Silently surveying the rural lands surrounding them, the giant stones impose themselves upon the grassy landscape. Raised by human hands, but dwarfing any man, they are neatly aligned to various celestial phenomena, such as the rising and setting of the Sun at the Solstices and the hitching post of the heavens, the North Star Polaris. Their designers are unknown; they remain a mystery to us – but the Stones give voice to their inner thoughts. Some see in their construction a guiding wisdom for humanity, whilst others feel threatened by the overt pagan overtones and, paradoxically, stark scientific simplicity, of the megaliths and their message.
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Far from being the work of an ancient people though, this monument was raised just three decades ago by a group of stonemasons – in the literal sense of the word – from the South of the United States of America. Unlike that other famous megalithic site, Stonehenge, we know exactly how the stones were quarried, how they were finished, and then assembled into one interlocking marvel. And yet, the Georgia Guidestones remain a modern mystery.
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Their story begins with the arrival of a neatly-dressed gray-haired gentleman at Elberton Granite Finishing Company on a Friday afternoon in June, 1979. He introduced himself as one ‘R.C. Christian’, acting on behalf of “a small group of loyal Americans who believe in God”, and who wanted to “leave a message for future generations.” Joe Fendley, president of the Georgian stone-working company, listened to the man outline the specifications of the monument that he and his small group were seeking. Christian explained that they had chosen Elberton due to its stocks of hard-wearing granite – a key element of the design was that the monument should be able to withstand both the slow erosion of time as well as possible catastrophic events. The monument was to serve as a compass, calendar, and clock, with celestial alignments which would encode the passing of time itself. And it would be engraved with a set of ’10 commandments’, written multiple times in eight of the world’s major languages.
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Given the dimensions of the desired construction, Fendley made some notes, consulted his calculator, and offered a rough – and sizeable – quote to Mr Christian for the price of construction. The figure didn’t seem to bother the enigmatic man though. He simply asked Fendley for assistance in locating a nearby bank through which to deliver the funding:
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Some 30-minutes or so after leaving Fendley’s office, Christian appeared at the office of Granite City Bank president Wyatt C. Martin. After introducing himself to Mr Martin in the same manner in which he did to Fendley, he repealed his mission and desires to have a monument erected.
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Christian told Martin that he represented a group of individuals who had planned this project for more than 20 years, and that each one of the group was a loyal American who believed in God and country.
Christian told Martin that he represented a group of individuals who had planned this project for more than 20 years, and that each one of the group was a loyal American who believed in God and country.
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He said the group of sponsors wished to remain anonymous and went on to say that his real name was not Robert C. Christian as he had introduced himself, but this was simply a name chosen because of his Christian faith.
He said the group of sponsors wished to remain anonymous and went on to say that his real name was not Robert C. Christian as he had introduced himself, but this was simply a name chosen because of his Christian faith.
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This explanation sounds a little suspicious – the name, and the philosophy of the group, suggest the name is more likely inspired by the famous Rosicrucians – the Brotherhood of the Rosy Cross. But more on that soon. For now, it’s worth pointing out that Mr. Christian’s explanation for the need for secrecy was that the group did not want to distract people from the monument or its meaning. More precisely...
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