we often assume that maps simply depict reality, that they are neutral tools of navigation, guiding us across landscapes with the precision of scientific measurement. but this assumption—seemingly obvious, unquestioned—is a historical fiction. maps do not just describe space; they create it. they do not merely reflect power; they inscribe it. and, perhaps most importantly, they do not document history; they erase it.
political geography has long been entangled with cartography, yet this relationship is anything but innocent. at its core, every political map is an argument—a visual rhetoric of control, domination, and erasure. the question is not whether a map is true or false but rather: whose vision of the world does it impose? what power structures does it obscure? what struggles does it relegate to the margins, turning them into footnotes of history?
from geography to geopolitics: the birth of state space
before the emergence of the modern state, geography was not a science of division, but a discourse on movement, connection, and interrelation. medieval maps, for instance, prioritized pilgrimage routes, trade networks, and spiritual landscapes over fixed political boundaries. power was fluid, authority was dispersed, and territorial sovereignty was a fragmented concept.
then came the state. and with it, a new way of seeing the world. by the seventeenth century, cartography had become a tool of centralization, an instrument of control wielded by the new bureaucratic regimes of europe. borders—once ambiguous, shifting zones of interaction—were transformed into rigid, absolute lines. space was no longer relational; it was owned.
it is no coincidence that this shift coincided with the rise of modern capitalism and the nation-state. as land became property, maps became deeds of ownership. the birth of political geography as a discipline did not arise from some pure intellectual curiosity about the world but from the practical needs of empire, colonization, and territorial expansion. to govern a state, one had to map it. to conquer a people, one had to define their place on a map. and to erase them, one simply had to redraw the lines.
the map as weapon: geopolitical myths and territorial fictions
if every map is an argument, then every border is a claim. but not all claims are equally legitimate. the history of political geography is riddled with examples of fabricated borders, imposed not by the realities of culture, language, or history but by the geopolitical calculations of those in power.
consider the infamous berlin conference of 1884-85, in which european powers—without a single african representative—redrew the map of an entire continent to suit their colonial ambitions. nations were created, tribes were split, and ethnic groups that had never shared a political entity were suddenly forced into artificial states. the violence of this process was not just military; it was cartographic.
or take the case of the sykes-picot agreement of 1916, where britain and france carved up the middle east into arbitrary zones of influence, setting the stage for a century of conflict. these lines, drawn hastily in secret diplomatic meetings, became sacred truths over time, enshrined in atlases and history books as if they had always existed.
but the most insidious thing about maps is that once a border is drawn, it acquires a sense of inevitability. generations later, people come to see it as natural, forgetting that it was once imposed through political maneuvering, colonial violence, or diplomatic convenience. the political geography of the past is buried beneath the authority of the present.
rethinking political geography: what lies beyond the map?
if maps shape our perception of the world, then challenging those maps means challenging the structures of power that sustain them. but how do we do this when the logic of the map is so deeply ingrained in how we understand space?
one approach is to abandon the illusion of the map as a finished product. instead of seeing geography as a set of fixed boundaries, we must think of it as a process—one that is constantly in flux, shaped by the movement of people, the struggles of communities, and the forces of history. borders are not eternal truths; they are negotiations, always in tension, always contested.
another approach is to shift our focus from the state to the people who inhabit these spaces. mainstream political geography tends to privilege the perspective of the state, assuming that it is the primary agent in shaping territorial realities. but what happens when we center indigenous resistance movements, stateless nations, or nomadic cultures that defy territorial categorization? what if we reject the idea that sovereignty must be tied to fixed borders at all?
perhaps the most radical step is to question whether political geography, as traditionally conceived, is even useful for understanding the world we live in today. in an era of globalization, digital communication, and transnational migration, the rigid, territorial model of political geography seems increasingly outdated. the internet, for instance, creates new forms of sovereignty and power that exist outside traditional state borders. global supply chains and climate change operate on scales that render national boundaries meaningless. what if the future of political geography is not about lines on a map but about flows, networks, and systems of interconnection?
conclusion: geography as a battleground
political geography is not just an academic discipline; it is a battleground of competing visions of the world. every time a border is drawn, a claim is made. every time a map is produced, a perspective is imposed. the task before us is not to accept these representations passively but to interrogate them relentlessly.
who benefits from this border? who is erased from this map? what histories have been buried beneath the neat lines of territorial division?
if we do not ask these questions, we risk becoming complicit in the very power structures that geography should be exposing. the challenge, then, is not just to read maps but to read against them. only by doing so can we begin to see the world not as it is presented to us but as it truly is: contested, unstable, and always in the process of becoming.
reference:
farinelli, f. (2000). friedrich ratzel and the nature of (political) geography. political geography, 19(2000), 943–955.
