In various parts of the world—of which Mexico is one example— archaeology has been not only an academic discipline but has followed other motivations and goals, some valid and others more disputable: formation of a nationality, a need to know ancient roots, importance of a distinct art for understanding past societies or simply the promotion of tourism by attracting people to visit recently-excavated monuments or those that are already famous. In this paper, I intend to present the case of Mexico.

Before Columbus, Old and New World customs of pilgrimage differed so greatly that separate names today are needed to describe their functions and characters more accurately. In English, pilgrimage and all its synonyms are divided as two families of words, one having to do with journey, and the other with endeavor.

At the end of the sixteenth century, Friar Juan de Torquemada watched the game of volador on the central plaza in Mexico. At the top of a pole some twenty meters high there was a small pivoting platform. Four ropes were wound around the top of the pole and held in place by a wooden frame. Five men dressed in feathery costumes making them look like birds climbed up the shaft. One of them reached the narrow platform and began to dance. Then the other four bird-men tied themselves to the ends of the ropes and plunged into space, head down, held by the ropes around their waists. This initiated a spectacular circular flight in ever widening rings as the cords unwound. They straightened up only at the last moment, just in time to put their feet on the ground, dizzy and staggering. But on that particular day, one of the dancers was not to straighten himself up. The rope had been badly attached and broke, dropping the man like a heavy mass to the ground, lifeless. The Franciscan at once used this as an argument to demand that the Viceroy prohibit this game. But the civil authorities refused to do so, to the monk's great consternation.

Traveler, come with us! Do not be afraid. You will see sublime and melancholy, gay and beautiful scenes. Poet! Down there you will find poetic themes worthy of your most inspired verses. Artist! For you there are pictures of admirable freshness, painted by the hand of God. Writer! There you will encounter legends not yet written, legends of love and hate, of gratitude and vengeance, of hypocrisy and abnegation, of noble virtues and repugnant crimes; legends of fragrant romanticism and rich in truth. Let us go there, plowing the dark and agitated waves of the restless Atlantic, through the islands of the Antilles, to the shores of Anáhuac.

In the strictest sense, the Occident, (that prestigious union of nations, ideologies of progress, and export and import companies) discovered Mexico in the 19th century. Only at the end of Spanish domination—that never understood that “there are various kinds of excellence”—did other countries and Mexico itself begin to learn of the scope of the Conquest and regions affected by it, partially replacing Spanish mythology with another, more varied but equally remote. The greatness of the ancient Indians and their happy age was praised, while the living natives were reviled; the idealization of the pre-Columbian, which had been suspended by priests and encomenderos, was continued (Hernández wrote in 1577, “In this new world signs of avarice had never penetrated, nor had ambition been born until our compatriots arrived, carried by ships and the wind”); the possibilities of the new country were greedily examined; scornful notes were taken on the successive and simultaneous failures in the attempt to create a republic; the vices and virtues of those who were suddenly free were enumerated; a climate favorable to invasions and the amputation of territories was created; customs were observed with joy or alarm.

The presence of the past is of prime importance in today's Mexican society. According to José Fuentes Mares, among the “peoples of the world the Mexican is the one who lives history the most”. With regard to the unsatisfactory relations between Mexico and North America, the journalist Alan Riding asks himself: “How can a people who relish the past to the point of intoxication understand another that looks constantly to the future?” In the Republic of Mexico, according to him, “the entire past of the country throws a dense shadow over the present”. Conforming to a universal custom, every country divides its present past into four groups (survival, residues, memories and history), but in few nations are the four groups as copious as in this one. Although Mexico is rapidly shedding many old customs and is selling residual objects to foreign collectors on the sly, its historical treasure is still enormous, perhaps the largest in the world.

One of the great problems of our time is how to behave toward a society that is different from our own. Rather than deal with this question in the abstract, I should like to present a particular case, truly exemplary: that of the first encounter between Europeans and Americans and, more specifically, the most spectacular illustration of it, the conquest of Mexico. By “exemplary” I do not at all mean that the behavior of our ancestors should be imitated; we know that the immediate result of that encounter was an extermination of human beings in proportions that had never been seen before and have never been attained afterward, in spite of the efforts made in this regard in the twentieth century. The conquest of America is exemplary in that it produced many varied and elaborated attitudes and that it gave rise to a wealth of texts that allow us to envisage the problem in all its complexity.

How docs Marx stand one hundred years after his death? If we look at the literature written and read by intellectuals, and the polemics among Marxists, the answer is: not too firmly. In the past they disputed about the political and ideological significance of Marx’ theory. Today some of the most basic propositions of the old gentleman are queried even among people claiming to be Marxists, from the materialist conception of history to the labour theory of value. People ask with increasing frequency what precisely has survived in Marxism. So it is important to establish, at the outset, that today—unlike the situation even thirty years ago— nobody seriously doubts that something of Marx has survived, indeed that a great deal has survived. If this were not the case, there would not be such passionate argument about the matter. For there is no argument about thinkers who are dead.

On the occasion of the one hundredth anniversary of the death of Marx, has not the moment come at last to render an equitable judgment, of the type which only the passage of time allows us to formulate, on the man whom we do not know how to describe— philosopher, economist, historian, sociologist, politician, theoretician of the worker movement, reformer, revolutionary or prophet? And this judgment, which will take everything and examine it before putting all things in their proper place, could it not take the form of a response to the famous question: what is dead and what is still living today in that work which is as monumental as it is diverse since it touches every domain of knowledge and action?