Monumental Instructions for the
Post-Apocalypse
By Randall Sullivan
The strangest monument in America looms over a barren knoll
in northeastern Georgia. Five massive slabs of polished granite rise out of the
earth in a star pattern. The rocks are each 16 feet tall, with four of them
weighing more than 20 tons apiece. Together they support a 25,000-pound
capstone. Approaching the edifice, it's hard not to think immediately of
England's Stonehenge or possibly the ominous monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Built in 1980, these pale gray rocks are quietly awaiting the end of the world
as we know it.
Called the Georgia Guidestones, the monument is a
mystery—nobody knows exactly who commissioned it or why. The only clues to its
origin are on a nearby plaque on the ground—which gives the dimensions and
explains a series of intricate notches and holes that correspond to the
movements of the sun and stars—and the "guides" themselves,
directives carved into the rocks. These instructions appear in eight languages
ranging from English to Swahili and reflect a peculiar New Age ideology. Some
are vaguely eugenic (guide reproduction wisely—improving fitness and
diversity); others prescribe standard-issue hippie mysticism (prize
truth—beauty—love—seeking harmony with the infinite).
What's most widely agreed upon—based on the evidence
available—is that the Guidestones are meant to instruct the dazed survivors of
some impending apocalypse as they attempt to reconstitute civilization. Not
everyone is comfortable with this notion. A few days before I visited, the
stones had been splattered with polyurethane and spray-painted with graffiti,
including slogans like "Death to the new world order." This
defacement was the first serious act of vandalism in the Guidestones' history, but
it was hardly the first objection to their existence. In fact, for more than
three decades this uncanny structure in the heart of the Bible Belt has been
generating responses that range from enchantment to horror.
Supporters (notable
among them Yoko Ono) have praised the messages as a stirring call to rational
thinking, akin to Thomas Paine's The Age of Reason. Opponents have attacked
them as the Ten Commandments of the Antichrist.
Whoever the anonymous architects of the Guidestones were,
they knew what they were doing: The monument is a highly engineered structure
that flawlessly tracks the sun. It also manages to engender endless
fascination, thanks to a carefully orchestrated aura of mystery. And the stones
have attracted plenty of devotees to defend against folks who would like them
destroyed. Clearly, whoever had the monument placed here understood one thing
very well: People prize what they don't understand at least as much as what
they do.
The story of the Georgia Guidestones began on a Friday afternoon
in June 1979, when an elegant gray-haired gentleman showed up in Elbert County,
made his way to the offices of Elberton Granite Finishing, and introduced
himself as Robert C. Christian. He claimed to represent "a small group of
loyal Americans" who had been planning the installation of an unusually
large and complex stone monument. Christian had come to Elberton—the county
seat and the granite capital of the world—because he believed its quarries
produced the finest stone on the planet.
Joe Fendley, Elberton Granite's president, nodded absently,
distracted by the rush to complete his weekly payroll. But when Christian began
to describe the monument he had in mind, Fendley stopped what he was doing. Not
only was the man asking for stones larger than any that had been quarried in
the county, he also wanted them cut, finished, and assembled into some kind of
enormous astronomical instrument.
What in the world would it be for? Fendley asked. Christian
explained that the structure he had in mind would serve as a compass, calendar,
and clock. It would also need to be engraved with a set of guides written in
eight of the world's major languages. And it had to be capable of withstanding
the most catastrophic events, so that the shattered remnants of humanity would
be able to use those guides to reestablish a better civilization than the one
that was about to destroy itself.
A message consisting of a set of ten guidelines or principles is
engraved on the Georgia Guidestones in eight different languages, one
language on each face of the four large upright stones. Moving clockwise
around the structure from due north, these languages are:
English, Spanish, Swahili, Hindi, Hebrew, Arabic, Chinese,
and Russian.
- Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.
- Guide reproduction wisely — improving fitness and diversity.
- Unite humanity with a living new language.
- Rule passion — faith — tradition — and all things with tempered reason.
- Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts.
- Let all nations rule internally resolving external disputes in a world court.
- Avoid petty laws and useless officials.
- Balance personal rights with social duties.
- Prize truth — beauty — love — seeking harmony with the infinite.
- Be not a cancer on the earth — Leave room for nature — Leave room for nature.
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