This chapter continues through the early eleventh century our account of the political histories related in Chapter 8. In contrast to events chronicled for the Copán-centered network at this time, what we see in other parts of Honduras and El Salvador is the emergence of large capitals that dominated their respective domains. These processes are most evident in Honduras’s Lower Ulúa, Lower Cacaulapa, and Comayagua valleys where the regional capitals of Cerro Palenque, El Coyote, Tenampua, and Las Vegas were established. Whereas these developments had Indigenous roots, Pipiles, Nahua-speaking immigrants from Mexico, now founded Cihuatán, a large town located in El Salvador’s Cerrón Grande basin. How power relations within the realms governed from these capitals were structured varied considerably. Similarly, the roles of things, whether locally fashioned (such as copper at El Coyote) or imported (such as Plumbate and Fine Orange ceramics and Pachuca obsidian), in these political processes also differed.

This chapter traces the consequences of Copán’s dynastic collapse for the realms that had been colonies or allies of the lowland Maya capital. All of these domains underwent demographic declines and political fragmentation. The nature of the changes, however, differed depending in part on what relations an area’s inhabitants had enjoyed with Copán’s agents. A crucial event in this process was the secession of Quirigua from the colonial network in CE 738. This dramatic development precipitated changes in governance at Copán even as it offered novel opportunities for former allies to advance claims to power that had not been available to them when Copán’s rulers enjoyed greater regional predominance. Ultimately, however, processes of political centralization and hierarchy building were curtailed among all participants in this network by CE 1000.

This interval witnessed drastic changes in political formations throughout Southeast Mesoamerica. These shifts generally took the form of political decentralization as what had been regional capitals were largely abandoned and replaced by the more muted expressions of political preeminence that took shape in smaller, dispersed political centers. A major exception to this trend is found at the site of Copán. The arrival here of interlopers from the Maya lowlands, led by K’inich Yax K’uk’ Mo’, transformed this settlement into the capital of a realm ruled according to principles previously foreign to the Southeast but which were well established among lowland Maya domains to the west. Much of the chapter is devoted to exploring how this singular event was possibly implicated in changes occurring elsewhere in Southeast Mesoamerica at this time. Copán’s rulers, outside their realm, did not determine the course of any area’s local history. Their mode of rule that combined political centralization with marked expressions of hierarchy, however, offered a model that their Southeastern neighbors could and did adapt to their own purposes.

Reflecting the turn in colonial literary scholarship towards performance in relation to sound studies, this chapter examines poetry as a form of poesis that emerged as an aural aesthetic category in colonial Mexico. Taking into consideration sociocultural factors, including language, class, and caste, and the evangelizing impetus of much religious music, this exploration of sounded lyric verse explains how these forms were not limited to church settings and places, nor to colonizing sources. The chapter considers poetry as a prestige form in music, the presentation of lyric in public musical settings, and the importance of aural aesthetics to convey poesis as a performative aesthetic category of cultural belonging. Musical poetic texts examined include the romance, villancico, church music, and other popular forms of autochthonous lyrical verse. Finally, the chapter considers the continuation of poetic aural performance through the nineteenth century.

This chapter proposes a new analysis of Mexican Romanticism, from José María Heredia to the Reforma generation. It considers how many of its canonical authors, such as Guillermo Prieto, Ignacio Manuel Altamirano, and Ignacio Ramírez, write an important part of their production privileging the first-person plural, and thus, effectively make the collective subject central. This We should, in turn, be read in the light of their considerable political agency. This chapter argues that what defines the complex temporality particular to the Romantic poem is that both the I and the We simultaneously pose each other as presupposition. The I can only exist as a singularity that the We is unable to assimilate and thus excretes. Yet, at the same time, it is only through the outside gaze of the person who does not belong to it that a group may crystallize as a true collectivity.

This chapter uses a case comparison to show the behavioral consequences of uncertainty about relationality – how it prevents new collaborative relationships that people would value from forming in the first place.

In this chapter, we consider how power was centralized within multiple Southeastern societies and the ways such pretensions were challenged. These contests were waged as people employed a diverse array of things secured from various sources to accomplish their distinct aims. Efforts to concentrate power and build hierarchies generally involved the creation of plazas, surrounded by monumental platforms, that served as venues for communal gatherings. The rituals and feasts held within these locales helped instill in the participants a sense of belonging to a group that encompassed and transcended earlier loyalties to individual households. Such events also promoted the preeminence of those who hosted them, planned the raising of these impressive arenas, and lived in the buildings bordering them. Resistance to these political projects relied on the majority’s efforts to remain economically self-sufficient, thus stymieing the emergence of hierarchies in most parts of the Southeast. The resulting political formations varied in their degrees of power concentration and the creation of invidious distinctions based on the shifting outcomes of these power competitions.

This chapter discusses the importance of collaborative relationships in civic life, and how the relationships that people would value do not always arise on their own. Instead, there can be an unmet desire to collaborate. It underscores why it’s important to distinguish between two types of goals for collaborative relationships: informal collaboration oriented toward knowledge exchange, and formal collaboration oriented toward projects with shared ownership, decision-making authority, and accountability. It also introduces the book’s main argument, which is that in addition to commonly cited factors such as resource constraints and a lack of organizational incentives, unmet desire arises because potential collaborators (who often begin as strangers) can be uncertain how to relate to each other. Uncertainty about relationality is a key barrier to new collaborative relationships. Last, the chapter also connects a rich understanding of the science of collaboration to several other topics: the nature of democratic agency, how to strengthen the link between science and society, the nature of discursive participation as a form of civic engagement, and how we conceptualize civic competence.

In the wake of the Mexican Revolution and its long aftermath, a distinguished lineage of Mexican poets that were also – and perhaps more importantly – outstandingly gifted essayists, made a sustained effort to reconstitute a national tradition fully inserted in Occidentalism. This chapter examines this great synthesis of the critical poets, beginning with Alfonso Reyes, followed by the Contemporáneos group, and arriving at the major accomplishments of Octavio Paz. The chapter focuses on Paz, establishing the different sources of his ideas on critical poetry and then examining some of his most significant compositions in this vein, with a particular focus on “Himno entre ruinas.”

This chapter summarizes the main findings of the book, and then presents a tool called an unmet desire survey (designed based on those findings) that potential collaborators and organizational leaders can use in order to form new collaborative relationships. It also briefly discusses how the findings are helpful for forming new research partnerships, a type of formal collaboration discussed in greater detail in one of the appendices. Last, it includes several policy recommendations for how organizational leaders can put the results into practice, as well as science policy recommendations for valuable future research on the unmet desire to collaborate in civic life.

This chapter discusses the question of cosmopolitanism and its role in the formation of the poetry of Modernismo, with a focus on the work of three major writers: Manuel Gutiérrez Nájera, Amado Nervo, and José Juan Tablada. Using the notion of “strategic Occidentalism” – the deliberate and critical engagements of writers with the Western tradition – the chapter discusses the ways in which poets in the Modernismo tradition used specific literary genealogies to transition Mexican poetry into the twentieth century. The chapter also comments on the various available editions of the work of these poets.

Colonial-era Mexican poetry presents a complex interweaving of several genres; this chapter explores two of its major forms: epic poetry and lyric poetry. The epic, often understood as a propaganda instrument for colonial interests, is also constitutive of colonial historical narrative, as is illustrated by works by Bernardo de Balbuena, Antonio de Saavedra Guzmán, Gaspar Pérez de Villagrá, Arias de Villalobos and others examined in this chapter. Lyric poetry captured the creative virtuosity of colonial Mexico. While past critique has framed this opus in relation to European sources, more contemporary readings focus instead on its interplay with the literary, political, and societal elements of its environment. This chapter explores the scope of this genre and the challenge that sixteenth- and seventeenth-century writing practices pose to twenty-first-century readers.

This chapter deals with another group of modernistas, mostly from the Catholic cities of Western Mexico, who are quite different from those examined in Chapter 6. Although they often met with the other group in Mexico City or shared the pages of the Revista Moderna, their approach to modernity is so different that it deserves a separate analysis. Modernismo can be defined by its able incorporation of Romanticism, Symbolism, and Parnassianism, but in the case of this group, there is a scepticism towards several aspects of these aesthetic movements, which always acts as a path that leads back to provincial life, landscape, and a national (and again Catholic) decorum. The authors studied in this chapter include Luis G. Urbina, Enrique González Martínez, Francisco González León, Manuel José Othón, and, in pride of place, Ramón López Velarde.