Ignoring the frame

Ignoring the Frame

These observations only begin to explore the crucial ethical components of mapping. Mapping is a powerful act, and that power often operates oppressively when both mapmaker and map user fail to acknowledge the politics of cartography. Increasing the efficiency and accuracy of a communication--a map, a piece of documentation, a computer interface--is of course a useful pursuit, but such functional concerns often distract us from more important social questions:
Only by the slimmest margins does the map fail to be a window on the world, margins which, because we can control and understand them, no more interfere with our vision than does a sheet of window glass.

All you have to do is ignore the frame.

All you have to do is ignore the way the window isolates this view at the expense of another, is open at only this or that time of day, takes in only so much terrain, obligates us to see it under this light ... or that. This is the sleight of hand: if you're paying attention to the glass, you're not paying attention to what you're seeing through the window. Not that accuracy is not worth achieving, but it was never really the issue, only the cover. It is not precision that is at stake, but precision with respect to what? What is the significance of getting the area of a state to a square millimeter when we can't count its population? Who cares if we can fix the location of Trump's Taj Mahal with centimeter accuracy when what would be interesting would be the dollar value of the flows from the communities in which its profits originate? What is the point of worrying about the generalization of roads on a transportation map when what is required are bus routes? Each of these windows is socially selected, the view through the socially constrained no matter how transparent the glass, the accuracy is not in doubt, just ... not an issue. (Wood 21)


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