At some point during the initial phases of my research, I read an article on land acquisitions somewhere in Southeast Asia. As I flipped the pages, I saw some maps showing village lands and where investments had taken place. I wrote down in my To-Do list prior to my first field trip: "get maps of your field sites (villages) and concession areas". Easier said than done.
Village maps
Having a village map is relatively new for most peoples in the villages that I visited. Only in the late 1990's, through a government programme, these villages became "alive" in the national context by acquiring an official map showing their location, the limits of the village and its different categories of land. Some village chiefs showed these maps to me: they were drawn by hand and painted with different colours to show the areas. Some maps were drawn on a big piece of wood and then visibly hanged at each village main entry path. Copies on paper were not necessarily legible, some were half torn, a little ruined by humidity or simply were out of existence. In one place, their wooden map had been taken away by the rains and floods. Regardless, village chiefs did not seem to care much about preserving these maps (or referring to them for whichever purpose). Upon my request of village maps, they would look at me a bit mystified, and they would almost always refer me to the district office: "you will find them there". About the third time I enquired about such maps at a district office, without much success over the lapse of two weeks, Bo Hu asked me why these were so important to me. Good question!
Over lunch, I tried to explain (in what I thought was an uncomplicated way) the reasons why I professionally needed them. Throughout our conversation, I added something like: "I think we (the West) like maps because they guide us, locate us, place things in order, they show angles and limits...", to which he looked a bit puzzled. Although I was aware that before the maps were traced, villagers knew where their land began and where it ended, I was deliberately placing the cards of a different worldview on the table. I wanted to know if he had something to say on that. "We don't do like that..." --in short, he responded. Relying on what he knew or remembered from childhood from his home village, he described a situation in which limits were not linear; natural interruptions (rivers, mountains) or other terrain formations served as references; household's farming plots could sometimes spread over two village jurisdictions; and, arrangements in relation to land use and its governance were based on custom.
Three weeks in, we finally managed to get hold of those precious village maps in another district. The little problem with some of them is that they were black-and-white copies of the hand-made coloured ones, so one could not tell which zone was what (village housing land, sacred forest, farmland, etc.). Although eventually we found all copies we needed in colour, the whole experience was one in which conversation after conversation, these maps were not central to peoples' lives. This later strike me as rather ironic, especially because the process of producing these maps later allowed the identification of so-called "unproductive" land, where most land concessions for commercial plantations fell.
Being about to give in, the day I finally got hold of some maps, I was happy. Bo Hu had a big smile too; he had been helping me throughout the whole search thing. We were both so pleased with our achievement (and distracted) that we forgot to put gasoline in the motorbike on our way back, but we were luckily still nearby the district town and found a gas station. Then I saw a new café that I had not seen before. A place made for socially and ecologically conscious tourists, or just tourists who like coffee. They announced WiFi and I wanted to make sure I could upload the maps that I photographed as soon as possible. We went in and to my surprise I had already (briefly) met the owner of the café some years before. I told him what was I doing and the reason of my happy day. "Can I see the maps?", he asked. I showed them to him with a sense of victory. He uttered a big 'what?!' and started laughing. He could not believe those were the maps; can we even call them maps? He was clearly expecting another type of map. Even if he could relate to me being glad about finding them, the maps looked like a joke to him. I gave him a smile or two (in embarrassment), then changed the topic. It is not the first time I encounter well-intended Western people in Laos, who try to make a difference with projects or responsible business of all sorts on the ground, yet they remain far away from local realities. Above all, I felt ashamed for Bo Hu, who was sitting next to me. I could sense he understood everything that was going on.
As we went out, he said something like: "the maps are not beautiful, no?" I was not sure what to reply, it took me a while to think of something. As we rode the motorbike, I finally said: "we are just crazy about maps, you know... So crazy that we sometimes behave a bit crazy ourselves".
Concession maps
I have not yet been able to get hold of maps showing concession areas per village. After statements by local government officials (village and district) claiming they did not have such maps, I initially had the suspicion they were simply refusing me access. I thought that perhaps I was pushing my requests too far, given the topic sensitivity.
PARENTHESIS
During the process, I received the awkward suggestion of offering money, in both direct and subtle ways, to officials in exchange for such maps. I was startled by the fact that this suggestion came (more than once) from people whose work I consider to stand on the premise of best practices in their development and research mandates. They justified such advice by describing it as part of "what's normal here in Laos". I personally could not (still cannot) follow this advice, not even if I try to frame it as 'ends justifying certain means'. I would however be pleased to read what others (reading this) have to say, to get a glimpse, in particular, of your own ethical considerations (or ethical dilemmas) while doing research.
END OF PARENTHESIS
Through my different visits to several villages and their district offices, I am not sure anymore on the presumed 'availability' or existence of these maps at the local level. More than dealing with 'hidden' information, it seems to me that I am simply dealing with 'yet to process', 'yet to create' or 'yet to store' type of information, which is actually very recent. District and village authorities might be telling the truth; just as with the village maps: they genuinely do not have or have not stored maps showing concession areas at the very local level. Even if provincial and/or central authorities have produced such maps for investment purposes (a company operating in the area has confirmed to have some sort of map for their concession, though it remains uncertain what it shows), the ever-present problem of lacking registries at local government offices arises over and over again.
But let us imagine, for a moment, that these maps are readily and publicly available: how to make sense of what is represented with these maps? Other than the enclosures drawn and imposed, they are mute to the complexity of the minutiae of natural resource management on the ground. Let me rephrase that... They are perhaps the incarnation of simplifying complexity in its most advanced form: in their attempt at rendering societies and nature legible (Scott, 1998), they have made them invisible.
Village maps
Having a village map is relatively new for most peoples in the villages that I visited. Only in the late 1990's, through a government programme, these villages became "alive" in the national context by acquiring an official map showing their location, the limits of the village and its different categories of land. Some village chiefs showed these maps to me: they were drawn by hand and painted with different colours to show the areas. Some maps were drawn on a big piece of wood and then visibly hanged at each village main entry path. Copies on paper were not necessarily legible, some were half torn, a little ruined by humidity or simply were out of existence. In one place, their wooden map had been taken away by the rains and floods. Regardless, village chiefs did not seem to care much about preserving these maps (or referring to them for whichever purpose). Upon my request of village maps, they would look at me a bit mystified, and they would almost always refer me to the district office: "you will find them there". About the third time I enquired about such maps at a district office, without much success over the lapse of two weeks, Bo Hu asked me why these were so important to me. Good question!
Over lunch, I tried to explain (in what I thought was an uncomplicated way) the reasons why I professionally needed them. Throughout our conversation, I added something like: "I think we (the West) like maps because they guide us, locate us, place things in order, they show angles and limits...", to which he looked a bit puzzled. Although I was aware that before the maps were traced, villagers knew where their land began and where it ended, I was deliberately placing the cards of a different worldview on the table. I wanted to know if he had something to say on that. "We don't do like that..." --in short, he responded. Relying on what he knew or remembered from childhood from his home village, he described a situation in which limits were not linear; natural interruptions (rivers, mountains) or other terrain formations served as references; household's farming plots could sometimes spread over two village jurisdictions; and, arrangements in relation to land use and its governance were based on custom.
Three weeks in, we finally managed to get hold of those precious village maps in another district. The little problem with some of them is that they were black-and-white copies of the hand-made coloured ones, so one could not tell which zone was what (village housing land, sacred forest, farmland, etc.). Although eventually we found all copies we needed in colour, the whole experience was one in which conversation after conversation, these maps were not central to peoples' lives. This later strike me as rather ironic, especially because the process of producing these maps later allowed the identification of so-called "unproductive" land, where most land concessions for commercial plantations fell.
Being about to give in, the day I finally got hold of some maps, I was happy. Bo Hu had a big smile too; he had been helping me throughout the whole search thing. We were both so pleased with our achievement (and distracted) that we forgot to put gasoline in the motorbike on our way back, but we were luckily still nearby the district town and found a gas station. Then I saw a new café that I had not seen before. A place made for socially and ecologically conscious tourists, or just tourists who like coffee. They announced WiFi and I wanted to make sure I could upload the maps that I photographed as soon as possible. We went in and to my surprise I had already (briefly) met the owner of the café some years before. I told him what was I doing and the reason of my happy day. "Can I see the maps?", he asked. I showed them to him with a sense of victory. He uttered a big 'what?!' and started laughing. He could not believe those were the maps; can we even call them maps? He was clearly expecting another type of map. Even if he could relate to me being glad about finding them, the maps looked like a joke to him. I gave him a smile or two (in embarrassment), then changed the topic. It is not the first time I encounter well-intended Western people in Laos, who try to make a difference with projects or responsible business of all sorts on the ground, yet they remain far away from local realities. Above all, I felt ashamed for Bo Hu, who was sitting next to me. I could sense he understood everything that was going on.
As we went out, he said something like: "the maps are not beautiful, no?" I was not sure what to reply, it took me a while to think of something. As we rode the motorbike, I finally said: "we are just crazy about maps, you know... So crazy that we sometimes behave a bit crazy ourselves".
Concession maps
I have not yet been able to get hold of maps showing concession areas per village. After statements by local government officials (village and district) claiming they did not have such maps, I initially had the suspicion they were simply refusing me access. I thought that perhaps I was pushing my requests too far, given the topic sensitivity.
PARENTHESIS
During the process, I received the awkward suggestion of offering money, in both direct and subtle ways, to officials in exchange for such maps. I was startled by the fact that this suggestion came (more than once) from people whose work I consider to stand on the premise of best practices in their development and research mandates. They justified such advice by describing it as part of "what's normal here in Laos". I personally could not (still cannot) follow this advice, not even if I try to frame it as 'ends justifying certain means'. I would however be pleased to read what others (reading this) have to say, to get a glimpse, in particular, of your own ethical considerations (or ethical dilemmas) while doing research.
END OF PARENTHESIS
Through my different visits to several villages and their district offices, I am not sure anymore on the presumed 'availability' or existence of these maps at the local level. More than dealing with 'hidden' information, it seems to me that I am simply dealing with 'yet to process', 'yet to create' or 'yet to store' type of information, which is actually very recent. District and village authorities might be telling the truth; just as with the village maps: they genuinely do not have or have not stored maps showing concession areas at the very local level. Even if provincial and/or central authorities have produced such maps for investment purposes (a company operating in the area has confirmed to have some sort of map for their concession, though it remains uncertain what it shows), the ever-present problem of lacking registries at local government offices arises over and over again.
But let us imagine, for a moment, that these maps are readily and publicly available: how to make sense of what is represented with these maps? Other than the enclosures drawn and imposed, they are mute to the complexity of the minutiae of natural resource management on the ground. Let me rephrase that... They are perhaps the incarnation of simplifying complexity in its most advanced form: in their attempt at rendering societies and nature legible (Scott, 1998), they have made them invisible.
