ultimate goal is not necessarily the revitalization of local Mayan spirituality but rather increased political clout for indigenous people in the nation-state. A unified frame of reference is required to achieve this, one that is interested in ethnic distinctiveness and not in communion with the divine.

In the current context, religious practice and spirituality are tied to the rural community, oral history, and local knowledge; my argument is that the workshops organized by urban Mayan activists ultimately delegitimize local religious expertise instead of promoting it. This is not only the result of conflicting logics –one oriented towards a national and the other towards a local agenda – but also of attempts by the new religious experts to replace the local knowledge of Mayan priests; in so doing they perpetuate existing asymmetries. More precisely, the urban Mayan elite, who act on behalf of political interests on the national stage, are professionals endowed with knowledge from books and the Internet and are often paid by international agencies; Mayan priests from rural villages represent the opposite end of the spectrum, in that they are often illiterate and live in precarious conditions. Thus these two types of Mayan priests occupy different social positions and are equipped with a different symbolic, cultural, and economic capital. These asymmetries are promoted in the case of the modern type of Mayan priest. Now the transfer of knowledge takes place between urban and local actors, with the local Maya at the bottom of the hierarchy. In this scenario, the transfer of knowledge between Mayas of the same rural community does not occur. Thus, in the end, these new urban Mayan priests not only delegitimize knowledge, they also erode the existing capacity of local Mayans to act, to have an impact and represent local spiritual affairs; sociologically speaking, they diminish local agency.

The new ethnic-religious discourse rehearsed and practiced in workshops is, not surprisingly, largely devoid of any Christian references. Christian elements are associated with colonial times and perceived as not authentically Mayan. Nonetheless, ignoring Christianity also means denying the social reality, namely, that popular religion is heavily permeated with Christian elements, functioning according to a logic that follows the principle of ‘whatever works best.’ What is also ignored is that practices that are commonly described as witchcraft, e. g., the casting of spells and curses, do exist in Mayan communities. Before I illustrate the consequences of this disregard, let me briefly supplement this last aspect by describing the types of religious office there are in Comitancillo. Depending on the tasks they perform, locals differentiate between an Aj Q’ij, a Yux (pronounced Yoush), and a curandero (male) or curandera (female). The curanderos or curanderas are equal to healers and are consulted when people have a physical problem and think that a biological dysfunction is responsible. An Aj Q’ij is sought for health problems whose origin is thought not to be physical. What the Aj Q’ij does not do, however, is invoke curses, cast spells, etc. This is the job of a Yux. Therefore, if a person has a conflict with a neighbor, their spouse, or other problems, the decision about where to go to find a solution depends ultimately on the person’s interpretation and wishes. In other words, if the person wants to inflict harm on someone in order to solve the problem or serve as revenge, he or she might go to the Yux. Therefore, along with Christianity, this last aspect of spirituality is obscured in the ethnic discourse of revitalization. A positive image is necessary in ethnic politics, and the fact that traditional religious practices intend at times to do harm to people does not suit the ethnic cause.

As previously mentioned, for some villagers the revitalization efforts create problems based on conflicting religious understandings. Midwives are a case in point; this is a group that is usually addressed by the Maya movement because they fill traditional leadership roles in the villages and are thus traditional carriers of Mayan culture. Some of these midwives are orthodox Catholics, which is an important reason why workshops potentially create tensions with their religious identity. Aj Q’ij or Mayan priests are another group addressed as a key audience. Compared to midwives, they do not have the same problems participating in the workshops, since being a Mayan priest and orthodox Catholic or Protestant Pentecostal at the same time is mutually exclusive.

The aim of the Maya movement is that these target groups will serve as mediators by virtue of their authority and leadership position. Consequently, spreading the knowledge attained in the workshops to the broader Mayan community is one of the goals. Still, some participants in these workshops only find out about the spiritual content and ideas after they have begun attending. In other words, if converts to orthodox Catholicism or Protestantism had known that Mayan ceremonies would take place, they would never have participated. The following interview with a Mayan midwife from Comitancillo presents such a case.

They [the organizers, A.A.] said that I am an Aj Q’ij [Mayan Priest, A.A.], and they asked me whether I am a companion of those who received training as Aj Q’ij, but I have been a midwife since my childhood. […] Even though I participate in these seminars, I cannot go back to what existed before. Well, first my father accepted the Catholic faith, and then I came to believe in God. My father always insisted, “My daughter, don’t do that because that is a sin. Now you believe in the word of God and these things are not good, because they are a sin. You freed yourself from this kind of sin; so do not go back to that. That is what the Bible says; that is what God’s word is saying. It is a sin.” Well, that is the reason that I usually never go to Mayan ceremonies. They throw estoraque [a special resin, A.A.] into the fire and many other things. I am scared to participate in that. I tell myself that it is better not to go there. I saw what my grandfather did; he was one of them [a Mayan priest, A.A.]. He had his pom [another special raisin also used during Mayan ceremonies, A.A.]. But that was before, and now I cannot return to that. It scares me. Who knows why the Mayan priests burn these things? I am afraid when I see what they do with the chompipes [the turkeys, A.A.], how they strangle their necks and then the blood flows.639

One might call what happened simply a misunderstanding, since we do not know if the organizers intentionally held back certain information. Notwithstanding this possibility, the woman’s religious biography is a remarkable case that describes how religious pluralism is embedded in people’s lives and the conflicts it can generate on a personal level when these diverging religious identities and assumptions suddenly converge. Again, her remarks highlight the differing social meanings connected to diverging belief systems as well as the boundary discourses associated with orthodox Christianity and the Maya movement. Clearly, the midwife attributes transcendental effects to the performance of Mayan ceremonies, effects that differ from the aims of the ethnic agents organizing these workshops. Her own religious identity is directly tied to the Catholic Action conversion campaigns that began in the 1950s, targeting non-Catholic and syncretist Catholic traditional religious ritual practices and denouncing them as sin and devil worship. So from her perspective, participation means committing sin. At this point, it is also important to consider that popular knowledge about Mayan ceremonies includes witchcraft. For this midwife, Mayan ceremonies can potentially provoke malicious powers (either as a punishment from God or because the performer provoked malicious spirits). For her these Mayan ceremonies are not a demonstration of ethnic empowerment and distinctiveness; they are carried out in order to communicate with ancestral spirits or other powers for a specific end. This local knowledge is obscured by the pan-Maya movement, which in the end creates confusion or even fear among participants.

The New Mayan Ceremonies

Mayan ceremonies also epitomize shifts in local spiritual practices and their meaning. At least in Comitancillo, two notable differences between traditional and contemporary ceremonies include audience and motive. Whereas in the past occurrences such as droughts might have necessitated the celebration of a Mayan ceremony attended by an audience that included most of the villagers, the situation is different today. Now Comitancillo’s largest Mayan ceremony is dedicated to the Mayan 260-Day calendar, the beginning of the Mayan New Year. Local Mayan activists also call the ceremony Wajxaqib’ B’at’z. A clear indication that this ceremony is new in purpose and content is the assertion of elderly people that they do not remember ever celebrating the Mayan New Year in the village.640 The Mayan priest Don Carlos Pérez Alvarado described the changes from his perspective:

Sometimes I went to the ceremonies with Don Constantino.641 I went to pray there. During the ceremonies, however, they did not solve the problems of the people; that is to say, people were not liberated from their problems. It was rather similar to a Catholic mass.642

Don Carlos’s remarks indicate the high degree of formality that characterizes these new ceremonies, resembling that of Catholic liturgy. Don Carlos again points to the differences between the goals of traditional and modern Mayan ceremonies; that is, the new ceremonies are not performed for the purpose of solving concrete problems concerning the environment and life-world of the villagers. Ordinary Catholics share his opinion. Aurelio Maldonado, an older villager who watched the ceremonies out of curiosity, commented, “Well, I went to the mountain Tui Tz’unin to see what they are doing, what is happening. What they did has nothing to do with traditional ceremonies. It was totally different.” 643

Who is organizing these new Mayan ceremonies? In Comitancillo, most of these events are planned and carried out by former students of the local school, Colegio Juan Diego. This group has multiple contacts to the capital, to other Mayan organizations, and to people in neighboring provinces. Because of their contacts, the first ceremonies they organized were not performed by local Mayan priests but by guests from the neighboring province of Huehuetenango. This constitutes another major change, since in the past traditional Mayan priests seldom traveled outside the borders of their local municipality to perform ceremonies.644

The relationship between the local revitalization group and local Mayan priests is ambivalent. During the time this research was carried out (March 2001– 2002), there were only three local Mayan priests involved in the work of the group. It was obvious that the local activists did not want more local Mayan priests to participate. I asked the leader of the group why there was no such interest and dialogue. He answered point-blank, “These local Mayan priests do not have any consciousness” (no tienen conciencia). With this assertion, he indirectly referred to what he obviously thinks local priests are missing, namely a political agenda. In other words, those who practiced ceremonies to solve villagers’ problems and not to enhance cultural revitalization were not the right participants. Interestingly, some Catholic villagers who take part in the cultural revitalization group gave completely different reasons as to why an effort to include more local Mayan priests was never made.

We did not contact them [the Mayan priests, A.A.] because we were active in the Catholic Church before. I myself participated in the burning of the Mayan tables [mesas]. We were those who insulted the Aj Q’ij before. Why should I hide that? The Mayan priests would think that we are crazy if we would go to them. They would say, first you insulted us, and now you want to return to what you fought before. They do not trust us, because we are the ones who repented [somos arrepentidos] in Church. We were part of religion; we had already lost our culture before we realized that it was our culture.645

The ugly side of the local history of religious pluralism, including former Catholic Action conversion campaigns, is alive in these remarks. Yet they also indicate that a process of reflection on their own cultural and religious identity has begun among some Catholic converts. These developments have not resulted in a total rejection of Catholicism, however.

We still go to Mass, because we discovered that there is basically only one God. Because of that, it does not matter if we go to the Catholic Church. There is only one God to whom you sacrifice pom and burn candles. That is what the Aj Q’ij are doing as well; they also burn pom and light candles. Well, what the Aj Q’ij do not have is the Bible.646

The efforts of the Mayan activists are concentrated, as mentioned before, on Mayan ceremonies and workshops. They bought a little piece of land for the performance of ceremonies on the top of Tui Tz’unil Mountain and erected a Mayan cross.647 As already mentioned, the group started to organize the celebration of the Mayan New Year. The ceremony turned out to be a huge success, with hundreds of people participating. Nevertheless, there was fierce resistance from parts of the Catholic and Protestant community, in particular from Charismatic Catholics and Protestant Pentecostals, who are strictly opposed to Mayan traditional rituals that they consider pagan and diabolic. According to one of the organizers, Protestants responded with derogative comments, some of which were aired on the local Protestant Pentecostal radio station Eben-Ezer. He also said that the station went as far as making the ceremony the object of a live program, describing the ritual as worshipping the devil and announcing that those who participated would go to hell because of their spiritual practices. He added that the Catholic catechists of the parish also condemned the cultural revitalization activities by desecrating the altar with human excrement. Moreover, he claimed that local Catholic neighbors of Mayan priests had installed loudspeakers, using the Bible to defame them as sorcerers.648

Summary

Guatemalan society offers a highly instructive case for gaining insight into processes of ethnic-religious identity construction in plural societies characterized by social conflicts and marginalization. Within this culturally and religiously pluralist society, the Guatemalan indigenous population, which is active in the struggle for recognition, is confronted with a special problem regarding its ethnic-religious identity construction. To be able to revitalize and implement cultural rights in line with the Peace Accords, the Mayan population needs to unify divergent cultural patterns and practices. As a solution to this dilemma, the Maya movement is not only revitalizing cultural elements that existed in the past; it is also producing new meanings in order to adapt its struggle to a changing political and social environment. The radical transformations and shifts in traditional religious institutions and religious practices such as cofradías, Mayan priests, and Mayan ceremonies illustrate these changes within the religious landscape.

It was shown above that problematic side effects accompany these shifts in activism. These effects emerge precisely at the intersection between religion and politics. They raise issues of agency and constraints, hierarchy and liberation, community and conflict. Ironically, while in the 1960s and 1970s the external framework of knowledge, e. g., orthodox Catholicism and later liberation theology and class interpretations of social marginalization brought in by foreign or non-indigenous agents (priests and missionaries), could connect to rural indigenous culture, the current ethnic framework of the Maya movement lacks these ties. Whereas the former agents equipped local actors with power and at a later stage filled the gap and social vacuum originating from violence and counterinsurgency campaigns, the same cannot be said about the Maya movement. One of the main reasons for missing a connection with local Mayan culture is the national agenda of the Maya movement. From this perspective, religion in the discourse and practice of the Maya movement follows different principles. Whereas the religious logic of the villagers follows the constraints of their daily life, the Maya movement follows abstract political principles bound to the national stage. Furthermore, this national agenda has both a positive and a negative face. Pushed by the Peace Accords, the movement was able to provoke an erosion of the former Church-state alliance while gaining status in the religious sphere. Therefore, it weakened the previous monopoly of Catholicism and took away its position as the state religion and unifying symbol of nationhood. At the same time, the state appears to be a problematic partner for the reformist agenda of the Maya movement. Through its role in the past, particularly its involvement in and responsibility for human rights abuses on a tremendous scale, as well as its notorious corruption, the state has lost almost all of its legitimacy among ordinary Guatemalans. Worse still, the Maya movement forced the role of a partner upon this former enemy of civil society. Therefore, the Maya movement is always in danger of losing its own legitimacy by addressing demands to the state.

On a theoretical level, these shifts provide a textbook example of the often-cited processes of hybridization in a globalized, pluralistic society. These movements, however, strongly reject the notion of being the product of hybrid, syncretistic, and pluralist environments. In defending and legitimizing a pure authentic identity, they resort to an essentialized identity in which religion becomes a cornerstone. Religion turns out to be particularly suited for an essentialized ethnic identity construction, because in the realm of belief and descent, criticism can always be discounted as an articulation of the ethnic and religious ‘Other,’ e.g., Catholics and the non-indigenous. Religion and religious performances thus gain vital importance in the process of constructing an ethnic-religious Mayan identity. They express and visualize a symbolic continuity with the past as well as a cultural distinctiveness, providing space for a face-to-face sociability in which a continuous construction of ethnic identities and their bonds, carried by social-ethnic meanings, is guaranteed. From this perspective, religion and ethnic-religious performances contribute to the maintenance of ethnic cleavages in society, but in the meantime, they also open up new possibilities in expressing protest and resistance to ethnic oppression and marginalization.

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