Maps and memory Archived article from May 12, 2003 By Carla Cantor   Did the recent U.S. invasion of Iraq constitute the beginning of a new war in the Persian Gulf or is it just another phase of the same conflict that began in 1990? Does the West Bank belong to the Arabs or the Jews? Did the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11 mark the beginning of a new era? In "Time Maps," Eviatar Zerubavel demonstrates how our view of the past shapes our world today. Photo: Nick Romanenko The answers to such questions, of course, depend on whom you ask. As sociology Professor Eviatar Zerubavel demonstrates in his latest book, "Time Maps: Collective Memory and the Social Shape of the Past" (University of Chicago Press, 2003), we cannot follow current conflicts or, for that matter, obtain a complete picture of historical events without a deeper understanding of our collective visions of the past. When following current events, it's important to develop a critical eye and ear," Zerubavel says."We need to pay attention to the unmistakably map-like structures we use to register and mentally package history. These ‘time maps' help us place past events within socially meaningful historical contexts." In "Time Maps," Zerubavel, a leading cognitive sociologist, argues that it is virtually impossible to make any sense of the conflicts over Baghdad, Kosovo or Jerusalem today without referring to such ‘time maps' for historical orientation. And, he says, there is usually more than just one ‘map' we need to consult at any given point. Consider, for instance, the way we date the first Gulf War. While Americans begin the story with the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in 1990, the standard Iraqi narrative goes back to the time when Kuwait was still an integral part of Iraq. The same applies to the current Palestinian Intifada, he says. Do we date the latest round of violence to Ariel Sharon's provocative visit to a highly disputed Jerusalem site on Sept. 28, 2000, or to the violent Palestinian riots protesting his visit the following day? Divergent views Such seemingly trivial differences of opinion, Zerubavel maintains, often lead to passionate disputes. "The antiquity of a 700-year-old mosque on the West Bank looks considerably less awesome on the ‘map' of Jewish settlers who claim that, having been originally constructed two thousand years ago as a site for Jewish worship, it has in fact functioned as a mosque only since 1267. The historical weight of more than fourteen centuries of Serb presence in Kosovo is likewise significantly pared down on Albanian ‘maps' that venture in their retrospection beyond the sixth century," Zerubavel writes. Zerubavel emphasizes that such conflicting narratives are not deliberate fabrications or distortions of facts on either side but part of the process of acquiring a social identity. "We are socialized into accepting a particular vision of the past," which, he adds, is usually one-sided, given the partisan political agenda it is designed to promote. Even within our own country, political parties employ divergent historical plot lines to string together past events, Zerubavel says. For example, in the 2000 presidential campaign, Democrats presented the 1990s as a decade of great economic progress; the Republicans, on the other hand, depicted the same period as one of moral decline. The problem with being historically biased is that it leads us to dismiss any narrative other than our own, Zerubavel suggests. A more dispassionate and nonpartisan historical account, however, requires a willingness to consider multiple narratives. "Only by looking at all the ‘maps' together," he says, "can we obtain a complete picture of the multilayered social topography of the past." Fascination with the past Studying the past has always fascinated Zerubavel. As a boy growing up in Tel Aviv, he was intrigued by maps and timetables and enjoyed such hobbies as compiling biblical genealogies and lists of ancient monarchs. His classmates thought he was destined to become a historian. But, Zerubavel says, he never considered history itself his main object of inquiry. Historians tend to specialize in a particular region, such as American or Russian history, or period, such as the early modern period, while sociology, he says, allows exploration of a broader canvas: namely, how we remember the past across societies. "I'm not so much interested in the details of history but in our actual visions of history," Zerubavel says. "I'm less concerned, say, with what Jesus, Columbus or Nebuchadnezzar actually did than with their roles as figures of memory." Zerubavel graduated with a B.A. from Tel Aviv University and earned a Ph.D. in sociology from the University of Pennsylvania. He taught at Columbia University and the State University of New York–Stony Brook before joining Rutgers in 1988. At Rutgers, he teaches graduate courses in cognitive sociology, history and memory, and sociological theory and also served for nine years as director of the university's graduate program in sociology. His interests and outlook have been greatly shaped by growing up in Israel, a country, he says, that "is deeply obsessed with its history." Also influential has been the work of his wife, Yael Zerubavel, director of The Allen and Joan Bildner Center for the Study of Jewish Life and author of "Recovered Roots: Collective Memory and the Making of Israeli National Tradition" (University of Chicago Press, 1997). "Her book made me realize the tremendous potential of exploring how we collectively envision the past," Zerubavel says. A body of work "Time Maps," Eviatar Zerubavel's eighth single-authored book, attempts to integrate two strands of his scholarly endeavors. In some respects, it continues his examination of time, presented in four of his books, which explore such phenomena as the history of the seven-day week, the invention of the daily schedule and the introduction of standard time. But "Time Maps" also builds on three of Zerubavel's other books, the most recent of which is "Social Mindscapes" (Harvard University Press, 1997), that analyze the social formation of thought patterns. Zerubavel is already at work on another project. In March, he found out that he had won a Guggenheim Fellowship to write his next book, "The Elephant in the Room." It examines the sociology of silence and denial, which explains the three stuffed monkeys — "speak no evil, hear no evil, see no evil" — perched atop a bookcase in his office. An example of the sociology of denial? In January 1998, just before President Clinton was to give his State of the Union address, the news of the Monica Lewinsky affair broke; but, in his speech, Clinton never mentioned it. A year later, Clinton gave his address the same day that the Senate debated his impeachment. "The Lewinsky affair was the big elephant in the room — on everybody's mind, but nobody talked about it," Zerubavel says.

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