The main question I have attempted to address in this book is how a few people get others to contribute labor and services without compensating them equally. In Chapter 1, I have presented a model of how emerging rulers use several types of traditional rituals in various settings to acquire and maintain political power, as well as how such power eventually can be lost. In brief, while the means of acquiring political power vary, the general processes of situating political change typically do not, and material support is a must—namely, surplus goods and labor. Ritual expansion occurs in tandem with political change and expresses and explains it within familiar cultural constructs. Ritual thus advances political agendas through presenting the new mixed in with the old. When surplus and labor are no longer available, political power is lost. In times of trouble, no matter how many ornate rituals rulers perform, they clearly no longer have special ties to the supernatural world. Indeed, rituals without results only highlight royal failures (e.g., Weber 1964 [1951]; Wortman 1985).
Maya rituals have a long history. The beliefs surrounding them, of course, no doubt varied at any given time as well as changed through time. There is little doubt that ritual scale and settings transformed as well. What did not change, however, is the fact that everyone performed traditional rites in the home as well as community, elite, and, in some cases, royal ones. The only difference is that the Maya conducted rites in the home and community before, during, and after the appearance and disappearance of kingship.
In this chapter, I document the rise and fall of Maya kings by integrating the history of Maya rulership (Chapter 2) and ritual (Chapters 4, 5, and 6). I detail the Maya collapse and conclude with a brief discussion of the aftermath and a possible scenario for the emergence and demise of Classic Maya rulers.
Water and Ritual:The Emergence of Maya Rulers
The archaeological evidence presented in the previous chapters indicates that (1) small and large Maya structures have structurally and functionally similar depositional histories consisting of caches under floors, burials with grave goods, and burned and broken objects on floors; (2) there is a gradual and incremental increase in scale of ritual activities through time, particularly at central, monumental public buildings; and (3) rituals never left the home. Commoners, elites, and royals conducted the “same” rites, albeit at an increasingly grand and public scale spatially (from house to elite compound to palace and temple) and chronologically, from the Late Preclassic through Classic periods. These rites were particularly suited for political appropriation because they concern life, death, and renewal, elements important in the lives of all Maya. Emerging Maya leaders replicated and expanded rituals and other traditional rites, including water ceremonies and those revolving around other crucial elements in life.
Maya elites and royals used more expensive and exotic ritual items as well as continued to use the same (or similar) objects as commoners did. For example, sherds with a molded face design found at Saturday Creek and small residences at Altar de Sacrificios transformed into pottery masks and shell or jade mosaic masks in royal contexts at Altar de Sacrificios and Tikal. Notched obsidian and chert flakes and tools were elaborated into beautifully chipped eccentrics. All Maya deposited human finger bones and fauna phalanges and other bones; the only difference is the container in which the Maya placed bones—sherds, lip-to-lip vessels, or royal tombs. A similar pattern of elaboration is seen in jade beads (from small spherical jade beads to large multishaped ones and mosaic objects), fragments of decorated items (small figurines to pieces of monumental architectural features, stelae, and altars), sherd clusters (undecorated to fancy decorated smashed vessels), killed ceramics (rimless vessels to those with kill holes), and other objects (e.g., ceramic and stone discs, stone balls, mica, and miniature vessels).
One type of artifact used for ritual purposes by all Maya is metates and manos. They are found fragmented or whole in commoner, elite, and royal contexts. The Maya sacrificed tools critical in everyone’s life, which represent the never-ending importance of maize in daily life—economically, socially, politically, and religiously. Elites and royals also found ways to distinguish themselves physically from the majority, especially in their own person and in death. Cranial deformation and inlaid teeth were common means, though some commoners filed their teeth, and a few even had inlaid teeth. Distinctions were maintained after death; commoners were buried in house floors, elites interred in shrines, and royals entombed in burial crypts and tombs. Stingray spines seem to have been an elite and royal prerogative, though commoners had access to other marine items, especially plain or simply carved shells.
Conducting the same rites with the same items and behaviors promoted what Kertzer (1988:67–76) labels “solidarity without consensus.” People did not have to have the same beliefs. Membership was based on Maya participation in events that benefited them all—propitiating the gods, not to mention forging a link between Maya farmers and political agents through debt relations and obligations. Commoners participated and contributed to their own political domination—as long as kings met their side of the bargain. This was made possible in part by royal persons’ advancing and situating political change in traditional formats. Such events increasingly solidified and institutionalized a ruler’s ability to acquire surplus through the creation of long-term obligations. While it is not possible to assess whether or not the earliest political rites were a conscious effort on the part of elites, I am certain that they soon realized the political benefits of successfully reaching the gods.
Pathways to political power in the southern Maya lowlands were similar. The scale on which rulers conducted rituals, however, the number of people they integrated, and the amount of surplus they acquired varied and were influenced by material factors and historical circumstances. Material factors include seasonal vagaries and the amount of surplus at hand; historical factors include the density of centers and rulers in any given area. While the variable distribution of land, water, and people presented a challenge to those seeking power, the strategies used by rulers to situate and advance political power were the same, entailing the replication and expansion of traditional rituals. These material factors and social strategies worked as long as there was enough water and food. When there was not, farmers blamed rulers, who had in the past claimed intimacy with supernatural forces.
For Saturday Creek and Barton Ramie—located on broad alluvial soils—community leaders sponsored local ceremonies, and occupants may or may not have been beholden to rulers at secondary or regional centers. Elites could not demand surplus labor and goods from community members because resources and water were plentiful year-round and accessible to all. Farmers thus were more self-sufficient and did not have to rely on royal or elite capital, food, or water systems. Consequently, elites did not have the means to exact tribute. As members of a larger society, however, residents interacted with their counterparts elsewhere socially (e.g., marriage) and economically (e.g., exchange). Elites sponsored traditional ceremonies at small temples to allay conflict in the face of wealth differences, to increase their prestige, and to promote solidarity.
It is almost counterintuitive that rulers did not emerge in areas with such plentiful, year-round resources (e.g., Kirch 1994). In addition to the reasons cited above, specific historic circumstances might account for the lack of rulers at minor centers; for example, their peripheral location on the eastern frontier of the southern Maya lowlands made it more difficult to interact with central and western polities. In essence, elites interested in becoming kings could not offer anything that people could not attain themselves. In other words, there were no obvious inducements for commoners to gift their valuable surplus to political leaders. Group effort, not corvée labor, thus built small temples and ball courts.
Rulers with varying amounts of power, however, arose at secondary centers. The major material difference between minor and secondary centers was that occupants of the latter had more noticeable seasonal issues with which to contend, a patchy distribution of agricultural soils, and a greater reliance on small-scale water/agricultural systems, which were also scattered. At Altar de Sacrificios, kings owned or controlled land in the immediate vicinity, from which they generated enough wealth to maintain a royal lifestyle. Farmers near the center probably worked royal lands in exchange for a portion of the crop. Rulers also acquired power and prestige through their participation in the royal interaction sphere (e.g., marriage and prestige-goods exchange). They did not acquire the degree of power held by kings at regional centers because they did not have the means to attract farmers from beyond the site core and immediate environs; basically, kings did not have much of a role in assisting commoners in maintaining water/agricultural systems, which did not bode well for the support of primary rulers. The situation was similar at other secondary centers. Farmers did not have to rely as much on capital provided by rulers, since water and agricultural systems were repaired and maintained at the household and community levels. Kings thus invested much wealth in public ceremonies and feasts to attract as many farmers as they could, as reflected in their ornate public iconography and buildings. Integrative events also served to define social membership in a larger community and provided the opportunity to exchange goods, visit friends and family, participate in ceremonies, games, and feasts, and look for potential mates.
A major difference between secondary and primary rulers was that the latter were involved in the building and maintenance of large-scale water systems (most of which are found next to royal architecture), on which many commoners relied during annual drought. The main difference between nonriver and river regional centers, other than location, is the distribution of agricultural land (concentrated alluvium or large dispersed plots). At Tikal and other nonriver centers, rulers replicated and expanded traditional rituals on an increasingly grand scale in public forums to attract and integrate dispersed farmers, to promote solidarity, situate political change, and legitimate their rights to exact tribute. Through ceremonies, kings demonstrated their close ties with important deities and ancestors and their involvement in the continuity of vital elements of life such as rain and fertility. Consequently, their power extended beyond the duration of ceremonies and ultimately sanctified tribute obligations. At river centers such as Copán, rulers relied on water management as a means to appropriate surplus, and they also had access to nearby densely settled farmers. Inadequate water supply was less of an issue for Palenque’s kings; their concern was to divert and control water to prevent overflow and flooding. Water was plentiful for surrounding farmers in the dry season. Palenque’s kings conducted large-scale rituals to integrate people, justify their rights to demand tribute, and promote solidarity in the face of political and economic inequality. Rulers of Copán and Palenque also provided capital to repair water/agricultural systems during and after each rainy season and dealt with water allocation issues.
A History of Maya Ritual and Rulership
In Chapter 2, I have detailed the history of Maya rulership. In this section I present highlights of this history and tie them into ritual replication and expansion.
In the Late Preclassic period (ca. 250 BC–AD 250), high-ranking lineages were transformed into royal ones. Elites and the earliest kings began to replicate and expand traditional rites in relatively grand settings. Elite tombs and expensive items distinguish offerings of emerging political leaders from the rest of the Maya, who continued to conduct the same rites in the home in a more private and simpler manner. Monumental architecture served as arenas for public ceremonies and feasts. Inscriptions also focused on ceremonial events, not on individuals. However, early kings were distinguished with the title of ahaw as well as their use of Olmec royal iconography.
Minor centers were well established, while regional ones were just emerging. Not all nonriver elites and kings succeeded politically, for various material and historical reasons. For example, nascent rulers at Uaxactún, Nakbé, El Mirador, and other centers were subsumed into political systems of powerful neighbors at an early stage, for various reasons—Uaxactún to Tikal and Nakbé and El Mirador to Calakmul. In some cases, lack of agricultural land prevented large groups of people from settling in areas (e.g., Fedick and Ford 1990; Ford 1991b). El Mirador, with the largest and earliest Preclassic temple (El Tigre), lost most of its inhabitants at the end of the Late Preclassic (ca. AD 250) (Matheny 1987), perhaps due to problems with reservoirs silting up (Hansen et al. 2002; Scarborough 1993), drought (Dahlin 1983), or political subjugation (Marcus 2003). If the first kings could have dealt with the reservoir and other problems at El Mirador, they no doubt would have become some of the most powerful rulers in the southern Maya lowlands.
The Early Classic period (ca. AD 250–550) witnessed full-blown Maya rulership and the continued importance of domestic rituals conducted at home, within the community, and in public political forums. Inscriptions detailed the lives of kings, especially their esoteric knowledge and ties to the supernatural realm and distant places such as Teotihuacan. Royal dynasties represented themselves as descent groups writ large, as visibly depicted on public monumental stelae as well as on royal architecture. Rulers emphasized the importance of royal ancestors in the lives of all through large public ceremonies with large audiences and their closer ties to major deities such as Chac and the maize god. Inscriptions indicate the dedication of monumental buildings as well as new features, including conquests and capture of royal persons, royal visitations, heir accession, and bloodletting and period-ending rites.
The power of rulers at regional centers grew. Secondary rulers emerged, often with the help of powerful neighbors and allies, typically through marriage alliances. Maya at minor centers continued essentially the same, other than dealing with the natural progression of things, including the growing number of farmers. Wealthy individuals increasingly participated in the elite interaction sphere.
The Late Classic period (ca. AD 550–850) witnessed the pinnacle of royal public rituals, not to mention the continuation of traditional rites in the home and community. Kings expanded traditional rites to their greatest extent and performed ornate royal rituals to highlight their ties to Maya deities and to the otherworld. Rulers also reached heights of power never before witnessed, as evidenced by the title k’ul ahaw. Persons of royal blood were entombed in funerary temples that faced large and open plazas. Inscriptions and iconography illustrate the proliferation of both private and public royal or nondomestic rites in addition to pan-Maya ones, including ball games, royal marriages, deity impersonations, period-ending rites, royal anniversaries, royal visitations, heir accession, sacrifice of royal captives, bloodletting, and other rites.
Regional powerhouses jockeyed for more power, especially Tikal and Calakmul and their respective allies. Battles and the capture of enemy kings were increasingly common themes in the iconographic and written records. If circumstances allowed, secondary rulers took advantage of competition among primary rulers to expand their political horizons (e.g., Quiriguá).
Throughout the Terminal Classic period (ca. AD 850–950), Maya kings lost political power. Clearly, royal rituals no longer benefited people, who thus were no longer obligated to pay taxes. Several secondary rulers built monuments on their own, independent of major centers, and some experienced a brief florescence. Farmers abandoned regional centers and either lived permanently in hinterland areas or left the southern Maya lowlands altogether. They still continued to perform domestic and community rites, however. The last known inscriptions at many centers mention warfare, which probably resulted from problems that rulers no longer could solve. Many later Terminal Classic inscriptions no longer incorporate rulers or dynasties but instead emphasize deities, such as those witnessed at Chichén Itzá. Newcomers to the southern lowlands, perhaps attracted to weakening polities, came for a time, only to leave due to the same reason that caused indigenous kings to lose power—inadequate water supplies.
Discussion
Adopting and expanding familiar traditional rites allowed Maya kings to build and maintain an unequal relationship of sanctified rights and obligations that primarily benefited the sponsor. Emphasizing the positive aspects of unequal relations through ritual (being better able to propitiate and communicate with ancestors, rain deities, and other supernatural forces) was not so much manipulative as it was integrative. The Maya were not being led blindly—they had choices. For example, some dispersed into the hinterlands or contributed to other kings. Many farmers, though, participated in redefining their rights and obligations only because kings demonstrated their success in acquiring wealth, funding larger ceremonies, and contacting the supernatural realm to bring forth rain and bountiful crops.
Maya kings undoubtedly instituted new practices, such as the use of hieroglyphic writing to record dynastic histories, ritual warfare, human sacrifice, the deification of royal ancestors, the dedication of stelae (caching beneath them and the caching of stelae themselves), the use of Olmec and Teotihuacan imagery to bolster rulers’ claims of special knowledge and skill, the use of special buildings as astronomical observatories, and the wearing of special costumes that allowed them to personify deities and demonstrate their closer ties to the gods as living ancestors of apotheosized kings (Houston and Stuart 1996). It was all about display and interacting—political theater (Demarest 1992; Inomata 2001a). Sponsoring traditional rites promoted solidarity, since rulers and subjects performed the same rituals. New rites, in contrast, distinguished royal persons from others. As long as these rites served to show the powers of kings, they still promoted integration and political agendas.
At the height of their power, regional kings conducted restricted rites for a select few in their palaces and public rites on top of temples and on lower palace platforms. New and restricted royal rites typically were performed in the small rooms on top of temples, not visible to the Maya below. But the people below knew that rulers conducted these secretive rites, after which they would emerge and perform rites more suitable for public consumption and participation. Most restricted royal rites, however, were limited to small-scale activities not necessarily appropriate for nonroyal viewing or participation. For example, many of the Late Classic painted vessels depict private royal activities that took place inside palaces, probably for court members and a few invited guests (e.g., Inomata 2001b), and include eating, drinking a ritual cacao beverage, making offerings, and greeting royal personages from other centers (Reents-Budet 1994 : 84–99). Other events recorded on vessels include tribute payments, hunts, ball games, auto-sacrifice, and the sacrifice of captives (Reents-Budet 1994:262–264). Kings also performed and recorded events more conducive to public display, including human sacrifice carried out on the top of temples and recorded on stelae and ball games played in the ball courts (Freidel et al. 1993:259, 355). Most monumental architecture reflects the importance of royal and nonroyal interaction, usually fronting large plazas for feasts, festivals, performances, ceremonies, social gatherings, alliance building, and exchange. There were also ball courts for reenactments of the origin myth, intercenter ball games, local ball games, and feasts (e.g., Fox 1996).
Some kings may have been so powerful that they did not have to perform traditional rites, though they still performed public royal ones. For example, Chase and Chase (1998) note that not all Late Classic palace deposits at Caracol have ritual caches, particularly Ca’ana, one of the most restricted Maya temple-palace complexes, especially the upper platforms (Chase and Chase 2001). Instead, caches are typically found in front of structures in plazas. The lack of palace caches may indicate that rulers no longer had to perform public dedication ceremonies for palaces but instead performed public rituals in plazas. Or perhaps the massive size of Ca’ana prevented audiences below from being able to see royal performances, and thus kings had to move the show down to the plaza level. In another possible example, William Fash (1998:261) notes that while center layout varies from site to site, later construction styles more or less mirror earlier ones; and a consistent pattern exists throughout Classic Maya royal architecture, having to do with the “renewal of tried and trusted religious themes.” Consequently, anything that varies from this pattern signifies a different message. “This makes the massive redesign of the Copan Acropolis by Waterlily Jaguar [early sixth century AD] … and the shifting of the triadic plan from the North Acropolis to the Great Plaza by Ruler A [Hasaw Chan K’awil] of Tikal … stand out as the daring work of visionaries” (Fash 1998:259–260). Change may also indicate, as in the Caracol case, a lessening need for kings to follow the status quo and explore new—nontraditional—ideas and styles in light of their ability to do so.
Traditional public rites conducted by royals were not exclusive but were superimposed on domestic and community ones. Consequently, they were not under royal or central authority: everyone could and did perform them in the home and community. The core royal rituals focused on the same issues of daily survival—fertility, rain, and ancestors—but according to a ritual calendar. Hinterland and commoner Maya conducted traditional rites in their homes in accordance with their own needs and schedules and also participated in elite community and royal ceremonies at set times in public arenas. Even though all Maya conducted the same traditional rites, this does not mean that traditional rituals did not change or that new ones were not added in response to political, social, or economic changes (Gossen and Leventhal 1993; Ringle 1999). Rituals, however, are more conservative than the beliefs that revolve around them (see Robertson Smith 1956 [1894] : 18).
In sum, Maya kings demonstrated that they had special ties to the supernatural world that benefited everyone, and this enabled them to appropriate the surplus of others. As long as benefits continued, all was well. If farmers perceived that rulers were not keeping their side of the bargain, however, there was no longer any reason for them to participate in royal events and, more significantly, to contribute labor and goods.
Water and Ritual: The Political Collapse
As mentioned in Chapter 1, a collapsed society can be defined as one that is “suddenly smaller, less differentiated and heterogeneous, and characterized by fewer specialized parts; it displays less social differentiation; and it is able to exercise less control over the behavior of its members” (Tainter 1988:38). There is little doubt that this is what happened in the southern Maya lowlands, especially in regard to the loss of control over others. As briefly mentioned earlier, cases where a political vacuum remains are rare. What happened to cause such a drastic response, where centers were abandoned and some hinterland areas were for all intents and purposes largely deserted?
Before addressing this question, it is important to define the term “collapse.” To begin with, not everyone defines Terminal Classic events as a collapse. For example, Sabloff (1992) suggests that better economic opportunities, such as salt trade, attracted people to the northern Yucatán lowlands. Marcus (1993, 1998), using ethnohistoric accounts of Postclassic and colonial Maya political histories, proposes that there were neither “golden ages” nor “collapses,” but rather cycles of “peaks” and “troughs.” Peaks were periods when regional centers politically incorporated a number of secondary centers. Troughs were periods when secondary rulers “broke away” from regional centers because they were able to attract more supporters. There is no doubt that cycles occurred, as Marcus details. However, the Terminal Classic “trough” resulted in the abandonment of large parts of the southern Maya lowlands and did not just reflect a period of decentralization. Indeed, earlier periods did witness cycles of some degree of centralization and fragmentation. The major difference is that this cycle or process took place in the southern Maya lowlands; in contrast, Terminal Classic political centralization occurred in an entirely new area—the northern lowlands—and consisted of joint rule, and the Classic period powerhouses of the southern lowlands were no longer part of the political landscape. In other words, peaks and troughs do happen, but usually within the same general area. When the entire cycle fails altogether, however, this needs explaining, especially since it is a rare occurrence.
I define “collapse” in political terms: societies do not fail; political institutions do. In the case of the Maya, kings disappeared; people did not. Basically, rulers lost their means of support, which resulted in their being unable to maintain a royal lifestyle. Elites and commoners were affected to various degrees. Events occurring during the Terminal Classic period at regional centers had various effects or no effect at all on lower-order centers: some were abandoned, some became independent, some experienced a brief spurt of power, and some continued as they had (Marcus 1976:186–190, 1994; Webster 2002:212–214). After the Terminal Classic, traditional ceremonies continued; rituals vital in defining Classic Maya rulership, however, disappeared in the southern lowlands, along with the power that had allowed kings to maintain such a rich ritual and political lifestyle.
What set in motion the erosion of Classic Maya rulership in the Terminal Classic (ca. AD 850–950)? Numerous explanations have been suggested, which I have also listed elsewhere (Lucero 2002a). These include climate change or drought (Brenner et al. 2002; Curtis et al. 1996; Dahlin 1983; Folan et al. 1983; Gill 2000; Gunn et al. 1995; Hodell et al. 1995, 2001; Lowe 1985); increased mono-cropping (Atran 1993); environmental and ecological degradation in the face of increasing population (Abrams and Rue 1988; Culbert 1977; Hosler et al. 1977; Sabloff and Willey 1967; Santley et al. 1986); foreign intrusion (Cowgill 1964); internal warfare (Demarest 1997); increasing competition (Bove 1981; Cowgill 1979); peasant revolt (Hamblin and Pitcher 1980; Thompson 1966); failures in management (Willey and Shimkin 1973), trade (Rathje 1973; Webb 1973), and subsistence (Culbert 1988; Turner 1974); yellow fever (Wilkinson 1995); and diminishing subsistence returns (Tainter 1988). Recently, David Webster (2002:327–328) has combined some of these explanations and argues that the collapse
… was fundamentally triggered by three interrelated and dynamic factors, in the following order of importance: one, a worsening relationship of Maya populations to their agricultural and other resources; two, the destabilizing effects of warfare and competition, and three, the rejection of the ideology and institution of kingship. These in turn created or exacerbated a series of secondary stresses, including increased vulnerability to drought, peasant unrest, and disease.
Increasingly, however, studies show that climate change occurred at the end of the Classic period, beginning in the late AD 700s (e.g., Curtis and Hodell 1993; Curtis et al. 1996; Dahlin 1983; Folan et al. 1983; Gill 2000; Gunn et al. 1995; Haug et al. 2003; Hodell et al. 1995; Leyden et al. 1996; Messenger 1990). I have argued elsewhere that this may have set in motion several of the “causes” mentioned above or exacerbated existing local problems (Lucero 2002a), such as environmental degradation (e.g., Copán area) and/or political competition (e.g., Petexbatún area).
While local climate patterns varied, evidence indicates that long-term climate change affected the entire Maya lowlands, especially the southern lowlands (Brenner et al. 2002). For example, based on current global climate patterns, Joel Gunn, William Folan, and Hubert Robichaux (1995) propose a model in which periods of florescence in Maya history are related to periods when there was an optimal balance between wet and dry seasons. The Maya collapse therefore occurred in a period when an imbalance existed between wet and dry seasons that adversely impacted agricultural schedules. Pollen data from the lakes region in the Petén suggest that deforestation was already in place by the Early Classic, which may further have added to the burden of unstable seasonal patterns, not to mention a steadily increasing population (Deevey et al. 1979; Rice 1993, 1996). David Hodell, Jason Curtis, and Mark Brenner (1995; see also Curtis et al. 1996), using lake core date from Lake Chichancanab and Punta Laguna in the Yucatán to assess temporal changes in oxygen isotopes and sediment composition, argue for an arid period beginning ca. AD 750 and lasting through ca. AD 1000, perhaps due to periodic episodes of increased solar activity that occurred about every 200 years (Hodell et al. 2001).
In a recent study in the Cariaco Basin of northern Venezuela, Gerald Haug and others (2003:1732) use results from measuring bulk sediment chemistry to explore the relationship between rainfall and riverine detrital, one that is recorded in “annually laminated sediments.” They argue that they have been able to refine the time-line of Maya droughts. Their results show a gradual drying trend interspersed with short periods of intense drought at about AD 760, 810, 860, and 910. How do these dates correspond to events recorded in the southern Maya lowlands? The last-known inscriptions from nonriver centers date from AD 810 to 869 (a 59-year time span), river centers from AD 799 to 822 (a 23-year time span), and secondary centers from AD 742 to 909 (a 167-year time span). Not surprisingly, given their particular histories, secondary centers show the longest time span. River centers, even if one includes Piedras Negras (last date: AD 810) and Yaxchilán (last date: AD 808) as regional centers, cluster within a relatively short time span, perhaps reflecting a greater reliance on the annual rising and subsiding of the river. Archaeological evidence, however, indicates that the majority of centers were abandoned by the AD 900s.
Richardson Gill (2000:325) also breaks down the last inscribed dates, but by date and area: “Most of the 760–810 sites are grouped together in the west and southwest. The 811–860 sites are in the southeast and the 861–910 sites are concentrated in the core and in the north.” When one looks closely at the distribution of sites and their last inscribed date, however, this relationship is not so obvious. I suspect that historical circumstances came into play more often than not in regard to the last known dates at several centers (e.g., Seibal, Dos Pilas, Toniná, and Palenque).
In a recent edited volume on the Terminal Classic in the Maya lowlands, Demarest and others (2004a) argue against any global, single cause such as drought, especially since some centers were abandoned before evidence of a drought exists, which suggests that warfare led to the political collapse—not drought (though some climate specialists place the drought beginning at ca. AD 750–760; Haug et al. 2003; Hodell et al. 1995). For example, Demarest (2004) shows that western centers in the Petexbatún and Pasión region were some of the first centers to show clear evidence for loss of political power, which he argues was due to political competition and warfare, not drought. As a consequence, trade patterns were disrupted, particularly trade involving exotic and wealth items that were critical in defining k’ul ahaw rulership. The effects of this disruption and the migration of people out of western kingdoms north, east, and elsewhere had major repercussions and eventually brought down other powerhouses. Demarest (2004) argues that population displacement resulted in the over-use of resources in areas with recent immigrants; and Tourtellot and Sabloff (2004) suggest that brigandry became a problem. There is no doubt that the Petexbatún area witnessed conflict (e.g., evidence for defensive works and violent death). Dos Pilas is a case in point; its last king, currently known as Ruler 4, was defeated in AD 761 by a ruler from Tamarandito (Demarest 1997, 2004). Afterward, the Maya attempted to defend their capital by stripping temples and palaces of stone façades and building walls around the epicenter in a failed attempt to keep their enemies at bay. Defensive works, violence, and destruction are seen elsewhere in the region as well (e.g., Aguateca, Punto de Chimino, and other centers).
It is possible, however, that changing seasonal patterns set in motion a series of events, including conflict over water, or exacerbated existing problems that eventually resulted in the demise of rulership. Thus it is not surprising that there was a “mosaic” pattern of political failure during the Terminal Classic (Demarest et al. 2004a). A crucial question that needs to be addressed, though, is why the political vacuum remained. As mentioned in Chapter 1, political fragmentation or replacement is the norm in the aftermath of political collapse; the utter and complete disappearance of political systems is rare. Long-term climate change, such as increasing drought in the form of shorter rainy seasons, explains why rulership did not emerge again in the southern Maya lowlands. Another fact worth noting is that the most powerful kings at regional centers, river and nonriver, lasted 40 to 100 years after the capture of Ruler 4 at Dos Pilas in AD 761; warfare and disrupted trade had no impact on these centers. Finally, the reasons why warfare was so widespread in the Petexbatún need to be addressed; O’Mansky and Dunning (2004) find no obvious evidence for environmental degradation; nor is there evidence for declining health (Wright 1997).
If material conditions were changing, however—such as decreasing annual rainfall or a change in the timing of the rainy season enough to interfere with surplus production—that could have been just the catalyst to set in motion competition over water rights. People fought over water, but victory was shortlived since water supplies were inadequate to support anything of a royal nature. Prudence Rice and others (2004:10) state that the evidence “largely argues against the concept of a uniform, chronologically aligned collapse or catastrophe in all regions of the lowlands or even a uniform ‘decline’ in population of political institutions.” I agree that it is neither uniform nor catastrophic in the sense that only kings vanished, not people, and that they disappeared at different times.
Decreasing rainfall undermined the institution of rulership when existing ceremonies and water systems failed to provide sufficient water. Even a slight decrease in annual rainfall could have a dramatic impact on water levels, as Brian Fagan (2004) shows in cases throughout the globe. Farmers blamed decreasing food and water on kings, who had previously claimed a close intimacy with supernatural powers associated with rain, crops, and fertility. Lessening rainfall and its probable effects, such as increased disease and decreasing health, set in motion the erosion of political power, as Webster has noted (2002:327–328). As a result, the foundation of political power dissipated, with the final outcome of farmers emigrating from the interior or permanently living in hinterland areas; there might also have been some population loss due to decreasing health and fertility (Culbert 1977, 1988; Lowe 1985:62; Santley et al. 1986; Willey and Shimkin 1973). Maya kings could not reach and politically integrate farmers who permanently dispersed into hinterland areas (e.g., hinterland Copán; Freter 1994; Webster and Gonlin 1988) or migrated to the Yucatán, southeastern Petén, east to Belize, or west and south to the highlands (e.g., Culbert 1977; Laporte 2004; Lowe 1985:208; McAnany et al. 2004; Mock 2004; Santley et al. 1986; Willey and Shimkin 1973).
Drier conditions particularly affected areas lacking rivers and lakes and those in higher elevations with relatively low annual rainfall (see Figure 4.1). Minor and secondary centers show a gradual trend from lower to higher elevations and less so for annual rainfall, whereas regional centers represent the extremes in rainfall (the highest or lowest annual amounts, but typically the lowest) and elevation (highest). These patterns indicate that rainfall and elevation both influenced agricultural regimes (e.g., different temperatures) (see Akin 1991:47).
Kings’ loss of power at regional centers had various impacts on smaller centers. Some secondary rulers began to build monuments on their own, independent of their previous overlords (Marcus 1976; Pohl and Pohl 1994); rulers not heavily dependent on water systems survived the drought, at least for a brief time. In addition, political fallout for secondary kings varied and was related to their level of involvement with regional rulers. The Maya at minor centers without water systems continued performing daily activities, largely unaffected by what was happening elsewhere.
Nonriver Centers
In areas without lakes or rivers, artificial reservoirs no longer adequately fulfilled daily water needs. As a result, commoners stopped congregating at center reservoirs and paying to get in. Eventually, Tikal’s core was largely abandoned in the 900s, as was Calakmul’s (Marcus 1998; Pinceman et al. 1998). Calakmul’s abandonment was associated not only with drought but possibly with incursions from the Putún Maya from the Gulf Coast of Tabasco, Mexico, taking advantage of a weakened rulership. After ca. AD 790 Caracol was still occupied by “elite” Maya until ca. AD 895 (A. Chase and D. Chase 2004). Caracol’s epicenter was abruptly abandoned by ca. AD 890 and burned, though a remnant population remained another 200 years or so (A. Chase and D. Chase 1996, 2001; D. Chase and A. Chase 2000). Exacerbating rulers’ problems was the lack of stored goods that could have been used to allay famine and garner continued support for rulership.
River Centers
Concentrated alluvium clearly was not enough to prevent many farmers of Copán and Palenque from abandoning their kings to search for better areas to live. As was the case with similarly organized archaic states elsewhere, over-use of resources also contributed to problems caused by drought. There are indications that decreasing subsistence resources played a role in the disintegration of power, as indicated at Copán, where leaders were faced not only with depleting resources (Davis-Salazar 2003; Fash 1991:170–183; Paine and Freter 1996; Webster 1999; Wingard 1996) but also with competition between elite and royal lineages (Fash 1998; Fash et al. 2004; Fash and Stuart 1991; Freter 1994). These factors might explain why their last inscribed date (AD 822) is noticeably earlier than Tikal’s (AD 869) and Caracol’s (AD 859). Stelae were no longer carved in these times of trouble; instead, inscriptions were carved and painted on portable items (Fash 1998), similar to the Late Preclassic period. Another factor affecting Copán more than other river centers was similar to the situation at nonriver regional centers: changing rainfall patterns. Copán’s annual rainfall is significantly less than at most other major centers, just over 130 cm, indicating that reservoirs probably dried up as well. Copán’s hinterland population, however, while decreasing in number, did not completely abandon the region (Webster 2002:310).
While annual rainfall at Palenque is over 360 cm (one of the highest), kings still lost power when changing conditions exacerbated internal political instability as a result of their defeat twice in the 700s at the hands of rulers from Toniná, a secondary center 65 km to the south (Martin and Grube 2000:172–174, 182). These losses may also explain why Palenque had one of the earliest last-known inscribed dates in the southern lowlands (AD 799), much earlier than Toniná, which has the latest last-known inscribed date in the southern Maya lowlands (AD 909). And even if kings provided drinking water, rainfall-dependent farming practices in surrounding areas did not produce enough food, storage or not.
Secondary Centers
The disruption in the royal interaction sphere variously affected secondary centers but eventually resulted in the disappearance of royal hallmarks, including monumental architecture, inscriptions, and royal iconography. Small-scale water/agricultural systems and scattered resources did not provide kings with the same means to acquire political power as at regional centers. As a result of increasing drought, Maya kings lost what power they had. At centers with higher annual rainfall and small-scale water/agricultural systems, the disruption felt elsewhere did not automatically result in dramatic change; instead restructuring may have taken place, and in some cases a florescence.
Lamanai’s location on a lagoon with fertile land coupled with trade with the Yucatán Maya provided its inhabitants with the means to outlast the political disintegration through the seventeenth century (Loten 1985; Pendergast 1986); kings, though, did not survive. Lamanai’s inhabitants also benefited from runoff, as one of the eastern-most major centers in the southern Maya lowlands. The Maya continued to live for a time at Quiriguá, perhaps due to “its apparent isolation, its self sufficiency within the rich lower Motagua Valley, and a continued control over the lucrative highland-Caribbean trade route” (Sharer 1978:69). Kings of Seibal and Xunantunich witnessed a brief florescence. Seibal’s rulers probably took advantage of the upheavals happening throughout the Pasión region, perhaps with a little impetus from the northeast (Ucanal), and Xunantunich’s rulers took advantage of the waning power at Naranjo (LeCount et al. 2002; Mathews and Willey 1991; Tourtellot and González 2004). For example, the last-known dated inscriptions at Xunantunich date to AD 849 and at Seibal to AD 889, some of the latest. Altar de Sacrificios, with its last inscribed date of AD 849, was abandoned for a short time in the early AD 900s (Mathews and Willey 1991); was briefly reoccupied, perhaps by a different Maya or foreign group ca. A. D. 909–948; and was abandoned for good after AD 950 (Adams 1973; Smith 1972:6).
Even though Dos Pilas is in a resource-rich zone, historic circumstances (specifically, its location in a region with several competing kingdoms) resulted in its eventual abandonment after Ruler 4 was defeated in AD 761 by a neighboring king from Tamarandito (Demarest 1997). Recent paleoecological research on landscape changes conducted by Kevin Johnston, Andrew Breckenridge, and Barbara Hansen (2001), however, indicates that Laguna Las Pozas in the Pasión drainage of Guatemala was occupied in the Early Postclassic (ca. AD 900–1200), after nearby centers including Dos Pilas and Aguateca were abandoned (see also Palka 1997).
Classic political life eventually ceased at most secondary river centers due to the disruption in the royal interaction sphere and decreasing surplus.
Minor Centers
In areas with plentiful land and water where farmers did not rely on water systems or kings, the drought’s impact was different than elsewhere. Of course the Maya, as members of a larger society, knew of events taking place in other places. On a day-to-day basis, however, not much necessarily changed. The Maya who lived at minor centers were the least affected by the dramatic events taking place at larger, more politically integrated centers. For example, the Maya who lived at Saturday Creek until at least AD 1500 (Conlon and Ehret 2002) did not have to face failing water/agricultural systems. A similar scenario took place at Barton Ramie, which was also occupied into the Postclassic until at least ca. AD 1200 and likely longer (Willey et al. 1965). Their location along a major river with runoff from the west and plentiful alluvium provided the means to weather changing climate and to continue with community life.1 Local elites indeed had less access to exotic goods, since the interaction sphere was disrupted, but they soon obtained long-distance wares through different routes, particularly sea trade from the north and east. Political shifts occurring elsewhere in the southern Maya lowlands had little impact on a community that was not much involved in Classic Maya politics to begin with.
Having access to wealth or capital and critical resources in conjunction with the use of integrative strategies such as ceremonies provided a powerful centripetal political tool for Maya rulers. Climatic changes had a major impact on centers lacking permanent or adequate water sources in higher elevations with relatively low rainfall, where water systems and ritual were vital to political life. As drier conditions became more common, water and agricultural systems and crops failed, as did ceremonies that previously had resulted in bountiful rain and food. Combined with increasing soil depletion and deforestation, these factors resulted in the migration and dispersal of Maya farmers who once nucleated around centers. In the end, people blamed kings for all the mishaps occurring as a result of climate change.
The majority of Maya did not disappear or die off after the political collapse; they only permanently left the fold of the royal tribute system, since rulers no longer provided them with a strong inducement to remain. Postcollapse reorganization in the interior is thus best understood as a process unfolding at the community level. In the southern Maya lowlands after the Terminal Classic, former subjects no longer had to supply tribute to a ruling class; they only had to work for their families and the community to which they belonged, including local elites. After rulers lost power, farmers and elites continued to conduct traditional rites where they began, in the home and community, as Terminal Classic (ca. AD 850–950) and Early Postclassic (ca. AD 950–1200) residential deposits throughout the Maya lowlands illustrate (e.g., D. Chase and A. Chase 2004; Lucero 2003).
The Aftermath
What happened to former royal subjects? Some or even many farmers remained in the southern Maya lowlands. At first glance it may seem that there was massive population loss during and after the collapse. But increasing evidence from hinterland studies suggests that what might have happened instead was both migration out of these areas and a reversion to nonplatform houses constructed of thatch and/or wattle-and-daub, resulting in the “invisible” mounds of the archaeological record (e.g., Johnston 2004a, 2004b; Rice 1996; Webster 2002: 215). The collapse of Classic Maya political systems resulted in people organizing at the community level in some areas, especially near permanent water sources (e.g., Johnston et al. 2001; Masson 1997; Masson and Mock 2004). For example, the Maya inhabited the Petén Itzá lakes region until the conquest (Rice 1996; Rice and Rice 2004). Ford (1986) has recorded a notable presence of Terminal Classic occupation in the intercenter area between Tikal and Yaxhá, 29 km apart, after the Maya had abandoned the centers. Juan Antonio Laporte (2004) has noted a noticeable increase in population in the southeastern Petén, beginning in the Terminal Classic and decreasing somewhat in the Postclassic. McAnany and others (2004) note the same for the Sibun Valley in east-central Belize.
Another hallmark often used as a gauge of the abandonment of the southern lowlands is the noticeable decrease in ceramics. It is possible that the Maya began using more decorated gourds rather than ceramics (Hayden 1994), as do several Postclassic and modern Maya groups (e.g., Bunzel 1952:42; Hayden and Cannon 1984:172; Redfield and Villa Rojas 1934:75, 128; Tozzer 1907:122, 1941:90; Vogt 1970:54). Prudence Rice and Donald Forsyth (2004) also note that polychrome ceramics decrease in number and vessels become smaller and simpler in design and form. The lack of polychromes would make distinguishing plain vessels from different periods difficult. In sum, different building patterns and the increasing use of perishable goods and monochrome or unslipped ceramics all would have left less telling evidence in the archaeological record, which would appear to represent population loss and migration rather than population dispersal and migration.
Some of the Maya who migrated went north, attracted by a new religion revolving around Kukulcan and trade centered at Chichén Itzá;2 others headed to Belize and to the highlands of Chiapas. Coastal areas provided marine resources, and shallow lakes the means for wetland agriculture—two types of resources less dependent upon rainfall. For the Yucatán, archaeologists have proposed an outmigration at the end of the Late Preclassic due to drier climate and later due to flooding salt pans (Santley et al. 1986); the area was not to see increased settlement until later in the Classic period at centers such as Chichén Itzá and Dzibilchaltún (Cobos 2004), when both climate change and lowering sea levels provided inducements to return. The Puuc area witnessed a peak in population in the Terminal Classic (Carmean et al. 2004). Other areas of the Yucatán peninsula, such as the southern areas of Quintana Roo, incorporated the use of canals to support the growing immigrant populations. As mentioned earlier, the Maya may have been attracted to the northern lowlands not only due to better economic opportunities but also because of a new religion centered on Kukulcan, the feathered serpent, as well as traditional Maya deities. They may have looked to new gods, since some of the traditional ones failed them, especially those associated with Classic Maya rulership (e.g., K’awil), which largely disappeared in Postclassic rites and iconography. In parts of the northern lowlands that experienced a florescence from ca. AD 750 to 1000 (Demarest et al. 2004a), however, the Maya still continued performing traditional rites, a practice which has persisted to the present.
To conclude, southern lowland Maya kings were around for nearly a millennium, a testament to their skills in integrating people. Their history, as they wrote it themselves, involved almost daily supplications to gods and ancestors, especially royal ones. It also records battles, the sacrifice of vanquished and captured rulers, accession rites, marriage alliances, bloodletting, and several other royal events and rites. What it does not mention is the nonreligious and non-ritual means of power. I have attempted to fill this gap. The following section presents a possible scenario of how Maya kings acquired political power, as well as how they eventually lost it.
A Scenario: The Ancient Maya
In the Middle Preclassic period the Maya began more and more to move away from coasts, rivers, and lakes into interior areas with plentiful land that may or may not have had permanent water sources. First settlers or founders were also first served; the implications of this were not obvious until increasingly more people moved into these areas. Everyone conducted rituals in the home, which came from a long-standing tradition.
In the Late Preclassic first founders started to distinguish themselves from others by building larger houses and small public temples and acquiring exotics. Elites continued to practice the same rites as everyone else but began to use more expensive items as offerings—they could afford to relinquish them forever. They compensated laborers with food, exotics, and/or access to resources. Elites had to pay their workers well, since the latter could choose to work for other families who could afford to pay. To show their gratitude, patrons sponsored traditional rites and feasts for workers and their families and invited the entire community to attend and participate. Such events offered a break from work and a time to socialize, not to mention the opportunity to increase the prestige of elites in the eyes of farmers and to compete with other elites for prestige and labor.
This scenario was repeated again and again throughout the southern Maya lowlands. Why did the Maya no longer have a choice but to acquiesce to tribute demands instituted by rulers? Why and how did Maya elites transform into rulers? What circumstances, which should come as no surprise at this point, allowed rulers to emerge in some areas but not in others?
Even if bajos had once been wetlands or lakes, by the beginning of the Classic period they had transformed into seasonal swamps. In areas without surface water, initially aguadas provided enough water for the earliest settlers. Later, especially beginning in the Early Classic, large artificial reservoirs became critical; quarrying provided the construction materials to build temples and palaces next to reservoirs. Along or near rivers in Mexico, Guatemala, and western Honduras, growing numbers of people still needed access to potable water, especially at the height of the dry season, when rivers were low, murky, and disease-ridden. Rulers, when necessary, provided capital to repair water or agricultural systems damaged during the rainy season. Providers did not perform these services for free. Maya leaders, who emerged from wealthy founding lineages, realized that they could demand payment above and beyond equal compensation. Maya rulers could not demand too much from farmers because they could flee into the jungle or to other realms. Consequently, the average Maya was not powerless but had some leverage.
Areas with noticeable seasonal issues or problems provided the ideal circumstances for rulers to emerge. Many farmers relied on reservoirs—and on the rulers who built them and who lived and worshiped next to them. And when the rainy season began each year, it was clearly due to successful supplication of gods and ancestors by everyone, especially kings. Thirsty farmers thus had a stake in constructing and maintaining increasingly larger and sophisticated reservoirs. The continually growing numbers of farmers attracted to fertile areas were incorporated into the political system because of their need for water and because of a ruler’s ability to secure enough water for everyone through supernatural connections.
Consequently, the most powerful kings arose in areas where people relied the most on large-scale water/agricultural systems—as well as on the plentiful agricultural land that yielded enough food to maintain royals and their subjects. Rulers used their wealth to maintain reservoirs and agricultural systems throughout the year. In areas without rulers (for example, along the Belize River), the availability of ample land and water (even in the dry season, due to runoff from Guatemala and Mexico) prevented elites from attracting lots of people and exacting tribute. Elites, however, sponsored community-wide ceremonies to offset potential conflict in the face of wealth differences. Kings at secondary centers could have built large-scale water/agricultural systems as well if their agricultural land had not been dispersed in relatively small pockets. These lands could not support large enough numbers of people to maintain a primary royal lifestyle, which they were able to witness on their visits to regional centers as subordinates or independent secondary kings. Further, when small-scale agricultural and/or water systems were damaged by heavy rainfall, farmers and communities repaired them without royal assistance.
Rulers realized that since most people lived dispersed throughout the hinterlands, they could choose to whom and at which center they contributed surplus goods and labor in exchange for access to water and capital. Consequently, political aspirants needed to fulfill more than just material needs. They responded through replicating and expanding traditional rites in plazas facing large temples and ball courts. The strategy of “bread and circuses” was not used only by Roman emperors. The rulers’ success as landowners and providers of water and capital demonstrated to on-the-fence farmers that their special ties to gods and ancestors benefited them all. And since farmers had to pay anyway, why not pay successful aspirants? Why not contribute surplus goods and labor to kings who sponsored impressive ceremonies and feasts? Why not pay homage to rulers who captured and sacrificed fellow kings? Those who were unwilling to pay could flee to marginal areas that yielded little surplus and were thus of no interest to rulers.
Political domains expanded throughout the Late Classic, when Maya kings reached their apogee of power. And the system worked for nearly a millennium. But all things come to an end. The more Maya rulers depended on large-scale water systems to support their royal lifestyle, the more vulnerable they were to changing rainfall patterns. While political systems were somewhat fluid and flexible, one aspect of the subsistence system was not: their rainfall dependency and reliance on water/agricultural systems. Rituals no longer worked in the face of changing material conditions—namely, a long-term drought. Kings failed in their supplications to supernatural entities. Close ties to the otherworld brought both benefits and risks. When water was plentiful, rulers benefited; when it was not, rulers lost their edge—and power. They no longer paid into a system that did not work. Commoners either made their way out of centers into hinterland areas or left the region altogether in search of wetter pastures.