Patrimonialization and Ethno Cultural Management in Kyrgyzstan and Mexico Two Contrasting Policies

Heritage & Society
ISSN: (Print) (Online) Journal homepage: https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/yhso20
Patrimonialization and Ethno-Cultural
Management in Kyrgyzstan and Mexico: Two
Contrasting Policies
Anath Ariel de Vidas & Ruslan Rahimov
To cite this article: Anath Ariel de Vidas & Ruslan Rahimov (2022): Patrimonialization and EthnoCultural Management in Kyrgyzstan and Mexico: Two Contrasting Policies, Heritage & Society,
DOI: 10.1080/2159032X.2022.2127176
To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/2159032X.2022.2127176
Published online: 13 Oct 2022.
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HERITAGE & SOCIETY
https://doi.org/10.1080/2159032X.2022.2127176
RESEARCH ARTICLE
Patrimonialization and Ethno-Cultural Management in
Kyrgyzstan and Mexico: Two Contrasting Policies
Anath Ariel de Vidasa and Ruslan Rahimovb
a
CERMA-Laboratoire Mondes Américains, CNRS-EHESS, Paris, France; bAnthropology Department, Division of
Social Sciences, American University of Central Asia, Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan
ABSTRACT
ARTICLE HISTORY
Despite the significant contextual differences between seminomadic herders in Kyrgyzstan and sedentary peasants in Mexico,
a comparative study, based on ethnographic fieldwork, of the
impact of patrimonialization on the two groups reveals similar
processes of heritage marking. However, within this similarity this
cross-analysis identifies two contrasting modes of domination
that occur as a result of this analogous heritage process. By
examining the local application of the heritage concept, as well
as the connections that exist between the type of society, its
history and the ethno-cultural management at work, this paper
demonstrates how patrimonialization can stimulate divergent
political mechanisms in the relationship between the State and
the social groups concerned.
Received 2 August 2020
Accepted 8 July 2022
KEYWORDS
Patrimonialization;
indigenousness; Mexico;
Kyrgyzstan; ethno-cultural
management; tourism;
ethnicity; Nationalism
Introduction
Patrimonialization, the process by which a society’s emblematic objects and cultural practices are enshrined in accordance with ideological and political fluctuations, has been the
subject of numerous studies over the last two decades. These studies have examined the
social context and symbolic and political processes that govern the attribution of heritage
status, and the effects thereof. Their aim has been to understand the motivations of the
parties involved, the operations of heritage institutions, the role of heritage stakeholders
(museums, nature reserves, associations, communities, NGOs, etc.), and the social function
of locally designated and operated heritage. While the notion of heritage may not be universal (Ben Hounet, Brisebarre, and Guinand 2016; Heinich 2009), and remains relative and
context-dependent, the same operational processes of patrimonialization seem to recur
in distinct cultural environments. According to Jean Davallon (2006), the same series of
successive operations is always required before an object, site, or cultural practice can
be deemed worthy of heritage status: recognition, selection, justification, declaration,
appropriation, exposition, and public communication. Each step in this process is
marked by actors and institutions that intervene with their own objectives, strategies,
and methods, which invariably involve either continuity or break with the past based
on various, not always mutually compatible political decisions. Yet even though these
CONTACT Anath Ariel de Vidas
France
[email protected]
© 2022 Informa UK Limited, trading as Taylor & Francis Group
CERMA-Laboratoire Mondes Américains, CNRS-EHESS, Paris,
2
ANATH ARIEL DE VIDAS AND RUSLAN RAHIMOV
processes of heritage marking seem to follow the same pattern in different contexts,
despite potential differences in local conceptions of heritage, it is possible to assume
the outcomes would vary according to geographical, social, cultural, and historical
context. Begging the question: do these institutional policies adhere to the same logics
when it comes to the populations whose practices or objects are being so “marked”? In
other words, what can heritage policies tell us about the relationship between those in
power and the social groups affected?
To answer this, the article will examine two case studies on patrimonialization. Beyond
the observed similarities and differences in this process between semi-nomadic herders in
Kyrgyzstan and sedentary peasants in Mexico, it will show how the connection between
the type of society and its history; the relationship between the heritage object and the
power structure into which it fits; the type of notions surrounding heritage and where
they come from; and local applications of ideas of heritage and indigenousness; reveal
the fundamentally dissimilar institutional logics governing ethno-cultural management
in each country. Thus, the comparison of the involved heritage policies identifies institutional mechanisms driven by contrasting relationships between the State and indigenous groups.
Each case is presented in turn, providing a brief historical contextualization of the
relationship between the political regime and the populations concerned. This is followed
by an ethnographic presentation of each case study, and an analysis of the patrimonialization process, and the discourses and practices of the actors involved. This article is
based on the long-term field experiences of its authors, in Kyrgyzstan and Mexico, complemented by 2-week visits to each other’s respective study sites in 2015 and 2016. The
paper compares the conclusions that can be drawn from the institutional policies surrounding prevailing heritage practices in each example. By identifying the similarities
and differences between the two cases, this article underlies how the institutional exploitation of cultural particular traits that seems a priori analogous in the two countries in fact
reveals opposing political objectives. Thus, this analysis highlights the specific nature of
ethno-cultural management in each of these societies.
Historical Background and Case Studies
Kyrgyzstan
Sedentarization of Pastoral Nomadic Groups
The Kyrgyz people emerged from different nomadic tribes, of mostly Turkic-speaking
origin, coming out of Siberia and the Tian Shan mountains (Abramzon 1990). Their emergence as an organized group dates back to the formation of the Karakhanid state in the
9th century (Karaev 1983; Osmonov 2007) and its conquest by a Mongolian tribe in the
twelth century. By then and throughout the fifteenth century, a single confederation of
tribes was formed on the territory of modern Kyrgyzstan, which spoke the Turkic
language, shared a common culture and professed Islam (Bartold 1894; Mokeev 2010;
Osmonov 2007). From 1825–1830, Kyrgyz nomads came under the rule of the Kokand
state, but its power was nominal and unequal if one considers the southern and northern
parts of Kyrgyzstan. At the same time, the severe fiscal policy, inter-clan struggles of
certain Uzbek dynasties over the territory and the constant warfare of the Kyrgyz elite
HERITAGE & SOCIETY
3
prompted the Kyrgyz people to seek a protectorate from Tsarist Russia. In 1865, the
administrative region of Turkestan (current Central Asia) was established as part of the
Russian Empire, integrating the Kyrgyz populations (Allworth 1967; Ploskih 1995).
It is in this context that the Russian and then, from 1917 the Soviet, administrations
created ethnic and national categorizations that provided the general basis for the
definition of “Kyrgyz” today. Kyrgyz nomadic lifestyle was “Orientalized” and labeled as
pre-modern survivals in both regimes (Bacon 1966; Khalid 2007; Schimmelpenninck van
der Oye 2010). Ensuing Sovietization policies replaced the Arabic alphabet with Cyrillic,
and implanted Russian schools, social infrastructures, industrial plants, and ethnographic
museums (local cultures being seen as part of a bygone era). For the Soviet government,
Sovietization and collectivization could only be carried out once the Kyrgyz nomadic
herders had been forcibly sedentarized (Jacquesson 2004) as being part of Soviet modernity meant fighting traditionalism (Turaeva 2018). Under the collectivization reforms of
the late 1920s and early 1930s, the pastoral way of life was subsumed into the agricultural
unit of the kolkhoz aimed at rationalizing and streamlining production (Jumanaliev 1994;
Osmonov 2007). However, sedentarization was not just imposed from above. Many
members of the Soviet Kyrgyz elite willingly complied, while many pastoral nomads
also abandoned their way of life to benefit from the modernizing improvements of electricity and other infrastructures. As such, these processes radically influenced the traditional life of pastoral Kyrgyz people, instigating profound changes in values and
perspectives on life arrangements, and altering societal structures, with, among others,
tribal leaders losing their traditionally crucial role in the social hierarchy (Bacon 1966).
Some authors argue that the Soviet regime precisely institutionalized traditional Kyrgyz
social and political structures within a state regulatory framework, giving rise to “neo-traditional” administrative and economic patterns (Rasanayagam, Beyer, and Reeves 2014).
This approach has gradually formed the basis for the contemporary Kyrgyz conceptualizations of heritage and its conservation (Pyburn 2018).
In 1991, after some 70 years of Soviet rule, Kyrgyzstan gained its independence, a result
of the Soviet Union’s collapse rather than through negotiation or political struggle.
Russian is nonetheless recognized as the official language alongside the Kyrgyz language
and the Soviet era is widely acknowledged as a period of progress for the country
(Osmonov 2007). Although the national narrative put forward the civic criterion of
belonging to the country, “place for all”, this overlapped with ethnic referents according
to which Kyrgyzstan is the state of the Kyrgyz (ethnic) people (Laruelle 2012). Yet the citizens of the Kyrgyz Republic are not exclusively “ethnic Kyrgyz” (in the 1989 census, the
latter constituted only a small majority); they include all those that have occupied this
social area since the nineteenth century (Uzbeks, Russians, Ukrainians, etc.). As in other
Central Asian countries, the issue of Kyrgyz ethnocentric authoritarianism contributed
to the weakness of state management of ethnic plurality (Isaacs and Polese 2015). It
was followed by the exodus of other than “ethnic Kyrgyz” groups in reaction to the
ethno-nationalist discourse. The subsequent process of nation-building has then seen
Kyrgyz nomadic heritage thrust into the foreground, in defiance of the associations
with underdevelopment and uncouthness that it had acquired under the previous
regime (Reichi 2016).
Institutional policies towards the past and cultural heritage were developed in which
the “ethnic Kyrgyz” predominate. In 1995, the celebration of the millennium of the Epic of
4
ANATH ARIEL DE VIDAS AND RUSLAN RAHIMOV
Manas (a poem consisting of half a million lines that depicts the story of the mythical hero
who, with the 40 leaders of the Kyrgyz nomadic clans, succeeded after several battles in
unifying the Kyrgyz people) provided the platform for the new government of independent Kyrgyzstan to introduce and legitimate this ethnic Kyrgyz-centric history and culture
as belonging to the nation (It should be noted, however, that Manas does not exclusively
constitute Kyrgyz heritage, belonging as it does to the cultures of other Central Asian
populations). This Manasification process, which created an ethno-nationalist discourse
that excluded those of non-Kyrgyz ethnicity (Pétric 2015; Wachtel 2013), saw the erection
of a majestic statue of Manas astride his mythical horse in Bishkek, joined by many other
legendary equestrian statues across the country (Ferret 2011; Cassidy 2009). Competition
for political legitimacy has prevented any convergence between this mythical figure and
religious references to the ancient Turkic-Mongol god Tengri promoted by some nationalists. This movement for the “ethnicization of the divine”, which portrayed Kyrgyz Muslim
tradition as a foreign faith, was part of a renewal of identity after independence, although
it remained marginal from the political mainstream (Kurbanova 2008; Laruelle 2007). Pastoral and nomadic cultural practices gained more prominence, and 2010 was declared by
the Kyrgyz government as the “Year of Nomadic Civilization and Cultural Heritage”. The
traditional horse game of Kok boru was declared a national game (It was also inscribed
in 2017 on UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity),
and a combination of ideological and economic motivations for a nomadic revival led to
the organization of the Nomadic World Games, held regularly since 2014. Facing this
polarizing political rhetoric that privileges nomadism as the only source of identification
with the national heritage, Anne Pyburn (2018) describes a citizens’ initiative (that also
involves Uzbek individuals) to present in community museums and educational programs
a more complex and broader Kyrgyz past that would also include archaeological remains
and bronze Age petroglyphs.
However, the official discourse of Kyrgyz heritage remains centered on nomadism.
These patrimonialization efforts have occurred at a time when the pastoral-nomadic
way of life has largely disappeared, and thus carry significant symbolic and political
weight. In this way, the ambivalence regarding nomadic heritage, as backward on the
one hand, and a source of patriotic identification on the other coupled with an
opening up to foreign capital and the transition from a “planned society to a project
society” (Jumanaliev 2002; Pétric 2015). This process allowed NGOs specialized in the
development of ecotourism to capitalize on Kyrgyz nomadic heritage, targeting “rustic”
tourists in search of nature experiences in their “purest forms” (according to one tourist
flyer).
Private Ecotourism Projects Around Lake Son-Kul
Located in the geographic and symbolic heart of the country, the Naryn region in the Tian
Shan mountains of Kyrgyzstan surrounds the high-altitude Lake Son-Kul, which sits 3,016
meters above sea level and covers 278 km2. Archaeological remains of this lake area
encircled by snow-capped peaks, including burial mounds, stone monuments, and
stone hearths attest to its past importance as a meeting place for many tribes. Some
locals today still tell legends about the lake that allude to its sacredness.
The area provided grazing lands of national importance during the Soviet period.
Today, a nature reserve (Karatal-Japyryk) makes up a considerable part of it, protected
HERITAGE & SOCIETY
5
by the government, which includes a bird sanctuary, a fishery zone, yurt camps, and
ranches. Approximately 200 families from across the Naryn region, who farm in the
valley and live in mud-brick houses, sojourn each year from the end of May to September
on the pastures around Son-Kul to graze their own or other’s livestock (horses, sheep,
goats, and to lesser extent cows).
Each village in the region is associated today with a specific high meadow broad gorge
that runs down between the mountains towards the lake, where the families set up their
summer camps consisting of three to five yurts and tents (jailoo). They need an administrative permission (for a fee) to pitch their yurt in a meadow and to graze their herd there.
During the summer pasture, economic activities mostly involve grazing, mare-milking,
and the selling of butter, kumis (fermented mare’s milk), and other dairy products, as
well as meat, to itinerant merchants. These activities allow herders to pay their bank
loans, save money to send their children to schools in town, and cover the significant
expenses associated with the solidarity system, known as koschumthca, that consists in
giving relatives a certain amount of money as part of traditional reciprocity practices in
contribution for the Toï, traditional feasts, including circumcisions and weddings, that
are mostly celebrated in the fall.
People from the region who have settled in the city often come to stay in their relatives’ yurts, or send their children there during the summer. They view it as a form of
cure due to the air purity (as there is almost no car traffic in the area), and the daily drinking of kumis, which is considered particularly healthy. These visitors also mentioned that
their sojourn gives them the opportunity to replenish their soul and reclaim Kirgizchylyk –
the Kyrgyz spirit of life, the sense of belonging to Kyrgyz traditions, underlining its purity –
and pass it on to their children or grandchildren. Thus, the jailoo is not just a place of economic activity, but also one of sociality, culture, and relaxation.
Some of these pastoralist families have opted to work in tourism activities launched in
this region in the early 2000s by two NGOs (Swiss “Community Based Tourism” and local
“Shepherd’s Life”). The declared aim of these organizations is to improve the living conditions of local people, and to develop rural tourism in a way that is sensitive to the
natural environment and local culture. By promoting the idea that shepherds keep the
Kyrgyz nomadic past alive, as well as their sense of hospitality, these NGOs have provided
new opportunities to the more enterprising herders, who offer tourists homestays, yurt
stays, and guided hikes and horse treks across the mountains and lake. To become a
member of these NGOs requires paying an annual fee, meeting conditions such as providing services and participating in collective activities like cleaning up the surroundings.
NGOs do not have a specific ideology shared by their members. Rather, they offer a
way to benefit from their networks and marketing strategies. Conflicts were reported
on the northern shore of the lake when local NGO members refused to be reached by
families from another area in order to avoid competition. These families eventually organized themselves outside the touristic NGOs, relying on their own networks or learning
how to manage their guest houses from social networks.
Around 40 tourist yurt camps are dotted around the lake’s shores, a considerable part
of them run by the NGOs and travel agencies that work in partnership with local families,
who manage the camps, having delegated their herding activities to wage workers, who
stay in the jailoo with the livestock. In the tourist camps, visitors stay overnight in a yurt
specially designed. Meals are served in an adjacent purpose-built yurt or tent. The food is
6
ANATH ARIEL DE VIDAS AND RUSLAN RAHIMOV
adapted to the tastes of the tourists: smaller portions of meat with salad for dinner; porridge, homemade marmalade, butter and bread for breakfast. In some cases, the host
family, usually with the involvement of the NGOs, will demonstrate some Kyrgyz folklore:
playing traditional music instruments, dancing, narrating the Epic of Manas, or organizing
equestrian games considered the embodiment of Kyrgyz identity. In this way, both functional and “cultural” services are sold to the tourists, who, in most of the cases, stay just
one night with their guide before continuing their journey the next day, without any real
immersion (even temporary) in local life.
The tourist yurts are embellished and decorated with traditional felt carpets and
embroidered ribbons and tapestries with specific Kyrgyz patterns, as well as old household items, which is not typical to “working” yurts up in the jailoo, at least not to the
same extent. There, the yurt is the heart of the household unit, where people sleep,
eat, work, and gather socially. Here, one finds everything needed for daily family life
during the summer pasture season: carpets (usually commercial ones) on the floor and
walls to insulate the yurt from cold and moisture, sheepskin and cotton mats for
bedding, clothes, cooking utensils, a low table for eating, a stove, and a decorated
wooden chest containing family goods and other gear. Although less decorated than
the tourist ones, one often finds in these yurts handmade embroidered wall carpet (tushkiyiz) and felt carpets (shyrdak), usually made by the mother-in-law who is traditionally
responsible for transmitting the family’s textile patrimony. The same kind of adornment
can be found in the reception yurts that are usually pitched in the courtyard of the
village house in the valley. For agro-pastoral families of the region that are not involved
in the tourism sector, ideas of Kyrghyz heritage evolve around these handicrafts, the
ability to enumerate the largest number of generations of one’s own clan and evoke
genealogical legends (sanžyra), as well as ideals of hospitality and liberty (cf. Žaparov
2011). Local discourse on heritage is thus consistent with the official one, even though
it may be detached from concrete practices.
The income from tourism work through the yurt camps is equal to or greater than that
earned from livestock activities (sometimes up to 5,000 USD per family for a season).
Revenue from tourism is not particularly reliable, however, insofar as it depends on the
country’s political stability, tourist fluctuations, and tourist operators. Not everyone can
have their share of this occupation, moreover. The economic crisis in Kyrgyzstan resulting
from the cessation of Soviet aid in 1991, insufficient agricultural development, and lack of
financial resources has plunged about a third of the population into extreme poverty,
especially in rural areas. In Naryn region bordering with Song-Kol lake, after privatization
of the kolkhoz property in 1994–1995, several local leaders of communist parties obtained
through formal auctions harvesters and other agricultural properties. A situation that has
allowed only a few herders to become “biznesmen” (Pétric 2015). Some of them, including
women, had then served as local partners in the implementation of the tourism economy.
Indeed, to start this kind of business, one needs several yurts (usually acquired through
inheritance), or enough capital (including livestock) to invest in (or rent) a traditional yurt
(50 USD per month to rent versus 1,000 USD to purchase); not to mention the other
material required to set up a tourist camp (around 250 USD). Some opt to take out a
bank loan (up to 15,000 USD) to open their business. Those shepherds who do not
host tourists and stay with their flocks (and those of others) say that this is because
they cannot afford the several yurts needed for a single camp. The tourist business also
HERITAGE & SOCIETY
7
demands constant attention (meaning herding duties must be delegated): animals have
to be kept away from the yurts, the camp kept clean, latrines built and maintained, meals
prepared at fixed times with specific menus that the tourists will like … And then there are
the commissions paid to the travel agencies in Bishkek that send the tourists. Thus, the
tourism niche benefits only a local happy few, who, following the privatization of collective livestock in 1995, succeeded in diversifying their economic activities and benefitting
from the aura of an ancestral culture closely linked to the environment.
Mexico
Categorical Differentiation of the Amerindians
Following the Spanish conquest in 1521 of what would, three centuries later, become
Mexico, the colonial regime was quick to establish a legal distinction between the indigenous populations and the Spanish, creoles (Spanish individuals born in the Americas),
and mestizos (individuals of mixed Spanish and indigenous birth). The Indigenous, predominantly peasants, freshly Christianized, and taxed according to their prescribed status,
were thus integrated into the new colonial society as a distinct group at the bottom of
the social hierarchy. Although this categorical differentiation, defined in opposition to
other population groups, was formally abolished after independence in 1821 and the
establishment of the Mexican Republic, it has persisted in the form of ongoing discrimination (Viqueira 2006), even in spite of the Revolution (1910–1921), which instituted
agrarian reform and land redistribution to peasants, especially Indigenous.
The post-revolutionary era witnessed a long process of institutional self-reflection and
experimentation surrounding so-called “indigenist” policies that specifically targeted the
country’s autochthonous populations (According to the 2015 census, the indigenous
population was 10% of the total Mexican population). During the 1920s, indigenous
policy in Mexico was based around “forging the nation” by fuzing native and European
cultures into a single, national, mestizo culture. The “indigenous problem” (extreme
poverty, illiteracy, “ignorance”, social marginalization, exploitation, discrimination, etc.)
was framed as a fundamentally linguistic issue; thus, the policy of the day was to integrate
indigenous populations into the national fabric through “guided acculturation”, essentially by teaching Spanish. In 1930s post-revolutionary Mexico, it began to be held that
a bilingual education system would facilitate integration for autochthonous groups,
thus providing the solution to the social and cultural problems that they faced; to this
end, a survey of 56 indigenous languages was conducted by the National Institute of Indigenous Peoples. The actual number of indigenous languages in Mexico varies from one
institution to the other, anywhere between 50 and 90 depending on the intended
interpretation, and consideration of dialectal variants (cf. Valiñas 1993). The 1950–1960s
shifted to a more materialist perspective, whereby indigenous policy drove modernizing
projects to integrate native populations into the market economy. The 1970s saw the
emergence of indigenous social movements that fought for the visibility of indigenous
realities on the national political scene, challenging thus the idea of a culturally homogenous society. A new line of indigenist thinking placed then the solution to the indigenous problem in the hands of the Amerindians themselves. This period also saw the
establishment of indigenous radio stations broadcasting in native languages, and the
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ANATH ARIEL DE VIDAS AND RUSLAN RAHIMOV
increasing evocation of folk culture to political ends, thus providing a voice for indigenous
culture.
More recently, the notion emerged of an indigenous cultural heritage that consisted of
a much broader set of cultural and social characteristics than just language, triggering a
gradual shift toward the recognition of 56 distinct ethnic (as opposed to simply linguistic)
groups. Consequently, the idea of a multiethnic society in which the social and economic
development of indigenous groups did not come at the expense of their culture continued to gather momentum, leading to official recognition of the country’s cultural plurality
and constitutional enshrinement of indigenous rights. The 1990s saw the passing of
several constitutional amendments in Mexico, with particular emphasis on indigenous
rights and land tenure. These changes fitted with the government’s plans to integrate
the country into the international economy while also introducing new actors into civil
society. Among these constitutional amendments, Article 4, on the fundamental rights
of citizens, recognized in 1992 the pluricultural character of the Mexican nation, guaranteeing, officially at least, the protection and emancipation of its ethnic groups (Ariel de
Vidas 1994). This shift regarding the indigenous question from a sectoral (i.e., linguistic,
economic) to a national perspective (self-recognition of pluricultural makeup), through
the constitutional amendments of the 1990s, thus marks a major turning point in
Mexican indigenist policy. It was, moreover part of a global trend whereby recognition
of the cultural diversity of nations was seen as key to social peace, attested to by
several major international agreements, including the ILO Convention 169 on Indigenous
and Tribal Peoples (1989), or the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples
(2007) that guaranteed them a specific legal status.
The question of heritage subsequently emerged as a political and economic response
within a specific context, referred to by Charles Hale (2005) as neoliberal multiculturalism,
in which the “domestication” of social and cultural demands is achieved through official
recognition that defines and enshrines differences that ultimately serve the market.
Comaroff and Comaroff (2009) characterize this process as “ID-ology”, that is, the ideology
of ontological identity, conceived in this context as natural, inevitable, and affording
cultural property rights akin to private property. This perception of social identity being
attached to culture as a basic fact of individual and collective identity empowers the
populations in question, encouraging them to access the market by transforming their
cultural practices into a commodity. So defined, this new relationship with culture and
cultural law goes hand in hand with the decentralization and disengagement of the neoliberal State, ultimately redirecting those demanding their rights into the culture market.
The role of patrimonialization in this process involves the alienation and commodification
of culture. In Mexico, however, the State has only partially withdrawn: recognition policies
have also created compensation programs aimed at supporting marginalized populations
(Ariel de Vidas 1994). In this general context, the Mexican State has, through its dedicated
institutions, sought to collaborate with indigenous groups on development projects,
including ecotourism.
A State-Led Ecotourism Project in San José
San José is a small village of some 200 people, located in Tepetzintla rural municipality in
the humid tropical Huasteca region of north-eastern Mexico. Most of its inhabitants are
subsistence peasants (maize, beans, some livestock, horticulture) of indigenous (Nahua)
HERITAGE & SOCIETY
9
and mestizo descent. Others are engaged in trade or wage work, often daily (for a daily
wage of about 5 USD). Certain complex historical cases of illegal appropriation of the surrounding land by outsiders (legalized post facto) have resulted in the villagers owning a
mere 35 acres of communally held land. Half this territory, however, backs onto the
western slopes of the Sierra de Otontepec nature reserve, and as such was legally categorized in 2002 as a management unit for the conservation of wildlife, overseen by the Ministry of Environment and Natural Resources. This constitutes an area aimed at promoting
alternative means of production that are compatible with environmental conservation.
This status was won through the initiative in 2001 of the regional Commission for the
Development of Indigenous Peoples (CDI) to promote an ecotourism project capable of
providing new sources of revenue to the inhabitants of San José, deprived as they
were of their lands and other economic options. This institution supported the project
with approximately 32,000 USD. The district administration, Green at the time, provided
approximately 20,000 USD in financial support to launch the project and build the infrastructure. A foreign embassy also contributed 25,000 USD for the construction of the
cabins and logistical equipment. This “ethno-ecological” project was spearheaded later
on by another government body targeting mainly domestic tourists, relying on the
image of the bucolic Amerindian at one with the surrounding environment.
Initially, the project garnered the enthusiastic support of 60 village heads of household,
who unanimously agreed to change the status of this sandy territory of little agricultural
value. They proceeded to build five wood cabins and a small restaurant, while also developing the natural space with fish-farming and tourist bathing ponds that use spring water
from the mountain. In contrast to the specially decorated Kyrgyz tourist yurts, this project’s self-styled “ecological” cabins are of a more rustic nature, though still offering
basic comfort (showers and indoor toilets), without being designed to reflect the local
way of life (the nearby hosts’ houses are made of cinder blocks with sheet metal roofs,
and have no indoor toilets). The food prepared on site is regional, with no special provisions made for the tourists. As such, the services on offer are more “functional/ecological” in nature.
Just a few years on, the project is in dire straits: a haphazard institutional training and
finance structure; dubious external managers who quickly misappropriated funds and
materials; a lack of a real attractiveness of the place due to its location outside tourist circuits and probably also to the absence of “exotic” features of the hosts, given community
members’ somewhat apparent tenuous links to indigenous traditions. All of these resulted
in the absence of concrete results for the work invested. These factors have led most of
the project’s participants to back out. Today, eight men continue to maintain the sites,
though they are under significant pressure from the other villagers to return the land
to the community so that new houses can be built for young couples as space
becomes harder to find within the village. The project has just managed to survive
from the meager income generated by occasional visitors who come to bathe in the
pond or stay the weekend in the cabins, as well as from selling fish.
Some educators and agronomists from the local municipality do sometimes support
the small committee in charge of the project by encouraging the cultivation of specific
plants such as stevia or moringa, or adding labels to the trees with their scientific
names (for students brought on fieldtrips). However, these agricultural projects are still
in trial stage. Otherwise, the municipality occasionally organizes cultural events,
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ANATH ARIEL DE VIDAS AND RUSLAN RAHIMOV
promoting music, dancing, and exhibitions of traditional local handicraft. When asked
about their vision for this enterprise, different external stakeholders involved to a
greater or lesser degree in the project refer to conservation of the local environment,
which they associate with indigenous culture, which is then preserved in turn. For
example, the area’s promotional page (not updated since 2012) on the CDI website publicizes the protected natural area that is home to this ecotourism center, its wildlife and
flora, and of course the local people said to descend directly from ancient pre-Hispanic
populations, who today produce typical handicraft (basketwork) and perform regional
music. The page also states that the locals, who “know all the best places”, offer
guided tours of the reserve to waterfalls or caves, as well as demonstrations of traditional
medicine. Finally, the patronizing use of local tradition and culture by this body of nonindigenous advisors and intermediaries is often motivated by a political and electoral
agenda.
From the recent observations of the site and conversations with members of the managing committee, other villagers, and inhabitants of the local municipality, the discourse
does not seem to match the official line on the subject of this ecotourism project.
While the local population may historically be associated with the surrounding Nahua
culture, the oldest members of the committee (70-80 years old) suggest that although
one of their parents may have spoken Nahuatl, they themselves do not; nor do they
perform rites typical of this culture such as those in honor of the nearby mountains;
nor is their social or religious life aligned to any sort of distinct cosmovision. They do,
however, mention some ritual offerings to the earth that previous generations had practiced (and that their close neighbors still do). Their ties to the area and to the nourishing
land are rooted in the evocation of the presence of their ancestors there, a bond that distinguishes them from the Spanish colonizers and their present-day mestizo descendants.
Local knowledge of nature and the ethnic origins of the inhabitants highlighted by
officials, and which this project is aimed at preserving, promoting, and passing on, may
be mentioned by the committee members that run the center today, but rarely directly,
and appear of little concern to them. When asked about their own reasons for persevering
with the project despite the obstacles encountered, they argue the need to provide work
for future generations to dissuade them from moving away. For these landless peasants, it
is a matter of continuing to work in the rural sector as a source of income and identification; and trying to pass on to their descendants a sustainable patrimony based on
land tenure, as well as the corresponding knowledge that is nowadays in danger of
being lost. A question of holding onto the land that provides them with a concrete transmissible patrimony (in terms of property and heritage) despite ongoing societal changes.
San José thus highlights the discrepancy between two conceptions of heritage which
stem from distinct interests and which could have found a certain complementarity. One,
institutional, linked to the question of the preservation of cultural and natural features,
and the other, local, linked to the question of the property and its transmission which
includes also a cultural one. On the one hand, the outside initiatives, abandoned due
to a lack of commitment, that ascribe a glorified form of indigenous culture, close to
nature, to a group of peasants. On the other, the same landless farmers, abandoned by
the State, for whom patrimony still retains its original meaning relating to inherited property thus the land that provides both subsistence and cultural heritage.
HERITAGE & SOCIETY
11
Understanding Local Notions of Tradition and Heritage: Continuity and
Rupture
The Mexican case study demonstrates a clear gap between official discourse and the
primary motivations of the individuals concerned, while in the Kyrgyz example, the
local narrative is consistent with institutional discourse. There are, however, converging
interests in both cases when analyzed on different levels, at the heart of which one can
find a natural and/or cultural heritage, viewed from different perspectives, but used as
a cornerstone for various economic, political, and/or identity-based activities, from
which all parties try to derive the most material and/or symbolic benefit.
The Kyrgyz-Mexican comparison reveals analogous heritage processes, each based on
official discourse but carried out in extremely different contexts. In both cases an ambivalent connection could be seen between the way people relate to foreign occupation and
their relation to heritage, though this manifests differently depending on the countries’
respective histories. In Kyrgyzstan, Soviet policy (1917–1991) was at times questioned
internally (Laruelle and Engvall 2015; Martin 2017), but a common although simplifying
position today among some academics does not consider it to be “colonial”. They saw
it rather positively for the infrastructure it put down, particularly in terms of education
and the economy (Asankanov 2009; Osmonov 2007). This view, characterized by
support and nostalgia for the Soviet era associated with economic stability, is a
common feature of discourses regarding the country’s Soviet heritage, especially
among generations that lived through and were shaped by the Soviet era. And yet the
Soviet State considered pastoral nomadism an obstacle to modernization, and sought
to convert the Kyrgyz population to sedentary farming. As such, socio-political life
became structured entirely around the planned organization of livestock and agriculture
(Jacquesson 2004; Pétric 2011). Following independence in 1991, and the subsequent liberalization of the Kyrgyz economy, livestock and land became privatized (except pastureland), thus redefining the relationship between resources and the State in a way that most
benefitted those able to diversify their sources of income (Pétric 2015).
In Mexico, on the other hand, the Spanish presence (1521–1821) that preceded the creation and independence of the Mexican State is seen as having brought down the Aztec
Empire and destroyed its indigenous cultures through Christianization, Hispanicization,
and forced labor. The colonial organization of Mexican society laid the foundation for
the organization of the contemporary State and society. Continually marginalized by
the colonizers and their descendants (who ruled independent Mexico), the indigenous
populations were called upon after the Revolution (1910–1921) to take part in the idea
to forge the nation through the mixing of the Spanish and indigenous “races” and so distinguish the young Republic from the Iberian Peninsula and the colonial era (Ariel de
Vidas 2006; Vasconcelos 1948). Later, indigenous groups benefitted from the land redistribution that resulted from the Revolution’s agrarian reforms, aimed at integrating them
into the modern nation. In this way, the agrarian structure of indigenous peasant societies
became closely interlinked with the social organization, thus making these groups economically and politically dependent on government institutions. More recently, the neoliberal era has instigated a program of (non-mandatory) privatization of collective lands. This
has led to the accumulation of these plots by individuals with financial means. For those
12
ANATH ARIEL DE VIDAS AND RUSLAN RAHIMOV
left behind, the system of State-assisted collective production projects has been gradually
transformed into one of individual assistance based on personal resources.
Overall, both countries are case studies of de-collectivization and today’s land rights
explain, among other things, the types of observed adaptation to economic changes.
In Kyrgyzstan, though the abrupt transition from a planned to a market economy; in
Mexico, through State retraction and the general privatization of goods and services, particularly in the agricultural sector. As such, in both countries, cultural or natural heritage
has become a resource that offers up a distinct ethno-economic niche. In the Kyrgyz
example, this niche is occupied by individuals who have successfully diversified their
sources of income by showcasing their pastoral way of life with support from NGOs
that promote such initiatives (cf. Werner 2003); in the Mexican study, the same niche is
presented to a marginalized indigenous group as an additional source of income based
on their purportedly privileged relationship with nature, although it is the State that
funds these initiatives through its compensation programs (Ariel de Vidas 1994).
Ethno-Cultural Management with Contrary Effects
The differences and similarities that were observed reveal an aspect common to both
cases: the exploitation in the heritage discourse deployed by government institutions
of previously denigrated cultural particularities (cf. Kirshenblat-Gimblett 1998).
However, a closer look at this process, which is similar in both cases, reveals contrasting
political agendas. Historically, officials in both countries have made symbolic use of indigenous populations in their ideological nation-building: through the preeminence of the
majority ethnic group in post-Soviet independent Kyrgyzstan on the one hand; and the
systematic marginalization of contemporary, minority indigenous groups in Mexico on
the other. In Kyrgyzstan, the same cultural features of pastoral nomadism proscribed
and denigrated during the Soviet period are now used to construct a national identity distinct from the previous regime. The national flag depicts the tündük, the central roof vent
of the yurt, with its typical perches intersecting in the middle of a wooden circle. The
national anthem evokes notions of freedom and nature deemed characteristic of the
nation, while idealizing the nomadic-pastoral past. In Mexico, however, the construction
of national identity in relation to its indigenous peoples refers more to pre-Hispanic
culture than to contemporary autochthonous groups, insofar as the flag depicts an
Aztec myth, emblazoned with an eagle perched on a cactus swallowing a snake. In parallel, the national anthem calls for love of country and war against all foreign invaders,
without mentioning any particular cultural aspects characteristic of the nation in
general, let alone its Amerindian populations.
Despite the fact that contemporary Kyrgyz social and cultural “configuration” is also a
mixture of Soviet epistemological legacies, and the growing influence of Arab Islam since
the early 2000s (Pétric 2015), the Kyrgyz ethnic group, characterized by its ancestral pastoral nomadism, and the largest group within Kyrgyzstan itself, is considered the country’s
titular ethnic majority. As such, its cultural heritage has served as the cornerstone of
national identity since independence in 1991 (Murzakulova and Schoeberlein 2009).
Today’s political leaders derive predominantly from an ethnically Kyrgyz elite, closely
associated, at least historically, with the social and cultural practices that they promote
in their nationalist construct. This construct communicates a message of cultural
HERITAGE & SOCIETY
13
continuity based on the economic and social practice of a pastoral nomadism seen to represent the national culture, despite the presence of other, historically sedentary ethnic
groups (e.g., Uzbek, Dungan, Russian) that make up Kyrgyzstan’s social landscape. In
this way, nomadism as a national trait, and the cultural practices associated with it,
serve as a means to express autochthonous (read: ethnic Kyrgyz) dominance over the
nation (Megoran 2002), though at the expense of other cultures and ethnic groups that
share it.
In Mexico, Amerindian groups now constitute a minority, yet their cultures, denigrated
for centuries, are now celebrated in the context of contemporary pluricultural policies as
part of national folklore (Ariel de Vidas 1994). Indigenous heritage forms one aspect,
among others, of the nation’s history, though only insofar as it refers to pre-Hispanic civilizations (Bonfil Batalla 1990). This is a common trope also in other Latin American nationalisms (see for example: Alonso 2009 and Earle 2008). The social and cultural practices of
today’s ruling class, who predominantly come from the Spanish and mestizo elite, are far
removed from the same autochthonous populations evoked in the folkloric, essentializing
institutional discourse underpinning pluricultural rhetoric and patrimonialization efforts.
This discourse ultimately communicates a break with a glorious past, one based much
more on material pre-Hispanic and colonial remains than on any specific living culture
that contemporary indigenous groups – generally subject to poverty, marginalization,
and discrimination – may have preserved.
The notions of heritage put forward in the Kyrgyz example relate to pastoral nomadism
and the ideas of freedom and hospitality associated with it; in the Mexican case, they
highlight the ancestral attachment that the native farmers have to their land and their
customs. In both contexts, indigenousness is closely intertwined with nature. The same
mechanism is at work in each case in terms of how ethno-cultural differentiation is
managed on a political level, albeit with contrary effects. In Kyrgyzstan, this is seen in
the application of heritage notions (muras in Kyrgyz and nasledie in Russian) to society
as a whole, as a means of distinguishing the modern nation from the previous Soviet
system of domination and other ethnic minorities. Thus transforming the stigmas of
the past into a common national heritage, albeit one imposed on social groups who
do not share it. In Mexico, notions of (ancient) indigenous heritage are evoked instead,
as part of a mechanism that serves to differentiate today’s autochthonous populations
from their “more desirable” pre-Hispanic ancestors, as well as from the dominant
groups of Iberian and mestizo origin, so entrenching the stigmas and divisions that
were originally introduced by the Spanish colonial regime. For the populations concerned, Kyrgyz heritage policy reinforces a pastoral culture belonging to a titular ethnic
majority against other social groups considered outsiders: this has led to an ethnic majoritization of the nation at the expense of these other groups. For indigenous populations in
Mexico, their heritage is appropriated by Iberian and mestizo outsiders (even if they are
Mexican) in order to contain and control the local, minoritized culture; the same Mexican
policies that recognize the pluricultural makeup of the nation simultaneously minoritizes
the ethnic groups in question by relegating their culture to a bygone age. As such, both
cases show that the mobilization of indigenousness in the quest for heritage has in fact
stifled mechanisms of inclusion and exclusion, especially in regard to the ongoing processes of nation-building and reconciling ethno-cultural and civic identity within national
societies (cf. Ceuppens and Geschiere 2005; Rico and Polese 2015). Seen this way,
14
ANATH ARIEL DE VIDAS AND RUSLAN RAHIMOV
patrimonialization has proven a matter of demography and hegemony, in which the
dominant social group decides who or what constitutes heritage, and why.
Conclusions
The question of national or ethnic identity, closely associated with the notion of heritage
and sometimes linked to economic interests, is frequently given as a premise for the
process of patrimonialization. And yet the cases usually used to develop this argument
have broadly been limited to a single cultural, geographic, historical, and political scenario
to explain this concept, and how it ties in with local, national, and supranational factors.
Thus, comparing these factors in clearly distinct contexts, revealed two contrasting
examples of patrimonialization and contrary political mechanisms at work in each.
There are clear differences between the two case studies in Kyrgyzstan and Mexico:
environment (high semi-arid plateaus vs. tropical lowlands), social organization (seminomadic herders vs. sedentary farmers), means of subsistence (pastoral vs. agricultural
economy); but also, the position of those concerned within the systems of hegemony
and power that differentiate between majority and minority groups. The patrimonialization process seems in each case to have followed a similar series of successive operations,
particularly in the close association between colonial history and the denigration of
certain, now celebrated, cultural traits; and the major role played by the State in the production and promotion of heritage discourse.
Using these criteria, it is then possible to shift the focus from the similarities and differences in the economic, social, and historical conditions governing the processes themselves onto the ethnic management of cultural plurality. This cross-analysis has thus
identified the mechanisms of domination that can occur through patrimonialization,
and more particularly, the existence of specific connections between the type of
society and its history, and the mechanisms of ethno-cultural management found in
local applications of the heritage concept. Beside the political instrumentalization of heritage, one can see in each country a similar (albeit inverted) principle of ethno-cultural
domination and exclusion that governs the practices associated with patrimonialization.
Acknowledgments
This work was supported by the French National Research Agency (ANR) under Grant number: FABRIQ’AM-ANR-12-CULT-005: The making of “heritages”. The authors wish to thank their assistants and
interpreters, Gulnura Akylbekova, Amantur Bakyt Uulu and María Cicero, without whom this comparative project would not have been possible.
Disclosure Statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).
Funding
This work was supported by Agence Nationale de la Recherche: [Grant Number FABRIQ’AM-ANR-12CULT-005].
HERITAGE & SOCIETY
15
Notes on contributors
Anath Ariel de Vidas is a Research director at the French National Centre for Scientific research
(CNRS). Her main research interests evolve around modes of ethnicity among Amerindian groups
situated in modernization processes, adaptations of Native American symbolism to the contemporary world, and the patrimonialization of indigenous cultures.
Ruslan Rahimov is an associate professor at the Department of Anthropology of the American University of Central Asia. His main research interests evolve around pastoral societies of Kazakhstan
and Kyrgyzstan, transnationalism and migration in Central Asia and Russia, religion, and secularism.
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