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City Living: How Urban Spaces and

Urban Dwellers Make One Another Quill


R. Kukla
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City Living
City Living
How Urban Dwellers and Urban Spaces
Make One Another

QU I L L R K U K L A

1
3
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers
the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education
by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University
Press in the UK and certain other countries.

Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press


198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America.

© Oxford University Press 2021

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in


a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the
prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted
by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction
rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the
above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the
address above.

You must not circulate this work in any other form


and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data


Names: Kukla, Quill R, author.
Title: City living : how urban dwellers and urban spaces make
one another / Quill R Kukla.
Description: New York, NY, United States of America : Oxford University
Press, [2021] | Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2021022701 (print) | LCCN 2021022702 (ebook) |
ISBN 9780190855369 (hb) | ISBN 9780190855383 (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: Sociology, Urban. | City dwellers. | City planning. |
Cities and towns. | Public spaces.
Classification: LCC HT111 .K67 2021 (print) | LCC HT111 (ebook) |
DDC 307.76—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021022701
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021022702

DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190855369.001.0001

1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
Printed by Sheridan Books, Inc., United States of America
For and with Eli and Berlin
Cities have the capability of providing something for everybody,
only because, and only when, they are created by everybody.
Jane Jacobs, The Death and Life of Great American Cities
Figures

Color Images

  1. Map of the 2016 US presidential election, with darker blue indicating a


higher percentage of votes for Democrat Hilary Clinton and darker red
indicating a higher percentage of votes for Republican Donald Trump.
  2. Racial segregation and 8 Mile Road, Detroit, 2011.
  3. Entrance to the underground cinema at Köpi, which shows free movies
twice a week, and the northeast corner of the courtyard.
  4. Entrance to the old gym at Köpi, which briefly hosted Queer Wrestling
Friday, as well as to Koma F (one of the main music venues), the archives
and information center, and the private common areas of the Hausprojekt,
including the Aquarium.
  5. Köpi courtyard.
  6. Residential street in Orlando West, just off Vilikazi St. The Orlando Pirates
soccer field, the “Berlin Wall of Soweto,” and an Apollo surveillance light
are visible in the background.
  7. Street art by Julie Lovelace.
  8. Street art by Afrika 47.
  9. Panels south of Main Street by Tyke, Mars, and TapZ.
10. Work by Rasty to the left of Tyke’s work. Hijacked building with the telltale
signage in the background.
11. Rigaer 78, former squat and current Hausprojekt and music venue in
Friedrichshain.
12. Alley to a Hausprojekt courtyard on Kastinallee.
xii Figures

Text Photos

1.1. My home office. 28


2.1. Street art in the Smoketown neighborhood of Louisville, Kentucky. 61
2.2. (a) La République, Paris. (b) Robert E. Lee, Richmond, Virginia. 80
2.3. Michael Jackson memorial, Munich. 81
3.1. Ellington memorial and traditional facade in the Shaw neighborhood of
Washington, DC. 100
3.2. The same place shown in Figure 3.1, one year later. 100
3.3. The main strip of Columbia Heights on 14th Street after the 1968 riots. 102
3.4. The same block shown in Figure 3.4, in 2019. 103
3.5. Harriet Tubman Field, with the school and traditional Columbia Heights
architecture in the background. 109
5.1. Altbau apartment buildings in Wedding. 141
5.2. Decorated exposed Altbau wall with art by ROA, Berlin Kidz, and others. 146
5.3. Berlin Wall next to Köpenicker Straße, 1983. 148
5.4. The Spree near Schillingbrücke, looking north into East Berlin, the Wall,
and the checkpoint, September 1990. 149
5.5. The Spree near Schillingbrücke, same view as in Figure 5.4, July 2018. 149
5.6. “Shackled by Time” and “Take Off That Mask,” Blu. 151
5.7. Blacked-​out art, with ads for the planned condos in view next to the
construction site. 152
5.8. Men urinating on Curvystraße. 153
5.9. Köpi soon after its occupation, early 1990s. 158
5.10. The fence outside of Köpi. 162
5.11. Main entrance to Köpi. 163
5.12. Köpi Bleibt. Edge of the west wing of the building. 168
5.13. Visiting dignitaries arrive at Tempelhof, 1954. 172
5.14. Community garden at Tempelhof. 174
5.15. Abandoned wing of the Tempelhof Terminal. 175
5.16. Nazi bomb shelter under Tempelhof, with paintings for children
on the wall. 176
5.17. Syrian refugee settlement with the children’s circus behind it,
photographed from Tempelhof Airport. 177
Figures xiii

5.18. The Karstadt during the 1930s. 180


5.19. Roof of the Karstadt. 180
5.20. Crowds talking to visiting reporters near the bombed ruins of the Karstadt. 181
5.21. Life against the Wall in Neukölln, a few blocks east of Hermannplatz, 1970s. 182
5.22. May Day demonstration at Hermannplatz, 1970s. The sign reads, “Only
under socialism do artists have equal rights and are they beneficiaries
of all social and cultural achievements.” 184
5.23. Free Syria rally at Hermannplatz. 188
5.24. Checkpoint Charlie, leaving the American sector, 1980. 190
5.25. The same view of Checkpoint Charlie as in Figure 5.24, but in 2018. 190
5.26. Cosplaying tourists and fake guards at “Checkpoint Charlie.” 191
5.27. Displaced bits of the Wall for sale in the Mauermuseum gift shop. 192
5.28. Copies of the American Sector sign for sale in the Mauermuseum gift shop. 192
6.1. Hijacked buildings in Hillbrow, as seen from Constitution Hill. 213
6.2. Ponte City Apartments, Berea, 2017. 217
6.3. Workers removing garbage from the center of Ponte City in 2003. 218
6.4. Rockey Street, Yeoville, 1985. 221
6.5. Raleigh St., Yeoville, early evening. 222
6.6. Chef Sanza at work in his kitchen in the Yeoville Dinner Club, Rockey Street. 225
6.7. Solitary confinement cell in Section 4, 2018. 229
6.8. Great African Staircase at Constitution Hill. 231
6.9. The informal economy and the monetization of space in Orlando West, Soweto. 235
6.10. The Orlando squatters’ camp, 1951. 236
6.11. Soweto uprising in Orlando West, June 16, 1976. 237
6.12. Bank City shops, near Jeppes and Simmonds Streets. 241
6.13. Jeppestown, 1950s, on the edge of what is now Maboneng Precinct on
Main Street. 243
6.14. Fox Street in Maboneng on a Sunday afternoon. 245
6.15. Outdoor boxing gym on Beacon Street in Maboneng Precinct, with
Kombis in the background. 246
6.16. Intimate stenciling in Maboneng. 252
6.17. Looting and protesting of Maboneng in Jeppestown by Zulu residents, 2015. 253
7.1. Teepeeland. 280
7.2. Blurred squats and Hausprojekte in Friedrichshain. 282
Acknowledgments

I could not have written this book without enormous help from all sorts of
people and places. My largest debt is to the cities that most closely informed
my research and taught me their ways, especially Berlin, Johannesburg,
Soweto, New York, and Washington, DC. These cities invited me in and
allowed me to explore and learn from them. Without them, and other cities
that I have explored and inhabited, there would be nothing but abstractions
in this book.
My son, Eli Kukla, contributed so much to this project that it could not
have existed without him. He served as my research assistant for all of my
fieldwork. Because of his extraordinary facility with languages, his official
job was to help with communication in German and Arabic (and, as it turned
out, Zulu, which he picked up quickly), as well as to translate documents,
help with archival research, and identify languages used in different sites.
But in fact, his role became much more extensive. He helped me choose and
interpret research sites and accompanied me on nearly all of my research
outings. Perhaps most important, he discussed each part of our experience
with me endlessly and helped me interpret what we saw. He read drafts of
multiple sections and gave me helpful comments. In short, he participated
in almost every stage of the research and writing process, in ways that far
exceeded his official assistantship responsibilities. He has put literally hun-
dreds of hours into this project. Although all the text here is my own, he con-
tributed so much by way of both labor and ideas to this book that he almost
counts as a coauthor.
My next debt is to Marianna Pavlovskaya. When I began working in ear-
nest on this book, drawing only on my background as a philosopher and
my enormous and passionate love of cities, I quickly came to realize that
I needed a grounded empirical understanding of how cities developed and
worked in order to complete the book responsibly. I decided to go back to
school and get a master’s degree in urban geography from CUNY-​Hunter
College. Marianna Pavlovskaya took me on as an advisee and mentored my
master’s thesis, “Repurposed Spaces in Berlin and Johannesburg,” which
formed the basis for Chapters 4, 5, and 6 of this book. I could have not had
xvi Acknowledgments

a better adviser; she is a brilliant geographer who was willing to both share
her wisdom with me and take me seriously as an odd colleague-​student hy-
brid. I thank her for taking on such a quirky project and advisee; for being so
supportive and insightful in her advice; for letting me work independently
when I wanted to; and most of all, for doing more than anyone else to help
me make the paradigm shift from thinking like a philosopher to thinking
like a geographer, or at least a philosopher-​geographer. Her intellectual ex-
ample and mentorship have been invaluable. Indeed, my time at Hunter was
a midcareer gift. The intellectual training, stimulation, and inspiration I re-
ceived there were pivotal for getting me through this project. I am grateful
as well to my other professors in the program, particularly Inez Miyares and
Rosalie Ray, whose seminars also had a hand in shaping this book, and to
Jillian Schwedler, who served as the second reader on my thesis and whose
work on repurposed space inspired my own.
My third debt goes to my wise and forbearing editor at Oxford University
Press, Lucy Randall, who both supported and believed in this unusual inter-
disciplinary project and showed unlimited patience with my ever-​extending
timeline, which kept stretching to incorporate new degrees, new fieldwork,
and several changes in direction in my writing.
I am incredibly grateful to multiple exceptionally educated, knowl-
edgeable, and committed tour guides, archivists, and other residents with
special geographic knowledge in Washington, DC, Berlin, Johannesburg,
and Soweto, who got excited about my project and ended up helping me
with my research in ways that went far beyond their job descriptions.
With their help, I found and accessed spaces I never would have other-
wise known about, made invaluable connections, and got a deep and rich
feel for the cities. These were people who love and understand their cities,
and were willing and able to share that love and understanding; their gen-
erosity and knowledgeability were remarkable. My colleague and friend
Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò allowed me to interview him in depth about the racial
micropolitics of a playing field in Columbia Heights, Washington, DC.
Maria Klechevskaya of Berlin ended up redirecting my approach to finding
research sites. Julia Dilger, the archivist at the Neukölln Museum in Berlin,
spent an entire day helping me find treasures in her collection. Natalia
Albizu let me interview her in depth about life in Neukölln. I am especially
honored and grateful that the residents of Köpi 137 decided to allow me
to do research and take photographs in their home, despite their commit-
ment to privacy. In particular, I thank Köpi spokespeople Frank and Gabby
Acknowledgments xvii

for their generosity in showing me around the Hausprojekt and talking to


me in depth about its history, values, and norms. In Johannesburg, I owe
gratitude to Nicholas Bauer, Bijou Dibu, Grant Ngcobo, and the entire staff
of the Dlala Nje nonprofit organization, which is dedicated to fostering a
rich understanding of inner-​city Johannesburg as a route to social justice
and community empowerment. Johannesburg street art anthropologist Jo
Buitendach, who runs the educational tour company and urban outreach
organization P.A.S.T. Experiences, helped me see the city in a whole new
way. In Soweto, I learned so much from Ntsiki Sibusiso Ntombela, who
not only helped me explore parts of the township that I never would have
found, but spent many hours giving me textured social context and back-
ground knowledge of the region.
I am enormously grateful to the Society of Women Geographers, which
gave me a research award that funded the second phase of my fieldwork, and
to Georgetown University, for giving me a Senior Faculty Research Award,
a Summer Research Award, and a sabbatical, all of which added up to a full
year of protected research time that I spent on this book.
I have had endless helpful conversations about cities with numerous
friends and colleagues over the years. I am grateful to everyone who sent
me articles, maps, and graphs, and who was willing to let me talk endlessly
about cities with them. I particularly benefited from conversations with Zed
Adams, Kenny Easwaran, Carolina Flores, Cassie Herbert, Bryce Huebner,
Thi Nguyen, Joseph Rouse, Daniel Steinberg, and Ronald Sundstrom. Kenny
Easwaran provided absolutely invaluable comments on the entire man-
uscript. I am grateful also to audiences at Hunter College, the American
Society for Aesthetics, the Pacific and Eastern meetings of the American
Philosophical Association, the Philosophy Department at the University
of Johannesburg, the Berlin chapter of Minorities and Philosophy, a work-
shop on the work of Joseph Rouse at Frei Universität Berlin, the Society for
Philosophy of the City, and the Washington, DC, Humanities Festival for the
chance to discuss ideas in this book and for helpful feedback.
I am grateful to my partner and true love, Daniel Steinberg, not only for
being the best and most patient conversationalist, but also for making it pos-
sible for me to spend half my time in New York as a student for two years,
plus months at a stretch in Berlin and Johannesburg, just because I was ex-
cited about this project and enjoying my research. He did endless extra dog
walks and grocery trips and put up with way too many nights alone. I will
always appreciate the momentousness of this gift he gave me.
Introduction

The world is urbanizing. As of 2018, urban space took up about 1% of the


earth’s land and accounted for 55% of the world’s population, according to
the United Nations, and the latter figure is projected to rise to 68% by 2050.
According to some measurement methods, 85% of the world’s people now
live in urban areas. Fifty years ago, only 33% of the world’s population lived
in cities, and city dwellers numbered one billion, compared with four bil-
lion now.1 As the world urbanizes, cities are also changing. No longer centers
of manufacturing, they are transforming into globalized hubs for commu-
nication and coordination (Smith 2002). Gentrification in many cities has
reversed their mid-​twentieth-​century structure, and city centers have be-
come coveted by those with money.
In a world that seems to be entering a period of extreme civil division
around the globe, cities are also increasingly important as the primary sites
where such tensions are performed and debated. Protesters walk down main
streets of cities or occupy squares in front of capitol buildings; they do not
march down country roads. Cities are places to see and be seen; they are
shared spaces; and accordingly, essentially, they are the places where our po-
litical disagreements are played out as spectacles.
We know that city dwellers show systematic differences from those who
live elsewhere. There are countless studies documenting differences in edu-
cation, attitudes, eating habits, family structures, and so forth between city
dwellers and others. For example, city dwellers are consistently more tol-
erant of difference, less socially risk-​averse, and farther politically left than
suburbanites or rural dwellers. People tend to be more anti-​authoritarian the
closer they are to a city center (Thompson 2012). In the United States, they
vote Democrat in far greater numbers, even holding race, gender, and income
constant (Gainsborough 2005). On any electoral map of the US, one can spot
the cities by looking for bright blue dots amidst the sea of surrounding red;
cities generally vote Democrat even in states that are otherwise Republican
strongholds (Color Image 1). Other countries across the globe tend to show a
similar pattern (although the two-​party system in the US makes the contrast
especially visually stark).

City Living. Quill R Kukla, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2021.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190855369.003.0001
2 Introduction

Thus we have good reasons to want to understand the dynamics of cities


and contemporary city living. Of course, there are indefinitely many dis-
ciplinary perspectives and angles from which one can try to understand
these things. The trends I just mentioned are large-​scale population-​level
trends. At the population level, one could study cities from the perspective
of health or crime, or through multiple other lenses. For example, it is well-​
known that structural patterns such as the distribution of grocery stores and
subway stops affect urban health outcomes and crime rates at the population
level. My focus in this book is different. I am interested in how cities and
city dwellers make one another, not at the level of urban policy, public health
patterns, or economic dynamics, for instance, but at the scale of particular
bodies making small movements through particular spaces. This book is
about how busy, diverse, crowded urban spaces shape and are shaped by the
residents who inhabit them. I am interested in the processes by which spaces
shape the agency, behavior, and perceptions of their users, at the same time
that users remake spaces in accordance with their needs.
My interest is in the smaller, more fleeting motions and interactions that
make up our day when we live in a big city, and how these shape our sense of
self, our judgment, and our responses in ways we may well not even notice.
I will explore how our small, everyday material motions and transactions in
city spaces—​what I call micronegotiations—​play a pervasive and fundamental
role in shaping our perceptual skills, our embodied habits, our sense of self
and identity, and our moral judgments and risk assessments. Conversely, our
practices within urban spaces remake them into niches suited to our ways of
living. These effects are far from uniform: our race, class, immigration status,
abilities, and gender affect how we negotiate urban spaces, while built urban
environments encode and uphold (and potentially push back against) norms
that sustain disadvantage and oppression. While my primary goal is not to
offer prescriptive recommendations, my hope is that this book will enrich
our understanding of the possibilities for change and flourishing that cities
can offer, as well as the ways in which they risk enhancing and reinscribing
injustice. It will illuminate what is distinctive about city living and urban
civic life, and the role that cities play in the identities and moral agency of
their residents.
This is a fundamentally interdisciplinary book. I drew on methods and
disciplinary tools where I found them. My research methods included
phenomenological and conceptual analysis, and my own ethnographic
fieldwork and archival research. I used literature from philosophy, urban
Introduction 3

geography, humanistic geography, history, architectural theory, urban pla-


nning, art theory, biology, sociology, and anthropology. I documented sites
with photographs, videos, and a diary, but also talked to residents in the cities
I studied who had expertise in local history, politics, and street art.
My primary theoretical approach was grounded in a combination of phil-
osophical phenomenology and the humanistic tradition in geography, which
seeks to ‘read’ human and cultural phenomena through the lens of spati-
ality, and in turn takes spatiality to be fundamentally constituted by human
place-​making. For geographers, human experience and behavior and social
patterns are inherently spatially embodied and located, as well as indexed to
different scales, and this spatiality is the privileged theoretical tool for un-
derstanding them. Within that, for humanistic geographers, these embodied
spatial locations and scales are best understood as places, whose identity can
be understood only with reference to how they are experienced and used
by their dwellers, and whose character is produced in part by meaningful
human activity. Places and spatiality, in this tradition, are infused with inter-
pretable meanings that both shape and are shaped by how their inhabitants
use and experience them.2 I wanted to explore the living uses and experiences
of cities by understanding them as places structured by their spatiality. My
spatial analyses are readings of interpretable, meaningful places, as opposed
to, for instance, quantitative analyses of measurable spatial patterns. Unlike
most humanistic geographers and phenomenologists, however, I am less in-
terested in individual subjective experiences of place than in the materiality
of spaces and their embodied uses. My goal was to read urban spaces as satu-
rated with meaning, but ‘meaning’ for me is not about individual psycholog-
ical contents or reactions but rather about how a space functions to support
certain kinds of agency, power relations, cultural patterns, and the like.
I will argue that people’s uses of space and the impact of space on people
together create new, real, concrete things that would not exist outside
of that ecological context. Through our micronegotiations as we move
through space, we produce what I call ecological ontologies: sets of real,
concrete things and events that can exist only within an ecological system,
made up of a material space and its users in dynamic interaction with one
another. Rush hours, borders between neighborhoods, entertainment
districts, and gang territories are all examples of perfectly real things that
exist only in cities, in virtue of dwellers using spaces in specific ways. I will
explore the ecological ontologies of cities and smaller urban spaces. I am
especially interested in the ecological ontology of territories. I will explore
4 Introduction

how territories and their boundaries, which establish insiders, outsiders,


and norms for the appropriate use of spaces by insiders, are established
through micronegotiations.
Urban spaces are distinguished from one another in part by how they sup-
port and are carved out by what David Seamon calls “place ballets,” which
he says generate and are constrained by “place identity.” Place ballets are
spatially located bodily routines we practice, alone and together. Consider
how a group of friends sit and interact together at a familiar coffee shop—​
how they slouch in their chairs, lean forward to talk, sip their coffee, take the
same seat each time, hail the waiter, and so on. This is a place ballet: a set of
movements inextricably embedded within a particular material space, with
social meaning. Or to use an example of Seamon’s, consider how a worker
at a grocery store moves through the aisles, arranging the food. In a place
ballet, movements flow together in ways essentially supported by and inte-
grated with a material place. Markets, train stations, and schoolyards would
all be examples of places characterized by distinctive place ballets and as
supporting place identities. Places constrain and give shape to place ballets,
while smooth and well-​choreographed place ballets produce organic and
integrated places; they help give places their distinctive feel. In this book,
I will explore urban spaces in significant part by unpacking the place ballets
that characterize them, and figuring out how these place ballets and places
arose together, and what sorts of ecological ontologies they depend upon and
generate.
Urban spaces are, overwhelmingly, shared spaces. We not only use them;
we use them together with others, including strangers and those whose spa-
tial needs and desires are different from our own. Cities contain a wide va-
riety of spaces that we share in different ways, as we will see. Cities and city
spaces are distinctively and busily intersubjective; it’s not just that they con-
tain a lot of people at once, although this is true too, but that we use these
spaces jointly and negotiate them together, sometimes conflictually and
sometimes harmoniously. The spaces themselves shape the intersubjective
interactions that happen within them. As Susan Bickford puts it, “From
Bentham to Foucault and beyond, social theorists have recognized the role
of architecture in constructing subjectivity. But the built environment also
constructs intersubjectivity” (2000, 356).
There are many ways of doing things with others in space. Think about
various ways in which you can take a walk, and the differences in how your
body moves and interacts with its surroundings in different cases. You might:
Introduction 5

1. Take a walk by yourself in an isolated area, setting your own pace, let-
ting the landscape and your own goals dictate how fast you move and
by what path, letting your gaze and attention be drawn entirely by the
landscape.
2. Take a walk with a friend, which involves calibrating your pace to
theirs. You may each need to slow down or speed up to keep your paces
matched. You will negotiate together, usually implicitly, what’s worth
stopping and looking at, how fast to go, and which path to take.3
3. Take a walk among strangers in a crowded city. You again need to cal-
ibrate your pace, but now the goal is the opposite; walking exactly at
pace with a stranger is creepy, so you will slow down or speed up as
needed to stay out of sync with others. You will also be negotiating ap-
propriate personal space and eye contact. You may need to implicitly
work out how to take turns, for instance if you are passing someone in
a narrow passage. You may be casually friendly toward those you pass,
particularly if your attention has been caught by the same thing, for in-
stance if you both pause to look at a piece of street art or notice together
that a bus is delayed. But there are definite limits to how extended and
friendly such an interaction will be, and you need to negotiate and re-
spect these limits together.
4. Take a walk through your own familiar neighborhood. Here you are not
walking with others, but you are walking among people who may be fa-
miliar to you, and you will all have a shared sense of the shape and pace
of the space. You might have more extended interactions as you go; for
example, you might stop for a couple of minutes in front of a new res-
taurant that just opened to discuss it with a neighbor, or you may stop a
neighbor to ask to pet their dog. The assumed shared background here
is greater than it is in the walk amidst a crowd of strangers, but it would
still be odd for you to match your pace with that of a neighbor also out
for a walk or for you to ask them to slow down so you can keep up.
5. Take a walk in a foreign city that is new to you. You aren’t sure of
directions, or local customs, or norms for communicating and
interacting. Now you won’t have that same expertly embodied set
of skills available to you. You will probably have to consciously con-
trol and adjust your pace, perhaps dodging unexpected obstacles or
vehicles. (Whenever I talk about this, I am reminded of the time that
I was almost run down by a giant tricycle being ridden by about seven
pre-​teenagers, pulling a wheelbarrow spilling over with bleating goats,
6 Introduction

which was barreling down a sidewalkless, one-​lane street in Cairo.) You


will not be certain how to pass through the subway turnstile, how to
take turns, and so forth. Your interactions with strangers will likely be
minimal, although your manifest incompetence may attract friendly
locals, who stop and ask to help, or unfriendly locals, who may try to
take advantage of you.

In each of these cases, your movement through space will be structurally


different. It will be controlled in part by the space, but also by your relation-
ship to those with whom you walk. You, the space, and your fellow walkers
are in high-​bandwidth interaction with one another, forming an ecosystem.
The point is, there are many, deeply different ways to share space, so we have
opened rather than settled questions about how urban spaces and urban
dwellers make one another when we point out that urban spaces are shared.
Understanding these different kinds of sharing, and how spaces and dwellers
are constituted through them, is a key goal of this book.

***
I cannot launch into this book without pausing here in the introduction to
reflect on the unprecedented moment in history at which I am finishing
writing. Right now, in the spring of 2020, most of the world is in some degree
of lockdown because of the global COVID-​19 pandemic. Most businesses
are shut; only essential workers are working outside of the home; people are
under orders to stay at home as much as possible, not to gather in groups, and
to wear a mask and maintain at least six feet of distance between themselves
and anyone who is not a member of their household. Around the world, with
the exception of a few outlier states and countries, our streets are empty, and
people move as far away from one another as possible, avoiding physical in-
teraction. Over the course of about a week in March 2020, our movement
through cities and our micronegotiations and interactions changed com-
pletely; they have become minimal, fearful, tentative, and a constant matter
of conscious reflection.4
In other words, movement in cities has become, at least for the moment,
the opposite of what I spend this book arguing characterizes typical urban
life and movement. The COVID-​19 crisis has changed just about everything
that I have written about here. I developed a picture of cities as defined by
proximity among strangers, and shifting and fluid bodily norms for personal
distance and interaction. I explored how city dwellers develop an inculcated
Introduction 7

and unreflective sense of risk and safety that helps them move competently
through space but also recreates biases. All of this has been upended. We are
all exceptionally reflective as we move through space now, and the distances
between us are uniform and rigidly calculated. All other people on our
streets show up as immediate threats. Our embodied interactions have been
reduced to almost nothing. Our sense of risk and safety has been thrown into
chaos; everything seems risky and we have little to no settled or expert ability
to determine how risky a situation is, not least because threats are mostly
invisible.
I spend a great deal of time in this book talking about spatial agency and
its importance for the flourishing of city dwellers. Spatial agency is our ability
to autonomously occupy, move through, and use space, as well as our ability
to mark and transform it in accordance with our needs and desires. I explore
what enables and undermines spatial agency, and I try to demonstrate its im-
portance to city dwellers. But all at once, our spatial agency has been radically
diminished. Our mobility has been dramatically reduced, both at the local
level and in terms of long-​distance travel. In the places we are still allowed
to go to, how we move through and use space is tightly controlled and sur-
veilled. In Chapters 5 and 6, I discuss the fallout from the severe restrictions
on spatial agency faced by residents in divided Berlin and apartheid South
Africa. We are facing similar, and in some ways even more draconian, spa-
tial restrictions and surveillance now, although it is at least in large part for
the good cause of public health.5 So many people right now are joking about
throwing themselves into home improvements; but I think there’s a deeper
fact at issue here about homes being the only place we can currently exer-
cise spatial agency (if anywhere, since many people don’t have safe homes, or
any privacy or power within them, or the resources to work on them). This
home-​directed spatial agency is fundamentally anti-​urban, and if this book
is right, it is a serious hit to the conditions for our flourishing as city dwellers.
Right now, in May 2020, it is too soon to tell whether this is just an aber-
rant phase that will go down in history as an odd time, or whether every-
thing about how we use city space and move through and dwell in cities has
changed forever and has rendered this book itself an exercise in historical
documentation of what used to be. Either way, and as demoralizing as it is to
have all the phenomena I have been painstakingly studying as characteristic
of our way of life suddenly ripped away, I do think that one of my core theses
has been proved true by this crisis: I argue that our agency and experiences
are planted in space and rooted in motion; our sense of territory and place
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that period the same succession may begin again with great
exactness.
22 Ideler, Hist. Unters. p. 208.

In order that 235 months, of 30 and 29 days, may make up 6940


days, we must have 125 of the former, which were called full months,
and 110 of the latter, which were termed hollow. An artifice was used
in order to distribute 110 hollow months among 6940 days. It will be
found that there is a hollow month for each 63 days nearly. Hence if
we reckon 30 days to every month, but at every 63d day leap over a
day in the reckoning, we shall, in the 19 years, omit 110 days; and
this accordingly was done. Thus the 3d day of the 3d month, the 6th
day of the 5th month, the 9th day of the 7th, must be omitted, so as
to make these months “hollow.” Of the 19 years, seven must consist
of 13 months; and it does not appear to be known according to what
order these seven years were selected. Some say they were the 3d,
6th, 8th, 11th, 14th, 17th, and 19th; others, the 3d, 5th, 8th, 11th,
13th, 16th, and 19th.

The near coincidence of the solar and lunar periods in this cycle of
19 years, was undoubtedly a considerable discovery at the time
when it was first accomplished. It is not easy to trace the way in
which such a discovery was made at that time; for we do not even
know the manner in which men then recorded the agreement or
difference between the calendar day and the celestial phenomenon
which ought to correspond to it. It is most probable that the length of
the month was obtained with some exactness by the observation of
eclipses, at considerable intervals of time from each other; for
eclipses are very noticeable phenomena, and must have been very
soon observed to occur only at new and full moon. 23
23 Thucyd. vii. 50. Ἡ σελήνη ἐκλείπει· ἐτύγχανε γὰρ
π α ν σ έ λ η ν ο ς οὖσα. iv. 52, Τοῦ ἡλίου ἐκλιπές τι ἐγένετο π ε ρ ὶ
ν ο υ μ η ν ί α ν. ii. 28. Νουμηνίᾳ κατὰ σ ε λ ή ν η ν (ὥσπερ καὶ
μόνον δοκεῖ εἶναι γίγνεσθαι δυνατὸν) ὁ ἡλίος ἐξέλιπε μετὰ
μεσημβρίαν καὶ πάλιν ἀν ἐπληρώθη, γενόμενος μηνοειδὴς καὶ
ἀστέρων τινῶν ἐκφανέντων.

The exact length of a certain number of months being thus known,


the discovery of a cycle which should regulate the calendar with
sufficient accuracy would be a business of arithmetical skill, and
would depend, in part, on the existing knowledge of arithmetical
methods; but in making the discovery, a natural arithmetical sagacity
was probably more efficacious than method. It is very possible that
the Cycle of Meton is correct more nearly than its author was aware,
and 123 nearly than he could ascertain from any evidence and
calculation known to him. It is so exact that it is still used in
calculating the new moon for the time of Easter; and the Golden
Number, which is spoken of in stating such rules, is the number of
this Cycle corresponding to the current year. 24
24 The same cycle of 19 years has been used by the Chinese for
a very great length of time; their civil year consisting, like that of
the Greeks, of months of 29 and 30 days. The Siamese also have
this period. (Astron. Lib. U. K.)

Meton’s Cycle was corrected a hundred years later (330 b. c.), by


Calippus, who discovered the error of it by observing an eclipse of
the moon six years before the death of Alexander. 25 In this corrected
period, four cycles of 19 years were taken, and a day left out at the
end of the 76 years, in order to make allowance for the hours by
which, as already observed, 6940 days are greater than 19 years,
and than 235 lunations: and this Calippic period is used in Ptolemy’s
Almagest, in stating observations of eclipses.
25 Delamb. A. A. p. 17.

The Metonic and Calippic periods undoubtedly imply a very


considerable degree of accuracy in the knowledge which the
astronomers, to whom they are due, had of the length of the month;
and the first is a very happy invention for bringing the solar and lunar
calendars into agreement.

The Roman Calendar, from which our own is derived, appears to


have been a much less skilful contrivance than the Greek; though
scholars are not agreed on the subject of its construction, we can
hardly doubt that months, in this as in other cases, were intended
originally to have a reference to the moon. In whatever manner the
solar and lunar motions were intended to be reconciled, the attempt
seems altogether to have failed, and to have been soon abandoned.
The Roman months, both before and after the Julian correction,
were portions of the year, having no reference to full and new
moons; and we, having adopted this division of the year, have thus,
in our common calendar, the traces of one of the early attempts of
mankind to seize the law of the succession of celestial phenomena,
in a case where the attempt was a complete failure.

Considered as a part of the progress of our astronomical


knowledge, improvements in the calendar do not offer many points
to our observation, but they exhibit a few very important steps.
Calendars which, belonging apparently to unscientific ages and
nations, possess a great degree of accordance with the true motions
of the sun and moon (like 124 the solar calendar of the Mexicans,
and the lunar calendar of the Greeks), contain the only record now
extant of discoveries which must have required a great deal of
observation, of thought, and probably of time. The later
improvements in calendars, which take place when astronomical
observation has been attentively pursued, are of little consequence
to the history of science; for they are generally founded on
astronomical determinations, and are posterior in time, and inferior in
accuracy, to the knowledge on which they depend. But cycles of
correction, which are both short and close to exactness, like that of
Meton, may perhaps be the original form of the knowledge which
they imply; and certainly require both accurate facts and sagacious
arithmetical reasonings. The discovery of such a cycle must always
have the appearance of a happy guess, like other discoveries of
laws of nature. Beyond this point, the interest of the study of
calendars, as bearing on our subject, ceases: they may be
considered as belonging rather to Art than to Science; rather as an
application of a part of our knowledge to the uses of life, than a
means or an evidence of its extension.

Sect. 6.—The Constellations.

Some tendency to consider the stars as formed into groups, is


inevitable when men begin to attend to them; but how men were led
to the fanciful system of names of Stars and of Constellations, which
we find to have prevailed in early times, it is very difficult to
determine. Single stars, and very close groups, as the Pleiades,
were named in the time of Homer and Hesiod, and at a still earlier
period, as we find in the book of Job. 26
26 Job xxxviii. 31. “Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Chima
(the Pleiades), or loose the bands of Kesil (Orion)? Canst thou
bring forth Mazzaroth (Sirius) in his season? or canst thou guide
Ash (or Aisch) (Arcturus) with his sons?”
And ix. 9. “Which maketh Arcturus, Orion, and Pleiades, and
the chambers of the south.”
Dupuis, vi. 545, thinks that Aisch was αἴξ, the goat and kids.
See Hyde, Ulughbeigh.

Two remarkable circumstances with respect to the Constellations


are, first, that they appear in most cases to be arbitrary
combinations; the artificial figures which are made to include the
stars, not having any resemblance to their obvious configurations;
and second, that these figures, in different countries, are so far
similar, as to imply some communication. The arbitrary nature of
these figures shows that they 125 were rather the work of the
imaginative and mythological tendencies of man, than of mere
convenience and love of arrangement. “The constellations,” says an
astronomer of our own time, 27 “seem to have been almost purposely
named and delineated to cause as much confusion and
inconvenience as possible. Innumerable snakes twine through long
and contorted areas of the heavens, where no memory can follow
them: bears, lions, and fishes, large and small, northern and
southern, confuse all nomenclature. A better system of constellations
might have been a material help as an artificial memory.” When men
indicate the stars by figures, borrowed from obvious resemblances,
they are led to combinations quite different from the received
constellations. Thus the common people in our own country find a
wain or wagon, or a plough, in a portion of the great bear. 28
27 Sir J. Herschel.

28 So also the Greeks, Homer, Il. xviii. 487.


Ἄρκτον ἢν καὶ ἄμαξαν ἐπίκλησιν καλέουσιν.
The Northern Bear which oft the Wain they call.
Ἄρκτος was the traditional name; ἄμαξα, that suggested by the
form.
The similarity of the constellations recognized in different countries
is very remarkable. The Chaldean, the Egyptian, and the Grecian
skies have a resemblance which cannot be overlooked. Some have
conceived that this resemblance may be traced also in the Indian
and Arabic constellations, at least in those of the zodiac. 29 But while
the figures are the same, the names and traditions connected with
them are different, according to the histories and localities of each
country; 30 the river among the stars which the Greeks called the
Eridanus, the Egyptians asserted to be the Nile. Some conceive that
the Signs of the Zodiac, or path along which the sun and moon pass,
had its divisions marked by signs which had a reference to the
course of the seasons, to the motion of the sun, or the employments
of the husbandman. If we take the position of the heavens, which,
from the knowledge we now possess, we are sure they must have
had 15,000 years ago, the significance of the signs of the zodiac, in
which the sun was, as referred to the Egyptian year, becomes very
marked, 31 and has led some to suppose that the zodiac was
invented at such a period. Others have rejected this as an
improbably great antiquity, and have thought it more likely that the
constellation assigned to each season was that which, at that
season, rose at the beginning of the night: 126 thus the balance
(which is conceived to designate the equality of days and nights)
was placed among the stars which rose in the evening when the
spring began: this would fix the origin of these signs 2500 years
before our era.
29 Dupuis, vi. 548. The Indian zodiac contains, in the place of our
Capricorn, a ram and a fish, which proves the resemblance
without chance of mistake. Bailly, i. p. 157.

30 Dupuis, vi. 549.


31 Laplace, Hist. Astron. p. 8.

It is clear, as has already been said, that Fancy, and probably


Superstition, had a share in forming the collection of constellations. It
is certain that, at an early period, superstitious notions were
associated with the stars. 32 Astrology is of very high antiquity in the
East. The stars were supposed to influence the character and
destiny of man, and to be in some way connected with superior
natures and powers.
32 Dupuis, vi. 546.

We may, I conceive, look upon the formation of the constellations,


and the notions thus connected with them, as a very early attempt to
find a meaning in the relations of the stars; and as an utter failure.
The first effort to associate the appearances and motions of the
skies by conceptions implying unity and connection, was made in a
wrong direction, as may very easily be supposed. Instead of
considering the appearances only with reference to space, time,
number, in a manner purely rational, a number of other elements,
imagination, tradition, hope, fear, awe of the supernatural, belief in
destiny, were called into action. Man, still young, as a philosopher at
least, had yet to learn what notions his successful guesses on these
subjects must involve, and what they must exclude. At that period,
nothing could be more natural or excusable than this ignorance; but
it is curious to see how long and how obstinately the belief lingered
(if indeed it be yet extinct) that the motions of the stars, and the
dispositions and fortunes of men, may come under some common
conceptions and laws, by which a connection between the one and
the other may be established.
We cannot, therefore, agree with those who consider Astrology in
the early ages as “only a degraded Astronomy, the abuse of a more
ancient science.” 33 It was the first step to astronomy by leading to
habits and means of grouping phenomena; and, after a while, by
showing that pictorial and mythological relations among the stars
had no very obvious value. From that time, the inductive process
went on steadily in the true road, under the guidance of ideas of
space, time, and number.
33 Ib. vi. 546.

Sect. 7.—The Planets.

While men were becoming familiar with the fixed stars, the
planets must have attracted their notice. Venus, from her brightness,
and 127 from her accompanying the sun at no great distance, and
thus appearing as the morning and evening star, was very
conspicuous. Pythagoras is said to have maintained that the evening
and morning star are the same body, which certainly must have been
one of the earliest discoveries on this subject; and indeed we can
hardly conceive men noticing the stars for a year or two without
coming to this conclusion.

Jupiter and Mars, sometimes still brighter than Venus, were also
very noticeable. Saturn and Mercury were less so, but in fine
climates they and their motion would soon be detected by persons
observant of the heavens. To reduce to any rule the movements of
these luminaries must have taken time and thought; probably before
this was done, certainly very early, these heavenly bodies were
brought more peculiarly under those views which we have noticed as
leading to astrology.
At a time beyond the reach of certain history, the planets, along
with the sun and moon, had been arranged in a certain recognized
order by the Egyptians or some other ancient nation. Probably this
arrangement had been made according to the slowness of their
motions among the stars; for though the motion of each is very
variable, the gradation of their velocities is, on the whole, very
manifest; and the different rate of travelling of the different planets,
and probably other circumstances of difference, led, in the ready
fancy of early times, to the attribution of a peculiar character to each
luminary. Thus Saturn was held to be of a cold and gelid nature;
Jupiter, who, from his more rapid motion, was supposed to be lower
in place, was temperate; Mars, fiery, and the like. 34
34Achilles Tatius (Uranol. pp. 135, 136), gives the Grecian and
Egyptian names of the planets.
Egyptian. Greek.
Saturn Νεμεσέως Κρόνου ἀστὴρ φαίνων
Jupiter Ὀσίριδος Δῖος φαέθων
Mars Ἡρακλεοῦς Ἀρέος πυρόεις
Venus Ἀφροδίτης ἑώσφορος
Mercury Ἀπόλλωνος Ἑρμοῦ στίλβων

It is not necessary to dwell on the details of these speculations,


but we may notice a very remarkable evidence of their antiquity and
generality in the structure of one of the most familiar of our measures
of time, the Week. This distribution of time according to periods of
seven days, comes down to us, as we learn from the Jewish
scriptures, from the beginning of man’s existence on the earth. The
same usage is found over all the East; it existed among the
Arabians, Assyrians, 128 Egyptians. 35 The same week is found in
India among the Bramins; it has there, also, its days marked by
those of the heavenly bodies; and it has been ascertained that the
same day has, in that country, the name corresponding with its
designation in other nations.
35 Laplace, Hist. Astron. p. 16.

The notion which led to the usual designations of the days of the
week is not easily unravelled. The days each correspond to one of
the heavenly bodies, which were, in the earliest systems of the
world, conceived to be the following, enumerating them in the order
of their remoteness from the earth: 36 Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, the Sun,
Venus, Mercury, the Moon. At a later period, the received systems
placed the seven luminaries in the seven spheres. The knowledge
which was implied in this view, and the time when it was obtained,
we must consider hereafter. The order in which the names are
assigned to the days of the week (beginning with Saturday) is,
Saturn, the Sun, the Moon, Mars, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus; and
various accounts are given of the manner in which one of these
orders is obtained from the other; all the methods proceeding upon
certain arbitrary arithmetical processes, connected in some way with
astrological views. It is perhaps not worth our while here to examine
further the steps of this process; it would be difficult to determine
with certainty why the former order of the planets was adopted, and
how and why the latter was deduced from it. But there is something
very remarkable in the universality of the notions, apparently so
fantastic, which have produced this result; and we may probably
consider the Week, with Laplace, 37 as “the most ancient monument
of astronomical knowledge.” This period has gone on without
interruption or irregularity from the earliest recorded times to our own
days, traversing the extent of ages and the revolutions of empires;
the names of the ancient deities which were associated with the
stars have been replaced by those of the objects of the worship of
our Teutonic ancestors, according to their views of the
correspondence of the two mythologies; and the Quakers, in
rejecting these names of days, have cast aside the most ancient
existing relic of astrological as well as idolatrous superstition.
36 Philol. Mus. No. 1.

37 Hist. Ast. p. 17.

Sect. 8.—The Circles of the Sphere.

The inventions hitherto noticed, though undoubtedly they were


steps in astronomical knowledge, can hardly be considered as purely
abstract and scientific speculations; for the exact reckoning of time is
one of 129 the wants, even of the least civilized nations. But the
distribution of the places and motions of the heavenly bodies by
means of a celestial sphere with imaginary lines drawn upon it, is a
step in speculative astronomy, and was occasioned and rendered
important by the scientific propensities of man.

It is not easy to say with whom this notion originated. Some parts
of it are obvious. The appearance of the sky naturally suggests the
idea of a concave Sphere, with the stars fixed on its surface. Their
motions during any one night, it would be readily seen, might be
represented by supposing this Sphere to turn round a Pole or Axis;
for there is a conspicuous star in the heavens which apparently
stands still (the Pole-star); all the others travel round this in circles,
and keep the same positions with respect to each other. This
stationary star is every night the same, and in the same place; the
other stars also have the same relative position; but their general
position at the same time of night varies gradually from night to night,
so as to go through its cycle of appearances once a year. All this
would obviously agree with the supposition that the sky is a concave
sphere or dome, that the stars have fixed places on this sphere, and
that it revolves perpetually and uniformly about the Pole or fixed
point.

But this supposition does not at all explain the way in which the
appearances of different nights succeed each other. This, however,
may be explained, it appears, by supposing the sun also to move
among the stars on the surface of the concave sphere. The sun by
his brightness makes the stars invisible which are on his side of the
heavens: this we can easily believe; for the moon, when bright, also
puts out all but the largest stars; and we see the stars appearing in
the evening, each in its place, according to their degree of splendor,
as fast as the declining light of day allows them to become visible.
And as the sun brings day, and his absence night, if he move
through the circuit of the stars in a year, we shall have, in the course
of that time, every part of the starry sphere in succession presented
to us as our nocturnal sky.

This notion, that the sun moves round among the stars in a year,
is the basis of astronomy, and a considerable part of the science is
only the development and particularization of this general
conception. It is not easy to ascertain either the exact method by
which the path of the sun among the stars was determined, or the
author and date of the discovery. That there is some difficulty in
tracing the course of the sun among the stars will be clearly seen,
when it is considered that no 130 star can ever be seen at the same
time with the sun. If the whole circuit of the sky be divided into twelve
parts or signs, it is estimated by Autolycus, the oldest writer on these
subjects whose works remain to us, 38 that the stars which occupy
one of these parts are absorbed by the solar rays, so that they
cannot be seen. Hence the stars which are seen nearest to the place
of the setting and the rising sun in the evening and in the morning,
are distant from him by the half of a sign: the evening stars being to
the west, and the morning stars to the east of him. If the observer
had previously obtained a knowledge of the places of all the principal
stars, he might in this way determine the position of the sun each
night, and thus trace his path in a year.
38 Delamb. A. A. p. xiii.

In this, or some such way, the sun’s path was determined by the
early astronomers of Egypt. Thales, who is mentioned as the father
of Greek astronomy, probably learnt among the Egyptians the results
of such speculations, and introduced them into his own country. His
knowledge, indeed, must have been a great deal more advanced
than that which we are now describing, if it be true, as is asserted,
that he predicted an eclipse. But his having done so is not very
consistent with what we are told of the steps which his successors
had still to make.

The Circle of the Signs, in which the sun moves among the stars,
is obliquely situated with regard to the circles in which the stars
move about the poles. Pliny 39 states that Anaximander, 40 a scholar
of Thales, was the first person who pointed out this obliquity, and
thus, as he says, “opened the gate of nature.” Certainly, the person
who first had a clear view of the nature of the sun’s path in the
celestial sphere, made that step which led to all the rest; but it is
difficult to conceive that the Egyptians and Chaldeans had not
already advanced so far.
39 Lib. ii. c. (viii.)
40 Plutarch, De Plac. Phil. lib. ii. cap. xii. says Pythagoras was the
author of this discovery.

The diurnal motion of the celestial sphere, and the motion of the
moon in the circle of the signs, gave rise to a mathematical science,
the Doctrine of the Sphere, which was one of the earliest branches
of applied mathematics. A number of technical conceptions and
terms were soon introduced. The Sphere of the heavens was
conceived to be complete, though we see but a part of it; it was
supposed to turn about the visible pole and another pole opposite to
this, and these poles were connected by an imaginary Axis. The
circle which divided the sphere exactly midway between these poles
was called the Equator (ἰσημέρινος). 131 The two circles parallel to
this which bounded the sun’s path among the stars were called
Tropics (τροπικαί), because the sun turns back again towards the
equator when he reaches them. The stars which never set are
bounded by a circle called the Arctic Circle (ἄρκτικος, from ἄρκτος,
the Bear, the constellation to which some of the principal stars within
that circle belong.) A circle about the opposite pole is called
Antarctic, and the stars which are within it can never rise to us. 41
The sun’s path or circle of the signs is called the Zodiac, or circle of
animals; the points where this circle meets the equator are the
Equinoctial Points, the days and nights being equal when the sun is
in them; the Solstitial Points are those where the sun’s path touches
the tropics; his motion to the south or to the north ceases when he is
there, and he appears in that respect to stand still. The Colures
(κόλουροι, mutilated) are circles which pass through the poles and
through the equinoctial and solstitial points; they have their name
because they are only visible in part, a portion of them being below
the horizon.
41 The Arctic and Antarctic Circles of modern astronomers are
different from these.

The Horizon (ὁρίζων) is commonly understood as the boundary of


the visible earth and heaven. In the doctrine of the sphere, this
boundary is a great circle, that is, a circle of which the plane passes
through the centre of the sphere; and, therefore, an entire
hemisphere is always above the horizon. The term occurs for the
first time in the work of Euclid, called Phænomena (Φαινόμενα). We
possess two treatises written by Autolycus 42 (who lived about 300 b.
c.) which trace deductively the results of the doctrine of the sphere.
Supposing its diurnal motion to be uniform, in a work entitled Περὶ
Κινουμένης Σφαῖρας, “On the Moving Sphere,” he demonstrates
various properties of the diurnal risings, settings, and motions of the
stars. In another work, Περὶ Ἐπιτολῶν καὶ Δύσεων, “On Risings and
Settings,” 43 tacitly assuming the sun’s motion in his circle to be
uniform, he proves certain propositions, with regard to those risings
and settings of the stars, which take place at the same time when
the sun rises and sets, 44 or vice versâ; 45 and also their apparent
risings and settings when they cease to be visible after sunset, or
begin to be visible after sunrise. 46 132 Several of the propositions
contained in the former of these treatises are still necessary to be
understood, as fundamental parts of astronomy.
42 Delambre, Astron. Ancienne, p. 19.

43 Delambre, Astron. Anc. p. 25.

44 Cosmical rising and setting.

45 Acronycal rising and setting; (ἀκρονυκίος, happening at the


extremity of the night.)

46 Heliacal rising and setting.


The work of Euclid, just mentioned, is of the same kind.
Delambre 47 finds in it evidence that Euclid was merely a book-
astronomer, who had never observed the heavens.
47 Ast. Anc. p. 53.

We may here remark the first instance of that which we shall find
abundantly illustrated in every part of the history of science; that man
is prone to become a deductive reasoner;—that as soon as he
obtains principles which can be traced to details by logical
consequence, he sets about forming a body of science, by making a
system of such reasonings. Geometry has always been a favorite
mode of exercising this propensity: and that science, along with
Trigonometry, Plane and Spherical, to which the early problems of
astronomy gave rise, have, up to the present day, been a constant
field for the exercise of mathematical ingenuity; a few simple
astronomical truths being assumed as the basis of the reasoning.

Sect. 9.—The Globular Form of the Earth.

The establishment of the globular form of the earth is an important


step in astronomy, for it is the first of those convictions, directly
opposed to the apparent evidence of the senses, which astronomy
irresistibly proves. To make men believe that up and down are
different directions in different places; that the sea, which seems so
level, is, in fact, convex; that the earth, which appears to rest on a
solid foundation, is, in fact, not supported at all; are great triumphs
both of the power of discovering and the power of convincing. We
may readily allow this, when we recollect how recently the doctrine of
the antipodes, or the existence of inhabitants of the earth, who stand
on the opposite side of it, with their feet turned towards ours, was
considered both monstrous and heretical.

Yet the different positions of the horizon at different places,


necessarily led the student of spherical astronomy towards this
notion of the earth as a round body. Anaximander 48 is said by some
to have held the earth to be globular, and to be detached or
suspended; he is also stated to have constructed a sphere, on which
were shown the extent of land and water. As, however, we do not
know the arguments upon which he maintained the earth’s globular
form, we cannot judge of the 133 value of his opinion; it may have
been no better founded than a different opinion ascribed to him by
Laertius, that the earth had the shape of a pillar. Probably, the
authors of the doctrine of the globular form of the earth were led to it,
as we have said, by observing the different height of the pole at
different places. They would find that the space which they passed
over from north to south on the earth, was proportional to the change
of place of the horizon in the celestial sphere; and as the horizon is,
at every place, in the direction of the earth’s apparently level surface,
this observation would naturally suggest to them the opinion that the
earth is placed within the celestial sphere, as a small globe in the
middle of a much larger one.
48 See Brucker, Hist. Phil. vol. i. p. 486.

We find this doctrine so distinctly insisted on by Aristotle, that we


may almost look on him as the establisher of it. 49 “As to the figure of
the earth, it must necessarily be spherical.” This he proves, first by
the tendency of things, in all places, downwards. He then adds, 50
“And, moreover, from the phenomena according to the sense: for if it
were not so, the eclipses of the moon would not have such sections
as they have. For in the configurations in the course of a month, the
deficient part takes all different shapes; it is straight, and concave,
and convex; but in eclipses it always has the line of division convex;
wherefore, since the moon is eclipsed in consequence of the
interposition of the earth, the periphery of the earth must be the
cause of this by having a spherical form. And again, from the
appearances of the stars, it is clear, not only that the earth is round,
but that its size is not very large: for when we make a small removal
to the south or the north, the circle of the horizon becomes palpably
different, so that the stars overhead undergo a great change, and
are not the same to those that travel to the north and to the south.
For some stars are seen in Egypt or at Cyprus, but are not seen in
the countries to the north of these; and the stars that in the north are
visible while they make a complete circuit, there undergo a setting.
So that from this it is manifest, not only that the form of the earth is
round, but also that it is a part of not a very large sphere: for
otherwise the difference would not be so obvious to persons making
so small a change of place. Wherefore we may judge that those
persons who connect the region in the neighborhood of the pillars of
Hercules with that towards India, and who assert that in this way the
sea is one, do not assert things very improbable. They confirm this
conjecture moreover by the 134 elephants, which are said to be of
the same species (γένος) towards each extreme; as if this
circumstance was a consequence of the conjunction of the
extremes. The mathematicians, who try to calculate the measure of
the circumference, make it amount to 400,000 stadia; whence we
collect that the earth is not only spherical, but is not large compared
with the magnitude of the other stars.”
49 Arist. de Cœlo, lib. ii. cap. xiv. ed. Casaub. p. 290.
50 p. 291 C.

When this notion was once suggested, it was defended and


confirmed by such arguments as we find in later writers: for
instance, 51 that the tendency of all things was to fall to the place of
heavy bodies, and that this place being the centre of the earth, the
whole earth had no such tendency; that the inequalities on the
surface were so small as not materially to affect the shape of so vast
a mass; that drops of water naturally form themselves into figures
with a convex surface; that the end of the ocean would fall if it were
not rounded off; that we see ships, when they go out to sea,
disappearing downwards, which shows the surface to be convex.
These are the arguments still employed in impressing the doctrines
of astronomy upon the student of our own days; and thus we find
that, even at the early period of which we are now speaking, truths
had begun to accumulate which form a part of our present treasures.
~Additional material in the 3rd edition.~
51 Pliny, Nat. Hist. ii. lxv.

Sect. 10.—The Phases of the Moon.

When men had formed a steady notion of the Moon as a solid


body, revolving about the earth, they had only further to conceive it
spherical, and to suppose the sun to be beyond the region of the
moon, and they would find that they had obtained an explanation of
the varying forms which the bright part of the moon assumes in the
course of a month. For the convex side of the crescent-moon, and
her full edge when she is gibbous, are always turned towards the
sun. And this explanation, once suggested, would be confirmed, the
more it was examined. For instance, if there be near us a spherical
stone, on which the sun is shining, and if we place ourselves so that
this stone and the moon are seen in the same direction (the moon
appearing just over the top of the stone), we shall find that the visible
part of the stone, which is then illuminated by the sun, is exactly
similar in form to the moon, at whatever period of her changes she
may be. The stone and the moon being in the same position with
respect to us, and both being enlightened by the sun, the bright parts
are the same in figure; 135 the only difference is, that the dark part of
the moon is usually not visible at all.

This doctrine is ascribed to Anaximander. Aristotle was fully aware


of it. 52 It could not well escape the Chaldeans and Egyptians, if they
speculated at all about the causes of the appearances in the
heavens.
52 Probl. Cap. xv. Art. 7.

Sect. 11.—Eclipses.

Eclipses of the sun and moon were from the earliest tunes
regarded with a peculiar interest. The notions of superhuman
influences and relations, which, as we have seen, were associated
with the luminaries of the sky, made men look with alarm at any
sudden and striking change in those objects; and as the constant
and steady course of the celestial revolutions was contemplated with
a feeling of admiration and awe, any marked interruption and
deviation in this course, was regarded with surprise and terror. This
appears to be the case with all nations at an early stage of their
civilization.

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