On the correct training of indios in the handicraft market at chichen itza: tactics and tactility of...

on the correct training of indios inthe handicraft market at chichenitza: tactics and tactility of gender,class, race and state

ethnographic briefThis story is a fragment of other stories and situations that run through

the recurrent invasion of the archeological zone and tourist site of ChichenItza, Mexico, by venders of food, beverage, and artisanry. Beginning in1982-83 about 300 vendedores ambulantes and artesanos or itinerantvenders and artisans, mostly from the nearby Yucatec Maya community of

abstractIn 1983, an invasion by 300 vendors offood, beverage and artisanry beganof the archaeological-touristic site ofChichen, Itza, Mexico; this provokedseveral crises. Here I consider one di-mension of this crisis and conflictualsituation that deals with the state at-tempt to impose control and properorder on the invading venders. This es-say develops an analysis of the am-bivalences and duplicitous dynamicsof power so as to 1)reconsider thenature of hegemony, 2)to rethink thenotion of resistance and return it toa de Certeauian problematic, and 3)to locate an analysis ofgovernmentality between "top-down" and "bottom-up" narratives ofthe state through an analysis of thedisciplinary and policing mechanisms.

Piste, invaded the modern ruins ofthis famous ancient city. This situ-ation has a certain generic com-monality, in relation to a manifoldincrease of tourism within a re-gion orchestrated around one ormore magnets of tourist attraction- in this case the "colonial" city

of Merida and the Cancun —"peasants" and wage laborers'began to "invade" or amass inareas along the paths of touristswithin such tourist sights sites.Such invasions by personssearching for economic incomeare comprised of multiple tacticsof poaching, on both the touristconsumers and the establishedcenters of capital that sell variouscommodities to the tourists; and,

journal of latin american anthropology 2(2):106-143 copyright © 1997, american anthropological association

106 journal of latin american anthropology

quetzil e. castaneda university of houston

thus they provoke various actions, often violent, by the state and capitalinterests to eliminate the improper disruption of the bourgeois order of things.At Chichen, this invasion began in 1983 and by 1987 after years of variousstate attempts to extract them, often with force, the government came upona solution to the "problem," which was to displace them from the legallyconstituted archeological zone to a building called, in the Indian languageNahuatl, the Tianguis, meaning atraditional market. In this paper, I

resum&nam concerned less with the inva- _ i n o o , . . . . . .... . . . . . En 1983, empezo una invasion del sitiosion than with the imposition by orgueologico y turistico de Chichen Itea enthe state of a panoptical architec- Mexico por parte de trescientos vendedoresture of control that sought to put de comidas, bebidas y artesanias; esto

provoco varias crisis. Aquf considero unadimension de esta crisis y situacion deconfficto que Irata del intento por el estadode imponertes control y orden debdo a losvendedores que invadfan. Este ensayodesarrolla un analisis de lasambivalencias y de la dinamica deduplicidad del poder a fin de 1)reconsiderar la naturaleza de lahegemonfa, 2) pensarde nuevosobrela nocion de resistencia y devolverta auna problematica tipo de Certeau y 3)ubicar un analisis del papel del gobiernoentre la narrativa esiatal de mando de ambahacia abajo y la de mando de abajo haciaarriba a traves de un analisis de losmecanismos disdplinarios y de vigilancia.

an end to the crisis caused by thevenders to heterogeneous state,capitalist, and private interests. Itshould be clarified immediatelythat the military terminology is of"local" use and clearly indexes themeaning of extreme improprietyand of conflict that is at stake.Although not raised to a theoreti-cal concept like mana or shaman,this term has indeed already beenimported into anthropological de-scriptions of this event by theYucatec scholars that have been

on the correct training of indios 107

concerned with tourism, artisanry, and Maya communities in this region(see Morales V. et al. 1989; Peraza Lopez and Rejon Patron 1989; PerazaLopez 1987; Castaneda 1996). Invasions such as this by petty handicraftvenders and producers is typical of archeological sites when tourism boomsin relation to shifts in governmental strategies and the business endeavorsof private capital. Such situations, of course, share a general family resem-blance to other situations where the proliferation of a black market or aninformal economy of illicit traders occurs through poaching (see de Certeau1984) on the highly constructed central places of capitalist exchange andconsumption. The family resemblance is not necessarily in terms of thehistorico-sociological specificities, but in terms of the styles of political re-sponse to the threat that is posed to the bourgeoisie and its allied interests. Itis this perspective that triggers my use of the analytical tools provided byFoucault in his history of the prison.

Here I am not interested in retelling a story about the imposition of anillicit hegemony or of an unfair domination that came to blanket the lawlessinsubordinate classes seeking to eke out a living on the margins of economicand political power. My question about the "imposition" of disciplinary mecha-nisms, is rather about the tactics of resistance that, with starts, stops, snags,and struggles slid the gears of power into place. To be sure a "structure" ofauthority was erected "over" these invading venders where none had pre-viously existed in the archeo-tourist attraction, but the thesis here is that itoccurred neither in a "top-down" nor a "bottom up" manner. It is preciselyin the tactics of resistance that allow for a "middling" analysis (for lack ofmore felicitous phrase) of the construction of the state and its hegemony.Thus, this analysis seeks to detail how the coding of gender, class, ethnicity,race were used as elements manipulated by both state agents and the vend-ers to forge both a disciplinary control and the tactical responses to controlby the state. The installation of a governmental control, then, was depen-dent upon resistance; but this resistance is not in a straight, unambivalent,binary sense in which this force forms itself in, and as opposition to, thesystem of domination nor its identifiable agents (e.g., Scott 1990). Closeinspection of these tactics, both of control and resistance, and the way theyworked with the inscribed coding of bodies in terms of gender, class, race-ethnicity and culture reveal the limits and nature of the policing mode ofcontrol and authority that the state sought to impose on the unruly vendedoresand artesanos.

It should also be noted that the narrative of this analysis has its ownitinerary and style that might not conform to expected travelogues of aproper socio-ethnographic analysis regulated by the sanctified theoretical


authorities. Instead, I seek to cut a different path, one low to the ethno-graphic ground as processed through the specificity of my own fieldworkengagement. Like the improper vendedores ambulantes, I seek to skirtand not salute the authorities that determine the correct topics and modes ofdiscussion in order to situate my analysis at the very heart of a series ofissues. Like the itinerant venders, the goal is to position oneself in the mainarteries in order clog them up. In doing so, I seek to conmingle the commonsense understandings and languages involved in the situation with thoserarified languages of theoreticians. The goal is not to present a ruminationof the adequacies of this or that theory and how to strategically arm a moreeffective theoretical language, but to put into practice these tools, to makeuse of the often opaque jargon, to analyze a situation in its specificity in-formed both by the ethnographic events and theoretical languages.

the topical landscape: issues and contextsThe telling of this particular story of a situation that has engulfed the

lives of a small community in Mexico, addresses several wider issues ofconcern for anthropologists and Latin Americanists. The value of tellingthis story lies not in being a "case" with regard to its ethnographic-historicalcontent. After all, these particularities are of greatest concern to those whoare telling and fighting about other stories (versions if you like) and second-arily to the handful of scholars of the "culture region." Rather, I proposethat the value of this story is in the way, successful or not and to whateverdegree, that two languages — whose centers of gravity are, on the onehand, the sites of theoretical fabrication and, on the other, the imaginedlocations of the ethnographically lived — are mixed into a hybrid languageby which to make sense of power and its experience, that is, the hybridlanguage of analysis. Here I invoke both Geertz (1973) and Foucault (seedeCerteau 1984,1986:185-92) from among many other possibilities for theirpromotion of the idea that theory should be analytical (analysis) and analy-sis should be "low" to the ground. Thus, I want only to cursorily paint thelandscape of current debates in order to only briefly point out the authorizedtopics that are, in any case, merely transient monuments in the sand. Thus,I run the risk of being too disengaged from up to date debates. Instead, thevalue of this analytical excursion then is what it might offer in terms of anapproach to certain questions by offering a way to ask differently.

The first landmark to consider is that formed by the research that has

on the correct training of indios

sought to analyze the politics, power relations, and social implications ofdifferent strategies of domination that are deployed in the control of deter-minate populations within constructed settings, such as labor in factories,offices, and other sites of commodity production. Often central to thesestudies is the question of resistance that is asked from a Marxist and femi-nist concern for the struggles of specific subordinated classes and groupswithin the dilemmas of capitalism. For example, there is a strong literaturethat focuses on women in development processes within the Latin Ameri-can context (e.g., Bose and Acosta-Belen 1995; Beneria and Stimpson1987; Nash 1993); this paper differs from those broader ranging studies inthat I seek to situate gender as one of several elements within a very par-ticular history and situation. Here I am not mapping the global into the local;further, sex/gender is not the privileged lens nor telos of analysis. In order torealize this story, or what might be termed "microanalysis" of power, I turnto Foucault just as a number of others have made use of his analyticalmodel of Bentham's panopticon in the research on the disciplining of work-ers, especially women and racially-ethnically marked subordinated groups(Ong 1987; Rofel 1992; Freeman 1993; Madsen Camacho 1994, 1996).These studies testify to the versatility of theory to be redeployed in arenasfor which it is supposedly, by design or debility, unable to account (cf. Stoler1995). In contrast to both the foucaultian and the non-foucaultian studies, itis not concerned with workers, but the petty bourgeoisie or rural entrepre-neurs in a context of tourism and state regulation. This will not be a story,then, of class nor gender struggle, resistance, and oppression within a bi-nary logic of domination/dominated in the usual sense. The foucaultian fableallows for an understanding of the fracturing and mobile fragmentation ofthis binary structure of power.

A second landmark is comprised of the research on the political-economyand cultural forms of Indian markets and craft production (e.g., Nash 1993;Tice 1995; Canclini 1993; Stephen 1991; Littlefield 1976; Babb 1989;Seligmann 1993, n.d.). This literature, which also has had a prominent gen-der and woman focus within or against a class-race framing, is significant inthat it begins with a group of actors that are multicoded in sociological termsand are ambivalently situated in the world. They at once actively supportand propagate the economic system — the structures of "domination" arenot pure nor whole nor uniformly dominating/"oppressive" — as they liter-ally and symbolically work against "it" in ways that make resistance animpossible category: to what and how is resistance? These studies reveala profound heterogeneity of and within markets; the notion of market itselfshould point us to camivalesque pluralism and multiplicity. From this angle it

journal of latin american anthropology

would make sense that there are relatively few studies that have developedanalyses of power, state intervention, and resistance relative to marketsfrom a foucaultian angle. How can one use such an exhaustive theory ofpolitical ordering (Foucault) to make sense of the order of the impossibilityof order (market)? Further, Foucault's conceptual framework emerged inthe explanation of the control of subordinated labor, not entrepreneurial groups,and that the historical situation with which he is concerned is the rise of theprison as a Euro-descended cultural form, not with "other" cultures andsocieties. So as to help resituate the foucaultian frame to this different con-text, I have enlisted insights from both Bhabha on racial discourse in colo-nial strategies of domination and de Certeau on resistance and tactics. It isthis triangulation of conceptual perspectives between Bhabha (1994), deCerteau (1984), and Foucault (1979) that provides the analytical drive ofthis paper and that lends it a distinct angle for understanding to questions ofpower and resistance in regards to the general issues already mentioned.

Third, the study of Indian markets, marketing, marketers in Latin Americahas tended to focus on those markets and rural or urban entrepreneurs thatare comprehended within the generalized and inclusive category of the in-formal economy (Portes, Castells, Benton 1989) or that are constructed as"traditional" in both their own contexts and in anthropological discourse(Babb 1989; Seligmann 1993). My concern here is with a group of MayaIndian entrepreneurs that are traditional neither in sociocultural or economicterms. In fact, these vendedores are often depreciated ~ in both economicand moral senses — for not being culturally "pure" Maya; that is, not tradi-tional. As well, these financially successful venders neither sell traditionalgoods or work/exchange in a traditional market: rather, they work in thetourist industry and traffic in tourist souvenirs2. These handicrafts, of course,are indeed marked or constructed and sold as "authentic" and "traditional"but only through a dual process that is completely in relation to tourism. Onthe one hand, there is the governmental strategy of the retraditionalizationand often re-Indigenization of popular cultures (see Canclini 1993, 1995;Stephen 1991). On the other hand, there is the intensified commodificationof Indigenous and other popular cultural forms as "authentic" in relation tothe tourism and touristic consumption. The market that is of concern here isexemplary of these processes: it was designed in relation to the invasion inthe mid-1980s to resolve that crisis and most of handicrafts are mass pro-duced in cottage-style industry in other parts of Mexico; the local artisanry,wood and stone carving was invented in the 1970s by a custodian employeeof the Instituto Nacional de Antropologia y Historia (INAH) as a wayto add income from the tourists visiting Chichen Itza. Thus, the shift of

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attention from traditional markets, commodities, and practices to the touristeconomy, allows for hybridity and its ambivalences in relation to both powerand authenticity to emerge as central issues of this paper. It is this target ofanalysis that also prompts making use of a different kind of toolkit thatbrings together insights from Foucault, de Certeau and Bhabha.

the touristic landscape of chichenThis story begins with the closing of the road that leads from Merida,

the capital of the state of Yucatan, to Cancun and the Mexican Caribbean inthe east. This road passed right under the main pyramid dedicated toK'uk'ulcan (Yucatec Maya), which is perhaps more well known asQuetzalcoatl (Nahuatl) and Feathered Serpent (English). This road, origi-nally constructed in 1936 as logistical aid for the Mexican and Anglo-Ameri-can archeological projects conducted at Chichen, divided the ancient cityinto two artificial halves. As if oblivious to the fact that they had this roadbuilt, the archaeologists nonetheless interpreted the road as the boundarybetween historically older and newer phases of occupation of the pre-Columbian Maya city. Although the separation of the modern ruins into asouthern "pure" (older) Maya and a northern "Toltec" Maya is a highlycontested assertion inscribed in earth, tour guidebooks, and archeologicaltexts (see ErosaPeniche 1937; Pina Chan 1985, 1987; Freidel, Schele Parker1993; Lincoln 1986, 1990; Patterson 1986,1995:46-60; Jones 1995),3 in anironic but substantively different sense hold that the archaeologists werecorrect to point out a spatial differentiation of historical settlement: theMaya hired by the Mexican government to be the caretakers of the sitewere allowed to build their houses right alongside this road in the northernor supposedly newer/Toltec-Mexican side of the ancient city. This 20thcentury occupation lasted some 60 years (1920s to 1983);4 the closing ofthe road forced these wardens employed by the INAH to abandon theirhomes and, most significantly as a factor in the ongoing invasion, the touristbusinesses that they operated from them. But, in concession for this reloca-tion of homes to the nearby community of Piste and for their loss of a placeto sell souvenirs, books and food, they were given a palapa, or thatchedroof covered platform, inside the archeological zone from which they wereallowed to sell food, books, postcards, handicrafts, clothing, and beverage.It also displaced a small but quickly growing number of men who had justbegun to sell ice-slushies and wood carvings alongside the road but away


from the ever watching INAH custodians. This was 1982, when Cancunwas only 12 years old, but within a year the debt crisis and the slowdown inconstruction at that Caribbean resort, propelled a massive invasion of itiner-ant venders at Chiche*n.5

Many political and economic interests were not pleased by the inva-sion.6 Owners of handicraft stores along the tourist route between Cancunand Merida felt the competition. In turn, tour guides, who were paid to bringtourists to such stores, lost commissions. Local restaurants were also hurtfrom the illegal sale of beverages by those invaders trafficking in suchconsumables. The wardens, as employees of the INAH not only had todefend the federal interest in the aesthetic, cultural, and ecological integrityof the site against their neighbors, but their own cooperatively run food andhandicraft business that was located in the above mentioned palapa. Fortheir part, the state government and its offices of tourism, as institutionalregulator of the tourist economy, sought to maintain a "good image" of thisprime tourist attraction by controlling/eliminating the venders and erasingthe image of Third World poverty and street vending. These different inter-ests found a platform and discourse by which to wage a united war againstthe Maya invaders: organized around the notion of image, these differentsectors pursued a "resolution" of the invasion. Attempts to extract them bymilitary and police force were ineffective if also recurrent and violent. Itwould require a large and permanent garrison to keep 300 venders out ofthe zone, but such an invasion of the zone by police would do even furtherharm to the tourist image than that by handicraft and food venders.

Federal and state authorities sought to coopt the venders through union-ization in 1985. At various times, during the year, especially starting in Au-gust of that year, key governmental officials and union representatives or-ganized meetings with all the venders; these were conducted during the lateafternoon inside the archeological zone and were attempts to convince boththe handicraft merchants and the artisans to become members of one of themajor unions that is closely affiliated to the ruling political party or PRI. Therhetoric at these meetings that was to persuade the venders to join the unionrelied on the trope of the family, the propriety of the home, and the rule offather. This return to a "natural" hierarchy and order was necessary, it wasargued, to desist from the damaging or negative image that was being pre-sented to tourism. Although a powerful rhetoric pervasive in Mexican soci-ety, the discourse of patriarchic order and of proper image failed to achievethe unionization of the venders. Nonetheless, these tropes and images (ofhome, propriety, order, father, image) were to be recycled in many ways inthe subsequent twenty years; especially the discourse of mal imagen (of


the "bad image") would become a constant critical commentary in the pub-lic sphere.

One of the major reasons why unionization failed is the obvious yetsomehow curiously perceived or valued fact that as merchants and produc-ers of handicrafts they are not wage laborers and thus have no employeragainst which one would want to organize in the form of a labor union! Theattempt to unionize was made under the erroneous presumption of the stateauthorities that the Indians that were invading the zone were mostly hiredby a handful of local business owners, regional capitalists, tour guides, travelagencies, and itinerant handicraft wholesalers from central Mexico. Thepresumption I believe also entailed a racist judgment that these Indianscampesinos (peasants) were too indio (uncivilized) and poor to be self-employed merchants handling so much merchandise. However, specificfactions of the handicraft merchants or comerciantes did choose to orga-nize themselves into independent associations and cooperatives, but mostdid not and virtually none of the artesanos or artisans choose to form suchorganized groups.

In fact, some groups of venders had been informally organized for afew years and through these had been actively petitioning the state govern-ment (specifically the State Tourism Office or Direction de Turismo) toconstruct adequate market buildings next to the entrance from which theycould sell their wares. They sought state legitimization of first and priorrights to sell at Chichen, which would allow them to control who would beallowed space into these handicraft markets. Artisans and other indepen-dent venders continually disregarded not only the unenforceable laws to notsell inside the legally constituted zone of archeological patrimony, but the"first arrived" venders who sought to effect some kind of authority-controlover both access to the zone and the particular spaces of selling within it. Inresponse to the wholesale disregard for their pretensions to prior usufructand the massive intrusion by independent persons who formed self-helpalliances by proximity, friendship, or kinship, these organized factions alsoinvaded the zone but with a distinction. They always "re-entered" the zonewith grand proclamations to the state that they were forced to "re-enter"(versus invade) in response to the state's refusal to put effective orderamongst the vendedores and enforce the prohibition against selling insidethe zone. This historical fact is a central axis of the subsequent analyses:the installation of state control — its "hegemony" in one sense — is in-voked, hailed, and interpellated by local agents. Not only is it a mistake torefer to this process as the straight forward or unambiguous and unambivalent"imposition" of the state apparatus, but the "hegemony" of the state does


not fan out from the political centers of power/authority, but from the "pe-ripheral" or "marginal" sites of "local" action. Further, in all of this, if thereis resistance then it is not primarily nor univocally directed to the state (orother agents of nonlocal domination), but rather is one name of the dynamicantagonisms and sociopolitical relations between agents located in the "mar-gins" and "local" sites.

The indifference of the state no doubt had many sources. One canimagine the unwillingness of a person who placed by camarilla ties (politi-cal networking) in a relatively "cushy" position of authority over businessdimensions of tourism to substantively address real social issues over whichit had no authority. It needs be reiterated: there was no governmental appa-ratus in place equipped or authorized to deal with the situation that emerged.It was invoked and pushed into existence via the crisis the venders trig-gered. When the state finally began to realize that police action and "public"outcry in the public sphere of the newspaper was not sufficient, it turned tothis unionization attempt, which was a misconceived failure. Force and co-optation were not the mechanisms to by which to assert the nation's lawand capitalist order. Persuasion, negotiation, compromise, and the creationof a viable institutional apparatus for governing such situations had to becreated. The governmental compromise was in the acceding to the de-mands of some vendedores for the construction of a market place. It wasthe construction of this market — the Tianguis or "traditional" handicraftmarket which opened in March 1987 — that was to put into a effect aresolution of the invasion via the installation of a specific architectural ma-chinery of power.

tianguis as monument and memorial to tourismwars

Five years after the invasion began, a "war treaty" was signed and builtas a monumental architecture: the government offered all invading vendersof artisanry (but not food or beverage) the chance to sign up for a boothwithin the new Tianguis, with the threat that those who continued to sellinside the zone would be treated ruthlessly by the law. While only 120 signedthe contract for a Tianguis stall, the remainder, whose political effective-ness was weakened by the state, accepted the terms as they sought newlocations along the outside margins of the archeological zone which werethe most trafficked sites of tourist bodies. As a monument to this tourism"war" the Tianguis functions to extend the work of the treaty by: first,


rewriting the memories of conflict and contestation into a unified history orhistorical representation, i.e., "the official story";7 second, by reworking theconsciousness of the "conquered" or losing side so as to reduce if not elimi-nate resistance to the new order of things; and, third, by rearranging andresituating social relations and identities so as to constrain residual or emer-gent resistance within a new configuration of forces. No doubt the stateauthorized and paid for the construction of the Tianguis for strategic pur-poses, but Maya workmen from the nearby community actually built theedifice. Similarly, the subdued Maya invader venders, under the supervisionof the state, put into operation the mechanisms of power and regulated theorder of things within the Tianguis. How, then, did authority get constructedfrom the bottom up?

theatre of war, museum of maya cultureChichen Itza is a museum of Maya culture (Castaneda 1996) and as

such it is also a theatre of war. As an artifact of archeological science it isnot a reconstruction of an ancient Maya city — although that is the scien-tific fiction that is popularly accepted — but a construction of modern ruinsforged within and by the archeological vision of Maya culture. This scien-tific vision, which was "internally" differentiated along many lines, was satu-rated with a complex and multilayered politics of representation that simul-taneously articulated business, philanthropic, political-state, party, class, ra-cial, and cultural interests within a field (or theatre) of meaning formed bylocal, regional, national, and international struggles within and over the state.Thus, the production of knowledge about the Maya through fabrication ofthe ruins of Chichen was in the same instant the creation of a machinery ofrepresentation, call it a museum, whose discourses, texts, signs, tours, un-derstandings, and symbols formed a strategic field of power and knowl-edge, call it a theatre of war. Chichen Itza, as a museum of Maya culture, isthus a theatre of war in which the word war refers to this politics of repre-senting Maya cultures, communities, and civilization in relation to the repre-sentation of regional Yucatec society, the Mexican nation, and Anglo-Ameri-can civilizational cultures.

There is another sense in which Chichen Itza is a theater of war. War inthis second sense is in terms of the manifold struggles within, over, and fortourism that relate to that event called the invasion of the archeologicalzone. My point in this elaboration of the two senses of "war" that occur in


Chichen is to underscore an undeniable yet too easily denied, elided andcertainly undervalued fact: anthropology in the multiple guises of differentinstitutions, practices, projects, and practitioners — all of which are affili-ated in or derive from at least three distinct national contexts — are, havealways already been, an integrated facet of the history and everyday life ofChichen and the surrounding communities such as Piste. Thus there is noposition of exteriority from which an anthropological analysis or discussionof this event of the invasion and the histories of its "resolutions," one isnecessarily performing a reflexive analysis of anthropologies and anthro-pologists and their historical complicity in the world. There is no position ofexteriority to the event that one can assume to discuss the multiple ways inwhich anthropologies are implicated in it as active agents. The manifoldlevels of complicity and intercalation is an issue that preoccupies an earlierdiscussion (Castaneda 1996), thus here I want only to focus on two modesof anthropological complicity: one, the role of the IN AH through the agencyof its custodians as part of the invasion and its crisis; two, the role of theINAH through the agency of specific persons who had been charged withmediating, resolving, and supervising the resolution of the crisis as if from aneutral/value free space.

The invasion was possible because of the absence of governmentalcontrol. The 23 INAH wardens or custodians charged with the supervisionand protection of the archeological site could not prevent venders fromentering the zone. They were not equipped in a physical, or infrastructural,nor in a sociological sense to retain the invasion. They could not form them-selves into a border patrol of an area in the middle of the jungle that wasever available through the cutting of a new footpath. INAH employees andvendedores are all from Piste, the nearby community of approximately3500 inhabitants that operates as the center of touristic services for Chichen.The intimacy of such a face-to-face community provides each actor in thisantagonism a history of involvement with and knowledge of the other thathas indelibly shaped the conditions of possible actions, forms of behavior,and engagement. The custodians could never in any moment act in an anony-mous manner towards the invaders with assertive, much less aggressiveforce — and not just because of their numerical inferiority in any givenmoment: one was dealing with one's neighbors. Thus, when the custodiansdid take aggressive action, often backed by police or military units, it wasalways violent, if not always in a physical sense but sociologically speaking,which quickly fed emotions and antagonisms that daily intensified in thecourse of five years into a explosive situation whose veneer of civility couldeasily rupture. This was the case not only because of the animosity be-


tween venders and artisans on one side and the state, its agents and privatecapital on the other, but because of the aggression and antagonism thatsurged between factions of vendedores and artesanos in relation to thecontrol of the spaces of selling, which also frequently broke into episodes ofviolence.

First, the IN AH as an institution has the federal prerogative to protectand maintain the archeological patrimony. Second, INAH employees atChichen had been the first comerciantes of artisanry and food, as men-tioned above, and were continuing to sell these items inside the zone at acooperatively run and federally sanctionedpalapa (or rest area). The inva-sion was triggered by the fact of the existence of this INAH cooperative.Why should some from the same community have more special rights thanothers — especially those others that are ejidatarios! The community ofPiste claims — in the form of everyday talk and political discourses ~ anhistorical right over Chichen not only as its cultural patrimony, but also throughejido land grant, which borders the legally constituted archeological zoneand certainly includes within its territory parts of the ancient city. Indeed,Piste itself was no doubt a part of the urban center. This everyday talkabout rights over Chichen specifically emerges in relation to this problem ofthe invasion and is performed by those of Piste with ejido or kinship ties tothe community going back several decades who have sought "equal" userights of the touristic zone. In other words, these comerciantes have pro-tested the state privileging of the INAH wardens as unjust and as the trig-ger that legitimates the invasion. Although this event was initiated by smallgroups of men, most of whom were legally ejidatorios if not exactly prac-ticing campesinos, the flood of others (wives, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles,etc.) that soon joined these men, were exploiting the basic fact of protest bythose who could legitimately claim reason. This dimension of the historicalunfolding of events is critical to understand the later discursive use of theimage of the Maya ejidatario and campesino as the legitimate personwhose rights are being fought for and for whom specific actions are beingtaken.

tianguis as panopticonWithout authority nor effective means to either dictate nor enforce a

resolution of the conflict of interests, the state director of the INAH com-missioned a group of its social anthropologists to study the crisis and tomake recommendations (Peraza Lopez et al. 1987). This interesting analy-


sis locates the cause of the invasion on the failure of campesino agricul-tural production in the context of the booming regional tourist economy.Included in their recommendations are not only a traditional handicraft mar-ket (the Tianguis), but state/bank sponsored aid to develop local agricul-tural activities that could literally feed into the tourist sector and an ejidorun hotel. The latter suggestions, of course, were not pursued. The task ofactually realizing a resolution, however, was left to the newly created state-level agency charged with governing the touristic dimensions of archeologi-cal and cultural patrimonies. Thus, through funding from FONATUR andassisted in the planning by SECTUR, this state agency, called CULTUR(Patronato de las Unidades de Servicios Culturales y Turisticos delEstado de Yucatan) supervised the construction of the Tianguis} Thismarket was quickly designed in 1986 as added onto to the project for a newParador Turistico, which had already been under construction and in plan-ning since 1982 as part of the state governments municipal projects (seeGobierno de Estado 1982a, 1982b; Pinto Gonzalez et al. 1989; PerazaLopez et al. 1987; Peraza Lopez and Rejon Patron 1989; Castaneda 1996).

To provide continuity between the transfer of venders from the zone tothe future Tianguis and the institutionalizing of control, a Coordinator of thehandicraft market was appointed in 1986. This person had four significantqualities. She was a) a woman, b) a native and resident of Mexico City, c)an advanced degree student in anthropology with a specialty in linguistics,and d) not an INAH anthropologist. These characteristics and their combi-nation communicated particular messages and helped to fashion an imageof order figured in the propriety of the patriarchic home. Although hired bythe state government (CULTUR), her status as a central Mexican anthro-pologist aligned her with the intervening power of the nation and its institu-tions; yet, her ethnic and regional identity, in combination with her non-INAH status, marked her as an outsider and, thus, with what sought to passas disinterested neutrality or objectivity. Presumably, not only her disciplin-ary and language training was thought to provide her the mediating skillsrequired of this cross-cultural crisis, but her gender as well contributed tothe symbolic force of her position as a maternal type of go-between figureof authority. A trace of this logic — whether consciously tactical or cultur-ally "fortuitous" — by which these four tactical elements were strategicallycalculated is manifest in the simultaneous hiring of a male Licienciado intourism studies as the Supervisor of the business and touristic services ofthe Parador, which was a position "over" the Coordinator but in terms ofstatus and economics rather than authority.9 In other words, these spatiallyand architecturally contiguous spaces, the Parador proper and the Tianguis

on the correct training of indlos

which was a supplement to the edifice that housed the proper touristicservices and businesses, were conceptualized by power as radically distinctsociological entities requiring a different relationship. The indio invadersneeded to be domesticated before becoming a routinized facet of the tour-istic establishment of the Parador. Thus, a domestic image of control wasfashioned through this mother-father figuration which in turn was based ontheir gender, racial, ethnic, and regional identities as well as the discursivepractices they and the state deployed; while he was a figure detached fromthe Tianguis, she was to be, in her own words, the stern but sympatheticdisciplinarian who would "clean" and "put into order" the "house" and thenteach — again, in her own words — the indios, how to behave as properlycivilized petty entrepreneurs and civil citizens of the state.10

Here, then, in contrast to the idealized panopticon of Benthamite fan-tasy and Foucaultian analytics, the Tianguis as panopticon could not oper-ate with a nameless, generic and unmarked authority in the analog to the"central tower." The key difference is the obvious fact that the Tianguisis not a prison but a market in its architectural design, socioeconomic func-tioning, political agenda, and sociological contexts. Thus, to suggest that theTianguis be analyzed in terms of the model of the panopticon is to identifyand make intelligible a diagram of power that was put into operation inChichen. Specifically, a panoptical logic can be discerned in that the goalsof authority were not only to properly relocate, tabulate, distribute undersurveillance, and, thereby, control venders, but to re-socialize, from the per-spective of the state and its allies, these putatively child-like cultural othersto First World norms of economic behavior. The panoptical strategies andtactics when reworked and redeployed throughout the social fabric andconcentrated in institutions such as schools, invented delinquency in generalbut also in the plural: these mechanisms refashioned the differentiationsof the social body (and of social bodies) by working on historically givensociocultural differences of class, ethnicity, race, gender, community, andrevalorizing and rehierarchizing hetereogeneities all the while officially pre-tending to forge uniform citizens. Foucault himself does not elaborate onpluralization and multiplication of delinquency and deviance, but this essaydoes seek a detailed inspection of how the multiple, overlapping, and ulti-mately loose identities and differentiations of bodies facilitates and resiststhe construction of strategic or institutional power relations.

Therefore, before discussing the mechanisms of this project, I note theslippage between the racial and cultural marking of Maya venders thatwork to differentiate unruly bodies from the proper body of the provider oftouristic services. As foreign bodies invading the zone they are racially


marked as Indians that need to be expelled and controlled in the sense ofcontained and surveilled. As uncivilized Maya Indians they need to be con-trolled in the sense of retrained in the civilized ways of Western business soas to behave properly on their own. This duplicity is manifested in the am-bivalent rules of the Tianguis that seek on the one hand to radically indi-vidualize each vender as a private and autonomous economic agent throughthe elimination of customary work relations, use rights, sociality, and alli-ances; and, on the other hand, to maintain nonwestern facets of businessthrough the prohibition of employees, the attempt to eliminate commissionsand non-Yucatec Mexican artisanry, the rules against elaborate display ofmerchandise, and the privileging of the local artisan-producer over all otherethnic, class, and gender type of vender. Thus, an ambivalence in the rulesposition Maya venders as not quite white — to borrow from Bhabha; theinscription of this mimicry mechanism (see Bhabha 1994) hinges on thevacillation between the binary marking of race that is not ever white andcultural difference that might pass as if only properly trained. Here then is asource of the overdetermination of the body that first occupied the positionof Coordinadora whose job it was to domesticate the indios of Piste.

Six months after the inauguration of Tianguis and its disciplinary agenda,the dual authority was reduced to a single position which since then hasalways been held by a male with advanced degree and career in tourismbusinesses. Anthropologists, with the special knowledge of dealing with theracially, culturally and rural Other, have not been needed since this initialperiod of dislocation. Already "ex-" when I interviewed her, theCoordinadora identified the objectives and mission of her position, which Iparaphrase as: [I include as an appendix the set of rules formalized in therental agreement between CULTUR and the vendedores; I have keyedthese rules to my paraphrasing and synthesis of her statement of the goalsof authority.]"

1. To individualize venders and train them to act as autonomous agentsin the tourist market (see "Reglamientos del Tianguis" articles6,8,10,11,13,15a-g,16c,16d);

2.To domesticate vending practices according to a western ethic ofproperty and business and to eliminate the customary rights by whichvenders occupied the zone (see articles 3a, 11,15b, 16e, 16f, 16g);

3 .To effect a control of venders through the organization, arrangementand regulation of space, particularly the spaces of display and activi-ties (see articles 3 a, 11,15b, 16e, 16f, 16g);

4.To instill a consciousness of individual responsibility and rights through


the designation of one-to-one relations of functions between the "con-cessionaires" and CULTUR (see articles 10,13,15a-g);

5.To train venders to internalize a western aesthetic of responsibilitytowards the ecology and the ruins as cultural patrimony (see articles10,13,15b, 15f, 15g,16e,16f,16g);

6.To train venders to practice a self-surveillance or internalized policingof illegalities (see articles 15a, 15d, 15e, 15g);

7.To eliminate outsiders (nonlocal Maya) from among the venders andartisans as a way to prevent a re-invasion of the zone (see article 7);

8.To exclude non-Yucatec products from the merchandise sold, as wellthe venders that traffic in these, in order to purify Maya Culture in thetourist promotion of Yucatan (see articles 4,7; also see Diario deYucatan 1988).

Ironically, it would be through these duplicitous objectives that a "tradi-tional" market would be invented (see articles 3b,4,5,7) and managed forthe general good of the state and the interests of tourism (see articlesl,2,3a,3c,9,12,13,14,15a-g,16a-g,17,18,19).

Besides defining new obligations of behavior, the rules make illegal manyof the everyday activities of venders when they had sold inside the archeo-logical zone: playing games, eating food, selling food or beverage, bringingchildren to work, fighting, bringing personal/family problems to work, drink-ing alcohol, playing music, and hiring assistants. Other illegalities did nothave reference to previous practices since they pertained to the new archi-tectural context of selling: it was illegal to occupy more than one's allottedstall space to display merchandise; to put merchandise (usually blankets) onthe floor of the corridor; to hang bundles of dresses or T-shirts so as toblock the line of sight within corridors; and to modify or add any kind ofconstruction, such as shelves or poles, to the tables that might create avertical display. While in the abstract the "illegalization" of all these activi-ties would seem to apply to everyone equally, the crucial fact, however, isthat it did and does not. The illegalities, just as the merchandise being sold,are coded, under cover of homogeneity, by race, gender, class, and ethnicitysuch that specific venders are targeted but in a web of relations that linkedand touched everyone differently. The universalist law of homogenous powereffects was not quite a strategy of divide and conquer, since it was pre-cisely the fluid political divisions between venders that for five years effec-tively blocked various institutions of authority from enforcing state rule.Rather, it was a question and conscious strategy of resituating and reshap-


ing those divisions to break their fluid mobilizations of resistance to thestate: intra-vender antagonisms and alliances could not take the usual be-havioral forms, but were now channeled through these illegalities. And, inthe previous sentence I am less mixing my metaphors, than adequatelyrendering and implying the results of the clashes in this "civilizing process."

The history of the invasion is one of the occupation and fighting in, over,and through space. Whether to empty the spaces of tourist vision of thevenders or to occupy them with the display of one's own merchandise,space was the critical problem and object — as well as means ~ of strugglein the zone. Indeed, it is space or spatiality that articulates the two registersof war in this theatre of action: the archaeological construction of the entireplace of Chichen as a museum of representation is premised on the longdominant vision of Maya cities as "empty ceremonial centers." The en-forcement of this image of emptiness is necessary for many reasons. Themaintenance of the representation of a long dead and disappeared Indig-enous "patrimony" that attests to the integrity of modern Mexico is centralto the consumerism within both the tourist market and the theatre ofsociopolitical identities and action (see Himpele and Castaneda 1997). Thecorporeal presence of what is obvious to the tourist vision as poor, raciallymarked Indians disturbs not only the production of nationalist images ofMexico and Yucatan, the interests of private capital, the business and senseof propriety of the IN AH wardens, but the archaeological ly produced andtouristically consumed mystery of "lost Maya" (see Castaneda 1996:131-151).

Intimidation through verbal threats, vandalism, stealing, and violencewere the usual tactics both between venders and between them and theauthorities. With the imposition of civility in the Tianguis such tactics ofpower were strictly out of place. Instead, the venders would wage theirintense antagonisms through the policing of the illegalities of one's competi-tion. Instead of giving examples of "who did what" and "who ratted onwho," "and why" so as to trace the history of alliances and factions, I makea rough map of the way illegalities are coded to gender, class, ethnic, cul-tural, and racial marking of bodies and of commodities.

While some of the illegalities are gender coded -- playing games ormusic and drinking alcohol target males; bringing personal/family problemsto work target females ~ they are not particularly marked by ethnicity orclass.12 Religion and age, however, do weigh in here with regard to maleparticipation in music, games and drink. Others are marked by a triple cod-ing. For example, the prohibition of fighting might seem to be of generalbenefit. Yet, it is singling out primarily males and men of a specific class and


ethnic identity: the campesino artesanos13 whose wood carving machetesand knives had already seen action against the police. By the same token,the prohibition is gendered but also class and to a lesser degree ethnic basedgiven that there is both an economic need that compels mothers to bringchildren to the Tianguis to take of, or to, work and rejection of the value ofeducation and its double integration into national ethnic and class-culturalidentity. Similarly the prohibition of eating in booths targets the lower rankswithin the comer ciante class and the more traditionally Maya of the vend-ers, who cannot afford to buy food daily from the illicit roadside food stallsor give greater value to private/familial versus public food consumption.Cultural, more traditional and thus ethnically marked females who operatetheir own stalls without husbands and who bring working or nonworkingage children are the special target of this prohibition.14 Further, since Mayachildren are only loosely supervised, an unappreciative neighboring venderalmost by definition reports children as family problems brought into theTianguis, particularly since these bodies get into the way of the (flaneur)bodies of tourists strolling and scoping on artisanal display.15 These illegali-ties work on the civility of body behaviors and clearly target the culturalconsciousness of the racial-ethnic vender and of the lower class Maya.

The illegalities concerning stalls were consciously conceived as work-ing on the assumed unnatural class distinctions that had emerged amongvenders — unnatural, of course, because Folk Societies, especially whenethnically marked as Indians, do not have class differentiation (see Redfieldand Villa Rojas 1934; Castaneda 1995). As mechanisms that overtly seekto level class distinctions and promote the cultural Traditionalness of theTianguis in the practice of policing these illegalities, they only accomplishthe opposite; here gender is a secondary code. The artisans that entered theTianguis were given highly desired first stall on the condition that, first, theydo not sell other merchandise besides their own production; and, second,instead of individually "owning'Voperating the stall, the six artisans wererequired to rent the space communally, all in the name of "traditional," thecategorical purity of culturo-racial identity, and the economicunderprivilegedness of the pobre campesinos. The prohibitions againstextending one's display by modifying the stall table, putting things on thefloor, or by hanging items were explicitly conceived as a necessary mecha-nism that would help the poorer, lower class venders. The capital/commod-ity rich venders were not allowed to dominate the space of visual displaywith their products because this would "unfairly" conceal the merchandiseof those less fortunate (and 'iess capable"); I was told by the ex-Coordinadora that this kind of affirmative action was necessary so that


the indigenas could "catch up" with those dominant vender families thatwere not really Maya nor class disadvantaged peasants as evidenced fromtheir obviously successful entrepreneurship. To display one's merchandiseby filling up the visual field of the tourist was what everyone had alwayssought to do. Its "illegalization" made how and with what commodity onedid so become not just a mark of class (and gender) distinction, but of anintra-class struggle between venders and an ideologically charged "classstruggle" between comerciantes and artesanos in which the State hadsided "finally" with the exploited and ethnic peasant "against" the interestsof Capital. The ambivalences of correct training, then, sought to make thevendedores simultaneously more Traditional, but not really; less Maya, butnot exactly; more entrepreneurial, but never successfully.

The policing of the illegalities of one's neighbor effected a reshaping ofthe political alliances. However, the possibility of breaking up the old alli-ances was conditioned on the tactical deployment of these in space. Foralthough the alliances that had formed during the invasion were often builton the historically given family or kinship relationships of the venders, thelines of political affiliation and factioning was grounded in space. Thevendedores were all struggling to claim specific spaces to sell within thezone, these two or five meters along this path that led between this templeand that temple — that were already sociologically marked and claimedthrough usufruct by earlier invaders. Thus, as individuals inserted them-selves into this market, they had to rely upon their own personality, kinrelationships, friendships, and contacts in order to be allowed access tospace (any space). When a group that claimed a discrete area, or territoryif you will, within the site did not want yet another vender nearby, then awhole series of tactics — often violent and often microphysical16-- wereused to intimidate and expel the intrusive invader invading the invaders.These tactics were not always successful in compelling the newcomer tofind a different space; just as often the newcomer would gather all theirpsychological and physical strength to endure the fight and to assert theirrights to the use of space within the zone.

The relocation of the vendedores that had enlisted themselves to theTianguis was thus a tactical issue of great import. On the one hand, therewas the public facade of a lottery that would supposedly randomly allocatepersons to stalls. On the other hand, there was the dual fiction and reality ofthe public secret whereby certain factional leaders bought preselected stallspace from CULTUR. On the third hand (and the number of hands thatwere involved was precisely the issue that was debated among the vend-ers), strategic aims of power was to reshuffle persons in such a way as to


break up the historically formed alliances by dispersing them and inter-spersing factionalized venders. In the Tianguis, then, one's neighboringvender was no longer necessarily an ally (nor relative), but an enemy andthus the antagonisms of old were successfully channeled into policing. Al-though it took some time, the venders eventually overcame these divisiveconfrontations discussed above and became united in their protest to thelaw against the display of merchandise. In other words, slowly a conscious-ness spread of how rules and specifically the rule against shelving and ver-tical display were collectively not in vender interests. It is also the case thatsuch a rule is recognizably inappropriate within a social context that pre-tends toward democracy. Thus, "resistance" in the form of policing one'sneighbor shifted to overt rejection and noncompliance of state authority asembodied in CULTUR's rules that operated on that hinge of colonial mim-icry.

Many venders have suggested to me that it was vender complaintsabout this law and their direct political action in the form of noncompliancethat forced the state authorities to fire the first Coordinadora}1 Regard-less of the literal accuracy of this postulated causality, it seems that thismarks a shift in the form, organization, and style of political action on thepart of the venders; a shift to tactics that might now fall under a Scottianunderstanding of resistance. Thus, I would concur in one sense (perhapsironic sense) with the ex-Coordinadora's claim that she was not fired butreleased from her position because she had accomplished her mission, thestrategic mission of domesticating the venders and reshaping their politicalagency.

The firing/release of the Qx-Coordinadora and the vender assertion oftheir right to have shelving, then, can be comprehended less a sign of failureto domesticate than its success. This strategic phase of domestication thenworked in a metaphoric sense like an "exam" to gauge correct training (toinvoke the language of Discipline and Punish). It was a first step in theerasing of old factions and the injection of new discord. The illegality ofexcessive display was maintained long enough for the presence of the stateto be felt, but not long enough for individual complaints to mobilize intocollective action based on intense solidarity among the venders. Controlsought to collectivize the vender as economic actors, but individualize vend-ers as political agents.

This strategic goal is clear in another longer lasting "prohibition," one,however, which was never a "real," that is to say, written, rule. Accordingto some, the Qx-Coordinadora threatened expulsion from the Tianguisthose who, either as individuals or as a group, would pay commissions to


guides; whether accurate or not she certainly took steps that further en-trenched the idea that to enter into such business with the treacherous guidescould only have very negative consequences. Because guides had sidedwith the high commissions paid by handicraft store owners (both local andregional) during the invasion, there was an unshakable belief that they would"take" the vender payoff but not deliver the tourists.18 Ultimately it wasover this issue that the multiple vender factions were refigured into a binarypolitics: there were those who wanted to organize commissions and thosewho did not. This division is a cultural boundary between those who weresaid to be "uneducated" and those who identified as having an understand-ing of the (Western-capitalist) ways of the world. In the Mexican context,to be uneducated, sin preparacion, means to be racially Indian, economi-cally peasant or working class, culturally detached from the national soci-ety, and socioevolutionarily nonmodern. This quadruple coding of "not be-ing educated" resolves into a question of the consciousness of the individualthat allows or blocks the strategic and rationalized participation of individu-als in the economic games of modern, western capital. It is here then thatthe correct training of the indios sought to disable the vision of venders: toconcientizar as individualized agents, but not as ("true") entrepreneurs; toconcientizar as a class, but not as a collectivity that could mobilize unifiedaction either politically or economically.

The forced removal into the Tianguis resulted in an economic crisisdue to the loss of sales and, although a re-invasion was on everyone's lips,the breakdown of alliances due to the self policing of venders left the vend-ers without any coordinated responses. The near total demolition of theregional tourist industry by a hurricane in September 1988 triggered politicalreconfiguring into two groups. After a three week hiatus in the flow oftourist bodies, 600 tourists a day, at the most, began again to trickle throughChichen in the following months. In this context, some of the venders, dis-tinguished by their ethnic and economic class positions, sought to organize acommission. Most of the prominent leaders who organized this commissionalso happened to be women, females marked by the subtle class differ-ences as entrepreneurial. The attempt was crippled from the beginning byvender resistance to the leaders, to the guides, and, most significantly, to thesheer payment of a risky commission. The result was disastrous, which inturn feed further discord and polarization. Nonetheless, further attemptswere later and more successfully organized by those who were firmly com-mitted to the commissions game. And, in differentiating those who partici-pated in this politics of the economy, the discourse of denigrating those whofailed to join in the commissions aspersonas sin preparacion continued


and continues to be used. The comerciante use of this very old trope ofdepreciating the indio campesino, points out a duplicity in the colonialistdiscourse: it is not just in the center of "white," eurodescended culturalpower that the discursive depreciation of the Other is spoken, but also herein the peripheries of hegemony, the Other also denigrates the Self but onlyto differentiate internally according to subtle markers of power, class, be-longing, and gender. Yet, there is also an ambivalence in this discourse: it isan ambivalence or hinge of power that at once forces the Indian campesinoto be fixated in the image of lack (sin preparation) and at the same timethat therefore allows for this image of the Indian campesino in lack to beheld as the legitimization of action and the marker of self-identity in thecontext of negotiating the presence of the state. "There, over there, is theindio, not I." "There is the campesino," but also "'we' are allcampesinos"

And thus, this particular account of the story of the struggles of thecomerciantes and artesanos of the Tianguis of Chichen Itza ends herewith the polarization of the venders at a moment of first failure in the earlyfall of 1988. There are other stories to tell, but those are for another mo-ment.

conclusions: hegemony, resistance, tacticsThis historical account of a particular situation of struggle between a

numerically small group within a community and various governmental andpara governmental agencies of the state offers certain suggestions aboutthe ambivalences and duplicitous dynamics of power and resistance. This isa situation in which the localized group — which in a sense relative to theregional and national agents of political and economic power can be associ-ated with subaltern positioning — was able to carve a space of political andeconomic autonomy out of the order of things in the broad daylight of insti-tutional power and authority. During a five year period (1983-1987), mul-tiple governmental agencies were ineffective in establishing any structureof authority or control over the invading venders of food, beverage, andhandicrafts. A key reason the state was unable to forcefully assert its hege-mony through violence has everything to do with the particular territory inwhich the struggle occurred: a tourist attraction that had been enjoyingover 400,000 visitors a year since the 1980s. Given this constraint, the vari-ous governmental, private and paragovemmental agents sought a differentgambit based on a formal recognition of, and paternalist response to, the


needs of its citizens. Thus, in the name of complying with the governmentalcontract with the people, the state was able to offer a resolution in a maneu-ver that inserted its presence.

I have argued that the creation of the handicraft market at Chichen Itzawas strategically designed on principles of correct training within a panop-tical model of power. I make no claim about the uniformity and conscious-ness of the state in plotting and deploying a foucaultian or benthamite dia-gram of control. Rather, I suggest that this logic was forged piecemealthrough the pastiching of multiple vectors of power and intentions of par-ticular actors in the deployment of a more overt strategy based on the dislo-cation of the venders into a properly controllable marketplace. The disloca-tion of the invaders in turn was only possible when the state granted a viablealternative location for the conduct of their businesses. But, in truth, theinvasion was initially stimulated in 1983 and 1984 by the lack of state re-sponse to petitions requesting the construction of a marketplace by theweekly augmenting number of persons that began to dedicate themselvesto the sale of commodities at Chichen. From this historical angle, then, itwas the state that was "hailed," that is, called in to intervene and extend itsapparatus in this local arena of action. This reversal of the usual conceptionof state hegemony moving from center to the margins has much to do withthe way the Revolutionary Mexican nation-state has consolidated itself. Asrecent studies indicate, the Revolutionary apparatus was less imposed onregions and locales than beckoned into the "peripheral" zones of popularcultures/communities so as to enact situationally specific changes in landdistribution, stratification, or power dynamics (e.g., Joseph and Nugent 1994;Benjamin 1989; Mallon 1995). In other words, there is a need to also inves-tigate the forms of interpellation of the state by the "margins," since suchinterpellation is as much constitutive of hegemony as the "center's" willfulexpansion of itself.19 Hegemony, therefore, is less an "imposition" but atransregional dimension and extension of "local" and "popular cultures"that assumes particular modalities through the negotiation of the regionalcultures at their points of convergence in the "central" spaces of nationalculture20. Further, hegemony in this Foucaultian framework is forged by theparticular mechanisms and modalities of power that are multiply-modifiedand readapted within new institutional contexts.21

Interestingly enough, this kind of perspective, which has become fash-ionable in the 1990s, was suggested — although obviously within a differenttheoretical language — as long as 60 years ago by Redfield (see Redfieldand Villa Rojas 1934; Redfield 1950) when he defined the cultural integrityand social solidarity of "folk" communities precisely through the "progress"


of a rural Maya Indian community (i.e., the ethnographically famous andnearby Chan Kom) in terms of how "it" actively sought to integrate itselfinto the modern Mexican nation by an active pulling the arm of the Revolu-tionary apparatus into the community.22 The fable of the modernizing folksociety that is narrated in this Redfieldian "genre" of ethnography are writ-ten with this concern for the local agency and its incorporation of the state(see e.g., Friedrich 1986). Perhaps this ethnographic record could be re-read and its information reframed within the study of the nexus between a"top-down" and a "bottom-up" analysis of state formation.

In terms of the Tianguis, then, I have argued that installation of stateauthority in this particular theater of socioeconomic action, occurred througha complex process and tactical maneuvering of power relations. The statealready had legitimate authority in the space of the archeological and touristattraction of Chichen Itza. Not only do federal laws grant the INAH powerto maintain and protect cultural patrimony, but a 1985 negotiation betweenthe federal and state governments establish CULTUR as the institutionalauthority over touristic dimensions of the archeological site. Thus, a dualauthority structure that has a certain parallel to the ejido-civU village gov-ernments was created in the archaeologico-tourist zone. But, these authori-ties proved powerless in the face of the invasion. The forging of a powerthat would correspond to this authority began with the construction of anarchitectural modality of power relations oriented toward the control ofvenders. For the state, control, in the first case meant the creation of effec-tive mechanisms to regulate access to the legally defined zone of the ar-cheological site of tourism; and, in the second, to enforce norms of behaviorwithin the new space of selling handicrafts. But, not only was the expansionof state apparatus triggered locally, but I have argued that the taking root orthe territorial ization of the state within this space occurred through the self-policing of vendedores and their tactics of resistance. Resistance here isnot to authority per se or to legally and informally defined rules, but to theparticular new illegalities and disciplinary norms based in more general andpervasive — hegemonic, you will — discursive tropes and images of gender,racial, ethnic, and cultural identities.23 Thus, resistance here is not simplyand only a relation between a subordinated group against anothersuperordinate group or even a different competitive or antagonistic classsector (guides, INAH employees, or private capital); nor is it an oppositiontoward the economic system. Critical to the effectiveness of the self-polic-ing discipline was the prior and intense antagonisms between the multiplefactions of venders and artisans. Furthermore, resistance in theoretical termsis a relation of dissonance and friction between act and ideal, between


practice and order. In the same moment, practice that is prescribed byorder and that reproduces the fiction of hypostatic structure, forges disso-nance and difference in the repetition of practice and thus remakes order inthe form —to borrow Taussig's phrase — a nervous system of power andorder. It seems less appropriate to call "resistance" the general venderpractice to extend one's display beyond the legally permissible; this is overtand explicit refusal, rejection, and contestation of the state and its represen-tative, the Coordinadora — not the sly and concealed resistance of a "hid-den transcript." The vender rejection of the state was in the clear light ofday, whereas the policing and "ratting" on one's neighbors was the publicsecret. In the economic struggles, venders sought specific tactical manipu-lations in the extension of display and the policing of illegalities. In this dy-namic, then, the state is called in to assert its authority, to flex its power, inthe particular struggles between individual venders having apleito or fightwith another very specific individual. This "resistance" which is directed toone's neighboring competitors and the tactics of power are the negotiationof everyday social relationships, not class warfare nor struggles againststate domination or the hegemony of nonlocal agents. However, the tacticalmanipulations of power and terms of its discourse, the content of the ille-galities, and the modality of the panoptical arrangements are nonethelessforged in class, ethnic, racial, gender, and cultural antagonisms and identi-ties that are embodied and lived.

Ultimately, however, the authority of the state — of CULTUR, as agoverning force in the Tianguis — is tenuous and without control in thestrong sense of the word. The disciplining of venders has its limits and thislimitation of state power is based on a number of factors. An importantconstraint, no doubt, is that the theater of politics and social relations isconstructed not on the power of the wage but on the competitive relationsbetween petite bourgeoisie and between these rural entrepreneurs andtransregional capital.24 But, just as important as a leverage against a "top-down" imposition of power (call it domination) by the state is the threat ofthese now "civilized" venders to again become unruly and re-invade thezone. In the absence of a thorough police and/or military presence, the zonewill always be vulnerable to infiltration by the cancerous indios. It is thisthreat that places an effective limit on the state's authority to a seamless,weightless, routinized control over the vendedores. In turn, this power isbased on the general socioeconomic context of tourism and the interna-tional profile of Chichen Itza as a tourist attraction. Indeed, in 1993 anotherinvasion began by a new group of comerciantes and artesanos; they werejoined immediately by most of the Tianguis, who again argued to the state


authorities that they too will invade the zone until the non-Tianguis invadersare forcibly and permanently removed. In turn, by physically invading thearcheological zone, this new group of vendedores sought leverage in theirpetitioning of the state and federal government (CULTUR and INAH) tobuild them a new handicraft market where they could have a proper placeto sell. They protested their exclusion from the right to access the marketspaces of the tourist zone. In turn, the Tianguis invaders, argued that untilthe government satisfied the rights of the new group, these new of invaderswere upsetting their own rights by their infraction of the legally sanctionedand long-negotiated order of things. No doubt a handy excuse to betterposition oneself for greater economic gain. It should be noted as well, thatamong the new group of invaders, including its leadership, are persons whoonce rented stalls in the Tianguis but that had been expelled by the state forfailure to pay rent and other activities deemed illegal by the CULTUR con-tract. In other words, communities and sectors of communities activelycreate crises, that is, disruptions in the order of things, as triggers by whichto propel the state from it inertia and ask it to extend itself in new ways intothe everyday life of the community.

In response to the second invasion that began in 1993, and again afterunfortunate and unsuccessful incidents of violent force, the state finally didenter into negotiations for a new handicraft market. These occurred through-out the spring and summer of 1995. A resolution seemed to have beenreached in August, when the INAH, CULTUR, the new invaders, and aprivate capitalist who apparently owns part of the archeological site agreedupon the location of a new market and a financial plan to pay for its con-struction.25 Although its completion was projected by the end of 1995, thecomerciantes and artesanos continued their invasion in the anticipation ofa second handicraft market (see Diario de Yucatan 1996).

Appendix: "reglamento normativo paraconcesionarios del tianguis de chichen itza'

[CULTUR Document provided by CULTUR]I.Capitulo I: Del Objeto.1 )Articulo El presente reglamento tiene por objeto establecer la

normatividad del uso de concesiones del Tianguis de ChichenItza, para coordinar la administracion, proteccion,aprovechamiento, mantenimiento y vigilancia de dicho Tianguis.


2) Articulo El presente reglamento encuentra fundamentacion en elacuerdo de Coordination y Cooperation suscrito el 18 deMarzo de 1985, entre el Gobierno del Estado de Yucatan, laSecretaria de Turismo, el Instituto National de Antropologia eHistoria y el Fondo National de Fomento al Turismo.

3) Articulo Los objectivos generates a los que se ajustaran losconcesionarios son:

(a) El adecuado mantenimiento, conservation, protection, vigilianciay limpieza de las areas concesionadas, conforme aloslineamientos y supervision del Patronato.

(b) El fomento y desarrollo de actividades artesanales relacionadacon la difusion y conocimiento de los valores historicos de laCulturaMaya.

(c) La operation eficiente que permita la generation de recursos sedestinara a coadyuvar los objetivos antes mencionados.

//. Capitulo II: De la Operation.l)Articulo El Patronato dara a su juicio la concesion de los locales

comerciales tomando en cuenta la disposition de los interesadospara la promotion de artesanias.

2) Articulo Los locales comerciales a los que se refiere el articuloanterior, solo podra destinarse al comercio de articulos com-patibles con la funcion del Tianguis, tales como, artesanias,indumentaria tipica, grabados, pirograbados, pinturas, etc.,especialmente las artesanias producidas en el Estado de Yucatan,quedando estrictamente prohibida la venta y el consumo dealimentos en el Tianguis.

3)Articulo Las concesiones de los diferentes locales comerciales,solo podran otorgarse a personas fisicas, de nacionalidadMexicana.

4)Arn'culo Los locales comerciales se concesionaran preferentementea: (i)avecindados de la zona; (ii) productores de artesanias de laregion; (iii) y en general, a aquellas personas cuyas actividadesconsidere el Patronato conveniente para el mejor funcionamientodel Tianguis.

5)Articulo Los concesionarios solo lo podran ser por un local


comercial, aclarandose de que si se le sorprendiere que directao indirectamente tiene dos 6 mas, se le retirara inmediatamentela concesion otorgada.

6)Articulo Los concesionarios deberan sujetarse a la propuesta delPatronato, para el acondicionamiento uniforme de los localescomerciales para entrar en operacion; en el entendido que parafuturo, los cambios de acondicionamiento o rediseno de los lo-cales comerciales, deberan ser autorzados por el Patronato.

7)Articulo A cada concesionario le corresponde mantener yconservar en el mismo buen estado el local comercial que recibio,asi como la limpieza del mismo y sus alrededores.

8)Articulo Los concesionarios tendran que sujetarse a los espaciosaprobados por el Patronato, para el desarrollo de susactividades, y por ningun motivo invadiran areas destinados aotros usos.

9)Articulo Los dependientes no podran portar por ningun motivoarmas, ni almacenar en los locales comerciales ningun tipo desubstancias toxicas y/o productos corrosivos o flamables,incluyendo velas o veladores.

10)Articulo La vigilancia de los locales comerciales y la limpieza delas areas colectivos como los banos y pasillos, correran porcuenta de los concesionarios, previo acuerdo bilateralestre estosy el Patronato.

11 )Articulo Queda establecido que los horarios para la operacionde los locales comerciales, seran las que fije el Patronato deacuerdo a la operacion general del sitio arqueologico y de launidad de servicios culturales y turisticos. Para el abastecimientode las mercancias del Tianguis, se hara por las tardes, los dias[...left in blank]

IILCapitulo HI: De las Obligaciones y Sansiones.1 )Articulo Las obligaciones de los concesionarios seran:(a) Destinar el local comercial exclusivamente a los usos y actividades

autorizados por el Patronato, teniendo en cuenta que para talefecto queda prohibido la contratacion de empleados, la estanciade menores de edad en el local comercial y meno en actividades


de atenci6n al turismo.(b) Conservar el local comercial en su estructura orginal, sin alterar

lapintura, fachada, logotipos, letreros e instalaciones electricas,etc., aprobados por el Patronato.

(c) Pagar puntualmente las cuotas fijadas y en su caso, las que sedeterminen para mantenimiento en general.

(d) Informar al Patronato o a la instancia que determine este, decualquier anomalia que se presente en el Tianguis y susalrededores.

(e) Permitir a la instancia que designe el Patronato, el acceso paravisitas de inspection a los locales comerciales, para verificar elcumplimiento de este reglamento y las condiciones impuestasen las consesiones respectivas.

f) Devolver el local comercial en las mismas condiciones en que fuerecibido, al termino de la concesion o cuando sea revocada porel Patronato.

(g) Observar buena conducta y asistir en estado conveniente.2)Articulo Son causas de revocation de las concesiones, las

siguientes:(a) Dar uso distinto al local del autorizado.(b) Dejar de cumplir con las condiciones impuestas en las concesiones

o con lo dispuesto en este reglamento.(c) El incumplimiento del pago de tres mensualidades o las cuotas

establecidas.(d) Enagenar o transmitir por cualquier titulo parcial o totalmente,

transitorio o permanente, los derechos derivados de lasconcesiones reprectivas.

(e) La instalacion en los locales comerciales de cualquier aparatoelectrico sin la autorizacion del Patronato.

(f) La venta de productos en sitios distintos al Tianguis dentro de lazona arqueologica, incluyendo terceras personas; asi como laventa de productos cuya manufactura contenga materiales odespojos de arboles conocidos como "pich" y "chaca,"carateristicos de la zona.

(g) Asistir bajo los efectos del alcohol, de alguna droga o enervantey realizar actos en contra de los miembros y las propiedades del


Tianguis.3)Articulo Las infracciones que se cometan a las disposiciones de

este reglamento, seran sancionadas por el Patronato, quiensenalara segiin la gravedad del caso, las medidas deamonestacion y correctivas conducentes.

4)Articulo De igual manera, la revocation de la concesion seradictada por el Patronato, previa notification; y la resolution querevoque la concesion deberaexpresar las razones y jutificacionesde tal decision.

IV. CapituloIV: Transitorios.1 )Articulo Las acciones no descritas en el presente Reglamiento,

seran sancionadas por el Patronato, con el espiritu de una agil yeficiente operation de la Unidad de Servicios Culturales yTuristicos de Chichen Itza.

notes1 See Kearney's (1996) dismantling of the concept of peasant for my quoted use of the

word. In short, he takes apart both the Redfieldian and the Wolfian pillars on which this houseof cards has sat in the anthropological imagination. The term retains some minimal viabilitywhen referring to those that maintain a certain style of consumption but they have been doingso only via diversified relations to production that are so complex that our theoretical nets havenot been able to capture the specificity of the referent. This essay lends further support toKearney's work. Regarding labor migration to Cancun see Re Cruz (1996) and the full specialsection of the Diario de Yucatan (1988).

2 For elaboration on my position vis-a-vis the anthropology/sociology of tourism litera-ture see Castafieda (1996). Crick (1989) provides a very useful if now dated review of theresearch trends within this literature.

3 It seems clear that the road served an ideological function although differently valuedfrom the Angloamerican versus the Mexican and Yucatec perspectives. From all three angles,the road demarcated the historical fact of central Mexican hegemony over things Yucatec andthings Maya (see Castafieda 1996: chapter 3; Jones 1995/6).

4 In the colonial period Pistd was an Indian community and Chichdn was a cattle and maizproducing hacienda. The Caste War (1847-1902) destroyed the hacienda, but a few familiescame to live there as workers for Edward Thompson, U.S. Consulate to Yucatan, when he boughtthe property so as to conduct "archeological" explorations of the Sacred Cenote (RamirezAznar 1990). The Hacienda Chichdn was again abandoned during the Revolution, but resettledby the employees of the Monumentos Prehispanicos, i.e., the institutional precursor to theINAH. In this sense, Chichdn was a Yucatec/Maya settlement in the 19th century, but a "Mexi-can" settlement in the 20th.

5 The decision to close the road was part of a specific development project for themunicipio or county of Tinum, in which Pist6 and Chichdn Itza are located. This project in turnwas part of the state governments initiative to assess and attend to the needs of all the municipios(see Gobierno de Estado 1982a, 1982b).


6 The most comprehensive study of Cancun and regional tourism to date is Garcfa deFuentes (1979); but also see Re Cruz (1996) on questions of work migration between YucatecMaya villages and Cancun and Castafleda (1996) for a general framing of Yucatec tourist region.

7 Besides the published study of the invasion by the Yucatec INAH anthropologists (PerazaL6pez et al. 1987). there is an important study of the touristic microregion centered on Pistdand Chich6n Itza (Peraza L6pez and Rej6n Patr6n 1989). Additionally, there is an account ofthe invasion by a prominent artisan vender in Castafleda (1991). Further, there is an historicalaccount in fragments furnished by the local newspaper (see e.g., Diario de Yucatan 1988; Burgos1988).

8 SECTUR refers to the federal Secretaria de Turismo which has a central branch and stateoffices; it is the agency in charge of regulating tourist businesses and activities in terms of theirlegal relationships, their interface with tourists, and normative performance. FONATUR refersto Fondo National de Turismo and is the federal agency that oversees and coordinates capitalinvestment in tourist industries.

9 I should also be noted that women have played an important role in Yucatec tourism inthe 1980s. For most of the decade a woman has held the position of director in at least one ofthe three different state level tourism agencies (the State Office of SECTUR, the State levelDepartemento de Turismo, and CULTUR). The first Director of CULTUR actually held theexecutive office of all three during one governorship and maintained her position in CULTURduring subsequent governors. Her direct under secretary was also a woman ~ and, according tothe public secret, or gossip, her lover. Incidentally, the section of social anthropology of theYucatec branch of the INAH is composed of four women and two men; in contrast, the field ofarcheology is dominated by males. I could only but do not speculate why these two differentfields seem to be or have been women oriented. It also turns out that while artisanry productionin Piste is a male occupation, commerce in handicrafts seems "equally" male and female. Aswell, Maya of both genders have assumed important leadership roles in their political mobiliza-tions; such leadership, however, is ethnically marked by class-ethnicity in that leaders arerelatively higher In class positioning (in terms of possession of capital and consumer lifestyle atleast) and culturally "less" Maya. The correlation of education to leadership is somewhatambivalent. On the one, educated persons — or rather those persons who completed studieswith a degree in any kind of profession or vocation — are primarily male and also generally notinterested in or trusted enough to seek and attain successful leadership roles. Nonetheless,leaders are more educated in the sense that, while not "successful" students according to theabove criteria, they have undergone a more successful degree the socialization process of thenational educational system. The correlates to their having a certain kind of "ethnic" markingor distinction that locates them in a different socio-cultural space than the traditional Mayawhose lifestyle and economy is still linked to agricultural or milpa production.

10 I have no evidence of intention and am not making an assertion about the intentions ofthe persons involved in the decision making process. However, I am noting that whetherfortuitous or consciously strategic, one can identify a cultural logic of power that has beenidentified by others in other historical and social situations. For example, see Haraway (1989)in her critical deconstruction of the semiotics of power that saturate the work and representa-tions of Jane Goodall. Woman as closer to nature is comprehended as the more adequate if notmost appropriate go-between when the desired relations between human races or human-pri-mate species is one of "harmony" in which the substantific exchange is that of mediation ofpower. A different example is Greenblatt's (1991) analysis of the configuration of Malinche asgo-between in the Spanish Conquest of the Mexica.

11 More than one commentator of this essay has suggested direct quotation here. Unfortu-nately, this information was communicated in a conversation that was not framed or conductedas an interview; thus, the only data I have are already schematically and synthetically writtennotes made the next day. More importantly, my analysis does not require the use of representedrhetoric, discourse, or dialogue from actors as "evidence" or "data" for my argument. Myanalysis is of relationships rooted in space and actions, not words. It may be the case that quotedtext could provide my argument the rhetorical illusion of having greater authority and validity;but, such a representational device would be a trick of "I was there" that is not convenient to mytheoretical vision of ethnography.


12 Although heavy use of alcohol is a strong tendency of the artisanos as a whole, theartisanos who entered the Tianguis do not drink at or arrive drunk to work. There is a differentgroup of male comerciantes that are understood to have a "drinking problem." On drinkingamong the Maya in another context, see Eber (1995).

13 I have not heard of stories of any physical fighting between women vendors. There isonly one story in which two women had such an antagonism that it could have led to fighting;but this was a situation between a wife and a lover, one being a tour guide and the other being amerchant. Fighting among all sexes/genders however is a dominant theme in the history of tourguides. For example, there is one woman who, from certain perspectives, has terrorized bothmales and females with her penchant to "steal" tourists and to physically fight other guides, bothmale and female, if protests about such an event turn into a scuffle. In the early 1980s she pulleda knife on another female guide and broke her arm by throwing her off a sidewalk (raised two feetoff the ground).

With regard to the artisans, there is a more scandalous secretive but public history offighting. First, artisans are typically "peasants" socialized with a strong masculinist attitudetoward the defense of their honor/integrity. Second, as artisanos they are armed with themachetes and knives they use to carve their wood and stone figures. The non-physical fightingof women is categorically (i.e., culturally) not "fighting" but "personal" or "family problems,"which is not identified with, nor coded to, class or ethnicity except through specification ofactors and events. Further, children "as problems" and drinking "as problems" are also sex/gender coded.

14 Likewise, the "illegalization" of the sale of food and beverage primarily targeted a groupof poor, Indian women with no capital to enter into the more lucrative commerce in handi-crafts. These itinerant vendors however did not come under the vendor policing, since theywere not competition, but rather a supplier of products that everyone would find necessary.These women however, were especially the target of the police since they presented to thetourist that aesthetically unappealing poverty and underdevelopment associated with the ThirdWorld.

15 On the tourist stroll and gaze, see Urry (1990), MacCannell (1976) but also critiques byVeijola and Jokinen (1994) and Castafleda (1996: chapter 7).

16 This is not the place to digress into a long listing of such tactics, but these were referredto in Spanish by the verbs "to prick" (picar) and "to screw" ("chingar") and indicated thevarious bodily, gestural, and linguistic ways of making life in its smallest detail an unpleasant andaggravated experience.

17 Others, including the ex-Coordinadora, say instead that it had to do with her effectivelobbying on behalf of the vendors to outlaw the sale of artisanry by the INAH cooperativebusiness inside the zone. The fact that the INAH was allowed to sell handicrafts at their palapawas always a ready legitimator of reinvasion, especially in the context of the radical loss of salesthat accompanied the move into the Tianguis. Thus, her job was the price she paid forsuccessfully negotiating with the INAH central offices to restrict the INAH wardens to the saleof postcards, books, beverage, and food.

18 The problematic of commissions in the Tianguis is dealt with in Castafleda (1991:chapter 10).

19 The penchant of indigenous communities of colonial and later periods to mobilizemillenarian movements of "rebellion" around the appropriation of saints and virgins can also beunderstood as a form of this interpellation of the state in which the renegotiation of transregionalstructures of political power and authority are sought (see Florescano 1994; Gosner 1992;Gruzinski 1989; Rus 1994). The basic point here is both that the Indian/peasant vision doesindeed extend beyond the patria chica and that transregional forms of govemmentality are asmuch constituted in the peripheries than as in the "center." See Mallon (1995) for a relatedargument and how this ties into a long history of urban/bourgeoisie denigration of peasantregardless of their ethnic/racial identity.

20 Lomnitz-Adler (1995) has recently phrased this idea as the "dialectics of opposition andappropriation between state agencies and various collectivities" (p. 42); see also his insightfulanalysis of the articulations of localist, regional, and national cultural spaces (Lomnitz-Adler1992).


21 Sec Smart (1986) for a comparison of notions of hegemony within Gramsci that are alsoimplied within Foucault. Also see Bennett's (1995) excellent discussions of exhibitionary insti-tutions and their disciplinary mechanisms.

22 Of course this "lesson" from Redfield could only be gotten by sifting through hisparticular ideological and theoretical framing of the Chan Kom cacicazgo (see Castafieda 1995).But, see Friedrich (1986, 1977) whose more elaborated political history can be read as anillustration of how the politics and leaders of a small community bring the state into play locallyand thus work to constitute the national image of community and the transregional apparatus ofthe state.

23 See Gal (1995) for a useful critical commentary of Scott's notion of resistance and theconceptual-theoretical essays by Sayer, Roseberry, Knight, Joseph and Nugent in Joseph andNugent (1994) for a generally positive promotion of the Scottian model of resistance.

24 I use transregional here as short hand for regional, national and international.25 The land on which the archaeological site of Chichdn Itz£ is located was owned as part

of a cattle and maiz hacienda in the 19th century. This hacienda was bought by an American,Edward Thompson, in the beginning of the 20th century. After the Mexican Revolution theproperty was held up in court while Thompson was on trial for stealing the cultural patrimonyof the nation. During this time, the Barbachano family bought the property not only fromThompson, but apparently also from the government. It is the exact details of this landownership that are publicly unknown and in question today.

25 The land on which the archaeological site of Chichdn Itz£ is located was owned as partof a cattle and maiz hacienda in the 19th century. This hacienda was bought by an American,Edward Thompson, in the beginning of the 20th century. After the Mexican Revolution theproperty was held up in court while Thompson was on trial for stealing the cultural patrimonyof the nation. During this time, the Barbachano family bought the property not only fromThompson, but apparently also from the government. It is the exact details of this landownership that are publicly unknown and in question today.

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