BACK IN 1574, when the roundness of the world was hardly more than an obscure piece of information, a map was not just a scaled correspondence on paper of actual geographical features--much as if one had taken a piece of tracing-paper to the world--but a record and promise of adventures not for the faint of heart. Indicated on maps, then, weren't tollbooths or the nearest 7-11, but frolicsome mermaids, fearsome fish as big as ships, and the occasional naval battle. One such map is currently on display at the Pardo de Tavera Room, Rizal Library, at the Ateneo de Manila campus in Quezon City, at an exhibit entitled Putting the Philippines on the Map: The Belgian Contribution from the 16th to the 21st Century. The 1574 map in question was made by Abraham Ortelius of Antwerp, one of the first great cartographers to map the world as he knew it and publisher of the first atlas, the Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, which might be translated as "a portrayal of all the lands of this world." Another map by Ortelius (from the 1608 edition of the Theatrum) shows the Pacific Ocean dominated by a painstakingly detailed depiction of the "Victoria," the last of Magellan's fleet and the first vessel ever to circumnavigate the globe. Viewing these maps, one cannot help but feel a renewed sense of our place in the history of the world.
In fact, maps were not a necessity for our ancestors, the people "on site." They learned how to get from Point A to Point B through practice--crossing rivers and climbing mountains as they came upon them. They travelled as far as the eye could see, measuring distance by the number of paces or sunsets, and managed quite well. It took a different attitude toward the world, what the exhibit curator and self-avowed antique map amator, Dr. Leovino Ma. Garcia, described as "to be like God, who sees everything" to create these wonders of documentation. To make a map before the invention of the flying machines that we now take for granted was as much a flight of fancy as of exploration. One marvels over these maps today as if one were on a magic carpet ride, transported not just through place but also through time. We see the world as the earliest explorers saw it: as something unfamiliar and shifting, with the world literally expanding as frontiers were pushed ever forward, as in Command and Conquer and other computer strategy games where regions are dark until one clicks and drags one's men toward them.
Historically speaking, the golden age of cartography, from the 16th century onward, was brought about by the spirit of commanding and conquering. It was the beginning of the age of exploration, on one hand, and of being "discovered," on the other. Kings and princes saw nothing wrong with expanding their territories such that the sun would never set on their empires, even if it meant battling with anthropophagi and "people without laws" (as one of the earliest maps quaintly described our ancestors in an accompanying text). Without in any way diminishing one's appreciation of these almost jewel-like works of art, it has to be considered that these are works of empires in the making. Ortelius's "Victoria" is undeniably exquisite but its real-life counterpart led to over three hundred years of Spanish colonialism in the Philippines. To surmise over alternative histories, the what-ifs, is pretty pointless and we can only see things as they were and as they are, and work towards things more in our favor.
While most of the maps in the exhibit are from Belgium, there are also antique maps from other countries. One important map on display is the extremely rare Ramusio-Gastaldi map which dates from 1563. While not as prepossessing as the Ortelius maps, the Ramusio-Gastaldi map is the first to have the name "Filipina" appear. Like many early maps of the Philippines, there is only an expanse of sea where Luzon should be, the region not having as yet been "discovered" by European explorers. In fact, this map which first came out a mere eleven years after Villalobos named the island of Leyte after King Philip II, made use of information that was "hot off the press," so to speak. There is something unsettling about seeing ourselves this way, objectified and turned into an Other for the first time, especially if we see not just bits of land but also the people on them, unaware of their impending...fate. In Ways Of Seeing, John Berger says that in the history of oil painting, when verisimilitude was the most esteemed quality, to own a painting was also to own the objects depicted in the painting. The same goes for maps: to own the map, to be powerful enough to have a map made, signified owning (or, at least, a wish to own) that piece of the world. It was a highly sophisticated manifestation of "primitive magic" dating back from the time when one drew bison on cave walls in the hopes of actually having steak for dinner.
Yet the making of maps is not always for conquest, whether by cross, sword, or carpet-bombing. As Dr. Garcia said, it is true that each map contains any number of stories. And they are not all sequences of unfortunate events for us. One has to be amused at a spot in Luzon named G. de Matalahambre where it is conjectured that the intrepid explorers finally got enough food to eat. Another map--there are actually two of them from different editions, 1744 and 1760--is that of the Jesuit Pedro Murillo Velarde, drawn in 1734. This map shows the Philippines much as we know it today and is considered the mother of Philippine maps. But there is more to it than its correctness. In the cartouche, or decorative text box, containing its details, a Filipino put his name on the map for the first time. With obvious pride in his work, the engraver, Nicolas de la Cruz Bagay signed his name, appending to it the words "indio tagalo."
The most recent maps on display are courtesy of Environmental Science for Social Change (ESSC, Philippines) in partnership with the Facultés Universitaires Notre Dame de la Paix (FUNDP, Belgium). Using the latest technology in satellite imaging, maps have been made of the forest areas in the Pantadon Range in Mindanao in order to "support participative management of the forest and its adjacent land uses." It doesn't take a great deal of research to know that flashfloods have become increasingly common in our country due to the deforestation brought about by rampant illegal logging. In fact, efforts such as these are long overdue and one can only guess how many more lives will have to be lost before photo-ops give way to genuine action. In the meanwhile, assistance from any and all quarters is highly appreciated.
Viewing "Putting the Philippines on the Map" is a richly rewarding experience and we are grateful to the people behind the exhibit who have given us gracious access to the Juana Madriaga Garcia-Natividad Galang Fajardo Collection. The maps are things of rare beauty that, even as they appeal to us on an aesthetic level, also confront us with their deeper meanings with regard to our history. It is a sad and sorry state of affairs when we are so blinkered by the business of everyday life like one-route ponies that we cannot afford to stop and look at the big picture. Each and every one of the maps on exhibit is, in quite a literal sense, the big picture, and we see how we were seen the better to see ourselves now. (Sofia Guillermo)