427 – The Politics of the Stød

As discussed before on this blog, electoral maps have a strange tendency to transmit more than the results of a political horse-race. They often serve as quirky memorials of ancient cultural borders, as suggested in the following cases:
  • France’s 2007 presidential elections (#108): the marked contiguity of areas voting Sarkozy and Royal in the first round of the 2007 presidential elections (Sego dominating in the southwest and Brittany, Sarko almost everywhere else) is a result, it has been suggested, of the southwest’s long tradition of dissent, going back to the Cathar heresy in the Middle Ages, via Huguenot protestantism somewhat later, and surviving as anticlericalism, antimonarchism and eventually modern socialism.
  • Ukraine’s 2004 presidential elections (#343): the pro-European western half of the country voted for Yushchenko, the pro-Russian eastern half for Yanukovich, along dividing lines suggested by some to be similar to the borders of the Kievan Rus, a medieval Slavic state at the basis of both Russia and Ukraine.
  • Poland’s 2007 legislative elections (#348): even though massive displacements of Poles, Germans and others peoples have totally re-drawn the ethnic and political map of this part of the world, these electoral results nevertheless seem to correspond with an old imperial border that has been erased from history since 1918.
Another set of maps now aims to demonstrate a parallel between the dialectics of party politics and the dialects of the national language in Denmark. The map on the left hand side shows the difference in use of the Dansk stød (*), a sort of glottal stop typical for Danish, and used differently by some of its main dialects. The map on the right shows the results of the recent nationwide mayoral elections (17 November 2009).
  • People who practise the West Jutlandish stød have elected mayors from the Venstre party and to a lesser extent from the Conservative party. Venstre, literally ‘Left’, is actually a centre-right party in the liberal tradition. West Jutland-speakers therefore generally tend to vote right-wing.
  • Those who speak with the standard Danish stød (i.e. kun faellesdansk stød) or without any stød at all (intet stød) tend to vote for the Social Democrats: the northeast and southeast of Jutland, Fyn (the large island off the southeast Jutland coast) and large parts of Sjælland (the biggest island, especially the Copenhagen area (the concentration of smaller circumscriptions on the island’s northeastern edge).
The concurrence between speaking and voting patterns, strongest in Jutland but a bit more muddled on the islands, is all the more puzzling considering the fact that the dialectal use of the stød is in decline since the beginning of the 20th century. One possible explanation is that the fading dialect borders actually represent even older cultural patterns. This article in Videnskab.dk proposes that the dialect border coincides with the one between ‘hilly’ and ’sandy’ Jutland, with all the social differences that might imply. Or it could be that two different types of population coexist in Jutland as a result of massive immigration in the 1600s, following huge local mortality due to war and plague. . ‘Mange tak’ to Henning Michael Møller Just for sending in this map. . (*) literally: ’shock’, or ‘blow’ (as while playing wind instruments, or in boxing)
 
 

425 – Leo Belgicus, Rampant and Passant

Leo Belgicus by Petrus Kaerius (1617), copied from the original design by Michael Aitzinger. Image taken here from the website of the Sanderus map shop in Ghent.
  Lions are not native to the Low Countries, but here is one particular specimen that is nevertheless very local. The Leo Belgicus is a lion transposed on a map of the area, its ferocity symbolizing the belligerence of a nation fighting for its life. Confusingly, that nation is not, as the name would suggest, Belgium. Nor is it the Netherlands. The modern acronym Benelux more accurately describes the entity depicted by the Leo belgicus: Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxembourg. In the 16th century, that general area was also known as the Seventeen Provinces, first under Burgundian and later Spanish tutelage. As the plural description suggests, these provinces were a loose confederation with little or no unifyingly ‘national’ sentiment. That changed when religious upheavals pitted the increasingly protestant and independent-minded locals against their staunchly catholic Spanish overlords. The old Roman toponym Belgica was used to provide the entire Low Countries with a single geographic denominator. The Austrian cartographer baron Michael Aitzinger, probably inspired by the prevalence of lions in the coats of arms of many of the Seventeen Provinces, drew the first Leo Belgicus in 1583, fifteen years into the Eighty Years’ War of the Spanish in the Netherlands. The long war soon became a stalemate, with neither party able to achieve total victory. At the Peace of Westphalia (1648), the de facto situation was officially recognised: seven provinces in the North had become an independent protestant republic, henceforth known to geography as Belgica foederata (the republican Netherlands), the South remained catholic and Spanish – and royal (Belgica regia). The Lion had been cut in half. The Leo belgicus exists in several forms. The oldest one is of a lion rampant, its head in the northeast of the Low Countries and its rear taking shape in the southwest. This original position might give a clue as to just how Aitzinger might have conceived of the Leo belgicus. The mouth of the lion corresponds roughly to a remarkably rectangular shape in the Dutch border with Germany (a 20 by 20 km square bordering Coevorden). A later version shows the Belgic Lion passant, with its head where its tail was, and vice versa. The map is oriented towards the west. The curving North Sea coast shapes the lion’s back. The lion’s less agressive pose reflects the Twelve Years’ Truce (1609-1621) between the Spanish and the Dutch. The Leo Belgicus symbolised a nation that never was – a Netherlands that also was a Belgium, and covered the territory of both now separate countries. The deepening of the intra-Netherlands split made the Leo Belgicus redundant. The curiosity lived on, though, as a Leo Hollandicus, adapted to reflect only the the province of Holland, core of the independent Dutch republic.  
Leo Belgicus by Jodocus Hondius (1611) taken here  from this website. 
 
Many thanks to Yvette Hoitink, prof. Joseph Coates, Lurker, Tom Callahan, Julia Leikin, Simon Loverix for suggesting the Leo Belgicus.
  ————— (*) Roman Gallia Belgica covered the southern part of the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg and parts of northern France and western Germany. Its name derived from the Belgae, a collection of Celtic/Germanic tribes. Belgica gave rise to the French term belgique (originally also an adjective, that later became a noun) and Belgium. (**) The Netherlands and the corresponding terms in other languages (Pays-Bas, die Niederlände) refers to the current country which, curiously, in its own language speaks of itself in singular form: Nederland. The plural de Nederlanden still refers to the larger, Benelux-sized territory.

417 –Hexagonal London

4032065174_3ee35910a5_o It takes aspiring London cabbies two to four years to acquire ‘The Knowledge’. Only if they know their way around the 25,000 streets in a 6-mile radius from Charing Cross (and along 320 main roads within Greater London) will they be licensed to drive one of London’s iconic black cabs. The London Taxicab Examination System is reputed to be the hardest of its kind in the world, and this speaks to the complexity of the British capital’s road grid. That complexity, and the cabbies’ Knowledge, put passengers at the risk of being overcharged, the Victorians feared. Mid-19th century, even before the current Examination System was instituted (in 1865), a Mr John Leighton devised a system to prevent passengers from being taken for a proverbial as well as a literal ride. Leighton, a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, published a scheme to divide London in a number of hexagonals, specifically aimed at preventing overcharging by cab drivers. “John Leighton suggested that the old borough boundaries should be altered to conform to a honeycomb pattern. Within a 5-mile radius of the General Post Office all the sprawling, differently sized boroughs were to become hexagonal-shaped areas, 2 miles across. There were 19 altogether with the City in the centre of the honeycomb. Each hexagonal borough would be identified by a letter, and the letter as well as a number would be painted or cut out of tin-plate to be visible by day and night on lampposts at every street corner.” The proposal for a hexagonal London is described in London As It Might Have Been, a book by Felix Barber and Ralph Hyde, also detailing plans for a giant pyramid to house the remains five million dead Londoners, and a scheme to erect a structure in Wembley to dwarf the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Leighton’s hexagonal plan obviously never came to fruition; it is strangely reminiscent of a proposal dating from 1790 by Jacques-Guillaume Thouret to divide France into completely rectangular departments (#159) and of the ideal, geometric city as envisioned by Sir Ebenezer Howard in 1898 (#234). Of the two maps shown here (*), the one the left shows the Metropolitan Parliamentary Boroughs as Constituted Under the Act of 1855, centred on the City, and shown with their subdivisions (St Pancras, for example, is divided in N, S, E and W). The result is a veritable hodgepodge of miniscule fiefdoms. The map on the right presents a more regimented view of London, re-divided in 2-mile hexagon-shaped boroughs, centred around the City in three concentric circles. Six boroughs in the first circle are numbered thus (clockwise from the top):
  • 1 Islington, 2 Bethnal Green, 3 Southwark, 4 Kennington, 5 Westminster, 6 St Pancras
Twelve boroughs in the second circle are numbered thus (clockwise from the top):
  • 1a Hornsey, 2a Hackney, 3a Old Ford, 4a Poplar, 5a Deptford, 6a Peckham, 7a Brixton, 8a Battersea, 9a Chelsea, 10a Marylebone, 11a St John’s Wood, 12a Kentish Town
Eighteen boroughs, unnumbered, are in the third circle (clockwise from the top):
  • Tottenham, Stamford Hill, Leyton Essex, Forest Gate, West Ham, Blackwall, Greenwich, Lewisham, Forest Hill, Norwood, Balham, Wandsworth, Fulham, Kensington, Paddington, Willesden, Hampstead, Highgate,
Many thanks to Simon Austin for sending in this map, found on Kosmograd, a blog animated by an interest in, among other things, utopian architecture, disurbanism, cyberspace. The relevant post starts from this original hexagonal idea to produce a contemporary hexagonal map of London.(*) a bit dark and hazy; any image of better quality is very welcome.

411 – Lit Map of Frisco

Shared by Johnlumgair The full article is worth a rread.
dd_litcity_map Based on a similar map of St Petersburg by Vera Evstafieva and Andrew Biliter (here). this one places city-relevant quotes on a San Francisco map, where possible on the district the quote relates to. San Francisco Bay, cable cars, the Mission, the Tenderloin District and Chinatown are all name-checked in this map Many thanks to John McMurtrie of the San Francisco Chronicle for sending in this map, which accompanied an article in the Chronicle in mid-July (online version here on SFGate, the paper’s website).

401 – What’s On Earth Tonight?

starmap The first tv images of World War II are about to hit Aldebaran star system, 65 light years [ly] away. If there’s anybody out there alive and with eyes to see it, the barrage of actual and dramatised footage of WW2 will keep them shocked and/or entertained for decades to come. Which is just as well, for they’ll have to wait quite a few years to catch the first episodes of such seminal series as The Twilight Zone and Bonanza (both 1959), just about now hitting the (putative) extraterrestrial biological entities of the Mu Arae area (appr. 50 ly). The Cosby Show, Miami Vice and Night Court (all 1984) should be all the rage on Fomalhaut (25 ly). Meanwhile, the sentient, tv-watching creatures near Alpha Centauri (4.4 ly), our closest extrasolar star, are just recovering from the infamous “wardrobe malfunction” during Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake’s halftime show during the 2004 Superbowl. All this is assuming, of course, that the aforementioned extraterrestrials prefer American tv to, say, German Fernsehen. And – this surely is the greater assumption – that our terran television signals are able to penetrate the universe in a way that makes them receivable in the far-flung corners of our galaxy. Many thanks to Patrick McComb and Wallace J. McLean for sending in this map, found here on Abstruse Goose.

393 – The Unevenness of Space

dicken-large
How long does it take to travel from London to elsewhere? The answer is provided by this map, showing a set of expanding circles centered on the British capital, each bigger one delineating two extra hours of travel time. The familiar shape of the world is morphed into grotesque, contorted shapes as these isotemporal lines replace the usual lines of longitude and latitude for frame of reference. Not surprisingly, as different modes of transport must have been taken into account: fast transatlantic jet to New York, slower ground-based transport (car or train) to Penzance. This makes the difference in travel time to both cities from London less than 2.5 hours, while the actual distance between both is a formidable 3,264 miles (5,253 km). This map predates the opening of the Eurotunnel, which has allowed faster connections between London and Paris (about 2 hours) than shown on this map. Travel time distances from London are: Under 2 hours
  • Birmingham, Bristol, Southampton,
Under 4 hours
  • Norwich, Manchester Amsterdam Glasgow Edinburgh Paris Dublin Dusseldorf Swansea Hull Milan Aberdeen
Under 6 hours
  • Newcastle Madrid Inverness Burnley Holyhead Fishguard
Under 8 hours
  • Penzance Workington Pwllheli
Under 10 hours
  • New York Stranraer Montreal
Many thanks to blogfok for sending in this map, found here on Erik Laakso’s website.

362 – Greek To Me

shared by Johnlumgair I recently had  a conversation with some of my friends from various different countries about what we say when we don't understand what people are saying. The discussion was prompted having to explain the phrase you are speaking "Double-Dutch". Sadly "Double-Dutch" is missing, presumably as it isn't really a language! Despite it not being here it was great to find this chart! There is a longer article on the strange maps blog!
greektome “When an English speaker doesn’t understand a word of what someone says, he or she states that it’s ‘Greek to me’. When a Hebrew speaker encounters this difficulty, it ’sounds like Chinese’. I’ve been told the Korean equivalent is ’sounds like Hebrew’,” says Yuval Pinter (here on the excellent Languagelog). Which begs the question: “Has there been a study of this phrase phenomenon, relating different languages on some kind of Directed Graph?” Well apparently there has, even if only perfunctorily, and the result is this cartogram.

354 – Typogeography

vladstudio_typographic_world_map_1024x600 (click map to enlarge) A truism in geopolitics holds that “geography is destiny.” Maps don’t have to be so dramatically laden with meaning, though. In this case, geography is mere typography. This map of the world shows the names of the countries projected within their borders.
  • Best-fitting, or at least most legible are the large-surface countries: Canada, USA, Russia, Australia, Brazil, Greenland (not an independent country - yet).
  • Africa’s 53 countries jostle for typespace, with only larger countries such as DR Congo, Sudan, Lybia, Chad and Algeria legible (it helps if their names aren’t too long either).
  • You need to squint to recognise any of Europe’s countries’ names - Ukraine, Sweden, Finland and Norway stand out: elongated shapes lending themselves to typesetting. The rest is practically illegible (1).
  • Long-name countries, especially in combination with relatively small surfaces, are not ideal for readability: New Zealand, Madagascar and Papua New Guinea are points in case.
  • Being an archipelago also doesn’t help, vide Indonesia.
The mapmaker clearly didn’t bother with some of the more hopeless cases on the map (typo-geographically speaking, that is): Bangladesh, Malaysia (at least its eastern, Borneoan half), Lesotho, etc. This map is taken from this page at vladstudio, a website for Siberian graphic designer Vlad Gerasimov’s work, which was featured before on this blog in #148. Many thanks to all who sent in this map, including Kaushik Sridharan,Varda Elentari, James MacKenzie (and possibly a few others that I can’t search-and-find in my bulging inbox). .
(1) A beautiful word, put to hilarious use in the Billy Bragg song ‘Walk Away Renee’: “I said, ‘I’m the most illegible bachelor in town’ / And she said ‘Yeah that’s why I could never understand any of those silly letters you sent me’.”

334 – The Atlas of True Names

europe1000
Travellers, discoverers and cartographers have named the world around us so that we might find our way in it. The purpose of a place name, therefore, is to be as distinguishing as possible. But there is another, opposite force at work in toponymy: geographical and other similarities often lead to different places receiving similar names — even if these names are then modified by differences in language.The English city of Oxford and the Dutch city of Coevoorden (*) were named after river segments shallow enough to facilitate bovine transport. This phenomenon becomes apparent when one digs up the ‘deep etymology’ of place names, as is done in The Atlas of True Names. The Atlas substitutes the original meanings of the world’s place names for the better-known, ossified toponyms. The authors of the Atlas, German cartographers Stephan Hormes and Silke Preust, have said their clever technique was inspired by the place names in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, some (but not all) of which are indeed quite direct. (’Mount Doom’ is grimly descriptive, but a name like ‘Lothlorien’ means diddly squat — unless you speak Elvish, of course). The Atlas was first published in German as Der Atlas der wahren Namen, and in that version all the original etymologies are of course rendered in German. If like most people you are at least mildly conditioned by movies, literature and other media dealing with World War II to associate the German language with fascism, this ‘germanified’ version of the world is a bit disconcerting. London, for example, transmogrifies into ‘Hügelfest’, and nearby Norfolk is still recognisable but considerably more ominous as ‘Nordvolk’. Ethiopia becomes ‘Land der Brandgesichter’ and its capital Addis Abeba ‘Neue Blume’. The more recently published English version of the Atlas presents us with an equally disorienting and sometimes revealing array of ‘original’ place names. Across the Irish Sea (or ‘West Land Sea’) from Blackpool lies another ‘Blackpool’, more commonly referred to as Dublin. ‘Trading Folks’ is none other than the Canadian capital of Toronto Ottawa. The British port of Plymouth is literally ‘Mouth of the Plum’, Brussels is ‘Marsh Cell’, and London’s ‘Hügelfest’ translates as ‘Hillfort’. Nicaragua is ‘Here are people’ and Newfoundland… remains ‘Newfoundland’, one of remarkably few place names with an etymology recent enough for us to take the toponym literally. But etymology is not an exact science, and some derivations are too funny or elegant to be true. Consequently, some of the etymologies used by Hormes and Preust have been disputed. One example is the word-origin of the Mexican peninsula of Yucatan, which is rendered in the Atlas as “I don’t understand you!” — supposedly uttered by the Maya when addressed by the first Spanish conquistadores (a similar folk etymology traces the origin of the word kangaroo to a miscommunication between aboriginals and British explorers). Other examples abound, but the authors themselves include a caveat lector, stating that they think their work is not scientific, approximately 80% correct and should primarily be seen as an invitation to look at the world through fresh eyes. Thanks to the dozens of people who sent in this map. A few excerpts of the Atlas can be found here on Kalimedia, which also publishes the German version of the book (here). For a critical discussion of the book, see this entry on Languagelog. *: and, by derivation, the Canadian city of Vancouver, named after a British captain of Dutch descent whose surname originally was van Coevoorden.

323 – Taking Note of Old Europe

A - “Now you’re thinking of Europe as Germany and France. I don’t. I think that’s Old Europe. If you look at the entire NATO Europe today, the center of gravity is shifting to the East. And there are a lot of new members. And if you just take the list of all the members of NATO and all of those who have been invited in recently — what is it? Twenty-six, something like that? — you’re right. Germany has been a problem, and France has been a problem (…)” Q - “But opinion polls –” A - “But — just a minute. Just a minute. But you look at vast numbers of other countries in Europe. They’re not with France and Germany on this, they’re with the United States.” That exchange, in 2003, between then US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld and (Dutch) TV journalist Charles Groenhuijsen, was about the level of support in Europe for American designs on Iraq. Rumsfeld ruffled the feathers of traditional US allies in Western Europe by suggesting that their opposition to US invasion plans mattered less now the ‘centre of gravity’ in Europe had shifted towards Eastern European states. These states, only recently freed from the Soviet yoke, were more appreciative of US foreign policy than Western European countries, Rumsfeld suggested. There are other definitions of what “Old Europe” is. The time before the French Revolution (1789), when royalty ruled, privileged few profited and the masses were voiceless serfs, has sometimes been called ”Old Europe” (although more commonly defined as the Ancien Regime). Europe is also old demographically - low birthrates combining with long life expectancy to make the average age of Europeans the highest in the world. And Europe is part of the “Old World”, because it was known to the Ancients (this also included parts of Africa and Asia), as opposed to the “New World” (i.e. the American continent, only opened up to European exploration, expansion and exploitation from 1492 onward). “Old Europe” is also the name of this work by artist Justine Smith, composed of the national bank notes of all European countries. The Europe in this map is “old” in that it is composed of bank notes as they existed before the introduction of the single European currency. On January 1, 2002, coins and bank notes in euro replaced the national currencies of most EU member countries at that time. The Eurozone now comprises 15 of Europe’s 27 member states, with three older members actively having opted out (i.e. the UK, Denmark and Sweden) and most of the newer members slated for inclusion (once their economy performs within certain parameters). Here are the present members of the Eurozone, with their former currencies:
  • Austria (schilling)
  • Belgium (franc)
  • Cyprus (pound)
  • Finland (markka)
  • France (franc)
  • Germany (mark)
  • Greece (drachma)
  • Ireland (pound)
  • Italy (lira)
  • Luxembourg (franc, pegged 1:1 to the Belgian franc)
  • Malta (lira)
  • Netherlands (guilder)
  • Portugal (escudo)
  • Slovenia (tolar - cognate with dollar)
  • Spain (peseta)
Slovakia is slated to join on January 1, 2009, thereafter retiring its national currency, the koruna. As with all other Eastern European countries that have joined the EU (Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Czech Republic, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria) was obliged at its accession to adopt the euro. The others will do so when the conditions are met. The euro is also the de facto currency of a number of European countries that are not members of the European Union (a precondition to be de jure part of the Eurozone): the Vatican, Monaco and San Marino (Liechtenstein uses the Swiss franc, by the way), and the former Yugoslav republics of Kosovo and Montenegro. The euro has defied prophecies of monetary doom, becoming a strong and internationally respected currency, steadily gaining on the dollar. It has also eliminated the costly necessity of converting currencies within (most of) the European Union. I don’t know if this is true or if it is euro-propaganda, but to illustrate the negative economic impact of these conversions, it was said that you could take any amount of any currency in the pre-euro EU, convert that amount into each other currency until you were back at the original one, and be left with half the original amount of money - without having traded a single thing. The downside of currency unification is the de-diversification of European money, which used to have very distinct national flavours (metaphorically speaking, of course). Nowadays, bank notes in euro look the same everywhere, as do the euro coins, with the difference that the latter are stamped on one side with a national design by the country they’re minted for. You are hereby cordially invited to identify the national heroes and motifs represented on the notes on this map (and other now obsolete ones you might have fond memories of). This map, sent in by The Fashioniste, is one of a series made with bank notes by artist Justine Smith (another one, inevitably, is Euro Europe, made up of euro notes).