Wednesday, November 26, 2025

Beyond El Dorado: The Real Golden Kingdoms of Colombia

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025

These small geometric gold figures—called tunjos—were votive offerings crafted by the Muisca people of the high Andean plateau in present-day Colombia. They were placed in shrines, temples, and sacred lakes as offerings to deities and ancestral forces associated with water, fertility, and cosmic balance.

Gold geometric-type Muisca figurine north central Colombia dated between 800-1600 CE that I photographed at The Field Museum in Chicago


Gold geometric-type Muisca figurine north central Colombia dated between 800-1600 CE that I photographed at The Field Museum in Chicago

In the Muisca worldview, gold was not a symbol of material wealth but a sacred substance representing sunlight, vitality, and the creative energy of their gods. Their rulers acted as mediators between the human and supernatural realms, and in rituals—most famously at Lake Guatavita—gold served as a spiritual medium rather than a display of earthly power.
Muisca art is distinguished by its deliberate geometric aesthetic. Human and animal forms were intentionally abstracted into triangles, cylinders, and simplified features. This was not a technical limitation but a consistent visual language, reflecting a conceptual approach that emphasized spiritual essence over naturalistic detail.
The European legend of El Dorado, or “the Gilded One,” originated from Spanish accounts of Muisca investiture ceremonies. During these rites, a new ruler, covered in gold dust, would journey to the center of a sacred lake and submerge himself while attendants cast gold offerings into the water. Over time, Europeans transformed this ritual into a myth of a city of gold, fueling centuries of speculative maps and disastrous expeditions. In reality, its origin lies in the Muisca’s cosmological use of gold, not in vast material wealth.
To the west, in the warm river valleys of the Middle Cauca region, the Quimbaya culture developed a strikingly different artistic tradition. As master goldsmiths, they produced some of the most naturalistic human figures in ancient Colombia. Their art is characterized by rounded modeling, balanced proportions, and serene, lifelike faces, particularly seen in the famous ‘Lord in the Trance’ pendants. This naturalism reflects a worldview where the human form itself was a perfected vessel for spiritual connection. Geographically separated from the Muisca by the vast breadth of the Colombian Andes, this ecological divide helps explain their distinct artistic vision. The Quimbaya’s daily and ceremonial life was regulated by rituals like the Poporo ceremony, which maintained personal and cosmic balance. It involved chewing coca leaves to enhance the meditation and polished thought needed to establish a connection to the spiritual realm, or Aluna. For the Quimbaya, spiritual attainment was not about escaping the human form, but about achieving a state of perfected, meditative harmony within it.

Quimbaya figure Gold copper alloy in the collections of the Museum of the Americas in Madrid, Spain courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor Michel Wal

On the Caribbean slopes of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, the Tairona people (flourishing from around 450–900 CE and later) developed yet another unique goldworking tradition. In contrast to the small, geometric tunjos of the Muisca, the Tairona created larger, dynamic cast-gold pendants and figurines. These works are characterized by complex postures, elaborate body ornaments, and a powerful sense of movement. Tairona figures often display exuberant jewelry—nose rings, ear spools, pectorals, and towering headdresses—modeled with remarkable detail using the lost-wax technique.

Hollow gold Tumbaga pendant of a transforming shamanic female figure produced by the Tairona culture on the Caribbean slopes of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta of Colombia dated between 450-900 CE that I photographed at The Field Museum in Chicago

While the Muisca used gold as a sacred medium for offerings, Tairona goldwork often functioned as personal regalia, worn by elites to signal rank and spiritual authority. A key feature of Tairona art is its embodiment of shamanic transformation. Figures frequently display non-human traits: wide eyes with long, horizontal pupils (signifying an animal or spirit), muzzle-like noses, beaked headdresses, and wing-like ear spools. These elements visualize a shaman caught mid-transformation, shifting between human and animal identities to communicate with the spirit world. For the Tairona, this fluidity of identity was fundamental to maintaining cosmic balance.
In summary, the goldwork of these three cultures reveals profoundly different worldviews. The Muisca favored a geometric, schematic style that emphasized social and cosmic roles. The Quimbaya produced calm, naturalistic portraits of elite individuals in a state of meditative trance. The Tairona, however, embraced an artistic vocabulary of dynamic transformation, where human forms merge with animal traits to express shamanic power. Together, they demonstrate the extraordinary diversity of artistic and spiritual expression in pre-Hispanic Colombia.
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Tuesday, November 18, 2025

Quetzalcóatl as Ehecatl, the deity controlling the wind as the breath of life

by Mary Harrsch, 2025
In Aztec thought, Quetzalcóatl was a complex god associated with creation, knowledge, rulership, and priestly authority, but under the name Ehecatl he took on a very specific cosmic role—that of the animating wind that brings the world into motion. The Nahuatl term ehecatl means simply “wind,” yet the deity embodied far more than natural breezes: he represented the vital breath of life itself, the invisible force that activates both humans and the gods.

This basalt sculpture represents Ehecatl, the wind aspect of the great deity Quetzalcóatl, created by Aztec artists between 1350 and 1521 CE in what is now Tlaxcala State, Mexico. Photographed at The Field Museum in Chicago, IL by the author.

In Aztec cosmology, Ehecatl plays a pivotal part in the myth of the Fifth Sun, the current cosmic era. After the gods sacrifice themselves to bring the sun into being, the sun initially hangs motionless in the sky. It is Ehecatl who steps forward and blows with divine force, setting the celestial body on its daily journey across the heavens. Because of this mythic role, wind was understood not as a passive environmental element but as a cosmic catalyst, the energy that makes cycles of day and night—and therefore life—possible.
The sculpture captures Ehecatl’s essential qualities through a set of distinctive iconographic features. The most striking is the elongated, duck-bill-like mask, a hallmark of the deity. This unusual feature is not literal but symbolic: it represents the divine windpipe or the projecting breath through which the god exerts his cosmic influence. Many depictions of Ehecatl show him exhaling or blowing, and this mask visually conveys the sense of forceful wind issuing from his mouth. The figure also wears a conical headdress, often interpreted as a kind of wind cap associated with ritual specialists, and the surface of the carving is intentionally rough, carved from porous volcanic stone typical of the region surrounding Tlaxcala.
Despite being a god of an invisible and fluid natural element, Ehecatl is frequently rendered in rounded and simplified forms. Aztec artists often avoided sharp angles when depicting him, perhaps to evoke the softness and movement of air. Yet regional styles varied, and the sculptural traditions of Tlaxcala tended to favor more robust, blocklike forms with strong textural emphasis, as seen in this example.
Ehecatl held a unique place in Aztec religious practice. Temples dedicated to him were often built with circular floor plans, a rare architectural choice in Mesoamerican sacred construction. The circular design eliminated corners that might "trap" the wind, allowing air—and symbolically, the god—to move freely. Ritual offerings associated with Ehecatl frequently included shells, symbols of breath and sound, as well as incense whose fragrant smoke drifted like divine wind across temple courtyards.
This sculpture, that I photographed at The Field Museum in Chicago, is an evocative example of Late Postclassic Central Mexican religious art. Its powerful abstracted features and volcanic stone medium communicate the dynamic energy of a deity who was believed to breathe life into the cosmos. As an object of devotion, it would have served as a reminder of wind’s essential role in sustaining both the rhythms of the universe and the cycle of human life.
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Tuesday, October 28, 2025

The Liangzhu Paradox: The Lethal Result of an Ideology of Inequality in the Ancient World

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025

Even after my intense research into the elite use of human sacrifice as a response to ecological stress across the globe, I must admit I was still appalled upon reading this paper detailing how Neolithic Liangzhu residents shaped human skulls and other bones into everyday tools like bowls, cups, masks, and knives.

A finished cup devised from a human skull found in Liangzhu courtesy of Scientific Reports..

A human skull fashioned into a mask found in Liangzhu courtesy of  Scientific Reports

Liangzhu Jade Yue unearthed from Tomb 2 at Yaoshan Site courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor 猫猫的日记本

Jade Cong unearthed from Tomb 21 at Fanshan site courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor 猫猫的日记本



Jade Bi from Tomb 14 at Fanshan site courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor 猫猫的日记本


Jade hand grip for a fan unearthed from Tomb 15 at Fanshan site courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor Siyuwj

 

https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-025-15673-7

The mere idea that urbanization had reached an extent where the divide between the elite and the general population was so wide that non-elites were being “recycled” into utilitarian objects brought back to me scenes from the sci-fi movie “Soylent Green.”

The researchers’ primary explanation is the Urban Anonymity Hypothesis in which traditional kin-based social structures become loosened or even fractured and “remains could be treated as materials without malice or spectacle.” This is supported by the absence of cut marks, evidence of disarticulation, or burning. Researchers point out this rules out cannibalism, trophy-taking from enemies, or human sacrifice.

The bones were shaped into six recurring tool shapes (cups, mask, scrapers, etc) indicating the objects were produced in a repeatable manufacturing process, a hallmark of craft specialization in a complex society. The modified bones were not found with elite jade objects or in ritual contexts. This separates the practice from high-status ceremonies or temple ritual, placing it in the realm of "everyday craft."

Furthermore, almost 80% of items found in canals and moats were unfinished and subsequently discarded, leading researchers to conclude human bones were readily available so artisans could discard unsatisfactory work without great loss. This points to an urban setting with a relatively high anonymous individual mortality rate.

The research paper, however, is tightly focused on the mostly unfinished discards found in the city’s unusual workshop and canal system. An evaluation of contexts where finished human bone objects were found, however, reveals a different connotation. Finished human bone tools have not been found in commoner residential trash pits even though these same middens often contain finished tools made from animal bone. This indicates human bone tools did not circulate widely as common household items.

Furthermore, human bone tools have not been found in significant numbers at other specialized industrial sites within Liangzhu. The vast majority of finished human bone tools—whether utilitarian scrapers or ritual skull cups—are concentrated in and around the Zhongjiagang bone workshop itself. Finished skull cups have also been found in elite burials unearthed in the peripheral areas of Fuquanshan and Jiangzhuang. Although these burials were accompanied by the Yue, a battle-axe representing military command and the right to execute, it was not a practical weapon.  Instead, it was a symbol of coercive power legitimized by the state religion.

In the richest tombs in the core of Liangzhu, however, the Yue was usually made of jade. For these priest-kings referred to as “Jade Lords,” the yue was part of a standard "kit" of power-regalia that also included the cong (cylindrical tube) and bi (disc). The finest jade yue signaled that their military/executive authority was as sacred as their religious power.

 The elite burials of the "bone-worked tradition" at Fuquanshan and Jiangzhuang show a clear and deliberate pattern of grave goods include a yue made of a less valuable stone like diorite and excluding the cong (symbolizing cosmic connection) and the bi (symbolizing heaven). This pattern suggests they were high-ranking, powerful chieftains whose authority was derived from their connection to the central Liangzhu power structure, but who were not at the absolute pinnacle of it. They were part of the Liangzhu system—hence the Yue—but they expressed their power through a distinct, and perhaps more militaristic or pragmatic, set of symbols centered on the skull cup, and were denied its ultimate expression in jade.

In essence, their burial goods tell a story of "second-tier" elite status: powerful enough to command force (stone Yue) and control a potent ritual tradition (skull cups), but not powerful enough to claim the celestial, jade-based mandate of the core Liangzhu priest-kings.

They were not poorer cousins, however, they were deliberately distinguishing themselves as an elite class with a different ideology. The cong and bi were the core instruments of the state religion practiced by the Liangzhu "jade lords." By not including them, these peripheral elites were signaling that they either did not have access to that level of priestly power or, more likely, that they practiced a different form of ritual, one centered on the power of the skull cup. They were a warrior or secular elite whose power base was focused on military command (the Yue), with its control over life and death (the skull cup), and even possibly economic control, rather than the priestly, astrological, and ancestral authority of the jade-based core.

Furthermore, their sudden appearance in 4800 BP and disappearance in 4600 BP suggests they may have initially been nomadic migrants to Liangzhu who gained control because of their militaristic tendencies during a period of ecological stress then lost control possibly because their worldview and authority waned as ecological conditions further deteriorated.

The Greenland ice cores indicate a massive volcanic eruption occurred at about 4300 BP. The period leading up to the event was not climatically stable. The Liangzhu culture likely endured multiple periods of stress before the final, cataclysmic eruption that resulted in catastrophic monsoons that ultimately destroyed the civilization. The most prominent precursor eruption identified in the ice cores is a massive event dated to around 4660 BP. This eruption, potentially from Mount Aniakchak in Alaska or another high-latitude volcano, would have caused a significant "volcanic winter" and years of monsoon disruption, crop failures, and social chaos, perhaps of an intensity great enough to “dethrone” the warrior-elite of the bone-working tradition.

The ruling "bone-working" elite, who derived their legitimacy from their appearance of brutal power and control, are now seen as failures. Their ideology is discredited. They are blamed for the gods' displeasure. This leads to their swift overthrow—an internal coup, a popular rebellion, or usurpation by a rival faction.

One of the first acts of the new regime would be to formally and violently abolish the previous dynasty's signature practice. The Zhongjiagang workshop is not just abandoned; it is ceremonially shut down. Its tools, both finished and unfinished, are cast into the canals as a symbolic rejection of the old order. The practice is expunged.

There were just a few details that required further investigation. The bone-working workshop was located in the heart of Liangzhu but the finished products appeared in elite burials in peripheral areas. Why would the workshop be constructed in the city’s core when the market was located in the outer areas? Why have no skull cups been found in elite burials within the city? Perhaps an examination of the cultural changes that occurred during the reign of Genghis Khan and his successors would provide a clear model for how a powerful, non-urban elite can exert control over a sophisticated, urban-centered civilization without replacing its day-to-day culture. 

When the Mongols captured centers of production and wealth, they didn’t destroy them but co-opted them instead. Comparing this process to Liangzhu, it explains the construction of the human bone workshop in its core. By establishing their signature bone workshop in the urban core (Zhongjiagang) it was their way of captalizing a key "industrial" asset and using the city's existing infrastructure for their own purposes.

The Mongols introduced new symbols of authority usually related to their military supremacy. During the Yuan dynasty the Mongols used the Paiza, a tablet made of gold silver or bronze, that functioned as a passport and credential. Possessing a Paiza granted the bearer the right to use the empire's vast relay station system (the Yam), which provided them with fresh horses, food, and lodging. But, more importantly, it demanded compliance from all local officials.

The material of the Paiza directly corresponded to the rank and authority of the bearer, mirroring the Liangzhu hierarchy of jade vs. stone Yue. A Gold Paiza: was reserved for the highest-ranking nobles, imperial princes, and especially important envoys. It conferred the highest level of authority and privilege. The Silver Paiza was Granted to lower-ranking officials, military commanders, and important diplomats. The Bronze Paiza was Used by lower-level imperial messengers and officials.

The Paiza was not just a practical tool; it was a piece of the Khan's own authority made portable. When an official showed their Paiza, they were, in effect, speaking with the voice of the Great Khan himself. It was a direct, physical manifestation of the state's power to command resources and obedience across thousands of miles. By controlling who received a Paiza, the Mongol central administration controlled movement, communication, and the exercise of power within the empire. It was the key that unlocked the entire logistical system of the state.

Like the Great Khan who adopted symbols of power from those he ruled, the bone-working commander adopted the local ultimate, sacred symbol of authority, reserved for the supreme ruler and his closest circle in the capital. That would explain why skull cups have not been found in any of the elite burials in the core of the city. However, The combination of stone Yue and skull cups found in peripheral Liangzhu elite burials served like a silver Paiza, powerful symbols of delegated authority granted to a provincial governor or general. They showed that the bearer had real, state-sanctioned power (the stone Yue to command) and a special connection to the ruling regime (the skull cup, a unique ideological symbol), but it was distinct from and subordinate to the supreme symbol of the core (the Jade Yue).

The evidence from Liangzhu, therefore, paints a picture far more nuanced than simple urban anonymity. It reveals a stratified society where a distinct elite faction, possibly arising from migration or internal coup, established a grim new ideological order centered on the utilitarian power of human bone. For two centuries, they ruled from the core, their authority flowing outwards to loyal chieftains who displayed stone Yue and skull cups like silver Paizas—symbols of real, but delegated, power.

Their sudden disappearance around 4600 BP, coinciding with a massive volcanic winter, suggests their pragmatic, coercive ideology was discredited by catastrophe. The workshop was shut down not as an economic decision, but as a political and religious act. In the end, the story of the Liangzhu bone tools is not one of faceless recycling, but of a failed dynasty whose brutal signature practice became its epitaph.

The story of Liangzhu is a stark reminder that the most formidable threats to a civilization are not always external, but can be the direct consequence of the ideologies it tolerates, and the divisions it creates, within its own walls. It is a warning from the deep past: when a society begins to sort its people into categories of the revered and the unimportant, it is a short and perilous path from dehumanizing rhetoric to the literal devaluing of human life.


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