Category: Reflections

I found “Rethinking the Power of Maps” by Denis Wood to be one of the most interesting readings I’ve done so far in this class. While I’m aware of the subjective perspective of the writer, his analysis and ironic tone make for a thought-provoking read. Firstly, I find a map of Palestine to be an extremely effective example of the power of maps, particularly in a political context. As a region that has been “a colony, a dependency, a vassalage from … way back” (Wood 235), the history of a land that has changed hands and boundaries so many times is bound to have an interesting mapping history. 

The practices of counter-mapping and counter-counter mapping explored in the text are new terms applied to familiar ideas. They exist as a result of political motivations and propaganda, and provide evidence for the subjectivity of supposedly scientific documents. In a way, maps are used as weapons in the power struggle between Palestine and Israel, and each side is bound to produce dramatically different maps for the exact same area. For humans, land is not merely a geographical location, but possessions subject to history, culture, religion, belief systems, and more.

From the intentions, perspectives, and applications of maps in general, we have narrowed in on mapmaking in America — or at least the colonies. Chapter 1 of Martin Brückner’s book The Social Life of Maps in America, 1750-1860, “The Artisanal Map, 1750-1815: Workshops and Shopkeepers from Lewis Evans to Samuel Lewis” , dives into the first official map made solely in America, versus the British maps that dominated cartography in the English-speaking world. Considered one of the three most important maps in early American history, A General Map of the Middle British Colonies by Lewis Evans exemplified the progress and difficulties of early American mapmaking. 

Just as we discussed from previous readings, “Guild politics, government tariffs, and, above all, the vicissitudes of a patronage system that stretched from royalty to interested individuals defined the formative years in the material biography of European com-mercial maps” (Bruckner 28). One cannot expect a situation any different just because the location of production is different. In the colonies, cartographers may have “adapted to and departed from the imperial model of map manufacture” (Bruckner 29), but political and economic interference were unavoidable and inevitable. After the struggling Evans secured the funds and legitimacy to actualize his ambitious project, “official sponsorship and partisan patronage quickly moved Evans and his yet-unfinished map into the dual arena of imperial politics and the marketplace” (Bruckner 32). I can easily understand how a map of such scale, dealing with so many areas and borders in an ever-changing new world, was too important to not touch. 

In short, I found this chapter extremely interesting, albeit unsurprising, as we followed Evans’s navigation towards the creation of the first American-made map. I was able to apply information from previous readings to this one and draw connections. Official cartography will always be inseparable from its political aspect.

An idea that particularly stood out to me from “A Wide Landscape of Snow”, a chapter of Maps of the Imagination: The Writer as Cartographer by Peter Turchi, is tabula rasa. Turchi calls this “the blank slate of opportunity”, an apt description in the context of blanks in writing and the world at large. A further search revealed that tabula rasa is a theory which argues that the human mind is blank at birth, and all knowledge is imprinted on it through perspective, experience, and other reactions to the external world. There is no prior or shared knowledge, only a world of potential to fill in blank with one’s own unique story. 

In terms of psychology, I connected this theory to the nature vs. nurture debate. Innatism defends nature, while tabula rasa supports nurture. Are we naturally/biologically born with prior or shared knowledge? Or is our mind entirely shaped by the environment around us? These questions are quite thought-provoking to me. Another provocative section of this chapter is the exploration of reality/other worlds, particularly through the use of Lolita as an example text. Reality, while literally objective, is experienced subjectively. Fiction presents new realities, or warps current ones. It can be argued that the number one reason for reading fiction is to be transported into the artist’s world, whether for enjoyment or escape. In Lolita, a similar occurrence takes place in the story itself. Humbert attempts but fails to create a fantasy world where Delores is transformed into Lolita, an innocent into a nymphet. We as humans try our best to make realities that fit our desires, but they do not always become real.

“It’s easy to run this story through kind of a standard liberal arts analysis: the exact same experience can mean two totally different things to two different people, given those people’s two different belief templates and two different ways of constructing meaning from experience. Because we prize tolerance and diversity of belief, nowhere in our liberal arts analysis do we want to claim that one guy’s interpretation is true and the other guy’s is false or bad. Which is fine, except we also never end up talking about just where these individual templates and beliefs come from. Meaning, where they come from INSIDE the two guys. As if a person’s most basic orientation toward the world, and the meaning of his experience were somehow just hard-wired, like height or shoe-size; or automatically absorbed from the culture, like language. As if how we construct meaning were not actually a matter of personal, intentional choice” (Wallace “This is Water”).

At first, it seemed a daunting task to connect maps with topics in a commencement speech. After gaining a deeper understanding of the deeper meanings behind maps by reaching Turchi, and Harley, however, I began to see the link between those intricacies and the ideas expressed in David Foster Wallace’s commencement address. As for most real world things we consider in a liberal arts mindset, the purpose is how we think about the world around us. And not just how we think — but “the choice of what to think about”. At first glance and mention, maps are boringly physical, 2D pieces of paper. We regard them as objective drawings that show us a place, instead of subjective representations of perspective and history. So let’s say we apply the standard liberal arts analysis to a map: the same location could be presented in dramatically different ways based on the perspectives, beliefs, intentions, and support systems behind two  different mapmakers. That’s not to say that one or the other is wrong in their interpretation, just that the map reader should be aware and knowledgeable of their backgrounds. Excluding mistakes of faulty printing or incompetence, differences on maps are usually the result of bias. Like Wallace stated, it’s not like “a person’s most basic orientation toward the world, and the meaning of his experience were somehow just hard-wired, like height or shoe-size; or automatically absorbed from the culture, like language”. In other words, we don’t have a preprogrammed instinct toward perfect map making; rather, we make personal, intentional choices to shape and represent the world around us to an audience.

First and foremost, Harley writes of maps and their connections to knowledge and power with the established foundation that it is a cultural myth for maps to be truly “scientific” or wholly objective. In all the history and social studies classes taken throughout my life, maps have been presented as fact and evidence: unquestionably reliable sources of information from which to study the past and present. Harley’s essay has helped me overcome the long held beliefs associated with prior teachings and cultural myth, and realize the truth that I’ve sensed all along: that maps are representations of current desires and weapons of political power. 

In their basest essence, maps are knowledge. This perspective is a lot more meaningful when we acknowledge that mapmaking has historically been a privilege, benefitter, and representation of the elite / the powers in control. As such, it makes sense that “storage of authoritative resources involves above all the retention and control of information or knowledge“. The making and spreading — or withholding — of maps is essentially the control of knowledge. 

In addition, maps are a potent weapon, a use for them which I never would have thought of before, but see clearly now. Politically, they have political, religious, and propaganda uses. They establish and legitimize land and political boundaries, carry out religious intentions, and spread certain ideas and ideologies. Thus, it becomes clear how maps become a powerful weapon in the hands of imperialism.