My book Fault Lines is finally out! The book has been published by Berghahn Books (Oxford and New York) at the end of May. It is part of the ESEH/RCC series “The Environment in History: International Perspectives” and has been generously supported by the Rachel Carson Center for Environment and Society. On July 2, during the last ESEH meeting in Versailles, we organized a book launch at the Université de Versailles Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelynes, with the presence of three of the four series editors (David Moon, Christof Mauch and Helmut Trischler) and of course myself. It has been a nice moment, especially because many of the people who, in a way or another, have helped make this book possible were present. Here you can find more information about the book contents and here you can download a copy of the introduction. If you are interested in buying a copy, the publisher offers a special 50% discount rate valid only until August 15, 2015 through this link.
This post was originally published on Ant Spider Bee – Exploring the Digital Environmental Humanities
Like virtually everyone who has grown up after the PC revolution, I have used digital tools for work or entertainment as early as I can recall. However, work on my second book-length project entitled Entangled Flows: The Remaking of the Po River Valley, has encouraged me to consciously and programmatically explore digital methods more fully.
Colleagues and friends who are not involved in the digital humanities have often asked me why I have chosen to go digital. This is a legitimate question, and a very important one. Before showing how I integrate digital methods in my project, I should thus explain why. There are at least three major reasons. First and foremost, my environmental history project would simply be unfeasible without utilizing digital methods—in particular, without historical geographic information systems (HGIS). Second, digital tools open up a field of new possibilities for research dissemination and outreach, which in turn increase public accessibility of scientific knowledge. Finally… because it’s fun! Although personal pleasure has seldom a place in compelling scientific arguments, humanities scholars should know better than anyone how important emotions are in stimulating or constraining creativity. We will get back to that. But let me first say something more about the project.
My current project, funded by the European Union with a Marie Curie Fellowship, aims to understand the genealogy of today’s problematic interdependencies in water resource use in the Po River Valley. The Po River Valley is one of the most densely urbanized, industrialized, and agriculturally developed regions of the planet. Cities, industries, and agriculture in the valley depend on particular arrangements of water circulation, and water flows interconnect them all. In this project, I study how the current configuration of water circulation in the Po Valley has been produced through history. More specifically, I analyze the transition from a predominantly agricultural society to the modern urban-industrial society, and the ways that water circulation structured this transition. This endeavor has two major implications: 1) the analytical focus of my research are water flows and their modification across the entire watershed of the Po River; 2) I take into account a multiplicity of water uses (agricultural, urban, industrial) over more than 150 years.
When I first designed this project in the form of a proposal for a Marie Curie Fellowship, I realized that I needed to find a way to systematize sources and information, or else their sheer abundance would have overwhelmed me. Besides working on more traditional text-based research and outputs, I thus decided to build a geographical database of water uses. I planned to utilize it in order to spatially organize the sources and information I would collect on irrigation and drainage canals, hydroelectric reservoirs, urban waterworks, floods and so on. Although by then I had only a superficial knowledge of GIS, what I knew was enough to guess that it could serve well to that purpose.
It turned out it was not a bad idea. I have been implementing a historical GIS of water uses for almost one year now, and I have already derived several benefits from it. First, it has effectively helped me to never lose sight—quite literally!—of the big picture. This is very important, since it is incredibly easy to get entangled into local stories when using archival or other narrative sources. By constantly getting back to the GIS, I am forced to always relate every specific case I encounter—be it a canal, a drainage initiative, or a dam, to the larger regional context. This helps me to avoid the risk of overemphasizing the single episode, and to gain a clearer perspective of its relative importance and historical interconnections. Moreover, building the database has driven me toward sources that otherwise I would have overlooked. Searching for comprehensive information on large-scale processes, I have turned to inventories of irrigation canals, surveys of aqueducts and hydroelectric power plants, and maps. These sources are probably not as “fleshy” or “spicy” as reports or letters, and can be of little or no use if taken alone. However, once digitized and put into a GIS, they can be extremely valuable to keep track of extent, patterns, and features of environmental change on a large scale. Furthermore, GIS is proving extremely helpful as an analytical tool. Let us take hydropower as an example. I have digitized five inventories of hydroelectric power production compiled between 1927 and 1970, and I am now completing the digitization of an 1880s survey of watermills. Visualizing and analyzing these data via GIS offer new insights about the difference between the two modes of waterpower production, the localization, diffusion, and functions of the hydropower plants, and their impact on watercourses. By cross-matching waterpower sites and irrigation canals, then, it becomes possible to identify locations where the overlap between the two types of uses was intense and precocious, and where it is thus worthwhile to pursue more fine-grained investigations.
GIS is also a great resource for creative outputs. As geographers and cartographers know well, geo-visualizations can communicate spatially situated information in an extremely effective manner. Visual information comes across very differently than written words, and sometimes can be more easily accessible than scholarly articles or books, especially for a non-specialist audience. Nowadays, most of the free pieces of GIS software such as QGIS or Google Earth allow users to produce very powerful and attractive geo-visualizations of various kinds. QGIS, for example, has a map-drawing tool that produces high-resolution image files out of GIS data. I have used it to produce a sequence of maps concerning the diffusion of aqueducts in the Po Valley from 1800 to 1940. I have then composed the resulting image files into an animated sequence by means of a free video editing software.
I have published the animation on my Youtube channel, on my blog, and on twitter. This is by no means a replacement of a scholarly article, but it can be a nice complement to it, and one that has more chances to reach a wider audience. Map animations can also be easily created with Google Earth Pro (now free). Google Earth Pro indeed allows for the creation of short HD videos out of virtual tours. I have used this feature to create a visual narrative of the 1951 Polesine flood, the worst flood disaster in twentieth-century Italy. The video shows the points where the river overflowed the embankments, the flooded area, and the locations that were abandoned as floodwater advanced.
These are just examples of the many possibilities that free GIS software offers to create digital historical narratives of environmental change capable to reach a broader audience. Even more potential lies in integrating GIS with other multimedia formats. I have used Google Maps Engine to map a field trip in the drained wetlands of the Po River delta I did in the summer of 2014. The map shows each stop in the trip, and includes brief field notes, pictures, video recordings, and links to relevant web pages. Users can navigate the map and get a better sense of the geography of the field trip, while learning more on some features of the landscape I explored.
Part of my project consists of replicating this model on a larger scale, by creating an interactive map that would allow users to select and visualize the data on water uses and water infrastructure I have digitized, including dams, hydropower plants, irrigation canals, and so forth. I envision this instrument as a way to help people understand the interconnectedness of apparently unrelated processes of social and environmental change, and thereby enhance the public debate on water uses and interdependency in the Po Valley.
While digital methods and tools are now playing a decisive function for both primary source analysis and project outreach, they have also been a refreshing complement to my scholarly practice. GIS, videos, and websites can expand storytelling into new and fascinating directions, and liberate creativity from some of the constraints of textual narratives. Moreover, playing with maps, learning how to use pieces of software, shooting and mounting videos, are all activities that I have always enjoyed. In these moments, I become oblivious of time, a sensation that I also experience when reading a good book or sifting through archival records. My academic training in history, however, has led me far from digital media production. The digital humanities represent a way to finally integrate this longstanding passion with my professional practice. I find this extremely rewarding, and increases the pleasure that I attach to the work I do. Is that not already enough?
Last fall I had the chance to speak about “Visualizing Water’s Pasts: The Space and Time of Water Uses in the Po River Valley” at the 2014 edition of the Sagan National Colloquium at Ohio Wesleyan University, entitled ” H2O-Water in Our World”. I am really grateful to the organizers for inviting me. If you are interested in what I had to say, here is the video of the talk.
As part of my Marie Curie research project, I am currently developing a historical GIS of water uses in the Po Valley, 1860 to the present. This includes hydroelectricity, irrigation canals, urban waterworks, and so forth. It’s a lengthy – and sometimes tedious – process, which involves digitizing and geo-referencing a considerable amount of different sources: archival records, grey literature, historical cartography, and aerial photography. The historical GIS, however, has proved to be an invaluable tool to analyze the transformation in direction and uses of water flows that is the focus of my investigation.
Among other interesting functions, a historical GIS permits mapping temporal sequences in space. Last summer, I produced a few temporal sequences about the diffusion of hydroelectricity in the Po River basin from 1880 to 1970, which I presented at the 2nd World Congress of Environmental History in Guimarães, Portugal. More recently, I have been developing another part of the HGIS, concerning sanitation in the Po River basin from 1800 ca to 1940. Here is a little experiment in animated map visualizations which draws on data about aqueducts:
Please note that this is just a sample from a much richer database. Moreover, the visualization I present here is a work in progress. I plan to elaborate more on these and other related data, such as the kind of water intake used, the presence of sewages, the number of inhabitants, or the interaction between urban water cycles and agriculture. That said, it is interesting to compare the above visualization with the result of a simple Ngram search of the word “risanamento” (sanitation in English) in Italian sources between 1800 and 1940:
A first, remarkable surge in the use of “risanamento” that starts around 1880 was followed by a second surge around 1920. This periodization corresponds to the findings of historiography on urban sanitation in Italy, and overlaps largely with the periodization of aqueduct building in cities and towns of the Po watershed as revealed by the above map sequence. What the Ngram cannot show, however, is the spatial dynamics of this process, and the extent to which it involved not only major urban settlements but also small country towns and villages. HGIS can help visualize that.
This post was originally published on Seeing the Woods – A blog by the Rachel Carson Center:
One of the most important things I have learnt over these years of research is that the “archive of the feet” is as vital to history as it is to geography. Historians, and especially environmental historians, should not write of a place they have not seen in person. Once you see the place, breathe its air, talk to the people who inhabit it, explore its overlapping historical arrangements and their traces on the landscape, your perspective on your subject is altered in an extremely productive way.
With that conviction in mind, I decided to make use of a research stay in Italy, in June-July 2014, to quit archives and libraries and do a short field trip to the Po River Delta. The Delta region, and more broadly the easternmost part of the Po watershed, will be the subject of one of my next papers, and I wanted to visit the places about which I will be writing. I drove across the lowlands for an entire day, visiting canals and pumps, early twentieth century settlements, Po river distributaries, and ancient fluvial towns.
It was an interesting experience, and one that has allowed me to gain a better understanding of the history and current state of reclamation and drainage in the region. I thought, therefore, that it was worthwhile to share the results and information gathered during this fieldtrip. Instead of producing a more traditional field report, however, I decided to explore the potential of the alternative forms of storytelling that digital formats make nowadays possible.
The format I have chosen is the multimedia map. With a smartphone to take pictures, shoot videos, and geolocate my position, I documented some of the most salient aspects of the landscape I explored. I then used the Google Maps Engine to create a map of the places I visited. Using the simple functions of the maps engine, I enriched the points in the map with a selection of relevant pictures and an explanatory text. In some cases, I integrated the text with links to external web pages containing historical cartography and other kind of information.
The resulting multimedia map can be explored by following the chronological order of the points, thus retracing the path of the field trip in a virtual tour: clicking on each point in the mask on the left side of the map will open a window containing the pictures, the description, and the hyperlink (when present). It is also possible to explore the map following a different order, by clicking directly on the points in the map.
I find the resulting product an interesting experiment in alternative (digital) forms of storytelling. It presents several advantages. It allows for the integration of several different media formats (texts, pictures, videos, maps, webpages), while giving a better sense of the spatial dimension of the field trip than the simple text. It empowers the readers, giving them the possibility to build their own narrative and opening the possibility for further investigations through hyperlinks. It remains an open format, which I can always expand and enrich in the future, and one that users can share freely.
In the future, I plan to explore further the potential of this and other similar multimedia formats. For the time being, I hope you will enjoy!
This is the link to the multimedia map
A blog post on my path to environmental history on the RCC’s blog Seeing the Woods
In the “Making Tracks” series, RCC fellows and alumni present their experiences in environmental humanities, retracing the paths that led them to the Rachel Carson Center. For more information, please click here.
An Initiation Into Environmental History
By Giacomo Parrinello
I first heard of something called “environmental history” as a new MA graduate in history. I had completed an MA thesis on the political cultures, experiences, and languages of radical left organizations in Italy from 1968 to 1977, and I was tired of endless documents on upcoming revolutions that never happened. Crazy enough to aspire to a doctorate in Italy in the late 2000s, I was looking for a new topic, possibly with a stronger anchorage on the materiality of human social life. I ended up with earthquakes—so much for the anchorage. Yet it was certainly different from what I had done up to that point, and I was…
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