| EXCERPT
Merengue: Dominican Music and Dominican Identity
Paul Austerlitz
Temple University Press
1997
Table of Contents
Forward by Robert Farris Thompson
Preface
1 Introduction
Part I: The History of Merengue, 1854-1961
2 Nineteenth-Century Caribbean Merengue
3 Merengue Cibaeño, Cultural Nationalism, and Resistance
4 Music and the State: Merengue during the Era of Trujillo, 1930-1961
Part II: The Contemporary Era, 1961-1995
5 Merengue in the Transnational Community
6 Innovation and Social Issues in Pop Merengue
7 Merengue on the Global Stage
8 Enduring Localism
Introduction
An often-quoted anecdote maintains that merengue
originated in 1844, the year that the Dominican Republic was founded
(Vidal in Hernández 1927:6; Hernández in Ysalguez
1975b:50-51; Coopersmith 1945:86-87, 1949:19-20; Roberts 1972:106-107).
As the story goes, a Dominican soldier named Tomás Torres
had abandoned his station during the Battle of Talanquera in the
War of Independence. The Dominicans won the battle, and while
celebrating the victory at night, soldiers sang the first merengue,
which mocked the cowardly Torres:
Toma' juyó con la bandera
Toma' juyó de la Talanquera:
Si juera yo, yo no juyera,
Toma' juyó con la bandera (in Hernández 1927:6).
Thomas fled with the flag,
Thomas fled from Talanquera;
If it had been I, I wouldn't have fled:
Thomas fled with the flag.
Related by journalist Rafael Vidal to composer
and folklorist Julio Alberto Hernández, this account first
appeared in print in 1927, during a period when merengue was beginning
to gain currency as a national symbol. A melody for the song and
a similar text appear in the same year in another publication,
Julio Arzeño's Del folklore musical dominicano.
Arzeño, however, did not consider it a merengue, classifying
it as a "patriotic song" instead (1927:127).1
The Battle of Talanquera theory of merengue’s origin is
clearly dubious history, but it is a powerful myth, because it
links music and national identity in a solid bond, a bond that
has endured through most of merengue’s history.
The true origin of this
music will never be known with certainty. But whatever their differences,
theories about merengue's origin express deep-rooted feelings
about Dominican identity. Although they differ in many important
ways, the Dominican Republic and Haiti share many cultural characteristics.
Like merengue in the Dominican Republic, mereng (in Haitian
Creole, méringue in French) is a national symbol
in Haiti. Fouchard suggests that mereng evolved from the fusion
of slave musics such as the chica and calenda
with ballroom forms related to the French contredanse
(1988:5-10). He also writes that mereng's name derives from the
mouringue music of the Bara, a Bantu people of Madagascar (1988:77-82,
1973:110). The fact that few Malagasies came to the Americas renders
this etymology dubious, but it is significant because it foregrounds
what Fouchard, and most Haitians, consider the essentially African-derived
nature of their music and national identity.2 Fouchard
posits that Dominican merengue developed directly from Haitian
mereng during the 1822-44 period in which Haitians ruled Spanish
Dominicans (1988:66).
Dominicans are often
disinclined to admit African and Haitian influences on their culture.
As ethnomusicologist Martha Davis points out, many Dominican scholars
have, at the least, ignored African influence
in Santo Domingo. At the worst, they have bent over backwards
to convince themselves and their readers of the one hundred
percent Hispanic content of their culture. This is not an uncommon
Latin American reaction to the inferiority complex produced
by centuries of Spanish colonial domination (1975:9).
Merengue innovator Luis Alberti writes that merengue
"has nothing to do with black or African rhythms" (1975:71).
The proclivity to hide connections with Africa is related to anti-Haitian
sentiment, and relationships between the national musics of Haiti
and the Dominican Republic have often been ignored or downplayed
in Dominican merengue scholarship. Several standard Dominican
sources, written by competent scholars, that mention merengue
in Puerto Rico and other countries neglect to even acknowledge
the existence of Haitian mereng (Nolasco 1956:321-41; del
Castillo and García Arévalo 1988:17; Lizardo 1978a,
1978b; Lizardo in Ysalguez 1979a:51,). Peña-Morel is one
of the few Dominicans to acknowledge that merengue is something
that Dominicans share with Haitians. For him, however, this fact
renders merengue an inappropriate Dominican symbol; he suggests
that another genre, the mangulina, is more representative
of national culture (1929 III:1,3).3
In the 1970s, some Dominican
intellectuals and artists began to challenge this Eurocentrism
by celebrating the African contributions to Dominican culture
and looking at connections to Haiti. The musicologist Jorge noted
that
anti-Haitian sentiment and the tendency to
hide and/or minimize the African roots of our [Dominican] culture
on the part of the bourgeois intelligentsia have obstructed
understanding and study not only of merengue, but of numerous
forms of Dominican culture through the years (1982:33).
Prominent in this movement was Dominican folklorist
Fradique Lizardo, who discussed the African influence on Dominican
culture (1979) and asserted that "merengue’s origin
is in Africa" (in Ysalguez 1975a:50). Lizardo was criticized
for making such statements. For example, the respected dance music
composer Luis Senior said that he was "horrified" by
Lizardo's assertion, and that it is “unpatriotic”
to call merengue African (in Ysalguez 1976d:50). Lizardo's theory
of merengue's origin resembles Fouchard’s. Asserting that
the Bara of Madagascar perform a dance called "merengue"
and noting that they utilize a drum similar to the Dominican tambora,
which is prominent in Dominican merengue,4 Lizardo
suggests that Bara and other African musics were syncretized with
a Cuban form called the danza, and that this gave rise
to Caribbean merengue (1978a; also see 1978b:11-13).5
As mentioned earlier, few Malagasies came to the Americas. Moreover,
the facts that drums similar to the tambora are diffused widely
in Africa (and Asia), and that several styles of merengue (both
in and out of the Dominican Republic) do not use the tambora weigh
against Lizardo's idea that merengue derives specifically from
the Bara.
In spite of their differences,
almost all of the origin theories point to connections between
merengue European ballroom dance musics such as the danza (Fouchard
1988:15-21; Lizardo 1978a; Nolasco 1939:60, 1948:164-65, 1956:322;
Hernández 1969:65; Rueda 1990b). Nolasco feels that merengue's
association with these forms indicates that its origins are in
Europe (1948:164-65). Although Rueda acknowledges the possibility
of some African influence on merengue, he also believes that its
European influences demonstrate merengue’s Euro-American
nature and discredits the idea that merengue is Afro-Caribbean
(1990b). Hernández, however, points out that European-derived
musics came under African influence in the Americas, arguing that
while merengue developed from European forms, it is a syncretic,
Afro-Hispanic genre (1969:53). Singer Joseito Mateo, the "king
of merengue," concurs, pointing out that racial amalgamation
naturally produces syncretic music:
Dominican whites and blacks [originally] had
their own musics, just as in the United States, the blacks have
their own music. But gradually, what is called a fusion of the
two races came about, the blacks and the whites. And so, a música
mestiza was formed; that is, a mixed music. The white contributes
his part, and the black contributes his drums (interview).
For most Dominicans, then, discussion of merengue's
origin is equated with discussion of Dominican national and racial
identity. Eurocentric thinkers emphasize merengue's European elements,
Afrocentric scholars emphasize its African elements, and those
who celebrate racial amalgamation point to its syncretic nature.
While they do not agree on the nature of Dominicanness, all of
these constituencies agree that Dominican identity is expressed
in merengue.
A Mixed-Race Community
The Dominican Republic’s population is
estimated at 80% mixed African and European, 15% black, and 5%
white; Dominican sociologist Pérez Cabral aptly calls it
a "comunidad mulata," or mixed-race community
(1967:75).6 As Martha Davis writes, the African-derived
element in this mix is considerable: the Dominican Republic “without
doubt, should be considered an Afro-American nation -- that is,
a New World nation in which the African cultural influence figures
prominently, if not predominantly" (1976:2; also see Lizardo
1979; Aretz and Ramón y Rivera 1973; Austerlitz 1986, 1992).
But this does not mean that the European element in Dominican
culture is negligible; the upper classes, as well as the campesinos
(country people, peasants) in certain regions, are of predominantly
Spanish origin. Spaniards and Africans were not strangers when
they met in the Americas; Spain had come into a great deal of
contact with Africa during the 700 year Moorish occupation of
the Iberian peninsula. Ortiz writes that the forces occupying
Spain came from as far away as Timbuktu (1952-55, vol. 3:64),
and Curtin notes that many Spanish entrants to the Caribbean were
“free settlers of partial African descent" (1969:31).
Juan Bosch suggests that economic conditions in colonial Santo
Domingo may have produced the "de facto, if not de
jure, liberation of the slaves, to extent that these already
in 1659 behaved as free men, although they were not free legally"
(1988:121; quoted and translated in Hoetink 1973:85). Black and
mixed-race freedmen outnumbered both whites and slaves in Spanish
Santo Domingo by the end of the eighteenth century.
Positioned at a juncture
between Old World civilizations, Dominicans developed a unique
culture steeped in both African and Spanish traditions. This Afro-Spanish
borderland spawned myriad musics. These include a wealth of African-derived
styles such as palos, congo, and sarandunga
drumming, which are performed by Afro-Dominican religious brotherhoods;
European-influenced forms such as chuines, influenced by
Canary Islands music; and many syncretic styles such as merengue
and mangulina, characterized by a fusion of African and
European elements (see Davis 1976, 1981; Lizardo 1975).
Mountainous terrain
and poor roads kept five primary areas of the Dominican Republic
relatively isolated from each other; regionalism has been central
to both music and politics in the country.7 El
Sur (the South), the largely arid southwestern portion of
the country, contains large cattle ranches and Santo Domingo,
the capital of the Republic, while sugar cultivation as well as
ranching dominate el Este (the East). The lush northeastern
Samaná peninsula was settled by black entrants from Haiti,
the English-speaking Caribbean, and the United States. The fertile,
rolling mountains of the country’s most densely-populated
central region, el Cibao, have been used mainly for small-scale
fruit, vegetable, tobacco, and coffee cultivation, and shares
many cultural characteristics with the more arid Línea
Noroeste (north-west border). The country’s oligarchy
was long concentrated in the Cibao's largest city, Santiago de
los Caballeros (literally, "Santiago of the Gentlemen").
While Dominicans of both African and European descent live in
all areas of the Republic, the Cibao contains8 the
highest degree of European ancestry in both urban and rural areas.
As Pérez Cabral puts it,
the South and East of the country became true
centers of mulatos...[while] several areas of the Cibao
maintained a preponderance of white population more or less
devoid of African physical characteristics (1967:132-33).9
The high concentration of European blood, combined
with the presence many oligarchs and its large population, precipitated
what Hoetink terms a "hierarchy of regions, in which
the Cibao had always been dominant" (1982:50, emphasis his).
Variants of merengue developed in several regions of the country,
but only the Cibao version gained national prominence.
Syncretism and Articulation
A cleavage between the Dominican Republic’s
dominant, Hispanocentric, ideology and its cultural reality caused
mixed feelings similar to a "socialized ambivalence"
that Herskovits noted in Haiti. Herskovits wrote that this predicament
is caused by a Haitian's “possession by the gods of his
[African] ancestors...despite his strict Catholic upbringing,”
and that his “desire to understand and worship the gods
of his ancestors” is followed by “utter remorse after
having done this” (1937:295-96). Many Dominicans reveal
similar mixed feelings about local music and national identity.
Urban middle and upper classes are often attracted to rural arts
as expressions of a national character, but eschew them in practice
because most Dominican musics are associated with African-derived
religious practices. One Dominican friend told me on several occasions
that he would like to view some of my videotapes of rural Dominican
festivals. But he made it clear that he only wanted to look at
tapes that "do not involve the saints or the dead";
the worship of saints and religious homage to ancestors in the
Dominican Republic is associated with African-derived beliefs
that my friend considered taboo. Because most Dominican rural
festivals are, in fact, held in honor of saints or deceased community
members, it was difficult for me to find tapes that he could view.
Most Dominicans thus prefer to think of the Cibao variant of merengue
as representative of their traditional culture. Davis, who has
conducted extensive research on Afro-Dominican drumming, writes
that
When I say that I study folk music, Dominicans
on the whole say, "Oh, you mean the [Cibao-style] merengue"
Long drum and other strongly African influenced types of music
are not perceived as "folklore" (1976:10).
Or, they are not perceived as presentable
folklore. Ironically, merengue is often performed as a recreational
component of African-influenced rituals that Eurocentric Dominicans
eschew.
Bourguignon noted a
relationship between mixed feelings and syncretism, arguing that
while the latter "helps to present a complete picture of
the universe,...ambivalence is essentially disruptive not only
to a harmonious world-view, but even to successful self-identification"
(1951:173; also see Bourguignon 1969). But judgments resting in
rigidly relativistic compartmentalization don’t do justice
to life’s complexity; as Rosaldo writes, many cultural phenomena
“escape analysis because they fail to conform with standard
expectations” (1988:79). Explicating his influential notion
of "double-consciousness” in 1903, W.E.B. Du Bois noted
that mixed feelings cut both ways, sometimes widening, rather
than limiting, people’s horizons. He acknowledged that the
African-American "ever feels...two warring ideals in one
dark body,” but also held that while this may “seem
like the absence of power,...it is not weakness, -- it is the
contradiction of double aims” (1989 [1903]:3). Far from
being a flaw, the predicament that Herskovits describes are a
natural outgrowth of the colonial encounter, a result of the inculcation
of hegemonic values;10 as Franz Fanon writes, “ambivalence”
is “inherent to the colonial situation” (1983:67;
also see Smith 1983:93-95; Wilcken 1992; Ferrán 1985).
Complex feelings engender multifaceted creativity; through the
years, Dominican musicians have shown a remarkable ability to
adapt to changing realities by incorporating non-Dominican elements
into merengue. This multiple signification has given the music
a special aesthetic relevance to changing times.
One-sided theoretical
frameworks for considering merengue are inadequate. Adorno believed
that popular culture promotes the interests of the ruling class
(1976), while commentators such as Fiske argue that it belongs
to "subordinated and disempowered" elements of society
(1989:4). Calling attention to the deficiencies of both views,
McGuigan calls for a "critical populism" to replace
the sometimes naively celebratory tone of "cultural populist"
scholarship on one hand, and Adorno’s position on the other
(1992:5). Stuart Hall affirms that
Popular culture is neither, in a "pure"
sense, the popular traditions of resistance...nor is it the
forms that are superimposed on and over them. It is the ground
on which the transformations are worked (1981:228, quoted in
Middleton 1990:7).
He thus proposes that we look at popular culture
in terms of articulation, because this term "carries the
sense of language-ing, of expressing," but more importantly,
because
in England...we also speak of an articulated
lorry (truck), a lorry where the front (cab) and back (trailer)
can, but need not necessarily, be connected to one another...So
the so-called “unity” of a discourse is really the
articulation of different, distinct elements which can be rearticulated
in different ways because they have no necessary "belongingness"
(Grossberg and Hall 1981:53, quoted in McGuigan 1992:34).
Syncretic, multivalent, and fluid, merengue has
endured as a symbol of Dominican identity by successfully articulating
the contradictory forces at play in Dominican life.
References Cited
Damirón, Rafael. 1947. De nuestro
Sur remoto. Cuidad Trujillo: Publicaciónes de la Secretaría
de Educación y Bellas Artes.
Fouchard 1988 La méringue, le danse
nacional de Haiti, second edition. Pétion-Ville: Edicions
Henri Deschamps.
Gramsci, Antonio. 1971. Selections from the
Prison Notebooks, edited and translated by Quintin Hoare
and Geoffrey Nowell Smith. New York: International Publishers.
Herskovits 1958-----1958 (1941). The Myth
of the Negro Past. Boston: The Beacon Press.
Hoetink 1982 Hoetink, H. 1982. The Dominican
People 1850-1900: Notes for a Historical Sociology. Baltimore:
Johns Hopkins University Press.
Lizardo, Fradique. 1979. La cultura africana
en Santo Domingo. Santo Domingo: Taller.
López Morillo, Adriano. 1983. La segunda
reincorporación de Santo Domingo a España.
Santo Domingo: Sociedad Dominicana de Bibliófilos.
Sachs, Curt. 1938. "Les instruments de musique
de Madagascar." In Travaux et Mémoires de Institut
d'Ethnologie 20. Paris: Université de Paris.
Wiarda, Howard. 1969. The Dominican Republic:
Nation in Transition. New York: Praeger.
Williams, Raymond. 1991. “Base and Superstructure
in Marxist Cultural Theory.” In Rethinking Popular Culture.
edited by Chandra Mukerji and Michael Schudson. Berkeley: University
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