Having lived in Taiwan for 2 years when I was 5, and taking family trips throughout middle school and high school to Taiwan to visit my grandparents and uncles on my mothers side, I recently became curious about Taiwan’s sovereignty and the political tensions with Republic of China that continue on until this day. My mother has described tensions between a friend who has insisted that she is Chinese, just like them, despite the fact that she identifies as Taiwanese.

However, it was not known to me until years ago that there are indigenous people of Taiwan who are still seeking recognition from Taiwan and China. On January 16, 2016, Tsai Ing-wen won the presidential election of Taiwan with over 56% of the vote. It signaled a turning point in Taiwan’s democracy, and Tsai accepted the “will of the Taiwanese people”. She became the first Taiwanese leader to officially apologize to the island’s indigenous population, acknowledging that past governments had failed to implement the indigenous peoples’ basic law. The indigenous people’s basic law that was passed in 2005 was to grant a wide range of rights to indigenous residents, and promised progress during her administration.

There are about 400,000 aboriginals in Taiwan, making up about 2% of 22 million population. While researching the tribes, it was noted that the official classification schemes originally developed by Japanese government anthropologists centuries ago, so some classification names are rejected by the tribes themselves. The Taro (also known as Sediq) people reject the classification to be the ‘subtribe’ of Tayal (also known as Atayal), and the Tao tribe reject the name “Yamei” given to them.

There are 16 tribes officially recognized by the government (up from nine originally). The 16 are:  Amis, Atayal, Paiwan, Bunun, Puyuma, Rukai, Tsou, Saisiyat, Yami, Thao, Kavalan, Truku, Sakizaya, Sediq, Hla’alua and Kanakanavu.

In addition, there are still more tribes seeking recognition, including many Pingpu tribes who formerly lived in the plains regions of Taiwan.

During my research, it became apparent to me that mapping the movements of tribes through colonization from the Portuguese (1626 – 1642), the Dutch (1624 – 1662), the Ming Dynasty (1662 – 1683), the Ching Dynasty (1663 – 1895), the Japanese (1895 – 1945), and finally the Republic of China– would prove to be difficult if I were to do it justice. Also the idea of trying to map tribes who’s classifications came from Japanese government anthropologists centuries ago, and who’s classifications are still being debated today in order to gain recognition from the current Taiwanese government, would be confusing and problematic to say the least.

I also noted that in some of the current existing maps locating indigenous tribes, certain tribes have different spelling variations, whereas certain tribes were not mentioned at all.

Unsatisfied with the google searches, I called my dad, who studied Chinese history in college, inquiring about any books he has on the colonization of Taiwan. He sent me several maps from books, however most Taiwanese maps he found displayed the Aboriginals locations during Japanese occupancy.

The book he sent me The Island of Formosa Past and Present by James W. Davidson, included a chapter that went into great detail the colonization by the Dutch, so instead of mapping out the Indigenous tribes I decided to map out the Dutch expeditions, starting 1624, and the Spanish. I decided to map out the the travels of the Dutch from Batavia (present day Jakarta, Indonesia) and the Spanish from the northern harbors of the Philipines.

Link to Map “Dutch and Spanish Colonization of Taiwan”

Felicity Howlett

Although I have not yet completed this project, the following is what I am hoping to accomplish:

In Nadja (1928), André Breton walks along the streets of Paris alone and, for a few autumn days, with Nadja. He is intimate with the cafés, the streets, the buildings, the squares, even certain signs hanging above shop windows—for him, they are acquaintances, old friends, and an integral part of the fabric of his life. They are such a part of his life that he can barely speak about an event without connecting it to a place. Ambiance colors his experience. A different avenue would bring about a different event. In addition to being acutely aware of his environment, Breton interlaces his discussion with remarks about colleagues, contemporaries, influential elders, and mentors.

Breton includes 44 plates in his story – photos of shops, streets, old buildings, portraits and art works of associates, and drawings by Nadja. Near the conclusion of his story, he discusses his intention: “I have begun by going back to look at several of the places to which this narrative happens to lead. I wanted in fact—with some of the people and some of the objects—to provide a photographic image of them taken at the special angle from which I myself had looked at them.  On this occasion, I realized that most of the places more or less resisted my venture, so that, as I see it, the illustrated part of Nadja is quite inadequate” (151-152). 

Following the above statement, Breton wrote, “It is not for me to ponder what is happening to the “shape of a city” even of the true city distracted and abstracted from the one I live in by the force of an element which is to my mind what air is supposed to be to life.  Without regret I see it change and disappear” (154).

Breton’s Nadja, including the photographic reproductions, is available for download from the web at https://monoskop.org/images/2/2e/Breton_Andre_Nadja_1960_EN.pdf.  My hope is that by briefly connecting some of the figures mentioned in the work to Breton’s remarks about them and by mapping the area in which most of the novel takes place, we may enjoy a fuller picture of how these people and places contribute to Breton’s story and color his experience. Given the modern photos, perhaps we can accept Breton’s claim of no regret and imagine ourselves walking along with him in his Paris or in ours.

The birth and death dates and brief descriptions of personages and photographs are almost all taken from Wikipedia and Wikimedia sources. Plate numbers refer to the photographs reproduced in Nadja, and page numbers designate specific passages in Nadja.  

I mapped the life story of the most notorious serial killer in South Korea. I chose this topic because it is related to my major, criminal justice and criminology and because the serial killer in South Korea is a new world that is very unfamiliar to people in the US.

For me, which tool I would use to map this topic was another matter. Actually, since I had little background knowledge about mapping, I had a fear of mapping and thought a lot about which tool I should choose. Among the several tools on the syllabus, I found that ArcGIS StoryMaps would be the most attractive and appropriate. In particular, looking at the voyage of Captain James Cook on the ArcGIS StoryMaps website, I thought it would be best for mapping a person’s life or longitudinal life course.

What I learned from various materials such as web documents, media reports, and academic articles for this mapping assignment was that his life was a series of misfortune except for murders and other crimes. He was abused in childhood, suffered from poverty, failed to adjust to school, and was divorced. Like the findings of the life-course criminological theory, negative experiences in life were associated with antisocial behavior or crime. Surely, his criminal behavior, especially his serial killings, will never be justified. I think that he was just a monstrous criminal in which the combination of his negative life experiences and his violent personalities were expressed as the extreme form of serial murders.

The mapping itself was an interesting experience. I think the mapping tool has strength in storytelling. Usually, when we talk about serial killers, like my topic, it is more likely to focus only on criminal behavior and its cruelty. In other words, it is more likely to ignore why one became a cruel criminal. However, mapping and other visual materials allowed us to see one’s life or context from a broader perspective. I personally believe that the mapping tools can more effectively reveal the immediate cause and underlying cause of a phenomenon like a historical context.

The link to my mapping assignment : https://storymaps.arcgis.com/stories/cf84fa2b5fe3425cbdb5a557a20392dd

For my project, I have decided to focus on New York City Football Club’s Soccer initiative of creating mini concrete “Mini – Soccer pitches” around New York City. The team has created so far, thirty out of potential fifty soccer pitches in the most underrepresented areas in New York City. The initiative has started a google map of the already created soccer pitches.What the team did was a simple plotting the pitches in a map with symbols. Below is a current screenshot of their Google Map.

Direct link of their map is available here

Likewise, It was an interesting experience in creating my own map, so I also created a similar version using the same Google Maps tool, in where I was able to insert “potential” new NYCFC mini pitches that could come in the future.  

I found the process extremely simple to create and edit. It was a matter of minutes in where I was able to click and create these icons on a map. 

At first, my mind raced in many directions as I was trying to find areas to explore. I was able to modify the different layers and found the satellite version for the base map the most eye appealing. I made the icons for the “pitches” orange to contrast with the base map.  It was easy to zoom in and out to find potential locations, the power of Google Maps is showcased here as I was able to quickly find “public parks” to order to drop my pins on the map.

Direct link here

As I was creating this map, I was wondering how were the original pitches selected. So i decided to search up recent poverty maps of New York City in google maps and was met with some roadblocks. First, I could not find any recent data, I found some data ranging as far as 2011. I did however find a website not using Google Maps, in which I was able to see poverty levels in NYC as recent as 2016. This map was clear and even in tune with the already created mini soccer pitches. It could be possible that NYCFC has use some sort of poverty map and decided to based their location on poverty levels. We can see below that many of the pitches were based in the low income areas. In my example, I instead created new pitches in the most affluent areas in Manhattan. Which i doubt would become reality.

in conclusion, it was a fun experience in which the tool was simple to use and how we can see organization use it in order to visually showcase projects to the world. I learned that Data maps are hard to come by and I wonder if this information is behind a paywall, as it is a tiresome job to plot information. Another conclusion could be that these Data Maps have not been created and it is up to the community to create them.

For the mapping assignment, I created a map that displays some of the oldest sidewalk sheds (scaffolds) in the center of New York City. I have always been very interested in how scaffolds make the urban landscape very “ugly,” although they are already a prominent part of the city. Sidewalk sheds are not really an issue for temporary visitors and passers-by, but for tenants who live in apartments with scaffolds covering the exterior of their building, the story is different. The sheds lower their quality of life by blocking the light and fresh air, collecting garbage, rats, drug users, and drunks, and hurting local businesses. Unfortunately, some owners have the sheds up far longer than necessary (claiming high building repair costs), which led tenants to express their frustrations and anger over scaffolds.

From a bigger-picture perspective, NYC’s sidewalk shed problem raises some interesting questions. First of all, to what extent do we consider some space “public space”? Also, if it is a “public“ space, do other members of the community bear some responsibility of keeping safe and clean? The scaffolds are negatively affecting some people’s lives, but the ambiguous line between what is public and what is private raises the question of who should be advocating for their concerns and needs. Secondly, stemming from the previous question, this pushes us to consider the issue in terns of spatial justice and ask how, and to what extent, our awareness and recognition of the problem can help make our “public” space more equitable. Public space should make every member of the community feel welcome and acknowledged in it. The fact that only certain parts of the city suffer from this problem may be an indication of some deeper issue of discrimination against certain class.

The mapping experience was very interesting. I was surprised that virtually any topic can be mapped by incorporating digital tools. I truly had a wonderful learning experience in which I could directly apply my digital humanities knowledge (although little) to my own research interests. The digital humanities tools are powerful in this sense, in its ability to move traditional learning beyond the old, boring classroom. By mapping sidewalk sheds in NYC, I am confident that I was able to capture and generate some meaningful phenomenon that is worth circulating in the world.

Link to Map: https://storymaps.arcgis.com/stories/69da40f1a37246aebe22459f15c2256f

Guiliano and Heitman’s piece that describes the complexities of indigenous data was very enlightening in terms of the way we treat the nature of knowledge and truth (epistemology). The authors basically appeals to the fact that the knowledge or data available to us are not value-neutral. Data are always subject to a particular system of knowledge production. In societies where the remnants of colonialism and imperialism still linger, the knowledge is colonial-centric. Therefore, it is important to recognize the cultures and histories of the indigenous (or other marginalized members) and make efforts to preserve and reclaim their cultures. The events experienced by the colonized and the colonizers can be very different. In other words, we should try to “see with their own eyes” such traumatizing history.

As evident from the example of comfort women and how the scholarly communities in Asia struggled to overcome lack of evidence to support their claim, which I raised in the last class, there is a need to recognize the possibility of missing, overlooked, destroyed, or hidden data we may never even have access to. I believe that the seemingly “nonexistent” knowledge still “exists” somewhere, because the set of knowledge that is available today could possibly be built upon the colonizer’s epistemologies. In this context, a broad societal awareness or strong initiative to help the traumatized define THEIR versions of the reality is vital.

The digital humanities can help visualize the reality of such data limitation. Just like how literary studies can benefit from using digital tools to visualize the presence of different revisions and editions of old texts, scholars who deal with indigenous data can greatly benefit from utilizing digital tools. For example, it helps talk about the realities of the oppressed in easy and accessible language and medium, which was not possible before. The complexities of data related to colonization history can be greatly overcome by visualizing the reality of the tradition of knowledge production and representation.

I attended a GC workshop titled Tools for the Digital Humanities on the 17^th of September, 2021. At the end of the workshop session, I was able to: 1) identify what types of project, research, and work  are included in the digital humanities; and 2) explore a wide range of tools and methods for research development. It also introduced me to Graduate Center Digital Initiatives, which does not only host workshops related to digital scholarship, but also hold consultations and working groups based around common tools or data sources and online resources.

The workshop was truly helpful in several ways. First, it gave me some idea about which topics to choose for my praxis assignment and final project for our course. There are so many useful things that one can do using digital methods or research, some of which are: producing data, processing data, utilizing existing digital platforms, creating community, collecting and displaying digital materials, and lastly, communicating my research in a digital environment. Personally, I believe that the last point is the most important of all. The power of this field of study is to bring modern chronological advances to benefit the study of humanities, which would then be used to better communicate the findings with other members of the community.

Another positive effect of digital humanities project is that in the collaborative research environment, we can incorporate digital tools into interdisciplinary research projects where we can maximize the efficiency and create a more meaningful learning experience. Furthermore, we are now able to make some interdisciplinary connections with other fields of study (even outside humanities) that were very difficult before the digital humanities as a field was created. Working in such a fashion with others lets us broaden our understanding of Humanities in general, since it pushes us to ask new exciting questions about old set of knowledge. Again, all of this is made possible with the aid of the new tools and technologies.

In 2015, I began to collaborate with victims of a crime that has come to be known as “the stolen babies cases of Spain.” Along with my workmates, expert developers Alejandro Peña (Àlex) and Juan Francisco Onielfa (Paco), we created a digital archive that documents the victims’ search for their children. We called it Maternidades robadas (Stolen Motherhoods). We worked with 20 victims of the crime: parents and siblings of stolen children; and children, now adults, looking for their biological families. They provided their testimonies and all the documents that they have been able to gather during their searches. They worked closely with us to prepare their cases for public viewing.

This map is our initial cartographic visualization of ten of the medical institutions supposedly implicated in the disappearances. The sites are marked by pins or numbers. The numbers indicate that we have included more than one site in a given city. By clicking on the pins, the viewer can read a brief description of the centers and a summary of one of the cases associated with it. The viewer may also access the case as it appears in our archive by clicking on the victim’s name.

A bit of background on the crime:

During the first years of Francisco Franco’s dictatorship (1940s), the abduction of children was state-sanctioned. The targets were the offspring of incarcerated “red women.” The children were allowed to stay with their mothers in prison until they turned three and, then, they were taken away and sent to state institutions. Often, they were given as a “gift” or sold to regime-sympathizer families. The practice of separating the children from their biological families was inspired in the eugenic theories and experiments of Franco’s chief military psychiatrist, Antonio Vallejo Nágera, trained in Germany.

By the early 1950s, Franco’s state-terror practices had crushed dissidence. “Red mothers” were no longer supplying children for reallocation into other families. Nevertheless, the same networks that had aided the regime in its cleansing and purging process –Catholic orders, members of the medical establishment and civil servants– continued separating mothers from their newborns until the 1980s, when Spain had already transitioned into a democratic state. The victims in this phase of the crime were working class women, which the regime suspected of harboring deep-seated resentment against the elite, and single mothers. They were told that their newborns had died at childbirth or shortly after. By forcefully giving their children away to families of better means and more solid religious and ideological credentials, a large number of potentially disrupting individuals was shifted to families that would educate them within the principles of order and obedience to the dictatorship.

General comments:

While I was planning the map, my expectation was that developing it would be a straightforward task: locating the institutions and adding pins… Easy! I was even doubting that the whole exercise would add any relevant information to the project itself. This changed as I began to work.

It was not a quick or easy process. Most of the institutions have changed names, sometimes locations too. I had to conduct quite a bit of research to gather the most basic information about some of them.

As I searched the Internet, images of inaugural ceremonies appeared here and there: Franco, his wife (holding ostentatious bouquets), their military sycophants,… A visually rich context began to emerge, highlighting the entanglement of the medical sector and the dictatorship.

The institutions original names betrayed the political context in which they were created: one name honored the dictator; another honored the founder of the Spanish fascist party; most of them had religious names, as corresponded to a Catholic totalitarian State.

The buildings’ photographs show the regime’s propagandistic efforts of the 50s and 60s. They also reveal the dictatorship’s institutionalization of medicine: Franco’s biopolitics, as Foucault would have it.

Some of the institutions’ convoluted histories parallel those of their files: lost, hidden, burnt, flooded… unavailable. The imposing presence of the massive brick constructions suggests the enormity of the fight that the victims have taken on.

The future life of the map:

I created this map for our Intro class, but I found that the cartographic visualization of the project data is useful for the project itself. The institutions’ data are connected to the participant’s cases within Dédalo (the project’s software), so, in the future, the map will provide project viewers with another access door, and a different type of information, for all the cases we have collected in each institution.

Our next steps will be to complete the map and to integrate it with the rest of the project data before publishing it.

Building the map:

Sources:

• The names and locations of healthcare institutions provided by our project participants.
• Our participants’ recounts of their cases.
• Old and current photographs of the institutions (taken from the Internet; most of them under Creative Commons Licenses).
• Information about the institutions (taken from the participants’ testimonies and documents, and from Internet sources)

Tools:

• Leaflet library. Note: Paco and Álex use Leaflet with Dédalo, so I didn’t have to install it. Lucky me!

• Dédalo. Dédalo is the software with which we manage the entire project: audiovisual testimonies, documents and photographs. I use Dédalo to create a case for each participant, to document her/his search process, to transcribe the testimonies and to index them with the help of a thesaurus.

Processes:

• Creating a record for each of the healthcare institutions to be located in the map.
• Uploading the images into each file. Dédalo compresses them and prepares them for publication.
• Completing as much information as possible about each institution: dates, old and new names, description.
• Adding a brief summary of a victim’s case to each institution description and a hyperlink to the digital archive.
• Finding the institutions’ locations in the map and marking them.
• Publishing the map.