01x01 - Windows on the World

[bunniefuu]

I'm going left
to my favourite coffee shop,

which does the best coffee
on the street.

Then I come straight back out

and I'll call into the paper shop

because my friend Casey runs it
and we always have a joke.

And then I come out of there, go left,

curve down here,
big new build place here.

I'm intrigued at what it's going to do
to the house prices in the area,

so I'm always looking to see
how that's going on.

And then I keep left, cross a bridge
which goes over the canal.

I'm going right along here,
passing all the boats,

and then I'm going up right here,

go left, and there I am.

I'm out into Oxford Station,

I'm there in ten minutes,
and then I'm on my way.

Map making is a basic human instinct.

It's one of the ways we make
sense of the world around us.

I've been studying and writing about maps
for most of my working life.

I'm fascinated by the way they're
like windows onto different times

and different cultures.

The map that I've produced
is absolutely unique to me.

It's totally subjective.

I'm not interested in
what's going on over here.

I haven't filled any of this area out.

It's dead to me.

I've edited out what I don't want.

I'm doing what map makers tend to do.

They offer a specific perspective
from their own subjective experience,

and the map reflects that.

In this series,

I'm going to explore
how maps give an insight

into the political and cultural forces
that drive society.

I'm going to dig beneath the surface
of some extraordinary maps

to reveal stories of power,

plunder,

and possession.

In this programme, I'm going back
to where map making began.

I'll find out what first
drove people to create maps

even before they could write,

and how they then evolved,

not just to depict the world,

but also to exert power
and authority over it.

I'll discover some of the great scientific
advances that made this possible.

And I'll explore
how the style of modern maps,

which we take for granted
as objective, even natural,

is nothing of the sort.

Valcamonica in northern Italy,

home to one of the oldest
settlements in Europe.

For a map fanatic like me,

it's most famous for being
the cradle of map making.

The map created here is considered
one of the oldest in the world.

This is cartography's year zero,

and it gives us some vital clues

as to why people were
compelled to make maps

before they even learnt how to write.

The map is located high
in the eastern Alps

near the small village of Bedolina.

It has survived for nearly 3,000 years,

and was only identified
by archaeologists 80 years ago.

So here it is.

It's extraordinary.

And as I look at it,
what's really interesting

is that there's clearly a structure,
there's a kind of code,

there's a system about
what's being represented here.

You can see these rectangles
with dots in them represent fields,

and throughout these lines

which appear to represent
some notion of the landscape.

There's timber-framed houses down here.

There's the roof
and the main body of the house there.

There are stick figures,
these warriors.

Down here you can see a deer
with four clearly marked legs.

And for me it's actually
incredibly moving,

because this is where it all began.

This is the beginning of map-making.

This is the origin of what I've been
thinking about for all this time.

It's absolutely breathtaking.

The origins and purpose
of the Bedolina map

have mystified archaeologists
for years.

This is not a geographically
accurate map of the area.

You couldn't use it
to get from A to B.

So what was it for?

After analysing rock drawings
and using comparative dating techniques,

archaeologists now believe
it was created by an ancient tribe,

the Cammuni,
at a critical moment in their history.



the Cammuni were pioneering
a whole new way of life.

Agriculture was replacing
the hunter-gatherer lifestyle

and creating a more
complex social structure.

Archaeologist Alberto Marretta

thinks this is the key
to unlocking the map's secrets.

We have evidence from the rock art
and from the archaeology

that in Valcaominica

there were aristocracies here.

Some sort of small groups of people
controlling the small communities

and probably controlling the land.

And do you think that's important
in terms of how they used the map?

I think that this group of people,
this aristrocracies,

are symbolizing through the map
the possession of the landscape

that they had
in this part of the valley.

It seems that the tribal elites

were using the map to celebrate
their ownership of the land.

They draw the map

probably to represent
not a real landscape,

but to represent an ideal landscape.

It was some sort of…

supernatural
representation of the landscape

as it should be after you
and after your sons

and after your time has passed on.

- So it's a very symbolic image.
- Yeah.

In some sense it is highly symbolic.

Alberto believes these images
of well-ordered fields

and plentiful crops
were a vision of future prosperity.

The map was designed to bolster
the power of the ruling elite

by reassuring the Cammuni people

that life would improve
under their leadership.

The map is a fascinating window
into an ancient culture.

And it reveals that map-making was
bound up with power and politics

right from the start.

As ancient societies
became more complex,

so too did their maps.

Within the next 1,000 years,

the Romans were using maps

to help them build
the greatest empire in the world.

They created maps of their towns,
regions and colonies.

Many have been lost.

This is a copy of one of
the few to have survived

and it's quite spectacular.

This is a map of the world
in Roman times.

It's the longest map I have
ever seen in my entire life.

It stretches all the way
from Sri Lanka and India

down here in the east,

right along here
to the furthest western point,

which shows the southern coast
of Great Britain.

It is an absolutely
extraordinary map.

It's six-and-a-half metres
in length.

Scholars actually believe it was longer

and that it's lost about two metres,

which rather tantalisingly
would have given us

a much better picture
of the British Isles.

Here's Germany, labelled Alemannia,

just squeezed into a few centimetres

up here on the north coast
of Europe.

There's the River Rhine
running right along there.

And here's the Mediterranean,

like a long, snaking river,
moving right down there.

And probably the most prominent
landmass on the entire map,

not surprisingly, is Italy,

stretching right down here - there's
Rome - it goes all the way down.

You can see the boot,
and there's Sicily.

But nothing like
we understand it today.

What's really striking
about looking at this map

with the depiction of Europe,
North Africa and Asia,

in this shape there's no way
that this could be an

accurate representation of
how the Romans saw the world.

The geography is obviously way out.

And yet there are some details
of astonishing accuracy.

These red lines that criss-cross the map

are the famous straight Roman roads

running across its surface.

And above them
are symbols exhibiting the distance

between places in terms of leagues
or miles, depending where you are.

There's a good example of it here,
there's Rome.

On the red Roman road, the Vatican.

the symbol just above it
shows that it's just one mile.

But the map is covered
with these kind of symbols.

You have another one here
which shows the distance from

Strasburg, shown there,
to Mainz, there.

What happens is that
the Roman numerals tell you

how far you're going from Strasburg
to the next town or village,

which is labelled with seven.

The distance here is 18.

All the way to Mainz,
which is 74 leagues altogether.

Route markings,
distances clearly annotated,

towns where people could stop off
for the night.

These details led to the belief

that the map was the equivalent
of a modern road atlas.

But just look at this map.

It's hardly pocket size, is it?

Can you imagine strapping it
to the back of a horse

and then hauling it out
every time you lost your way.

As a route finder,
it's completely impractical.

To understand
the purpose of this map,

we need to look back
to the time when it was created,

around 300 AD.

By then, the Empire had
already been under attack

from invading Barbarians.

To meet the threat,
Rome's armies had expanded

and citizens lived in the grip
of authoritarian rule.

But the map shows only
peace and harmony.

Spa and bath towns are
clearly marked all over the map.

So where are the
fortifications and garrisons?

And where are the divisions
between regions?

This seems to be
a land without borders.

In reality, the Empire was divided
and ruled by four competing leaders.

It's been suggested that this map
of the Roman world

may have hung behind
one of their thrones.

With its remarkable
details of roads and distances,

this map was designed to give
the impression of order and control.

So, while the Bedolina Map in the Alps

promised the people
a better world to come,

this map is trying to hide the fact

that the power and riches of Empire
are under threat.

This map glosses over
the messy, complex reality

of internal tensions
and external threats.

Its main message is one of unity

and that made it an incredibly
powerful political tool.

By the 12th century,

sophisticated map-making was
an essential tool of imperial power.

And Chinese maps were among
the most sophisticated on Earth.

I'm going to Pembroke College
in Oxford to have a look at one.

It's called the Yu Ji Tu,

and it was carved on
to a metre-wide stone

that was erected in a Chinese
schoolyard in 1136.

Remarkably, it has all the
hallmarks of a modern map.

It shows the whole Empire
from an aerial perspective

and the gridlines suggest
it's drawn to scale.

But just how accurate is it?

Historian Hilde De Weerdt
is using a special technique

to compare it
with a 21st century map.

So we start out by picking
a few points on the historical map

to map onto the modern map.

So in effect you're going to overlay the


That's correct.

We will pick some places along
the coast to start out with

and typically we want to pick a place
that hasn't changed too much.

The first point we'll pick
is a prefecture called Tai Zhou.

We see it here
on the historical map.

One by one, Hilde picks out
some of the towns and locations

that are marked
on the historical map.

She then enters their
modern co-ordinates,

allowing the map to be positioned
against a satellite image.

First of all, it allows you to place
a historical map very accurately.

The similarity between the maps
is immediately obvious.

You can tell the coastline,
the modern coastline,

correlates to the coastline
as it is depicted on the historical map.

But the really astonishing thing
is that the 37 locations chosen by Hilde

are remarkably close to their position
on the modern map.

Wow, that's extraordinary, so that's
an incredibly close fit between

the contemporary modern co-ordinates
and the 12th century co-ordinates.

It is indeed quite striking

and we wouldn't be able to do that
for a lot of other historical maps.

That's amazing!

We have no record
of the surveying techniques used

to make this
astonishingly accurate map.

And there's a mystery here.

For all its accuracy,

the Yu Ji Tu contains a number of
glaring geographical errors.

The source of the Yellow River

is marked hundreds of kilometres
away from its real location.

And here's a river
which doesn't even exist.

So, what's really going on here?

The answer to this
map-making mystery

can be found in the pages of this
historical text.

It's called the Yu Gong.

It's a description of the landscape of
China during the lifetime of King Yu,

a legendary leader
from the 21st century BC.

The Great Yu was said to have possessed
a comprehensive knowledge of all of China.

And it was this book that formed
the basis of all Chinese geography.

These writings were greatly
revered by the Chinese.

It was almost a sacred text.

The name of the 12th century map,

Yu Ji Tu, translates as,
"The map of the tracks of Yu".

This reveals its connection
with the text of the Yu Gong.

The positioning of the source
of the Yellow River

isn't the result
of a 12th century survey.

It's been mapped according
to the words of the Yu Gong.

That's why it's in the wrong place.

And that extra river over here,
the Heishui, or "Black River",

is referred to in the Yu Gong,

so it was drawn on the map
even though it didn't exist.

The map seems to be an attempt
to portray an up-to-date image of China

without undermining Yu's
ancient vision of the Empire.


this information was inaccurate.

But the important thing was
fidelity to Yu,

not geographical
realism or accuracy.

Creating maps with this level of detail
required huge resources.

And it would be another 400 years
before the means were available

to fund a national
mapping project in England.

In 1539, Henry VIII
commissioned a survey

of the entire English coastline.

But Henry didn't just want
an impressive image of his Kingdom.

He wanted to defend it.

Local artists were ordered to make
sketch maps of the coast.

Their drawings were sent to London,

where they were compiled
into master maps for the King.

This is one of Henry's maps.

It's a giant birds' eye view
of the coast,

all the way from Exeter,
right down to Lands End in Cornwall.

It's a beautiful map,

and it's a really, really important step

in the move towards
geographical representation.

You see places in a level of realism

that the English
had never seen before.

You've got Exeter in birds' eye view
which is quite clear.

You have Plymouth represented here
in a way that was completely new.

It's absolutely extraordinary.

The colouring, the whole detail.

But this isn't just a beautiful map -

it's also an extremely strategic map
with a very specific end in mind.

It's about coastal defence
and it's about repelling invasions.

And we can tell that by looking
at the descriptions of the forts

that pepper the entire coastline,

saying, "Made,"

"Not made"

or "Half made".

So for instance here, we can see
a fort that is labelled "Not made"

but it has quite clearly
been drawn over

the coastal location
at a later point.

so probably over several years
Henry looks at this and says,

"This is where I need
my coastal fortifications."

Divorce from his Spanish wife
Catherine of Aragon

had led Henry to fear
a Spanish invasion.

He wanted to build new forts like this
to defend his realm.

To help identify
where these defences were needed,

the mapmakers prioritised
the most vulnerable places.

Certain areas, particularly
inlets and sandy bays,

where invading forces could land,

are mapped in absolutely minute detail.

Other areas of the map, for instance
rocky outlets or cliff tops

where you can't really land a ship,

are not really mapped
very accurately at all.

It didn't matter to Henry
that this wasn't exactly to scale.

What really mattered to Henry
was that he could now sit in London

and he could survey
this entire coastline

and he could decide exactly
what he wanted to do with it

where he wanted
to put his fortifications.

Henry's realisation of the power of maps

reflected a sea change in European
attitudes to cartography.

But to all intents and purposes,
his coastal map was still just a picture.

More art than an accurate
representation of geography.

It was in 17th century France,

under the patronage
of the Sun King, Louis XIV,

that the crucial component of
modern map making fell into place.

When we think of a modern map,
we tend to imagine an entirely

accurate representation
of the world on paper.

The reason why I've come here
is because

this is where that idea was born.

It happened here,
at the Paris Observatory,

because of an extraordinary
collision of power, politics

and scientific progress.

The Enlightenment.

King Louis wanted to make a map
more accurate than any other.

But there was still a huge obstacle

to the true measurement
and mapping of larger areas.

The Earth isn't flat like a map,
it's a sphere.

The leading astronomer at the observatory
was Giovanni Domenico Cassini.

He found the solution to the problem
accurately measuring distances

across the globe
in the science of astronomy.

Map makers already knew
how to measure latitude,

the distance north or south
of the equator,

by observing the height of the Sun.

But a way to measure longitude,
the distance east or west of a point,

had still to be found.

Thanks to a dramatic increase
in the power of telescopic lenses,

Cassini found the answer

by observing the eclipses
of Jupiter's moons.

He timed the eclipses in Paris,

and then compared this with the time
the same eclipses were seen in Brest,



The apparent time difference
between the two observations

was then used
to help calculate longitude.

Cassini sent out teams of astronomers
to record the timing of the eclipses

as they occurred
along the French coastline.

This is just a sample of
the voluminous correspondence

that came back to Cassini here
at the observatory

by his surveyors
spread right over France.

Every location that they went to,
they took detailed measurements,

feeding those measurements back
to Cassini to start to put together

an accurate measurement of longitude
right across France.

This is a letter from Brest

with one of his surveyors
assessing the eclipses,

giving an exact time
at which they took place.

And this kind of precision had never
been applied to map making ever before.

Finally, in May 1682,

the King's surveyors
were able to present him

with the first true
outline of France.

The coastline was revealed to be
astonishingly different

from the way it appeared
on earlier maps.

France was shown to be 20% smaller
than all previous estimates.

Louis was horrified.

Signs, said Louis, had cost him more
territory than any invading enemy.

The shape of the coastline
was now established.

There was an even greater task ahead,

to map out the whole
of the interior of France.

In the mid-18th century,

surveyors arrived here
at Chateau de Champs-sur-Marne,

just outside Paris.

They'd come to calculate
the smaller distances

between a series of fixed points
in the grounds.

To do this, they used another scientific
technique called triangulation.

France was about to be divided into
hundreds of carefully measured triangles.

Historian of map making,
Daniel Schellstrater,

is about to show me
how it was done.

In order to create a triangle,

first of all they had to measure
the distance of a straight line.

The problem back then was that
measuring it was very hard

and took a long time.

So they had to find ground
that was totally flat,

or work for several days,
stomping and levelling it.

Which was very difficult.

And the rulers that were used
were only four metres long.

Despite these difficulties,

a straight line
would have to be measured

between the two fixed points.

It was called a baseline,

and it formed the first side
of a triangle.

Standing at one end of the baseline,
Daniel is demonstrating

how they worked out the rest
of the dimensions of the triangle.

So, we want to look over there
at the statue,

which you can see
is at the other end of the line.

And if you look through the lens,

you can see that the image
is upside down.

And then we look over to the pigeon house
through the other lens.

The pigeon house marks
the third point of the triangle.

And then the instrument shows you
the angle of the corner of the triangle.



Now the task is repeated
at the other end of the baseline,

and a second angle is measured.

From this information,

the lengths of the other
two sides of the triangle

can be worked out
using the laws of trigonometry.

The operator would take
the measurements

and then write them down
in a notebook.

We are lucky to have an original
notebook from these times,

with the name of the operator

and observations made
on the plane of Paris and Meaux.

So these are the measurements
for this exact spot?

Exactly.

So, here is the description.

You have a chimney,
here is a reference to the pediment.

And everything that was located
would be written down.

And when it was necessary,
there were even a few sketches.

Obviously, the secret,

the impressiveness of
creating these maps

lies in integrating
all this information

across a whole territory.

It's all thanks to the principle
of triangulation.

The dimensions of one triangle
were used to create another.

Slowly, a network of triangles was used
to calculate accurate distances

between places all over France.

This ambitious enterprise
would transform the nation.

At that time, France was a collection
of diverse regions,

each with its own identity.

There were hundreds of French dialects,

but now the whole country was slowly
being brought together in one map.

The Carte de Cassini
was finally completed in 1789,

by which time Louis XVI
was on the throne.

Over 120 years,

four generations of the Cassini family

had devoted their lives
to mapping France.

This is the Carte de Cassini,

and it's the first time
I've actually seen it.

And what strikes me,
of course, as I open it,

is this isn't just a map,

it's a book of maps.

And this is the map of France,

down the left-hand side,
a table of longitude and latitude.

You look at the map itself,

and it's a series of squares

created from the triangulation process.

Here it is, the whole French nation,

mapped in exact scientific detail.

And if we turn to the map of Paris,

we can see all the regions of Paris
mapped.

You can see the center here,

and that's where we are, down here
on the observatory, just there.

And it goes right through
the entire country.

Page after page
are of different areas of France,

but the way in which
they're being portrayed

is exactly the same.

All the symbols, all the signs,
are standardized.

The symbols for forests,

the symbols for rivers,

the symbols for towns.

And what's also significant here

is the fact that the language
is also being standardized.

This is Parisian French.

Page after page is using
the same kind of language,

standardizing the language,
standardizing the map.

The scale is also exactly the same.

Down here, the scale bar,

which tells you exactly the scale
that's being used on this map.

It's actually 1 to 86,400.

It is that precise.

And it's staggering.

To look at this
is absolutely amazing.

This is standardization,
but it's beautiful standardization.

These are maps for the king.

It wants to look beautiful,
as well as being precise.

But the map made to serve the king

was about to become
a tool of revolution.

On the 14th of July,

just as the finishing touches
were being made to the map,

the revolutionary mob
was storming the Bastille.

Two days later, they invaded
the Paris observatory.

The new regime claimed
the Carte de Cassini

as national property.

They used it to help carry out
their sweeping administrative reforms.

This was the map on which the boundaries
of the new departments were drawn,

the regional administrative units
still used today.

The Carte de Cassini
would have an even greater legacy.

It would help forge
a powerful new national identity.

For the very first time in history,

here was a map which centralized
and standardized an image of the nation,

of France.

It allowed all kinds of
regional variations

to be subsumed into
one nation-state image,

the map of Cassini.

People could identify,
despite their regional variations,

right across this map, even with people
that they'd never even meet.

It was an image
of a unified nation-state,

even at the time that
the country was being torn apart

by the revolutionary terror.

This triumph of science
and enlightenment

had become a potent political tool.

This was France as these revolutionary
nation-builders wanted it to be.

One language, one nation, one map.

While the French reuniting around
their new national map,

the British, with their
expanding overseas empire,

were charting the oceans.

Captain James Cook was one of Britain's
pioneering explorers and navigators.

In August 1768,

he embarked on an epic voyage
bound for the Pacific.

The latest scientific inventions gave
Cook's maps a new kind of authority

and the power to lay claim
to the territory they depicted.

Cook's mastery of science
and navigation

confirmed him as a great hero and
genius of the Age of Enlightenment.

But on the island of Tahiti,

Cook met his match
in a local navigator called Tupaia,

who'd never even drawn a map
in his life.

Tupaia could sail across the Pacific,
a third of the Earth's surface,

without the use of paper maps.

This went against
all Cook's training and experience.

He was so intrigued that he asked
Tupaia to draw a chart of the ocean,

showing the location of
all the islands that he knew.

This is a copy of the map
Cook encouraged Tupaia to create.

The sheer scale of Tupaia's knowledge

shown on this map
is absolutely astonishing.


actually even mapped by the Westerners,

but here they are being shown
by Tupaia.

Cook wrote in his journal that Tupaia

knew more of the geography
of the islands situated in these seas

than anyone he'd ever met.

He said that any ship would be
better off with Tupaia aboard.

Tahiarii Pariente
is one of Tupaia's descendants.

A Polynesian navigator himself,

he studied the techniques
used by his ancestors.

The navigator had knowledge of the stars,
he had knowledge about climate,

he had knowledge about
how the time would go by in a year,

so the difference between seasons.

I mean, there is no Polynesian culture
without navigation.

We are islanders.

So we hope from islands to islands.

For 3,000 years,

the Polynesians had been exploring and
colonising the islands of the Pacific.

They'd even reached America
at least a century before Columbus.

Tupaia was drawing on ancestral knowledge
passed down through countless generations.

When you get out from an island
until it disappears behind the horizon,

you use the island as a bearing,
so then you start using the stars.

But then, you don't have stars
all the time.

You have clouds, you have rain.

Then you use the wave patterns
in the ocean.

Then you pull out a certain fish.

They know this fish only comes
that far away from the islands,

or that kind of birds.

They know
how far away they can fly.

So you have to understand
what's around you.

When Tupaia drew his map,

he was encouraged to place his knowledge
within a western framework.

But on closer inspection,
it reveals a Polynesian perspective.

Even the wave indicating direction
is different.

All the western maps here are north-south.

The one thing you see
on every map is north.

We didn't really care about the north.

We only cared about his west,
because that's where everything goes.

That's where the sun goes down.

That's where the stars goes down.

That's where the wind blows.

This map is the result of the clash,
isn't it,

between two different ways
of navigating.

There's a Polynesian way of navigating,

and there's the western
method that Cook uses.

And they're in a sense
colliding with each other.

They both work, but you can't really
put them together, can you?

No.

The Polynesian set of mine
is totally opposite to the western one.

We don't go anywhere.

We stay where we are,
and the island comes to you,

or your destination comes to you.

So in western navigation,
we go to the island,

but in Polynesian traditions,
the island comes to you.

You don't move.

The canoe don't move.

It's your center.

It's where you are.

And if we look at this map,

what's particularly significant
about it?

The scale, for example, on the map

is not related maybe to the distance
on the real scale of the geographic place,

but maybe related to the
importance of the place.

Like Rotuma is drawn really big,

but it does echo in a lot of
legends and myths and stories.

So it is big in history,
not in width or height.

It's like a code.

If you don't have the key,
you won't understand the message.

Tupaia's map is an
extraordinary document,

and not only for what it shows about

Tupaia's deeply ingrained
knowledge of the Pacific Islands,

despite the great scientific leaps
forward in the West,

Tupaia's map shows us
that other cultures had different

but equally effective ways of navigating
their way across the Earth's surface.

By the early 20th century,

the mapping of the world
was well underway,

and each culture and nation
took a different approach to the task.

As a result, there was a bewildering
range of map-making styles

using different scales,
symbols and languages.

But a bold new initiative
set out to create a map

that could be understood by everyone.

It was called the International
Map of the World.

International because each country would
create a map of its individual territory

according to agreed standards.

There would be 2,500 maps

and when they were all put together

they would depict the entire world.

At a conference in Paris in 1913,


a comprehensive series of regional maps

on a universal scale
of one to a million.

They would be known
as the millionth maps.

This is the millionth map
of the south coast of England.

This one shows northwestern America
around San Francisco.

Both these maps look rather different

and that's mainly because of the
varying terrain that they both show.

But there are also many similarities.

Greenwich is the prime meridian

and relief is marked by contour lines

whose height is all measured in meters.

The colors are also
completely standardized here

so the roads are all in red,
the railways are in black

and of course the scale on this map
is one to a million.

Each country would adopt
the same set of standards

in the spirit of
international cooperation.

The combined result would be
a standardized map of the world

that was intended to transcend
national differences.

But not every nation had the power
and resources needed

to send surveyors into the unmapped
territories of the world.

This shows the areas mapped
according to the principles

and the standards of the
International Map of the World

by the mid 1920s.

It's a fascinating snapshot
of the world at that time

and not only because it shows
where had been mapped

but also by whom.

All these areas in Africa

which at the time
are under French colonial rule,

Morocco, Algeria, Niger, Chad
are all mapped by the French.

Over in Indonesia,

Dutch dominions here
are marked by the Dutch

The British Empire
marked on the map here as GB

is also mapping
its own imperial territories.

Most of India here is mapped by GB,

whole parts of East Africa,
Southern Africa

and also parts of the Middle East.

Despite the project's best intentions,

the millionth maps were being used

to further the imperial
interests of the West.

By the outbreak of World w*r I,

the project's original spirit of
international cooperation was fading away.

Far from transcending
national differences,

the International Map of the World
became an extension of them.

Up to 40% of all the developing
world's national borders

were defined and mapped
by the British or the French.

Flushed with victory
after the First World w*r,

they would use maps to consolidate
their power in the Middle East.

For centuries, the region between
Mesopotamia and Saudi Arabia

had been a land
without fixed frontiers,

as this British Army map
from 1907 illustrates.

This is a map
without divisions and boundaries.

What it shows is the movement of
nomadic Arab tribespeople

across this whole region.

So if you look
in the bottom left corner,

you have the Shammar.

This is generally their region.

But they're also described
as wintering up here.

So this is the movement of peoples
being shown in a very fluid way

without any linear boundaries
imposing restrictions upon them.

I belong to the Shammar tribe,

and the region of North Arabia

was predominantly populated
by nomadic tribes

with their own territories.

But these territories, we cannot
describe them as rigid or fixed.

They had fluctuating boundaries.

These tribal groups would travel
all the way up to the north

in search of pasture and water,

but in the very, very hot months,

they would actually retreat
either near oasis

or go even further
to a cooler climate.

So migration in that part of the world
was a common feature of life.

Following the collapse of the Ottoman
Empire after the First World w*r,

the victorious European powers decreed
that a new nation state was to be carved

out of Mesopotamia.

It would be called Iraq.

The border between Iraq and Saudi Arabia

was decided by two men
at a conference in 1922.

Sir Percy Cox of
the British Colonial Office

had an uncompromising approach.

He wanted to draw a line
straight through the desert.

For Ibn Saud,
the king of Saudi Arabia,

this was an alien concept.

Ibn Saud argued that to impose linear
boundaries upon his tribespeople

was completely unsuitable,

because it didn't work
for the way in which they moved

and they transmigrated
across this whole space.

What he suggested instead

was to keep the boundaries fluid
and to keep them open.

This idea of making a map
to reflect fluidity and openness

was mocked by the British.

This is an eyewitness account
written about the conference

by one of the translators.

At a private meeting

at which only Sir Percy Ibn Saud
and I were present,

he lost all patience over what he called
the childish attitude of Ibn Saud

in his tribal boundary idea.

It was astonishing to see Ibn Saud

being reprimanded
like a naughty schoolboy

by His Majesty's High Commissioner

and being told sharply
that he, Sir Percy Cox,

would himself decide on the type
and general line of the frontier.

Sir Percy took a red pencil

and very carefully
drew in on the map of Arabia

a boundary line.

So from that moment
this local tribal population,

brothers, lineages or clans
would find themselves divided.

Some of them would be
part of Saudi Arabia,

others would have become Iraqis

and yet another branch
would have become Kuwaitis

and they could not continue
as animal herders

and therefore
the animal economy collapsed

because nomadism was definitely
based on the seasonal migration.

So economically, yes,
the region was affected.

But in addition,
networks of hospitality,

of trust and solidarity,
all that had to vanish.

The precision of Enlightenment science
had combined with the rule of empire

to make a map with the power
to destroy an ancient way of life.

Mapmakers throughout history have
created wonderful windows on the world

and Western science has provided
the tools to make modern maps

more accurate than ever before.

But the mapping of Iraq
is a stark reminder

that maps can also be
devastating tools of political power.

And we are still living
with the consequences to this day.