Contested Terrains And Constructed Categories

Contemporary Africa In Focus

George Clement Bond, Nigel C. Gibson

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2018
• eBook ISBN: 9780429980978
• Topic: Politics & International Relations
• Subtopic: African Politics
• Index: Politics & International Relations

Contested Terrains and Constructed Categories brings together intellectuals from a variety of fields, backgrounds, generations, and continents to deepen and reinvigo-rate the theoretical and intellectual integrity of African studies. Building on recent debate within African studies that has revolved around the role of Africanists in the United States as "gatekeepers" of knowledge about Africa and Africans, this volume of interdisciplinary essays focuses on the contested character of the production of knowledge itself. In every chapter, case studies and ethnographic materials, drawn from such regions as South Africa, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, the Malagasy Republic, Angola, Ghana, and Senegal, demonstrate the application of theory to concrete situations.

Part One
Challenging Modes of Thinking: Making Maps and Mapping History

1
“So Geographers in Africa Maps with Savage Pictures Fill Their Gaps”

Representing Africa on Maps

MOHAMED MBODJ

Manhattanville College

Postmodernism and post-colonialism are among the major themes in current humanities studies, especially when they are concerned with defining the identities of non-Western societies and their representation. Both themes have been theorized by linguists, philosophers, and literary critics, all often engaged in discussion by historians. The main emphasis has been on the study of the production of discourses and representation of colonized societies. From a different but convergent path, historians have also been preoccupied with evaluating texts as sources and have long been interested in the study of the production of identity and its historical representation.

Beyond the persistent relative imbalance between the analysis of internally and externally produced representations of colonized societies, and in addition to Philip Curtins pioneering work (Curtin, 1964), historians have produced many interesting works on the history of identity and representation of Africa in Europe (Cohen, 1980; Schneider, 1982; MacKenzie, 1984). But most have not adequately addressed the crucial question of the basis of elaboration of such representations, dealing rather with their manifestation. This is because they often relied on literary sources expressive of high culture, as did Curtin and W. B. Cohen; W. H. Schneider used the popular press but limited himself to a 30-year period (1870–1900). J. M. MacKenzie covered a wider period (1880–1960) and a much more comprehensive scope. These authors were also primarily interested in debunking racism, scientific or religious, official or popular, open or covert, thus privileging art and prose. All assumed a diffusionist schema of culture and ideas, Schneider and MacKenzie less than the others. It is surprising how few studies there are based on the analysis of two major technical tools in the process of the production of discourses and images, the alphabet (writing) and the map. The case of African studies is compelling because Africa and Africans have suffered the most from the production of negative descriptions and images through the never-ending domination of foreign-produced materials. This chapter argues that more attention should be paid to the elaboration and the results of the representation of Africa on maps because they have played a major role in shaping perceptions of the continent from the outside. I also discuss how such representation and perception changed during three different periods, especially how they were internalized, rigidified, and reified by African elites and states in the last period.

History of Mapmaking

There is no clear indication of the origins of mapmaking or writing, but research points to an independent evolution among different peoples. Evidence found to date shows that they developed earliest in China and Mesopotamia. Africa is usually depicted as a continent that only recently began to write and to produce maps, and then only under foreign influence. In other words, before the coming of Arabs and Europeans, there was no original African writing system or mapmaking experience. Many parts of Africa had to wait until the late nineteenth century to appear systematically on maps and/or to adopt a unifying script.

Looking at the Asante of Ghana, Ivor Wilks argued that they lacked cartographic skills and therefore had to resort to “mental mapping” (1993: 189–214). The Asante combined time, distance, landscape, stress of the environment, religious beliefs, and cultural factors to devise a mental map of their country. They determined that one month (an Asante month equals 42 days) was needed to travel from one end of their empire to the other. The capital, Kumasi, was at the center of a circle, putting the longest travel time from the city at 21 days. The mental map fulfilled a practical purpose by providing a timetable within which administrative decisions could be taken and executed. This may also explain the lasting determination with which the Asante defended their control over the coastal territories that lay within those limits. However, there is a difference between making sense of space and ordering it (as in mental maps).

The process of ordering space is sometimes associated with the capacity to make maps of surroundings (like a cadastre) or of symbolic areas (like the Luba “map”) and the ability to make and reproduce maps without any direct physical links to the area described. The first ability exists in almost all societies, whereas the second is limited to the so-called more advanced societies in Europe or the West. D. Wood makes a decisive distinction between “mapping” and “mapmaking” (1992: 32–34). He marks a sharp difference between two kinds of societies. On the one hand, the West is “map-immersed”; people frequently consult and produce maps and see them as part of their everyday life. In the West, the task of mapmaking has become highly technical and professionalized. On the other hand, in the rest of the world maps are only occasionally made, consulted, or reproduced. Systematizing his observation of map usage and mapmaking, Wood concludes that some societies (those in the West) are “bigger” and more “developed” than others. He argues that growth, increasing hierarchies, and modernization of the state constitute the decisive factors (Wood, 1992: 42–43). There are several objections to these conclusions. First, Wood seems to subscribe to a linear or positivist approach to history, in which societies evolve from the “primitive” to the “complex.” Second, whose “modernization,” what kind of “modernity,” and what “decisive” moment is he referring to? Third, it is debatable how much curiosity (scientific or amateur, individual or collective) and greed (political or economic) have contributed to the historic drive to fill in the “blanks” on the maps.¹

Maps and alphabets share two characteristics. They are both coded, and the decoding is accessible to anyone who has the opportunity and the willingness to learn the signs. The decoding processes differ, however. A map displays its decoding key through the title and the legend. With an alphabet, one can arrange the order and relation of the letters or characters, thus conveying a meaning. It is obvious that the diffusion of literacy has made reading maps and deciphering writing easier. Writing is generally considered an act of creation of early humankind,² whereas maps seem to have had a connection to the secretive domains of royalty and the military. They were, and often remain, part of the domain of strategic intelligence gathering and of economic exploitation. Yoro Fall asserts that not only were maps inaccessible to many, they also sometimes included false information to induce erroneous conclusions in the minds of unauthorized readers (Fall, 1986).

Although Africa is not known as a producer of maps, there are nonetheless coded records of data one could refer to as “maps.” It is obvious that such signs could be found in many shapes and on a multitude of media, such as staffs, body scarifications, and cloth. Sometimes the style and the medium are strikingly close to those found in Western mapmaking. For example, the Luba of Central Africa devised a system of abstract signs painted on wall murals that one could easily interpret as “codified maps.” However, only Luban initiates at a very advanced level could actually learn to decipher the code. The signs represent both the Luba sacral and real territories, such as lakes, rivers, and abodes of spirits, and chiefs’ capitals figure on the paintings. These signs provided Lubans with knowledge about their spiritual or religious world as well as the coinciding political realm (Nooter, 1990). The geographical bearing of the Luba map was less important than its religious and political significance. A decision is made based on age and status rather than being made by an individual, as in the West (an author, a king, or a military commander). The kind of power provided through this access was more symbolic than material. This is especially true when the symbolism of the Luba “map” is compared to the overwhelmingly utilitarian aspects of Western maps. One could argue that the emphasis on the local in the Luba “map” is in opposition to the claim of universality of the Western map.

When referring to maps, we should make a distinction between commonly found representations of itineraries (route maps) or cadastres and topographic projections (for which the term map is usually reserved). It is logical to assume that all societies know the geographical relation of their surroundings and that many people with no Western or Islamic education keep in their memories sketches of itineraries (or “route maps”) and cadastres that they can use when needed. It seems that the ancient Egyptians did not get beyond this first stage of mapmaking. Norman Thrower (1996: 13–15) estimates that they used two diverging types of “maps,” the itinerary or cadastre type and a speculative, cosmological one similar to the Luba “map” in essence and use. The Arabs, however, were the first to draw and to use maps in Africa, beginning in the eleventh to twelfth centuries (Thrower, 1996: 45–50). The absence of cartography in Africa prior to the coming of Islam is usually explained in terms of the limitations or choices of so-called non-literate societies and also by the absence of necessary social conditions (Hunt, 1994). Richard Pankhurst mentions the existence of schematic geographical representations in eighteenth-century Ethiopian manuscripts (Pankhurst, 1989). In one of the most comprehensive surveys on the question, Jeffrey Stone remarks:

[I]t seems unlikely that the map as an artifact was totally absent in the sub-Saharan states from Mali and Songhai to Bornu and south to Asante and Benin, from the Islamic societies of northeast Africa, or from the Bantu-speaking states of central, east and southern Africa. (Stone, 1995: 6)

To prove his point, Stone mentions a map shown to Clapperton by the Sultan of Sokoto in 1826 (Stone, 1995: 7), but he does not elaborate on this evidence. Stone finally concludes that “the earliest hard-copy maps of Africa known in any significant numbers” were only found in Western and Islamic cultures (Stone, 1995: 9).

Mapmaking addresses a series of formidable challenges that can be summarized in a few questions. How does one put a round or curved object like the Earth on a flat sheet? How does the mapmaker account for the distortion created in distance and size by his or her perspective from that location; in other words, how can the mapmaker put in correct proportion two objects when one is closer? Mapmakers’ responses to these questions are projections, which have always been inadequate. Indeed, a heated debate continues to the present day (Peters, 1983; Thrower, 1996; Wood, 1992).

Map projection is the transfer of the features of the Earths surface or those of another spherical body onto a flat sheet of paper. Only a globe can represent surface features correctly with reference to area, shape, scale, and direction. The projection of a globe onto a flat map always causes some distortion. A grid of two intersecting systems of lines corresponding to parallels and meridians must be drawn on a plane surface. Some projections (equidistant) aim to keep correct distances in all directions from the center of the map. Others show areas (equal-area) or shapes (conformal) equal to those on the globe of the same scale. Projections are cylindrical, conical, or azimuthal. Most of the methods and techniques of map projection belong to the field of mathematics. Just as early cartographers stressed empiricism, it is generally accepted that ultimate progress in “science” will make more advanced mathematical and theoretical tools available.

A second problem, the accuracy of the represented data, is less serious, because gaps can be filled through the accumulation and verification of knowledge over time. However, this solution largely depends on the relationship between the map and reality. Is a map the product of the cartographer’s own conception of reality or its source? What about the authority or customer who ordered the production of the map? Of course, these questions were more crucial before the age of modern mass scholarly publishing. But it remains true even today that prejudice and ignorance usually combine with social attitudes and cultural values to influence the mapmaker’s view of the world, especially those parts of the world supposedly “unknown,” “strange,” or less valued. The character Marlow in Joseph Conrad’s The Heart of Darkness is a good illustration of this phenomenon. Marlow is attracted by the necessity to explore “blank areas” on the maps of Africa, Australia, or South America, which eventually lead to their colonization by his nemesis.

A third and perhaps more peripheral question is the explanation or decoding and readability of maps. During the course of the development of Western mapmaking, maps have become less verbose and less explicit. Gradually, the scale and the title have replaced the abundant and colorful. During the eighteenth century norms and conventions established by scholars began to prevail in the West and had become almost universally validated by the second half of the nineteenth century. Maps now are readable by almost any literate individual with a minimal knowledge of scale and orientation indicators. In addition, the computer age is quickly making available large databases (allowing for military and economic limitations) to almost every computer user, who in turn can produce any map conceived of, when wanted, and wherever located.

The history of mapmaking is intrinsically dominated by European historiography, and it centers heavily on Western history. Therefore, I consider that the periodization proposed in 1926 by Joseph Conrad is still valid in large part, although it needs further elaboration for the twentieth century.³ Conrad proposed three distinct phases (1926: 1–31). In the first period, which lasted into the 1700s and which he labeled the “fabulous phase,” circumstantial and extravagant speculation mixed ancient and medieval phantasmagoria with speculative representations of non-European worlds. Religious preoccupation and sensationalism abounded, and honest ignorance was hard to accept. The second phase, the 1700s-1800s, was one of “geography militant.” This was the period of systematic compiling by arduous artisans and scholars, later joined by explorers filling in the “blank” spaces on the map by gathering on site the necessary data while at the same time verifying the accuracy of the existing maps. When there was a lack of data, the area was left blank, void of any information, thus inviting further work. Following the then-dominant positivist ambiance, ignorance was considered to be only temporary because human genius would ultimately uncover every inch of the Earth. However, this expected discovery had two aspects. On the one hand was the wrong kind of exploration, incited by more or less avowed but nevertheless economic and political ambitions, which Conrad deplored.⁴ On the other hand was the search for scientific truth, nurtured by noble explorers motivated by disinterested faith, which trend Conrad admired and identified with.⁵ The last period, “geography triumphant,” from the early twentieth century to the present, is a direct product of the earlier trend toward scientific exploration. This is the time of the final triumph of the scientific idea, the progress of the human spirit or civilization. It is also a period of triumph for the map that Conrad could not have envisaged. Not only has almost every inch of the Earth been discovered, but it has become possible to map beneath it, beneath the sea, and beyond the planet as well. Another sign of the triumph of the map is how it encapsulates and defines the existence of dozens of states Conrad would have considered unlikely to emerge.

Development of Scientific Cartography

The beginning of scientific cartography in Europe is usually attributed to the ancient Greeks. The Greeks were deeply interested in Africa as both a source and an object of knowledge. For example, the continent occupies a major place in the writings of Herodotus in the fifth century B.C. Herodotus identified three different “races” (Libyans, Ethiopians, and Atlantians) subdivided into 16 groups. He depicted the East Coast of Africa terminating around the Horn and located the sources of the Nile River in the western part of the continent. He mentioned features that would have been considered “negative” by the ancient Greeks, such as “dog-headed men and the headless peoples that have their eyes in their breasts… and the wild men and women”; Amazons; vegetarian habits; a gynecocracy; and strange customs such as initiation, body scarifications, and sacrifices. However, he also described elements that were probably considered “positive” or would at least have elicited sympathy, such as Pygmies, clean peoples, devoted parents, and orderly and peaceful communities.

It is now widely accepted among scholars that the ancient Greeks’ concept of “otherness” was based on a reverse mirroring of their own self-image, so one should be cautious of accepting their views as the product of real testimony or experience (Hartog, 1980). Valentin Mudimbe, among others, sees in the ancient Greeks’ concept of “other” the birth of “a science of barbarians” reserved to Africa (Mudimbe, 1994: 71–104). When post-medieval Europeans rediscovered the ancient Greeks’ texts, they adopted them as verified truths. Descriptions by authors such as Herodotus and Pliny the Elder were repeated again and again, well into the nineteenth century, with the “barbarians” then becoming “savages.” What began more as a characterization of strange peoples, however degraded, eventually became the basis of modern race prejudice.

The ancient Greeks generally used the name “Libya” for the African continent. In the first century B.C. the Romans were the first to use the name “Africa,” extending that appellation beyond ancient Carthage’s territorial limits (Mudimbe, 1994: 72).

The Greek Ptolemy was the first to draw a series of world maps depicting Africa, in the second century B.C. He worked from Alexandria in Seleucid, Egypt, which at the time had the largest and most sophisticated library in the world. Ptolemy introduced some major innovations to argue that Earth was a sphere and could be divided into a series of concave parallels and meridians. He also used a rigorous geometrical design and avoided images. In his celebrated maps, Africa is correctly extended to the west and to the south, a series of large lakes is recorded as the source of the Nile, and so forth. However, another major river with features almost identical to the Nile is drawn running east to west. Apparently, whenever he was short of information, Ptolemy advanced theoretical conceptions. For example, southeast Africa and southwest Asia are linked by an enigmatic “Terra Incognita” locking in the Indian Ocean.

For over 1,500 years, Arabs, Europeans, and Chinese reproduced Ptolemy’s maps, often altering them slightly to suit their needs.⁶ In Europe, religion and imaginative iconography, especially from around the time of the Crusades, influenced mapmaking, which was generally performed by the scholars of the time, the monks. On the one hand, for example, from the twelfth century until at least the late sixteenth century, Prester John’s mythical Christian kingdom figured on maps, located south of the Nile River basin. On the other hand, as early as the mid-twelfth century, a major step had been achieved by the famous Moroccan and Arab traveler al-Idrisi. Al-Idrisi’s atlas showed Ptolemy’s influence and was superior by far to any contemporary European maps. The maps accompanied his famous The Book of Roger, published in 1154. The maps avoided all graphic dimensions, thus approaching as much as possible a purely geographical style. Al-Idrisi put Arabia at the center and gave many details about Europe, Asia, and North Africa. Africa was represented without a...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Illustrations
• Acronyms
• Preface
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction: African Studies in Contention
• Part One Challenging Modes of Thinking: Making Maps and Mapping History
• Part Two Contested Categories: Economy, Politics, and Society
• Part Three Violence of the Word/Violence Against the Body
• Notes
• References
• Contributors
• Index