Most people likely start their history at their birthday. Others might consider the important impact of parents or grandparents, and therefore mark those births or perhaps a significant milestone in their lives like moving to a country, as the symbolic beginning of personal history.

For individuals who strongly associate with a collective, whether as citizens of a country or members of a tribe, the origin story varies.

In Art in Mexico
Diego Rivera (Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Park)

Diego Rivera (December 8, 1886 – November 24, 1957) is one of Mexico’s most famous artists. His murals of Mexicans and Mexican history adorn the walls of government buildings, famous hotels and business headquarters. One of his wives, Frida Khalo (married to her twice, 1929-1939 and 1940-1954) was also a famous painter who shared (and surpassed) his passion for Marxism, which often infused both of their art.

Rivera was a descendant of conversos, Jews who were forced to convert to Catholicism under penalty of expulsion or death by the Inquisition. While his Mexican heritage dominates most of his work, he did share in 1935 that “Jewishness is the dominant element of my life,” and it can be seen in one of his famous murals.

Rivera had already painted many of his great works when he was commissioned to paint a mural for the Del Prado Hotel in Mexico City in 1946. At 60 years old, he spent a year painting Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Park, a famous park in central Mexico City, frequented by high society.

The mural was enormous, measuring 51 feet long by 15 feet wide. It told the story of the history of Mexico City chronologically, from the earliest period at the far left, to the modern city on the right.

Rivera placed himself in the painting, slightly left of center, even though he clearly did not belong there chronologically. He held an umbrella in one hand and the other grasped the hand of the “dapper skeleton.” Frida Khalo rested one hand on his shoulder while the other held an orb.

Curiously, Rivera portrayed himself as a young boy, begging us to consider the various messages he was conveying.

The dapper skeleton was originally conceived by Jose Guadalupe Posada, a lithographer who mocked upper class Latin women for dressing in French clothing and whitening their skin, seemingly ashamed of their native origins. Rivera painted himself looking up at the skeleton, acknowledging that despite his strong nativist roots, perhaps he too was pulled into that worldview, as he was celebrated by high society around the world.

But that is just part of the message.

Rivera was a foot taller, three times the weight and twenty years older than Khalo. Yet here, Khalo acts as a mother figure, protecting a young Rivera. Why does Rivera have Khalo towering over himself and from what does he need protection?

Khalo holds a yin yang, a Chinese philosophical concept that binds opposite and interconnected forces. She too had become famous in western society and dined at the finest establishments. Perhaps part of the message was that Khalo was keeping the couple grounded in their populist Mexican roots, even as they enjoyed high society.

There is more.

Rivera’s tenth birthday coincided with the 300th anniversary of the execution of the Carvajal family in Mexico City, on December 8, 1596.

The Carvajal Conversos

The Carvajal family were Hispano-Portuguese conversos. The patriarch of the family, Luis de Carvajal the Elder (1539-1591) was a sincere convert to Catholicism who won the favor of King Phillip II of Spain, while many in his family kept their Jewish faith hidden from the Spanish Inquisition.

The king granted Luis the Elder a governorship in the northern parts of New Spain (today’s Mexico to Texas), and in 1579, authorized Carvajal to bring 100 people with him to the new world. Most significantly, the king’s royal charter included the anomalous provision that such individuals need not be subject to the investigation of ancestry, with which the crown typically tried to keep New Christians out of its colonies, as the king had brought the Inquisition to Mexico in 1571. Luis the Elder, knowing of his family’s hidden crypto-Judaism, likely thought that his career could advance, and his family would be safe in the new world.

It would not protect them for long.

In 1589, the viceroy of New Spain arrested Luis the Elder for a commercial matter, and in the investigation, it came out that Luis knew of, but did not report on his family’s secret Jewish faith. He was thereby transferred from the royal prison to the prisons of the Inquisition.

The whole family became implicated, including Luis the Younger (1566-1596), his sister Isabel and mother Francesca. At the auto da fé on February 25, 1590, inquisitors sentenced the entire family to various penances and wearing of sambenito, penitential garb. Not long after, Luis the Younger, his mother and sisters resumed their forbidden practices in hiding. They were caught again after a friend gave them up in February 1595. This time, they did not get off. Francisca, Isabel, Leonor, Catalina, and Luis the Younger were all burned at the stake at the auto da fé of December 8, 1596, as relapsos, or recidivist Judaizing heretics. This history was detailed in the diary of Luis the Younger, an important document in the history of Mexico.

Rivera chose to mark this slaughter of the Carvajal family as the beginning of the history of Mexico City.

Four members of the Carvajal family can be seen in the background with pointy hats tied to the stake with flames around them. The mother, Francesca, with head shaven, is before them being lashed by one Inquisitor while a member of the church sticks a cross in her face.

Rivera was deeply impacted by this story. In another section of the mural, he painted Ignacio Ramirez, a Mexican politician, holding a sign that read “God does not exist.” Catholic officials viewing the mural were offended by the line and asked Rivera to remove the text. He refused to do so and the painting was covered for nine years until he relented.

The Carvajal story elucidates the reason Rivera painted himself as a young boy.

While the history of Mexico City did not start in 1596, his personal history of the city began then due to his connection to conversos in the past. His tenth birthday was likely marked with the 300-year commemoration of the burning of the famous Jews at the stake. It impacted him deeply and he became sickened by religion. Painting about history in the shadow of the European Holocaust in 1946-7, demanded particular attention.

In the mural, Rivera is comforted by his non-Jewish wife who protected him both from the Inquisition as well as from capitalism and high society. While he was a product of many worlds, Jewish-Catholic-agnostic and socialist-capitalist, he relied on his spouse to secure him. On his own, he was left holding a folded umbrella, even while others around him held fancy canes, as he continued to fear various storms. He stood emotionally vulnerable in the nativist past, as he felt the pull of the modern bourgeois.

Rivera could have painted himself as a grown man, just as he could have started the city’s history when the Spanish came in 1521 or with the indigenous people who lived there for centuries. But that would have undermined his message that he was deeply insecure, and his personal view of the beginning of the city’s history.

In Schools in America
European (1776) and African Slavery (1619)

Proud Americans have historically viewed the beginning of their history at the Declaration of Independence in 1776. They appreciate the country’s founding fathers pulling away from England and establishing a new system of government with the Federalist Papers (1788) and the U.S. Constitution (1789). The native Americans and the first Europeans who started the colonies 150 years earlier are glossed over in favor of the first American citizens.

A new approach towards the beginning of American history is being fostered among Black Americans. The “1619 Project” has cast America as founded on slavery, a system of prejudice which Blacks continue to experience to this day. They see the start of history as African-Americans as beginning at that time, which directly feeds their orientation as Americans today.

School systems in California and elsewhere are no longer solely teaching the European view of history and are including coursework like the 1619 Project. They want all Americans to understand the various beginnings of the citizens of these United States.

In Middle East Propaganda
Palestinians (Canaanites) and Jews (Balfour 1917)

The Arab-Israeli Conflict has been ongoing for a century. Palestinian Arabs consider themselves as the indigenous people of the region and the Jews as new European interlopers. They tell themselves and the world that they are the only rightful claimants to the land based on a false spin of history.

Regarding Jews, Arabs negate the 3,300-year history of Jews in the land and the centrality of the land in Judaism. Palestinians falsely claim that today’s Jews have nothing to do with the Israelites in the Bible and are merely converts from Khazar. The Arabs absurdly assert that even the Jewish Temples in Jerusalem were located somewhere else. They lie that it was the British who launched the Jewish presence in Palestine with the Balfour Declaration in 1917.

Unsatisfied with only negating Jewish history to bolster their supposed higher claim to the land (or nervous that the anti-Semitic smears are too obviously false), the Palestinian Arabs have also changed their own history. Rather than admit that Arabs first came to the holy land en masse with the Islamic invasions of the 7^th and 8^th centuries, they claim that they are descendants of Canaanites and Jebusites mentioned in the Jewish Bible. Some college professors have even spun the idea of “Palestinian Hebrews”, completely stealing Jewish history and identity.

The Arab propaganda battle is very much about the beginning of their own history and of their perceived enemies, the Jews. It is an instrumental tool in their view of themselves and their position today, and an enormous obstacle to coexisting with the truly indigenous Jews.

In Meals in Religion
The Passover Seder for Jews

Jews have a unique approach towards infusing the beginning of their collective history.

While some Jews look to their forefathers of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob as the founders of monotheism and Judaism, the view of the start of Jewish history is the exodus from slavery in Egypt. It was at that time that they emerged as a nation and received the Torah, the laws to live by.

To cement the story in collective consciousness, Jews have a feast every Passover to mark that specific time in history. They have a seder, which revolves around telling the story of leaving Egypt, accompanied by a Haggadah which has been used for centuries. The meal is geared towards the children at the table, to instill a common past which ensures a uniting bond in the present.

Memory and History
Personal and Communal

Melissa Fay Greene authored a piece in April 2021 called “You Won’t Remember the Pandemic the Way You Think You Will.” She made several observations about memory including the strength of the “primacy effect”, remembering firsts, and the “narrative effect,” being able to recall dramatic events. She quoted Robyn Fivush, a psychology professor at Emory University who said “we use our memory in part to create a continuous sense of self, she [Fivush] told me, “a ‘narrative identity’ through all of life’s ups and downs: I am a person whose life has meaning and purpose. I’m more than the subject of brute forces. There’s a Story of Me.”

Greene also quoted Richard McNally of Harvard in discussing memory. “Trauma gouges deeply into our minds, engraving painful and long-lasting memories. “Whether they are rape victims, combat veterans, or earthquake survivors, people exposed to terrifying trauma typically retain vivid memories of the most central aspects of such experiences, often for the rest of their lives.”

On top of firsts, stories and trauma as means to retain memories, Greene discussed the idea of “collective memory,” an idea advanced by the 20th-century French sociologist Maurice Halbwachs. “We don’t shelve a pristine first edition of an experience in a dust-free inner sanctum; we sloppily pass the memory around, inviting comment. The consolidated edition, with other people’s fingerprints all over it, is what we put on the shelf of long-term memory, unaware that we’ve done so.”

The idea that our best recalled personal memories are tainted by outside influences can be set against what that does to the view of a collective event, such as the terrorist attacks of 9/11. “To tell it [a collective event] is to become part of the community, to share the moment, to work together to understand an event that’s difficult to grasp. If we recall and talk about something often enough, it will become a ‘cultural narrative.’… Narrative-memory experts call this “the social construction of autobiographical memory.” While a personal memory has the fingerprints of others, a collective memory is an amalgamation which we accept as truth to fit into the community.

Consider extending Greene’s view of personal and collective memory towards history.

A person cannot remember the beginning of their history; it predates their ability to have memories. However, the way they conceive of themselves in the present – personally and as part of community – identifies the story in the past which made them who they are today.

Diego Rivera took a traumatic event in Mexico’s history as an important early influence on his life. Black Americans have a collective narrative of racism in America and see the slave trade as the start of their persecution. Palestinians are actively constructing an autobiographical memory to understand their lack of a state while the most persecuted people in the world which was almost wiped from the planet in recent memory, managed to create a leading first world liberal society in their backyard.

Collective history is not collective memory. The latter includes a first-person account of an event, unknowingly reformulated with the contribution of peers. It twists a reality without a person realizing that their memory includes various external inputs.

But everyone readily understands that collective history they discuss is imperfect, relying on stories told through the generations. People use their lived experiences – their successes and failures – to identify when that path was set, and simultaneously choose what history is part of their tribal worldview.

Many Americans of European descent object to the 1619 Project as undermining the remarkable accomplishments of America’s founders. While not denying the history of slavery, the slave ships do not anchor the beginning of their history. They strongly object to it being taught in public schools as destroying common heritage. Black Americans cannot fathom that objection if people acknowledge the history of slavery. Conversely, Arabs understand that if they acknowledge that Jews predate them in the holy land, the basis for demanding a country free of invaders is revealed as outrageously anti-Semitic.

Everyone tries to impart collective history to young people. The Passover seder has Jewish children engaged in questions to cement memory and history together. American and Palestinian schools teach revised histories to impart a preferred collective history. And Diego Rivera made clear that his understanding of the beginning of his city’s history was determined when he heard of a horrific story that touched him personally as a child, a trauma he considered as he learned more stories of the European Holocaust as an adult.

Communities seek to build foundations in the youth with the beginning of their histories. The narratives are crafted in schools, family dinners and what kids see in society.

Certainly our past set our current reality, but we choose our origin story based on how we define ourselves today. When our history begins is both about a point in time and our collective memory adapting the story of our collective history.

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Prayer of The Common Man, From Ancient Egypt to Modern Israel

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