Sense and Science: A scientific approach to the Chinese Zodiac

Here we go again with a mad rush to get all kinds of Chinese New Year good luck charms.  That includes all kinds of snake ornaments because we move —or should I say, we slither: on February 10, the dragon year exits and the snake slithers in. In print media as well as radio, television, and the Internet, we read all kinds of predictions about the incoming year, more or less around the idea that a snake is unpredictable, even treacherous, and so one needs to be cautious.  But on a more positive note, a snake is said to be clever, moving fast to get what it needs. Zodiacs —from Greek words meaning “circle of animals”— can be dismissed as total nonsense, taken as entertainment, or treated with such gravity that one’s every action for the year, from romance to business, is dictated by the predictions of the year. Being ethnic Chinese, the 12 animals were constantly intruding into social life, each new year’s prospects supposedly tied to a particular animal.   People were identified by the animal of the year you were born in, which could sometimes mean, too, who you might be matched with later on.  Woe to the woman born in a tiger year, because she supposedly devours her husband, whatever animal of the zodiac he might be. Many years back, I was with a bunch of young cousins, accompanied by older relatives, taking a banca from mainland Cagayan in the north to an island and suddenly one side of the boat collapsed, the water rushing in.   There was panic, but an uncle and banca men were able to ferry us to safety.  For days, people talked about the mishap as having occurred because there were too many male dragons (myself and two other cousins, all born in 1952) on board.  Too heavy, they said.  If we had drowned it would have also been a major disaster to the clan, because dragon children are extra precious, couples even rushing to have babies each time a dragon year comes around.  (The next one is in 2024.)   But we shouldn’t go overboard with these zodiacs, Greek, Chinese, whatever.  Animals are metaphors, useful labels to help us deal with the many uncertainties that come with each new year.  By assigning a particular animal to the year, we are able to concretely describe some of the anxieties we have about the incoming year, and do something to alleviate the concerns.   Just last week, a local Buddhist temple sent in red posters with Chinese characters to greet the new snake year. It read: “moving forward on a road filled with twists and turns, we achieve luck and happiness.”  The twisting refers to the snake.  Last year they sent a poster reading: “The dragon is in the sky, protecting you.” Don’t get too hooked on these animals.   Note that in Vietnam, they replaced the ox with the water buffalo, and the rabbit with a cat, and you can imagine how different the year is characterized because of the difference in animals.   The Thais replaced the dragon with a naga, a large mythical serpent.  In Kazakhstan, a leopard replaces the tiger and the dragon gives way to a snail.  I can imagine if we did have our own animal zodiac we might have the carabao, and maybe the paramount animal would not be a dragon, but the fighting cock. Take the new year and the human snakes, come elections, in stride.  That snake talisman or poster is a charm, nothing more, and you are the snake charmer. — TJD, GMA News