Taino Revival

Taino Revival: Critical Perspectives on Puerto Rican Identity and Cultural Politics is one of those vital reads on Taino revivalism or reclamation that we devoured several years ago. Now, after a reread, we see how problematic the collection of essays here really are. With the exception of Davila, none of the academic contributors actually interviewed so-called neo-Tainos. Moreover, these essays were originally written before genetic evidence clearly confirmed the "Amerindian" component of the Puerto Rican population. While there are certainly problems with the idea of "Native American DNA" and the ways in which racial essentialism have resurfaced, today it is hard to deny that some degree of cultural and biological continuity from the pre-Columbian period to the present can be found in Puerto Rico. 

For that reason, Davila's essay is the only one that has aged well. Her interest is not in refuting or challenging the way an individual identifies, but understanding the role of memory and cultural institutions in indigeneity in Puerto Rico. Her approach rejects racial essentialism and she even shares her moments of discomfort with being perceived as Taino based on her phenotype. One Puerto Rican even asked to inspect her teeth for evidence of shovel-shaped incisors! Regardless of attempts from others to emphasize phenotype or race as a permanent biological trait, Davila's approach contextualizes Taino revivalism and might offer clues as to why "Indians" resurfaced and disappeared multiple times throughout Puerto Rican history. After all, if the past is actively deployed in the present through several process, and related to cultural authority and memory, then the disappearance and reappearance of "Indians" across the history of Puerto Rico can be analyzed without relying on the problematic category of race. 

Unlike the Taino revivalists, we are personally inclined to view the process as part of a "mestizo" Creole culture in which Africans, Europeans, and those of indigenous descent formed the population of Puerto Rico. Sued Badillo's work persuasively demonstrates this process in the Spanish Caribbean. Moreover, as the final essay in the book suggests, in what way are "neo-Taino" Puerto Ricans less indigenous than "tri-racial" Native American groups in the continental US who have received federal recognition? If indigeneity should not hinge on phenotype or assumptions of unchanging cultural expression, then we cannot dismiss this movement so easily. And for the contributors to Taino Revival who see the movement as an escape from blackness, an engagement with black Puerto Rican and Afro-Caribbean claims on Taino identity or history would be a fruitful comparative study. We cannot name the number of times people from non-Hispanic Caribbean backgrounds have asserted an indigenous ancestry. 

It also would be useful to study the landscape of Taino revivalism today, in 2023, to better assess the degree to which it really represents an attempt to make Indians out of blacks and the changes in the relationship of the Diaspora to the island and the US (colonial) state. For example, Haslip-Viera's essay was far too harsh and lumped the neo-Tainos into the same category as reactionary, pseudoscientific and frequently ridiculous fringe black groups in the US like the Black Israelites, various strands of Afrocentrism and the Nation of Islam. Such a comparison is unfair and almost certainly inaccurate for all Taino revivalists. After all, there is evidence of descent from the indigenous peoples of the Caribbean in their case. And surely not all indigenous revivalists are so obsessed with stereotypical "Indian" phenotypes or influenced by New Age and Hollywood caricatures of indigeneity. Some certainly acknowledge their African ancestry. And we are sure a few of them must be working on more historically and anthropologically informed analysis than what we have seen so far from scholars like Castanha. Perhaps Puerto Ricans need someone like Roberto Valcárcel Rojas to tackle the complex history of "Indians" in the colonial era. Anything that could add nuance and depth to our historical understanding of indigenous survival beyond the 16th century and expand our understanding of indigeneity, race, and sovereignty in a colonized region will help tremendously. 

Los Taínos de La Española

Roberto Cassá's Los taínos de La Española is one of the important studies of the Taino past. Although somewhat dated as it was first published in 1974, Cassá's work is an interesting example of historical materialism applied to the precolonial past of our island. His work highlights the ways in which Taino societies were at a stage of "incipient" artisan class formation and other features of a society whose processes, in the final stage of Taino culture, was disrupted by the Spanish conquest. However, unlike Moscoso, Cassá seems more orthodox in his Marxism. According to the latter, the absence of private landownership prohibits the formation of social classes. Instead, the Tainos developed social "ranks" based on chiefs, or caciques (with nitainos and behiques as part of this group) and laborers. Nonetheless, the evidence cited by Cassá himself from the Spanish chronicles, documentary sources, and archaeological insights suggest the reality was perhaps closer to that described by Moscoso.

In other words, there are frequent contradictions in this seminal study of the Taino past. At times, the author provides numerous examples of social inequality and "incipient" class formation and state centralization yet he's insistent on seeing Taino society as one of simply chiefs and workers or laborers, with the behiques (Shamans) and nitainos as appendages of the chiefs. Yet he points out how the caciques had control over some of the labor of communities and received tribute. They and others also were buried with more prestige goods, used more luxury products and were supporting, to some extent, long-distance exchange and an "incipient artisan class" freed from agricultural labor. This would suggest something closer to Moscoso's model of tribal tributary production in which caciques wielded significant power. 

The development of sophisticated art (and artisans to produce them), long-distance systems of exchange, and control over tribute of various aldeas seems to affirm the idea of a society transitioning to one with more defined social classes and greater inequality. This obviously varied based on the region, as Cassá astutely notes. After all, some caciques were simply in control of a single community or area, while others appeared to, like Xaragua, wield significant authority over an extensive area. However, the sources of authority for paramount chiefs was likely built on various foundations, including kinship, marriage alliances, an exchange of cemis, and gifts. And this was already in a stage of "incipient despotism" that enhanced the authority of the cacique. Behiques, who may not have been a priestly class, may have become one had the Spanish not arrived in the Caribbean.

By being perhaps overly orthodox with his historical materialism, Cassá endeavors too hard to force Taino societies in stages that match the modes of production of classical Marxism. So, since the Taino lacked private ownership, their societies were said to have not reached a more advanced stage. However, this ignores the insightful analyses of other Marxist scholars. In the case of Africa, Bernard Magubane comes to mind. Magubane's analysis of exploitation in precolonial sub-Saharan Africa demonstrates quite clearly how societies without private land tenure could still feature political centralization and outright exploitation. The Taino of Hispaniola, in at least some cases, had caciques with similar political power and ability to exploit the labor of others, even without private land tenure. 

Moreover, at least some Taino societies had achieved a "higher stage" in religious beliefs with abstract deities and with obvious evidence of social inequality. Caciques, for instance, buttressed their authority with religion and also possessed more luxury goods, consumed higher quality alimentation, had more wives, and were often a subject of celebration in areitos. In order to produce exquisite duhos and other works of art and refinement for this ruling class or group, there must have been some increase in the population of skilled artisans and workers. Thus, even if the Taino maintained communal land tenure and continued to supplement their diet with hunting, fishing and gathering, despite their productive system of yuca mounds, they were likely heading towards a society with more social inequality and political centralization. The redistribution of part of the surplus through communal feasts and celebrations like areitos and batey may have also contributed to the prestige and authority of the cacique and assist with attracting or retaining dependents. 

Cassá also raises a number of interesting questions about Taino society in other respects. For instance, what was the total population of the island in 1492? He estimated somewhere between 225,000 to 275,000, which is perhaps too high by today's better estimates. Certainly some parts of the island, especially with montones and irrigation canals, could have supported substantial populations, like Xaragua. But our sources are too ambiguous or provide gross overestimates or underestimates. Without more information, it remains unclear. Moreover, what was the relationship between the sexes really like among our indigenous predecessors? Cassá presents evidence of a patriarchal society with ambilineal or bilineal rules of descent. 

Evidently, the importance of accumulating women as wives among the powerful and the laborious tasks expected of women with casabe preparation and domestic life suggest a more burdensome lot for women. Women were also suggested to be of lower status in some of the myths recorded in the chronicles. Yet what does one make of the possible female cacicas or chiefs then? And did Taino peoples include something akin to a third gender or two-spirit in their societies? Men, dressed as women, were mentioned by Oviedo and Las Casas as "sodomites" who likely adopted female roles. Was there a similar system in place for female-bodied persons to become men? And of the Taino legacy in the Dominican Republic of the colonial and independence eras, what can be found of the Taino legacy besides material culture adopted by Africans and Europeans?

Early Spanish Caribbean

Although we are mainly interested in the past of the indigenous populations of the Greater Antilles and their legacy, Altman's Life and Society in the Early Spanish Caribbean: The Greater Antilles, 1493–1550 is an interesting read on early Caribbean colonial society. True, due to the sources it is more detailed for the white or European population rather than the Africans and Indians who outnumbered them. But, the colonial society was not a replica of the Iberian peninsula. It was also profoundly shaped by the indigenous cultures, labor, and knowledge. Thus, in covering those pivotal first 50 years or so of Spanish conquest and colonization, Altman urges us to rethink many of our assumptions. For instance, the Spanish Caribbean did experience a decline in gold production and it obviously lost much of its population (decimation of indigenous communities plus Spanish migration to the mainland colonies of New Spain or Peru). However, sugarcane, hatos, the development of new towns, and large rural populations led to more stable colonial economies. Moreover, indigenous populations did not completely disappear. 

As suggested by other scholars, acculturation and evangelization of local Indian populations appears to have been rather weak for the first half of the 16th century. For example, areitos and other traditions and customs persisted well into the colonial era. Local Indian customs and traditions were even adopted by others, such as the botanical and pharmacological knowledge of the Taino. It is possible Taino fishing practices and knowledge were also adopted by others in the society. The influx of Indian and African slaves also left a demographic impact that shaped colonial society dynamics in profound ways. Indians from other parts of the circum-Caribbean region and Africans led to the consolidation of chattel slavery in the New World while establishing consistent foci of resistance through maroon communities and rebellions. Furthermore, much of the socioracial order established throughout Latin America was first implemented or developed in Hispaniola and the other Antillean colonies. Even though each island was different, with perhaps Jamaica not receiving as much attention as the rest, the general conclusion seems to be that the Latin American political and economic order was first developed in the Caribbean. And the Caribbean remained central to Spanish empire and expansion long after the conquest of central Mexico and Peru. 

What was most interesting to us is also the utility of this study for understanding this colonial world through the biographical segments or sections. Certain villainous or fascinating characters emerged out of the unique conditions of conquest. Through timing, luck, personal connections, participation in conquest or pacification, and service as a royal official, a number of people enriched themselves or even experienced a degree of upward mobility. Some, as in the case of Isabel de Maraver, daughter of a converso named Juan Guillén, experienced poverty, loss, and accommodation in a new, nominally Spanish society. Our interest in Juan Guillén was originally genealogical, as the research of Burset Flores suggests one of his daughters ended up in Puerto Rico as the wife of a Pedro de Espinosa. Through Eufrasia, there must be a huge number of Puerto Ricans who are descendants of Juan Guillén, not to mention descendants in the Dominican Republic from his descendants in Hispaniola.  

If Burset Flores was indeed correct in identifying the parents of Eufrasia Maraver, then she was a sister of the impoverished widow Isabel de Malaver described in the sixth chapter of Altman's book. Why did Eufrasia not do anything to assist her aged father, Juan, and other relatives living in an impoverished, mixed-race household in Hispaniola (one that included black female slaves, mestizas, and an old Indian female servant)? It seems that the family came too late to Hispaniola, missing out on the 1514 Repartimiento. However, Eufrasia married well with Pedro de Espinosa, a slaveholderw who also possessed "free" Indians. Even if he was the same man who fought with a son-in-law of Ponce de Leon, he was a regidor and person of some status in Puerto Rico. Considering the close proximity between the two colonies and the fact that many of settlers in Puerto Rico came from Hispaniola, one is a little surprised that Eufrasia and her husband appear to have done nothing to assist their less fortunate relatives.

Myth of Indigenous Caribbean Extinction

Tony Castanha's The Myth of Indigenous Caribbean Extinction: Continuity and Reclamation in Borikén (Puerto Rico) is an infuriating and exciting read. For anyone interested in the neo-Taino movement and indigenous reclamation among Puerto Ricans, this book is full of rich details from oral history and everyday Jibaro culture. These do support the author's contention that the indigenous population of Puerto Rico is not extinct. This is now clear from the combination of genetic, historical, and ethnographic evidence supporting a major indigenous component in the making of Puerto Rican culture. Indeed, even in the 1800s, foreign writers noted an "Amerindian" element in the Puerto Rican peasant population's culture and physical appearance. Furthermore, Castanha uses the word Jibaro (and imaginative etymology) to designate the indigenous people of Puerto Rico. They were Jibaros and part of the "Carib" culture of the Antilles. Instead of buying into theories of Taino-Carib dichotomies, Castanha appears to prefer a cultural unity of the two while rejecting the idea of Carib ritual cannibalism (one of the other myths, according to him). 

By drawing on non-mainstream research by Puerto Rican intellectuals like Lamourt-Valentin and numerous local informants, Castanha basically argues against most of the conclusions of mainstream academics in academic "Taino Studies." Instead of primarily South American origins, Castanha believes the indigenes of Puerto Rico were of Mesoamerican origin. Lamourt-Valentin, Fernandez Mendez, and some of his informants support this notion of a Mesoamerican, Mayan influence on the Jibaro. While there may indeed have been a Central American origin for some of the "Archaic" population of the Antilles, and perhaps a Mesoamerican influence on the batey ballgame, the academic mainstream researchers present far more convincing evidence of a South American origin. The Taino dependence on yuca, linguistic evidence, the corpus of myths and religious practices recorded in the Spanish chronicles, and archaeological evidence does seem to support a much stronger origin for the "Taino" along the Orinoco. For example, the numerous similarities between Taino myths as recorded by the Spanish and a number of Amazonian indigenous myths clearly supports a South American link. Unfortunately, until we can locate a copy of Lamourt-Valentin's Cannibal Recipies Fernandez Mendez's study of Taino art and its Mesoamerican affiliations, we have the unconvincing work of Castanha to evaluate. 

Since Castanha borrows heavily from Lamourt-Valentin's work and alternative, non-mainstream paradigms for the study of the indigenous Caribbean, it is no surprise that he also reaches questionable conclusions about the nature of indigenous survival in post-conquest Puerto Rico. While the indigenous population definitely survived, Castanha believes in an alternative on colonial demography for the island. According to him, the Jibaro fled to the mountainous interior of Puerto Rico relatively early in the 16th century. Other historians, such as Sued Badillo, suggest the population movement into the mountains during the colonial era occurred later. Castanha also asserts population numbers that are unbelievably high for the precolonial and colonial eras. Despite the careful estimates of scholars, Castanha accepts estimates that are unbelievably high for the Greater Antilles before conquest. More disturbing, however, is the analysis of late 18th century censuses. Based solely on local informants, the author somehow reaches the conclusion that the actual population Indian origin of La Indiera (which was supposedly much larger than the later Indieras of the 19th and 20th centuries) was in the hundreds of thousands. The colonial censuses were undoubtedly flawed and many regions, especially in the mountainous interior, were undercounted. However, Castanha's estimates appear to be significantly inflated and would suggest Puerto Rico's population in the late 18th century was several times larger than the recorded population of the island. Even if one accepts the idea that most of the pardos designated in the censuses were people of partial indigenous origin, in addition to the nearly 2,000 recorded for the San German area, Castanha's figures are implausibly high. 

Despite our problems with some of the conclusions of the author, this is still worth reading. By drawing on the family histories and traditions of his informants, one can see how family narratives of Indian origin and certain customs do reflect indigenous heritage. The oral histories also refer in surprising detail to 19th century events, an era in which the Spanish conquest of the interior was finally completed. For instance, family traditions of the tortures inflicted on the population during the compontes are a powerful demonstration of how descendants of 19th century Jibaros remember the Spanish colonial era. Traditions of Espiritismo, healing, and syncretic Catholic rituals likewise suggest the maintenance of some indigenous traditions in Puerto Rico. Just as interesting is the case of the Puerto Rican diaspora, which is largely left out of this study. However, Arroyo's research on Puerto Ricans in Hawaii refer to traditions of Indian descent or origin that would be fascinating to explore further. Are there Puerto Rican Diasporic communities in other states of the US with similar traditions of specific Indian ancestry and heritage? Oral history and folklore indicate the indigenous legacy was and is more significant than we initially thought. Perhaps that should be one of the areas of concentration for future researchers. A systematic collection and analysis of these traditions, one more meticulous than that offered here, could shed light on the ways the largely unlettered Jibaro defined themselves and related to the colonial state. 

Caciques and Indigenous Population of Puerto Rico

With the lower population estimates for the Taino population provided by one aDNA study, it is important to consider the estimates reached by historians. Although the case of Puerto Rico lacks reliable early censuses and maps of the various cacicazgos on the island at the time of Spanish contact and early colonial rule, Francisco Moscoso's Caciques, aldeas y población taína de Boriquén (Puerto Rico), 1492-1582 is a necessary read. Despite the limitations of our surviving sources and the incomplete state of archaeological research on contact-era sites in Puerto Rico, Moscoso's study is more careful than those of earlier historians who proposed unrealistically high figures (such as 600,000) or very low estimates, such as Brau's 16,000. Historians who were not methodological and consistent in their estimates of numbers of caciques and total population cannot be relied upon for those of us who are skeptical of the low population estimates from the aforementioned aDNA study. 

In short, Moscoso concluded that the island probably had 44 caciques in the first two decades of the 16th century. This number is reached through corroborating the archival sources and chronicles, emphasizing the caciques who can be associated with a specific area or region. There may have been an additional 11 caciques whose existence Moscoso could not corroborate or cross-reference. Moreover, some of the identified 44 caciques may have been captains or nitainos serving under a cacique, but Spanish sources may have misidentified or reclassified Taino elites based on their own needs during and after the conquest. Some may disagree with Moscoso about the existence of female caciques, or cacicas, before the conquest. If Moscoso is correct, then the appearance of cacicas is actually a result of the Spanish manipulating and interfering with Taino indigenous political structures for their own benefit. We know that happened through the Spanish practice of using the Taino cacique and nitano as a privileged group for implementing the encomienda system. However, we still believe it is possible that women ruled as cacicas before contact, and that because women were already wielding such power, the Spanish found a way to intervene as husbands of cacicas in Hispaniola and Puerto Rico. Thus, the possibility of women cacicas and the likelihood that some of the 44 caciques identified in the Spanish may not have been original "caciques" suggests that the original number of caciques could have been lower or higher. The fragmentation of cacicazgo populations by splitting their populations between different encomiendas must have also changed or impacted demographics.

After establishing his estimate of around 44 caciques for the island, most of them in the key first two decades of the colonial era, Moscoso argued for a Taino population of around 110,000. This is proposed with reservations, but based on known data on Taino chiefdom's surplus-producing capacities and the figures derived from Las Casas. Intriguingly, we believe a similar reliance on Las Casas was used for Roberto Cassá's estimate of Hispaniola's indigenous population in 1492. If Las Casas was reliable, and our theories on the productivity of yuca agriculture and the structure of a typical aldea are correct, then perhaps such a high figure of 110,000 is plausible. But, Moscoso bases this on an average aldea possessing around 2500 people. This could have been the case for Puerto Rico, assuming each cacicazgo was producing a surplus of yuca based on mound agriculture and other crops. However, one would expect that each cacique ruled or controlled the tribute of cacicazgos with varying characteristics in productivity, types of crops, and political factors that shaped their relationship to other caciques. For that reason, we see an estimate of 2500 per cacique as too high. 

Even if, one average, a typical Indian "head of household" included 10-15 relatives, that Las Casas may not have correctly identified the numbers associated with a family. Nor do we have sufficient knowledge of how many laborers enumerated in the larger encomiendas may have come from the same households. Of course, 600 Indians from Agueybana, likely only representing the laboring population, must have omitted perhaps 5 children per adult (as well as the aged and infirm). If so, then perhaps a high estimate of around 3000 can be reached for the case of some aldeas associated with powerful chiefs. But for those whose associated naborias only totalled around 100 or 150 in the 1510s, lower figures of around 500 or perhaps 1000 might be more reliable estimates. With that in consideration, perhaps the paramount caciques controlled populations of a few thousands while the rest may have headed aldeas or yucayeques of around 500-1000. We are inclined to therefore go for the lower range of estimates from Moscoso's model, perhaps somewhere between 44,000 to 88,000 Tainos inhabiting the entire island. 

As for what happened to the 44,000-88,000 indigenous people of the island after the initial conquest, Moscoso rightly questions the low numbers provided in various sources after the de Lando census. The absence of "indios" in the late 1500s and 17th century sources does not constitute proof of a complete extinction narrative. Instead, it is very probable that colonial racial or color labels encompassed people who may have been classified as "indio" previously. Then, the reappearance of "Indios" in the later decades of the 18th century also suggests survival, although almost certainly not of any "pure" Indian communities. As the descendants of the indigenous population continued to exist, they also intermarried with people of African and European descent (like the cacica or widow of a cacique who married or became a lover to Pedro Mexia, a mulato). Over time, the indigenous culture continued to be the basis for much of the new mestizo culture of the rural population of the island. Their disappearance in the later sources may reflect a wish on the part of Spanish officials and encomenderos to minimize the populations under their control, hide illegal enslavement, and promote the African slave trade to repopulate the island with laborers. This, of course, does not minimize the horrors of the conquest as many indigenous people were slaughtered, enslaved, removed from their homes, subjected to raids, or sold into slavery. Many must have also fled Puerto Rico for other islands to escape the Spanish, causing a further decline in the native population. 

Taino Legacy in Hispaniola

 

After reading Guitar's dissertation, one begins to see even more clearly how important the "Taino" past is to the formation of the Dominican Republic and, by extension, all of the Spanish Antilles. Beginning with a detailed overview of the known facts and characteristics of Classic Taino civilization before 1492, Guitar draws on the chronicles, archaeology and, in some cases, common sense, to argue for the centrality of indigenous people, customs, and traditions in the making of the creole culture of Hispaniola. The African legacy, of course, is obvious and undeniably important, too. But seeing evidence of Taino and "Indian" survival and persistence in Hispaniola after the mid-1500s is fascinating. We have some questions about the later censuses and sources, naturally. Yet the fact that thousands of "Indians" of local and foreign provenance continued to live on Hispaniola after their alleged extinction helps elucidate why the indigenous legacy was and is so significant for the formation of creole cultures in the Spanish Caribbean. And despite the differences between Hispaniola and, say, Puerto Rico, one can arguably see a similar process in which indigenous persistence long after 1542 helps explain the elements of cultural (and biological) continuity observable in Puerto Rico. Whether or not this history justifies neo-Taino movements or reclamation, however, is another question. 

Zemí in the City

This conversation with Miguel Luciano is interesting for exploring the contemporary resonances of Taino art among Puerto Rican and other communities. Since it focuses on one of the exceptional guayacan wood sculptures from around 1000 years ago, the discussion raises a number of important questions and issues about museums, colonial legacies, and the relevance of the Taino past to Puerto Ricans today. It sounds like the Metropolitan Museum of Art's exhibit was an excellent one on the Taino and circum-Caribbean indigenous art.