28.4.17

May Day Is No Bull


We shouldn't be surprised that a celebration that can be linked with both Taurus and Mithras - two Anatolian deities - is a big deal in Berlin's favourite Turkish district. But few people seem to realize that there is any deeper connection between them. In this article, I explain how the seeds of the May Day rituals we know and love today were sown in ancient Turkey. 



When it comes to May Day in Berlin, the connections between the holiday and the city's Turkish population seem like they are mostly incidental. The aged, cynical patriarchs of the Turkish community seem reluctant to deal with the drunken tourist crowd, even as they desperately compete to entice it into their shops and restaurants to spend, spend, spend. But the Turkish community may well have more of a right than some Germans do to take an interest in May Day. after all, its connection to this spring holiday stretches back far beyond the Kreuzberg riots of the 1980's. In fact, it stretches back almost 12,000 years, to the dawn of civilization itself.

Anatolia: Sowing the Seeds of May


In Turkey, at the foot of the Taurus mountains in Anatolia, the ruins of the world's oldest civilization suggest that the fertility rites that would eventually turn into May Day began way back in Neolithic times. There wasn't much written language back then, but the realities of life as Neolithic Anatolians  knew it are described in carved images that are still strangely meaningful to us, today. Carvings of a bull - which is still the same symbol that we use for the month of May, today - are found all over such ancient sites. A sun is often depicted between the bull's horns; it's the same sun that that is traditionally celebrated across Europe on the eve of May each year, by burning bonfires and dancing all night long. 

"The question is why the bull, above all other animals, remained such a powerful symbol for over 15,000 years," writes one author about the bull carvings in Gobelki Tepe. His words echo the perplexity of countless archaeologists before him, as they tried to explain what those symbols might mean.

I don't think it's all that mysterious, actually. The bull is still a fairly potent symbol for people who happen to be born under the sign of Taurus and that's a purely abstract connection, based on the almost-invisible movements of stars that we can't even touch, taste or smell. For ancient Anatolians (and Egyptians... and Persians... and Sumerians... and Romans...) the bull and the sun had a much more tangible connection to their lives, and to the springtime, too.  May was when the growing season typically started and, as such, it was a time to harness one's bull to a plough and start putting down seeds that would sprout and grow under the summer sun.

So right from the dawn of settled human civilization, then,  the link between fertility, bulls, females, and the sun was pretty explicit. The same author writes that, "stone and clay female figurines, showing young woman; woman giving birth to child, ram, or bull" are found in Gobelki Tepe.  Clearly, women in ancient times were considered to be pretty instrumental in the whole animal-domestication process, somehow. Maybe they were the ones who delivered new bull calves into the world by hand - who knows?  At any rate, the people living near the Taurus mountains seem to have attributed the presence of their sacred bulls to women, or to female gods.

Even the name "Taurus mountains" seems like kind of a flashing neon sign, announcing to the world that the area has been known for bulls since time out of mind.  And it makes sense they would have been important species: they were probably the most powerful animals that had ever been domesticated by humans, up until that point. Cattle would have been instrumental in helping Neolithic humans plough the fields and plant grains on a mass scale... as they still are today, in some places. Rearing crops would have made those Neolithic peoples unimaginably rich compared to their hunter-gatherer peers. The bull and the sun were all the tools that a Neolithic clan needed to rear a few decent crops that they could live off of and prosper, all year round.

In that sense, having a bull in your village must have been the Neolitihic equivalent of owning a Porsche or a Mercedes...  and we all know how many modern humans deify those tools. Why wouldn't the same reverence apply to the original 'engine' of human development, the humble bull?

Then again, these animals probably could have easily turned on and killed their human 'owners' at any time. I reckon that would have made Neolithic peoples just a bit more eager to earn their livestock's cooperation, by paying homage to their gods.

The bull worship cult isn't exactly dead, yet. Some think that it may be the reason why cows are still considered sacred in India to this day.



Minos: Taking the Bull by the Horns


Anatolian peoples later helped to found the Minoan culture in Crete, which was a peaceful and apparently egalitarian culture that, weirdly enough, inspired the patriarchal Greek civilization that came right after it. Women seem to have been in charge of the spiritual life in Minoan society, though.  Minoans also loved the arts, and they fed everyone well and housed them, regardless of their status. They also worshipped bulls in a very hands-on way, like their ancient fore-mothers and fathers had. In Minoan artwork, young men and women are often shown grabbing actual bulls by their literal horns and flipping over them. Why, you ask? Probably because it was the most badass thing that a teenage Cretan could do in those days. 

The Minoans' creation myth also stated that Crete was founded when a Phoenician queen named Europa moved to the island by hitching a ride there on the back of a god who was disguised as (drum roll, please)... a bull.  She later married and had kids with the god, thus creating the Minoan race.

Rome: Earth Revolves Around the Son



Even the Jesus story in Christianity seems to have been shaped in such a way as to replace yet another, ancient bull & sun cult: namely, Mithraism.  Mithras was a 1st Century A.D. Roman deity who was connected with the sun, and who was traditionally shown wearing Anatolian clothing.... for reasons that will probably seem clear when one looks to Gobelki Tepe, the Taurus mountains, and the sun worship evident there. Like Jesus, Mithras was born of a virgin on December 25th (the date of the Roman solstice). What we know about his story tends towards the same general themes of salvation that are seen in Jesus' tales. But, unlike Jesus, Mithras was a pagan god and therefore, heretical. It may be the main reason why he didn't last that long.

Unfortunately for bulls everywhere, Mithras also had a bad habit of slaughtering the animal once a year. Yes, he may have been a pagan deity but, rather than working together with the "feminine" energies of the bull, he seemed more hellbent on sacrificing her for his own glory... which really says something about the the core values of the soldiers who worshipped Mithras IMHO.

Modern Christianity commemorates Jesus' rebirth (Easter) and Ascension on dates that are closely connected to the old pagan rites of Mithras and of spring... rites which are in turn connected to the mating of livestock and the return of the sun to its full productive strength. All such rituals that can be traced back to the birth of agrarian civilization that centred around bulls and sun worship, such as those unearthed at Gobelki Tepe and Catal Hyuk, also in Turkey. 


Beltane: The Bonfire of Vanities

Photo via the Festival Sherpa website
Every year in Germany on the 30th of April - a date also known as 'witches night' - bonfires are still lit (probably to symbolize the sun). Men and women traditionally dance this night away, probably so as to give them a great excuse to fall into bed with a hot stranger the next morning, and sow some (ahem) fields together. Jumping over bonfires is a May Day tradition that pagans and Wiccans have kept alive to this day; some say it's a great way of heating things up below the belt.  Cattle were also made to jump over burning embers in ancient times, presumably to ensure their fertility, as well as that of the humans among them. 

Today, many central European countries claim that their May Day traditions include bonfires because they symbolize the burning of women, like the Church used to do back in its witch-hunting days. This interpretation may reflect more recent historical events, but the older origins of those fires can be glimpsed in Scotland and Wales, where the bonfire celebrations that happen every May Eve and May Day are euphoric events that focus on enjoying life (and setting stuff on fire).  At Beltane, as the Celtic British holiday is called, bonfires, fireworks, poi and dancing are combined in a purely exhibitionist, hedonist way... and then there's the May Pole dance, which sees people dancing around a giant phallus.  Subtle it ain't, but the thousands of years of constant observance suggest that having a day like May Day each year is crucial to us humans.

These old rituals, which are pretty much unchanged since Celtic times, suggest that European May Day traditions have historically been more about bringing the sexes together to celebrate life - not about turning them against each other to cause death, as later 'traditions' have tried to insist.

Mayday: Butting Heads with Authority



The American left-wing scene unconsciously harnessed the thrusting creative energy of May the 1st when it decided to make the day an international, annual holiday to celebrate (and fight for) workers' rights. May Day commemorates a grim day back in the late 19th century, when several anarchists were executed in Chicago because they had committed the 'crime' of organizing a demo that had turned violent. Yet, as worthy as that cause may be, the real reason why May Day has become so insanely popular is probably because it is connected to those ancient yearnings to create life, rather than anything to do with death. Bringing everything back full circle, modern-day Turkey has also been the scene of some incredibly dramatic and tragic May Day events in recent memory: at the 1977 Taksim Square massacre, authorities killed dozens of protestors, for example.  

When you take all of the above histories into account, it seems almost inevitable that May Day - the day when the Bull constellation charges back into the skies, and the Anatolian sun god Mithras returns to his full strength - centres around Kreuzberg, which has got to be one of the best-known Turkish 'expat' neighbourhoods in Berlin. It seems strangely fitting that the most chaotic and radical May Day events tend to happen around there, too.The reckless bullish energy that May represents, heated up by the sun, pushes people to break out in ways that can be as destructive as they are euphoric... but that trend has lasted tens of thousands of years so far, and it ain't about to change.

May Day is also a time when most people in Berlin naturally feel a rush of reckless energy, pushing them to start whatever changes that they feel are necessary after a long winter, spent in reflection. Don't be afraid of playing your part in that, this year: just grab a bull by the horns and jump in.

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...is NOT a fashion blogger! I write about underground music, activism, social media rights. Other publications that I have written for: OpenDemocracy, Urban Challenger, Siegesaeule, Alternative Berlin and Sensanostra.