Rethinking wonders
published 23 June 2007
In high school, I joined a competition called “The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.” I forget now which organization sponsored the event, but I do remember that when the contestants were narrowed into two finalists, I found myself pitted against a nervous-looking boy from a school somewhere in Marikina.
I enjoyed the home court advantage. The final showdown was held on a makeshift stage at the basement of Gotesco Grand Central in Caloocan. Even though it was a Saturday morning, my classmates trooped to the place to cheer me on. I clinched a trophy and a 20-volume encyclopedia for my school as well as P800 for myself. The contest was aired the following day on a TV show called “Star Smile Factory.”
Now, however, when I look at the photos, all I notice is how high my hair was teased up, Aqua-netted into place in those days when climate change was yet an alien concept. I can remember many other incidentals—but absolutely nothing of the many facts I gobbled up during my crash review.
And why not? None of those places exist anymore. They may as well be myths.
The other night, I saw a news clip on a worldwide voting, via the Internet, being conducted to determine “The New Seven Wonders of the World.” The drive was initiated by a group called The New 7 Wonders Foundation. The idea was to identify world treasures that were still very much visible and encourage awareness of historical places.
Voting began in 2001. The number of nominated sites swelled to 177, then came down to 77. Now there are only 21 finalists, among which are The Great Wall (China), the Taj Majal (India), the Easter Island Statues (Chile), the City of Petra (Jordan), the Colosseum (Italy), the Eiffel Tower (France), the Stonehenge (England), the Statue of Liberty (United States), and the Sydney Opera House (Australia).
The final list of seven will be announced a few weeks from now, specifically on the seven of July. 07-07-07. Get it?
And here’s how it goes. Voters submit a ballot consisting of seven places, not just their national favorites. Compulsive voters are allowed to cast a second ballot for $2—in return, they receive a special certificate for their “contribution.” It is a rather interesting election option. Is it stretching democracy a tad too far?
To date, millions upon millions of votes have been gathered. Competition is said to be fierce in countries where the Internet is at its sunshine stage.
The campaign is so widespread and the voters so serious. You would wonder: What drives them? Nationalism has to be one reason. Naturally, citizens of nations would be proud to have their own treasures included in the new list—except for the Egyptians, who don’t like the idea that the inclusion of their own treasure will be determined by the number of votes garnered from the Web site’s visitors.
What fuels humankind’s fascination with lists, ranks and records for them to actually go through the trouble of filling out the electronic ballots, and, for some, to pay extra dollars just so they could cast their votes a second time?
Curiosity? Sheer boredom?
And, going even further, why do people do all sorts of crazy things just to earn the most bizarre titles or stake the most absurd claims? I read about a guy who said he lay down on his lawn for three straight weeks hoping that Google satellites would catch him and he would thus be shown as an item on Google Earth.
Is this yet another way of putting things in order? Rebelling against mediocrity?
Then there is also the fixation on the number seven. Why not three or five or 10? The number seven has actually become so restrictive, so much so that the best we here in the Philippines can do is say that the Banawe Rice Terraces is the eighth (read: unofficial) wonder of the world. I used to think this was the case, too, until this summer when I met somebody from Kenya who said his very own Movement of the Wild Beasts was the eighth wonder of the world.
The real wonder is whether all this is necessary.
It makes better sense to think that the parameters may as well be superficial and there only for purposes of competition, convenience and recall.
On our own, there are no limits to the number of wonders we can find. Most often, we find them in little things. Watching the stars. Receiving drawings from a child. Enjoying a meal with a loved one. Catching up with friends over coffee. Writing a story effortlessly.
Seven, seven hundred, sevenfold. Who’s counting?
