11.

Invisible Indigenous Imaginaries

The imagined territories of Eastern Chiapas were shaped by actors’ competing valuations of the
region. However, the maps shown so far in this exhibition are an uneven representation of Eastern
Chiapas. They were all made by non-Indigenous map-makers whose objective was principally to
extract resources or profit in some way from the jungle, whether this be through timber, chicle, oil,
archaeology or tourism. The exhibition is thus marked by the absence of Indigenous imaginaries and
their alternative valuations of Eastern Chiapas.

This map from 1953 shows the majority of Eastern

Chiapas as ‘unexplored’, but what does this mean,
unexplored by whom exactly? Eastern Chiapas has always
been a peopled place, and has therefore only been
unexplored by certain people - i.e. non-Indigenous
outsiders.
New Maps: New Imaginaries

Archaeologists had long known about major cities like Palenque, and Yaxchilan, but the true scale of
Eastern Chiapas’ urbanisation in the Mayan Classic Period (200-900 AD) is only now becoming visible.
The ongoing discoveries are radically changing imaginaries of the territory.

In 2016 a team of researchers applied a mapping technology known as ‘lidar’ (light detecting and
ranging) imagery to the jungles of neighbouring Peten (Guatemala). While lidar technology has been
utilised by archaeologists since the 1970s, only within the past decade has it been advanced enough
to penetrate thick jungle vegetation. Its development has been nothing short of revolutionary.

After scanning the jungles of Peten from above, archaeologists constructed 3D maps using GIS
(Global Information System) technology. They were astounded with what they found, detecting over
60,000 previously unknown Maya structures. This complex urban infrastructure included reservoirs,
irrigation, terracing, raised roads implied a more sophisticated and more densely populated
civilization than previously thought. Archaeologists had previously estimated a population of 1-2
million, but the new maps suggested a population closer to 10-15 million.

Lidar unveils archaeological finds almost invisible to the

naked eye:
● It is a sophisticated remote sensing technology
that uses laser light to densely sample the surface
of the earth
● Millions of laser pulses every four seconds are
beamed at the ground from a plane or helicopter
● The wavelengths are measured as they bounce
back, which is not unlike how bats use sonar to
hunt
● The highly accurate measurements are then used
to produce a detailed three-dimensional image of the ground surface topography
There is an ongoing lidar mapping project ‘MAP - Mensabok Archaeological Project’ in the Lacandon
community of Metzabok. Begun in 2003 as a collaborative project with the Lacandon, archaeologists
are uncovering previously hidden Maya culture and settlement patterns in the region.

The ‘Colonisation’ of Eastern Chiapas

From the 1940s - 1960s, agrarian reform was carried out in the overcrowded highlands of Chiapas,
releasing Indigenous communities from the debt peonage of the hacienda system. The government
encouraged thousands of landless peasants to migrate to the sparsely populated Eastern Chiapas.
These colonos (colonists) formed a network of colonias (colonies) along the new roads which had
been bulldozed through the forest by logging companies to extract the trees which the mahogany
boom hadn’t reached. From 1950 to 2000, the population of Eastern Chiapas increased from around
1,000 to 200,000 people.
Invasion or Return?

Despite initially encouraging settlement of Eastern Chiapas, by the 1970s the government began
demonising these very same colonists as ‘invaders’. Yet in effect, the Maya were simply returning to
the land in which they had been forcibly evicted from centuries before in the colonial period. The
government’s imagined territory of Eastern Chiapas as an empty space doesn’t hold up over a longer
historical time scale. Eastern Chiapas was populated for much longer than it was depopulated.

What’s in a Name?

The names for Eastern Chiapas have undergone various

evolutions over time. Fundamentally, the region’s
Indigenous inhabitants have never had a say in the
territory’s naming. The ‘Desierto de la Soledad’ (Desert
of Solitude) was certainly no ‘desert’ for the Lacandon
who lived there.

Place names are not neutral, they often signal political

intent. In the 1940s, Eastern Chiapas was referred to as
‘El Desierto de Zendales’, or Zendales forest, Zendales
being a corruption of the word Tzeltal (the Mayan
people). Indeed, Frans’s maps refer to it as such until 1949, when he adopted the name ‘La Selva
Lacandona’ (The Lacandon Jungle). In doing so, Frans signalled his belief in the Lacandon as the
‘rightful owners’. Today, Eastern Chiapas is neither predominately a jungle, nor exclusively home to
the Lacandon.
Often names are so normalised that we don’t even realise that they signify a subjective point of view.
Take the word ‘ruins’ for instance, which are often highlighted in Frans’ maps. The sites of Bonampak,
Yaxchilan and Palenque are only ‘ruins’ from his perspective - the perspective of an archaeologist. For
the Lacandon they continued to be sacred sites used in ritual and ceremony, and thus living rather
than ‘ruined’ places. Naming such sites as ruins thus reflects the prioritisation of one understanding
over another.

Destruction and Creation

There are individuals from Chanal and Tumbalá,

causing worse damage than the loggers
themselves, because in order to "break" the land
they destroy everything they find.
Trudi, 1963

Today, one of the main commodities exported from Eastern

Chiapas is beef, and cattle ranching is one of the main causes
of deforestation. As in previous commodity booms, this
industry primarily benefits outsiders rather than those
directly involved in its production. Even so, for those
Indigenous colonists the industry may be a means of survival
against conditions of economic poverty, religious
persecution, or conflict. While for conservationists and the
Lacandon, the rapid deforestation of Eastern Chiapas may
represent destruction, for others it may represent life - a
space of Indigenous autonomy and ‘re-existence’.

Making Space for Indigenous Imaginaries

The maps presented in this exhibition were predominately created for the benefit of businesses,
politicians, archaeologists, biologists, geologists, etc. The cartographic imaginaries they project are
alternatively a threatening and unexplored territory, or a territory replete with resources to be
extracted or exploited. But what imaginaries are we not seeing? What would an Indigenous
imaginary of the territory look like made by and for the Indigenous people who actually live there?

For the Spanish in the 16th and 17th centuries, Eastern Chiapas was imagined as a territory of
danger, anarchy, idolatry, disorder, and rebellion. Yet for the Maya inhabitants it was more likely seen
as a space of resistance, emancipation, refuge and sanctuary. The same opposing binaries would
emerge again hundreds of years later during the Zapatista Uprising, when Eastern Chiapas once again
became a space of an emancipatory Indigenous rebellion against government repression.

Self-Representation

Imagined territories are not real - the map is not the territory. However, over the past few hundred
years the maps of Eastern Chiapas have had very real effects on its geography and people. The
marking of ‘unexplored’ areas encouraged further exploration, the marking of resources on maps
facilitated further exploitation. Although the map is not the territory, the map affects the territory.

What changes could we affect if we were to create a new more

inclusive imaginary of Eastern Chiapas? What would happen if we
reimagined Eastern Chiapas to include invisible Indigenous
territories?

The Lacandon, their homes and lifestyle have long been studied
and mapped by outsiders. Now they are representing themselves
and creating maps of their own community.

Maps drawn by Frans Blom of a Lacandon caribal and house.

Map painted by Lacandon children of their own community of Naha.