In her debut book, Geographies of Nationhood: Cartography, Science, and Society in the Russian Imperial Baltic, Catherine Gibson provides a thorough expedition through the historical landscape of ethnographic mapmaking in the Baltic provinces of the Russian Empire from the 1840s to the emergence of the independent Baltic states after World War I. She labels the Baltics as a “cartographic battleground” throughout the 19th century where competing visions of nationality and empire would come to a head.[1]
At the time, these lands were known by their German names of Estland, Livland and Kurland, areas that form parts of present-day Estonia and Latvia. In other words, Gibson is adopting a transnational perspective. In context of the historical period it is also a trans-imperial perspective, examining how the Baltic provinces were widely viewed as peripheries in the imperial borderlands until the emergence of a distinct national movement at the beginning of the 20th century. Gibson does an excellent job of describing the dialectic within the field of cartography between different mapmakers at the time, across imperial borders. Some of the fundamental questions raised in this book are: How were conceptions of space and nationality portrayed by individuals involved in different forms of ethnographic mapmaking? And how were these conceptions perceived by a broader audience?
Gibson highlights that this region has received “surprisingly little attention” in the broader field. She situates her own research within the disciplines of new imperial history and spatial history.[2] She thereby combines historical analysis with geographical methods and tools to explore how conceptions of space were used as a tool for delineating ethnic groups. Moreover, she argues that the existing literature on mapmaking has generally approached this question from a top-down perspective, identifying a set of well-known cartographers, who were by no means alone in producing and influencing mapmaking at this time.[3] Gibson encourages us to not take maps at face value, raising questions such as: Who made the map? Under what circumstances was the map produced? Who funded the production of the map? Where and how was it printed? And, finally, who was the intended audience?
Drawing on the research of Matthew Edney, Gibson employs a method of “processual” histories of maps in answering these questions.[4] This means that she also looks at hand-drawn manuscript maps, drafts, and other unfinished works and so-called “map commentaries” which were published along with the maps but have often been left ignored. Moreover, she examines a wide range of preserved documents related to the production, transportation, or funding of maps, as well as personal accounts from the mapmakers themselves. Gibson thereby builds on existing literature, while also employing a broader conception of mapmaking, looking at the social experiences of mapmaking. By doing this, she does not just simply provide an overview of ethnographic maps in this period, but also illustrate how maps can enrich our understanding of broader political and social developments throughout different times in the Russian Empire. Gibson also explains how the history of cartography has evolved in line with imperial expansion and administration, and the idea of defining and controlling space. These structures were later to be picked up by nationalists as a tool of legitimising national aspirations. As Gibson herself puts it: “This book is the story of how the process of ‘drawing’ ethnolinguistic groups together became an essential component of thinking about nationhood and territory together”.[5]
Gibson illustrates how Rittikh’s use of “washed-out tones” for ethnic minorities were employed deliberately as a visual demonstration of the dominance of groups he thought to be more important, such as the Russians and Germanic Peoples.
Each of the five chapters uses an important historical or political event as its starting point. One chapter, for instance, examines the aftermath of the Polish-Lithuanian uprising of 1863-64 which raised the so-called “Polish question”. Another important event was the unification of Germany in 1871 that ushered in the “German question”. In other words, Gibson is examining periods where the concepts of nationhood and territory were called into question. These events, in turn, prompted different mapmakers to advocate for their own conception of the relationship between different ethnic groups and the space they inhabited. One of the individual mapmakers Gibson chooses to focus on is the slavophile Alexander Fedorovich Rittikh (1831-1914). Gibson discusses how Rittikh used ethnographic mapmaking as a way of consolidating Russian imperial rule in the Baltic region and how he viewed ethnic diversity as a threat to the Russian Empire. For instance, Gibson illustrates how Rittikh’s use of “washed-out tones” for ethnic minorities were employed deliberately as a visual demonstration of the dominance of groups he thought to be more important, such as the Russian and Germanic Peoples.[6] One of the latter chapters devotes attention to the emergence of Latvian and Estonian cartographic publishing that started to challenge the dominance of Baltic German and Russian publishers. High literacy rates, combined with industralisation proliferated the production and consumption of ethnographic maps – providing these people with their own voice.[7] This was also a time when the idea of a symbiosis between language and selfhood was gaining traction throughout Europe, inspired by the ideas of thinkers such as Gottfried Herder. Gibson expertly captures how mapmaking evolved along changing political, social, and technological circumstances. She argues that cartography would gradually become more important, particularly at the turn of the 19th century when cartography was becoming more accessible, and by extension, “a familiar everyday object of material and visual culture.”[8] Factors such as rising literacy rates and the development printing technology led to a growing demand for such products.
It is a book well worth a read for anyone who is interested in topics such as spatial history, Baltic history, Russian history, or broader topics such as nationalism and imperialism. The final leg of the book suffers from a loss of momentum, at least compared to the beginning in which the narrative flowed effortlessly. This is partly because Gibson is required to go into detail on particular maps, thereby losing some of the overarching perspective that was promised in the beginning. This is understandable in light of her ambition to cover several periods instead of going in-depth in a more restricted time span. A different approach could have covered more maps in a comparative method, strengthening her claims on behalf of the study of ethnographic cartography. Nonetheless, the book provides an excellent account of the very basics of mapmaking, providing a blueprint on how to approach these types of sources. It would therefore certainly be of interest to those who aspire to conduct this type of research themselves. Imagining the linguistic challenges in writing this book makes it even more impressive given the variety of sources. It is a highly detailed work, which also delves into the personal lives of each of the individual mapmakers explaining how their background, financial situations and frustrations shaped their endeavours in the field. It is also worth mentioning that it is a comfortable read. It is grounded in concrete historical cases and does not get bogged down in abstract theoretical discussion.
[1]Gibson, Geographies of Nationhood: Cartography, Science, and Society in the Russian Imperial Baltic, 107
[2]Gibson, 12.
[3]Gibson, 14
[4]Gibson, 13.
[5]Gibson, 2.
[6]Gibson, 100-102.
[7]Gibson, 150
[8]Gibson, 163.
Bibliography
Gibson, Catherine. Geographies of Nationhood: Cartography, Science, and Society in the Russian Imperial Baltic. Oxford Studies in Modern European History. Oxford: Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2022. https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780192844323.001.0001.
