Time's insights flow in both directions: anticipating the future can help us remove contemporary blinders to understand the past in new ways, and delving into the past can give us fresh perspectives on what might be possible in the future. Or, as I wrote earlier, when trying to explain the importance of environmental history, "The past is still doing its work in the present, and understanding that past gives us leverage on the problems we face today."
A key challenge in the study of history, especially as it relates to place, is putting the pieces together. If, for instance, we hit the archives in an attempt to know the history of a particular watershed, we might well find ourselves confronted with masses of information, including old maps, journals and letters, scientific observations, photos, business records and government files. Making sense of such a large array of sources is difficult.
But as we've discussed before, dealing with floods of data is not a situation unique to history, and historians are finding their way towards the same set of solutions that designers and scientists are moving towards: information visualization.
The field has come to be known as spatial history, and there's an explosion of projects and tools in that field right now, lead by Stanford's Spatial History Project.
The project, lead by Richard White, Zephyr Frank and Jon Christensen (disclosure: White is a former teacher of mine) is bringing together approaches from history and geography, employing GIS and other technologies to find new ways of understanding how the past unfolded in different places:
"The overarching goal of the Spatial History Project is to create dynamic, interactive tools that can be used across the spectrum represented by these research projects-from economic and technological changes, to social and political changes, and changes in science and the environment-and bring them all together to enable the creation of new knowledge and understanding of historical change in space and time and the possibilities for our present and future that may be found in the past."
It's a terrifically exciting undertaking, with all sorts of possibilities for introducing changed thinking into contemporary discussions. Better still, they're approaching the whole thing in a spirit of openness and tool-sharing, and have launched as well a spatial history wiki, Tooling Up for Digital Histories, a collaboration with the Stanford Computer Graphics Lab to "compile and create new tools for digital and spatial research in the humanities."
The wiki is already filling in nicely, and I have no doubt that it's going to be a great resource for those in the field. If I had one suggestion, it might be that it would be nice to see these tools explained and packaged in a manner that would be more accessible to intelligent people from other fields, and usable by non-academics to understand and describe their own spatial histories, and perhaps even imagine their own futures.
Spatial history stories can be powerful. Take the Mannahatta Project, which is using spatial history tools to mentally strip back the years and imagine Manhattan before the arrival of Europeans:
"The aim of the Mannahatta Project is to reconstruct the ecology of Manhattan when Henry Hudson first sailed by in 1609 and compare it to what we know of the island today. The Mannahatta Project will help us to understand, down to the level of one city block, where in Manhattan streams once flowed or where American Chestnuts may have grown, where black bears once marked territories, and where the Lenape fished and hunted. Most history books dispense of the pre-European history of New York in only a few pages. However, with new methods in geographic analysis and the help of a remarkable 18th-century map, we will discover a new aspect of New York culture, the environmental foundation of the city."
The project has already become a bit of a hit, getting written up in the New Yorker and elsewhere, and becoming the subject of a new book (disclosure: Deb Aaronson, who's editing the book, is also my editor).
Being a Westerner, being a 6th-generation Californian and having lived close enough to the Pacific to taste salt in the air for most of my life, the fascination with everything New Yorkish is sometimes baffling to me. But having gone to high school just outside NYC, and talking with New Yorkers who are excited about the idea, I think I can understand a bit of the Mannahatta Project's appeal.
Where I live, nature didn't go anywhere. Though I live in a city of 600,000 people, I can walk to a park where bald eagles hunt. Coyotes have been seen in my neighborhood. Salmon and orcas swim in the waters that surround my town. In the West, the wilderness isn't somewhere else, it's under your feet, it's in your view, it's on your plate. The degree to which it is eroding away is a major conflict point in our politics and culture.
But in New York, despite some amazing parks and green spaces, hundreds of years of city-building stand between residents and the ground they walk on. Stripping back that mass of concrete and asphalt and people and stories to get back to the natural systems that underlie it all must be an especially powerful experience for those who aren't used to thinking of where they live as being part of nature at all.
And that sort of insight, that sort of changed thinking, is exactly what we need more of if we're going to make better choices about the future we're building all around us.








