Re-thinking Maps

Key words: Maps, cartography, Keith Jenkins, History, ideology, representation

Although apparently objective representations of the world, maps are rhetorical tools which express, like any other portrayal of reality, the values and ideology of those who design them.

Last meeting we went on talking about Keith Jenkins’ critical perception of History[1]. We recalled that the British historiographer had gone as far as to state that History was a literary construct. For him, no matter how much constrained historians are by historical evidence, when interpreting and writing about the past, they cannot do away with their own values and ideology. The work of the historian is, in consequence, contaminated with his personal views and ideology.

Of course, Jenkins arguments (which follow authors like Foucault, Lyotard and Eagleton) do not only help us establish a critical relationship with History, but with the entire body of representations about reality, whether past or present. As we discussed in class, the principles to which Jenkins refers can be easily applied to documentaries, journalism and any other type of portrayal of reality. Any representation is always mediated by individual perceptions, interests, values and ideology. It’s impossible to face reality without our own personal and cultural bulk. And this, as we agreed in class, also applies to cartography.

In our positivist world, we tend to mistakenly see geographic maps as objective representations of physical, static territories. However, the word ‘representation’ alone should make us doubt of this seeming objectiveness. Although the cartographer is also constrained by reality, the creative freedom he enjoys is not so far from that of the realist portrait artist. The cartographer is supposed to portray the physical reality in the best possible way, but which is the best possible way? This sole question implies that there is more than one way to portray the world. It’s just that since cartographers are used to follow a certain number of conventions, we tend to think of them as natural, as if there were no alternatives. But if we did away with these conventions, it would be possible to see how much arbitrariness and ideology is contained in maps. Let’s consider some examples.

• One of these conventions could be the European centrality. Europe appears at the centre in most maps of the world. Actually, there’s no reason –other than historical and political prominence- to place Europe at the centre. Why not China, Australia or America? Or the Pacific Ocean? Having Europe at the centre and top of the map is saying a lot about western history, politics and power relationships. This consideration must have crossed somebody’s mind when the Chicago Daily Tribune published, during the peak years of the Second World War, a map with the US at the centre and top. The map was overtly entitled America–the Real Center of the World Today [map 2]. Maps of this sort are still published nowadays, mostly –of course- in the US.

• Another convention, although in a slow process of being changed by other alternatives, is the use of the Mercator projection [map 1 and 2] as a way to represent the spherical globe on a flat surface. The problem with this projection is that it distorts the relative size of regions, showing an increase in size according to the proximity to the poles. Consequently, Greenland appears to be similar in size to Africa, although the continent is thirteen times bigger than the island. The result of this projection is a world in which the territories in the northern hemisphere –closer to the pole- look bigger than those round the Equator. German historian and filmmaker Arno Peters noticed that this distortion favoured the look of the developed countries, while giving a belittled perspective of the developing ones. Thus, in 1974, he devised a new flat projection that aimed at producing a proportional map of the world [map 3]. The result –widely controversial- shows a very atypical view, with a huge, vast African continent below a small, dwarfed Europe.

© 2007, www.ODTmaps.com

• Perhaps, the most naturalized and widespread convention is the North-up orientation. There are no geographical or astronomical reasons why North must be on top and South at the bottom. However, the political and ideological implications of this arrangement can be many, mostly when most of the poor countries lie South of the developed ones. In 1979, Stuart McArthur, a ‘resentful’ Australian, published what he called McArthur’s Universal Corrective Map of the World, showing Australia at the top and centre [map 4]. Different South-up maps have been published since then, but they have always implied an act of transgression. For us, people from the South, these maps bring a definite new perspective. How would we see the world today if we had been taught that we were on top? Doesn’t it make a difference? [map 5 -click on the map to enlarge]

© 1979, Stuart McArthur

© 2008, www.ODTmaps.com

All in all, nothing seems to be innocent. In all human productions there’s always somebody –consciously or unconsciously- expressing his values and culture. Ideology speaks through any representation of reality. Our task, I infer, would be to look at those representations critically, and to pick up for us the one that better goes with our own values and beliefs.

________________

[1] Jenkins, Keith (2003) Re-thinking History, Routledge, Londres.

In defense of Shyamalan

Key words: M. Night Shyamalan, authors, Hitchcock, criticism, critics

M. Night Shyamalan is one of the most curious, imaginative and stylish filmmakers of current American mainstream cinema. Throughout his filmography he shows himself as an expert narrator of fantastic, neat, short stories with carefully delineated plots and perfect endings[1]. He adds to this a rare awareness of the grammar of films. Such is his usage of narrative devices, that he could be easily found an oddity, at least within commercial standards.

From the very beginning, I was one of the many who found a resemblance to Hitchcock’s cinematic language. Jeet Thayil put it this way: “Like Hitchcock, Shyamalan is in express control of his tools. He uses music, sound and expert manipulation of human psychology.” Michael Agger would add “the point-of-view editing, the emotional close-ups of actors, the fixation on detail, and the eerie score,” together with a compliance with Hitchcock's definition of terror: "If you want the audience to feel the suspense, show them the bomb underneath the table."

Curiously, Shyamalan’s ties to Hitchcock’s style do not seem to have acted as a shield from the critics’ attacks. Even those who acknowledge his utter dexterity with films charge against him with violence and contempt. Personally, I understand Agger makes a point when he accuses M. Night’s films of being “fragile, sealed-off movies that [fall] apart when exposed to outside logic.” I think it’s just so, provided you do away with the ‘fragile’ qualifier.

Shyamalan’s films are soundly structured -every line, every element, proving crucial to the final development of the plot. However, it is true that they all have a logic of their own that works only when the film is running. The important thing is that it does work when the film is running. Even when seeing Shyamalan’s films for the second time, even after having already exposed his plots to a killing ‘outside logic,’ the films prove catching, thrilling and sensible again.

In this sense I find Shyamalan’s films have the logic of dreams, which prove moving and effective until we wake up and rationally dissect them. But again we dream, and again we believe what is impossible under other conditions. Fantasy itself calls for some rational withdrawal. Sometimes also cinema does[2].

On the other hand, I’ve got the impression that some critics’ attacks on Shyamalan do nothing but show their own –perhaps unconscious- attraction towards his films. Some arguments against his work look as if the critics were pretending from the filmmaker more than he can really give. This pretension implies a hidden liking of his work. They see and understand that Shyamalan is an expert and creative director –they even compare him with Hitchcock- so they ask him an ambiguously defined “Cinema” (with capital letters) that perhaps he’s not able to give. He’s no more –and so far no less- than a creator of little, suggestive, fantasy stories for the mainstream taste. Critics seem to even forget that Hitchcock himself furnished a name and a legend by filming a majority of dull, conventional arguments. It’s just that Hitchcock filmed expertly, and, from time to time, gave birth to an incredible masterpiece. What would critics say if M. Night brought us another The Sixth Sense?

Nowadays, The Sixth Sense (1999) seems to have become the critics’ reference point when approaching any of Shyamalan’s later films. The problem is that even critics appear to have liked that film so much that they are frustrated when new Shyamalan’s attempts prove unable to retrieve the original thrill experienced with it. People like Agger, when questioning the author’s last films, seem to forget that The Sixth Sense contains the same logical problems than all of M. Night’s other films. Perhaps they were so involved with the plot that they didn’t realise it. Or perhaps, since the author was not yet famous, they decided to by-pass it.

I think the soundest criticism comes from those who question the author’s trademark ‘twist endings’. It is true that I do not see ‘twists’ in Shyamalan’s endings. A twist makes reference to a surprising sudden change of direction in the plot. Instead, I find Shyamalan’s films are structured as multiple lines that logically converge in a single final point where their true meaning is realized. So there is no sudden change, but logical realization. How surprising this realization can be seems to be the problem with the later films. And this is the product of redundancy, the problem derived from resorting to the same narrative structure film after film. Here is where I agree M. Night is facing a weakening point. His problem –being an author who always attempts at surprising- seems to be that you cannot really surprise the audience when the audience is waiting for a surprise, and knows exactly when and of what kind it will be. But this is a minor problem for a creative and young director. It is a problem that can be, in theory, easily corrected. Perhaps it’s just a question of time; perhaps, a question of maturation. Shyamalan can still learn to surprise in other ways. He can also learn to quit being surprising. He has got all the necessaries to go on growing, improving, and why not, redeeming himself.

Although irregular, his filmography is wholly recommendable (Wide Awake excepted). I list the films I’ve seen according to my personal liking (I haven't yet seen his first film, but I'm on it):

-Unbreakable (2000)

-The Sixth Sense (1999)

-Signs (2002)

-The Village (2004)

-Lady in the Water (2006)

-Wide Awake (1998)

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[1] Of course this is not to say that his films are perfect (in fact, they seem to be getting less and less perfect every time). But I’ll refer to this more in detail later on.

[2] Cinema and dreams have of long been related by authors and theorists. See here.

What not to do to a new school subject

Key words: Construcción de Ciudadanía, education

This time I'm just writing to invite you all to read a post on education. More precisely, about the still brand new school subject Construcción de Ciudadanía. I'm particularly interested in this truly innovative subject, and I felt moved to write something about how terribly wrong its implementation in Buenos Aires’ schools is going. Since I wrote this post in Spanish I didn’t think it right to publish it here. That’s why I’m inviting you to my Spanish blog to take a look at it. Just click here.

Till next time.