A Rock Between Two Hard Places

In the body of water that separates South Korea and Japan, about seven hours by boat from either coast, there is a tiny, infinitesimally small island.  It’s rocky and treeless and rises straight out of the sea lending it the impression of both natural majesty and rugged inhospitality.  This seemingly inconsequential island is, however, currently the focus of a heated territorial dispute between South Korea and Japan — two countries with no shortage of distrust and animosity between them.

Dokdo, Takeshima, or Liancourt -- depending on who you ask

To the Western world, the island — which encompasses a collection of 40 to 90 smaller outcroppings (depending on the tide) — is known as Liancourt Rocks after a French whaling ship that happened upon the island in the 1800s.  The Koreans and the Japanese disagree vehemently on the name of the island, which has become a symbol of national pride for both countries, inspiring boycotts, protests, and straining already unstable political relations.  The Japanese call the island Takeshima (“bamboo island”) while the Koreans know it as Dokdo (“solitary island”), and their competing claims to sovereignty date back as far as the 6th century when Koreans reportedly discovered the island.  Historically, interest in the island was primarily in the fishing ground it provides access to, but the rumored existence of natural gas deposits (though neither government will admit it) has raised the stakes in recent years.

The problem is… it’s complicated.  The pre-modern claims to the island by either country are mired in primitive cartography, inconsistent naming, and the inhospitality of the island itself, which is not conducive to year-round occupation.  It appears that both countries had been to the island on and off since 1905, making unrecognized and often contradictory claims to ownership.  Then in 1905 Japan officially seized the island for use in the Russo-Japanese war and five years later forcibly annexed Korea, a move which was characterized by rampant exploitation and “cultural genocide” of Korea by Japan.

Japanese rule lasted until the end of World War II, when Japan signed the Treaty of San Francisco, agreeing to withdraw from countries it had forcibly occupied.  This is where it gets tricky.  In early drafts of the treaty, Liancourt Rocks are listed as part of Korea, though later drafts stipulated the island as part of Japan, and the final draft does not mention the island anywhere, leaving ownership totally ambiguous.  What’s followed have been extensive political posturing and symbolic gestures that have noticeably gained steam in the last few years.

armed and discerning

As of right now, Korea maintains occupancy of the island.  The only permanent residents — an octopus fisherman and his wife — are Korean, and they are supported on the island by a host of transitory Korean officials, the majority of whom are heavily armed and carry binoculars.  Since 2004, the Korean government has provided tourists trips to the island, only half of which are able to dock due to choppy waters.  If, after the seven-hour ferry-boat ride from the mainland they are able to dock, their visits are limited to only 20 minutes.

Although, Japan still claims the island is theirs.  They teach as much in their textbooks and, in 2005, even instituted “Takeshima Day” (Feb. 22), a move that drew considerable anger from Koreans.  Acts of protest included withdrawal of the Korean ambassador to Japan, the slaughtering of pheasants (Japanese national bird) in front of the Japanese embassy in Korea, and even the self-removal of fingers and an instance of self-immolation.

Koreans slaughtering pheasants in protest

Japan has repeatedly tried to settle the dispute in an international court, though the Koreans, with annexation still fresh in their minds, take this as a sign of distrust and deep disrespect.  Liancourt Rocks (“Dokdo” in their lexicon) is theirs, they say, there’s nothing to discuss, but clearly there’s plenty.

(photo credits: boston.com)

Things I Saw on a Beach in Oregon

Last week I went to Oregon with my family, which involved a lot of driving around and not paying sales tax, though we also spent a day, a night, and another day on the coast in a small town called Newport.  On our second morning, during low-tide, I had a chance to do some lone-man walking and thinking on the beach.  My destination was this one lighthouse in the distance that was supposed to have a golf course attached to it but it turned out to be much further away than I anticipated and I never made it.  Here’s a few low-tide curiousities I encountered along the way:

This is a dried-up sea anemone.

I generally try to stay away from things that look like this, though I found out much later that this is just kelp.

This is also kelp. I learned kelp can grow up to a foot and a half a day in some species. That bulb is called a pneumatocyst and (when the kelp is alive) is filled with gas in order to help keep it buoyant.

Kelp is an important part of coastal ecology. It provides food and shelter for a variety of animal speices, and prevents coastal erosion by damping incoming waves. Kelp has also been explored as a possible source of renewable energy due to its efficient yield of methane.

For more info on kelp check out The Monterey Bay Aquarium’s kelp forest exhibit, which includes a live kelp web cam.

The GSC and the Waukegan Harbor Citizens’ Advisory Group

The GSC has begun to partner with the Waukegan Harbor Citizens’ Advisory Group in conservation and restoration projects near Waukegan Harbor.  Following a series of three severe storms this past August, geographer and GSC Director Steve Jansen has recorded and mapped the location of downed trees in Bowen Park. Future projects will include mapping gully erosion in Glen Flora Ravine and habitat restoration areas.  This wealth of spatial information will help botanists analyze various data, such as species vulnerability and wind and run-off patterns during storms.  It is also aiding park officials participating in clean-up efforts.

Alarm Bells

We in the geography community here in Illinois recently received an alarming email from the Chair of a Social Studies Department in a medium-sized town in western Illinois. She explained that her administration is concerned that the teaching of geography, specifically where countries are located, is insignificant information.

As President of the Geographic Society of Chicago, I would like to speak to that notion.

Everyone has read the articles about Americans’ geographic illiteracy. “Six in 10 Americans cannot find Iraq on a map of the Middle East,” reported the Chicago Sun-Times in 2006. Another paper reported that “1 in 8 don’t know Alaska is a state.” The reports keep coming.  The National Assessment of Educational Progress, known as “The Nation’s Report Card,” recently concluded that only 23% of fourth-graders, 30% of 8th graders, and a meager 21% of twelfth-graders were considered proficient in their understanding of geography.

Certainly, ignorance of our world map is widespread and alarming in itself. But geographic illiteracy is much more profound than being able to locate Iraq or Alaska on a map.

Undoubtedly, the “wheres” are important, but they are merely the alphabet of geography. Reciting the alphabet is not the same as learning how to read. The same is true of geographic literacy. The “wheres” are the building blocks, but the “whys”—why the world looks and functions as it does—provide the interconnecting principles for understanding our world. Geography is a study of the physical Earth, as well as a study of the world’s people.

Our citizens, the caretakers of our planet and leaders of our country, are graduating from school with little or no training in geography. Without geography, how can we understand Earth’s patterns—its climate regions, its weather systems, its cultures, its population patterns, its agricultural demands? How can we understand the effects of our actions or how these patterns can be disrupted by war, pollution, poverty, globalization, population growth, or climate change?

Geography is an integrating discipline that informs us about the world’s people and how they interact with the land we live on, the air we breathe, and the water we drink. Like a piece of fabric, geography is where all of Earth’s threads are interwoven. Pull one thread out and others unravel. We need this critically important subject to be an essential part of our K-12 curriculum. For the future of our country, we must insist that all our citizens be geographically literate.

Readers of this Geo-Blog, please add your opinions here so that we can help prevent the disintegration of geography in American classrooms.

Celeste Fraser, President
Geographic Society of Chicago