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Ce n~est pas la distance ,qui' rnesure l'eloignement. Le mur ·d'un· Jardin deehezl @us peu,r enfenner plus de: secrets Iq)lele rnur d!; Chine" et l'inlhf'lIllll petit~fi]l_e ti~mieu'l protegee' paF Ie silen.ce que tie Ie sorrt, par l'epaiss6u];' des sables, Ie,. oaSis sahariennes.
ANTOINE DE SAINT EXUPERY,

Terre des hom-

mes (1939).

I. INTRODUCTION'

Space and place together define the nature of geography. Spatial analysis or the explanation of spatial organisation is at the forefront of geogtaphi.¢al research. Geographers appear to be confident of both the meaning of space and the methods suited to its analysis. The interpretation of spatial elements requires an abstract and ·objective frame of thought, quantifiable data" and ideally the language of mathematics. Place, like space, lies at the core of geographical discipline. Indeed an Ad Hoc Committee of Anrerican geo.graplrcrs (1965, 7) asserted that "the modem science of geography derives· its .sub, stance from man's sense of place". In the geographical Uterature; })lace'ruas been given several meanings (Lukermann, 1964; May, 19'70). As lo.caH~n, place is one unit among other units to which it islinked by a ~il'cuIlltiQn net; the analysis of location is subsumed under the geographer's concept and analysis of space. Place, however, has more substance than the word location suggests: it is a unique entity, a 'special ensemble' (Lukermann, 1964, p. 70); it has a history and meaning, Place: Incarnates the experiences and aspirations of a people. Place i,s,'iI·otOh1y a faet to bece~plained in the broader frame of space, but it is also a re_alityto beclaritied and understood from the perspectives of the people who have given it meaning. 387
S. Gale and G. Olsson [eds.), Philosophy in Geography, 387-42Z

All Rights Reserved.

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II. HUM A N 1ST I C PER S P E C T I V E

All aeadenue work extends the field of consciousness. Humanistic studies contribute, In addit.ion, towards self-consciousness, towards man's increasing aw.a;regesso[ the soarees 'of h4; knQwledge. In every major discipline there exis~s a n:umanisti'e subtleld. 'WhlCh is the philosophy and history of that discipline. TluQugh the SJ,lb:f'i~Id"fQr' inS:tance, geography or physics knows itself, that is,the origins of its concepts, presuppositions, and biases in the experiences of its pioneer scholars and scientists (Wright 1966; Glacken, 1967; Gilbert, 1972). The study of space, from the humanistic perspective, is thus the study of a people's spatial feelings and ideas in the stream of experience. BXfl'erienee is the totality of meansby which we come to know the world: we know the world thmugh sensation (feeling), perception, and conception (Oakeshott, 19'33; Dardel, 1952.; Lowenthal, 1961; Gendlin, 1962). The geographer's understanding of space is abstract, though less so than that of a pure mathematician. The spatial apprehension of the man in the street is abstract, though less so than that of a scientific geographer. Abstract notions of space can be formally taught. Few people know from direct experience that France is bigger than Italy, that settlements in the American Middle West are arranged in nested hexagons, or even that the size of their own piece of real estate is 1.07 acres, Less .abstl<l'e.tc,because more dose']:)' tied to sense experience, is the spa:Qe that is' cQnditiQned bytl1e fil.c:t, of .my being: in, it, th~ space of which I am the centre, the s,pace that answers .1llY' moods <lnil inten1'ians, A eomprehensiYe.~tll.dy D.fe.xp~tienrtial space wo.ufd require that we examine successively felt,perceived, and conceptual spaces.tnoting how the more abstract ideas develop out of those given directly to the body, both from the standpoint of individual growth and from the perspective of history. Such an undertaking is beyond my present purpose. Here I shall attempt to sketch spaces that are sense-bound, spaces that responli toexiste.ntiai cues and. the urgencies of day-to-day living. A brief discussion Il1y~MeaIspace wUJ: serve . as a, bridge b'etweenthe sense-bound and the conoeptual. The. Importance of 'place.' ro &1ult]1raIand humanistic geography is, or should be, o:b'llious, H_art,. 1972.; Memig, 197'1;. S!lIpher, 1972). As functional { nodes: :inspace·~ ~.~~es~yield to· the techniques of spatial analysis. But as unique and complex ensemble - rooted in the' past and growing into a future - and as symbol, glace calls for humanistic understanding. Within the humanistic tradition places have been studied from the historical, and literary-artistic perspectives. A town or .neighbourhood comes alive thrQllgb th~ artis:try oJ a scholar who is able to combine detailed narrative With dlsce.rtiingyigne.ttes of

description, perhaps lunherend~l1ed :by old 'phi'l.tograpns ano :sketihes (GHbert,. 1954; SwaPland Ma;iliet;, 1~68.;,Lewis" 19n; $an.tflilyeJ, :19:67). We lack, h.Qwever, systemati" !lmrly,sis. 1111 eneral, how d9:es merelol;tatoiot'li becpme g pla'ce? What are we tJiY.ing to say when we.aseribe ']Jerso:na1i~y'anI)!'spit:it.' to place'" and what is the sense of' 'the sense of place'?' Apart :from Edward Relph''sdissertation (1973), the literature on this topic - surely' of central

lmportanee to geographers - has been and remains 'slight:.'We have learned to appreciate spatial analysis, hist0il~al. schGtar,~ip, and rille descriptive prose, but 'philes9phical understanding, based on, tne, metnflo: and insigbto:f (he phenomsnelogists, lies largely beyond, our ken (Menllerana' Rowen,. 197.2), In this essay the phenomenological perspeotive 'will be introdl.l:ced.l sh.all not, however, confine myself to it and will try ·to avoid. its temmic,al l!lllg\lage. The space that we pefiiieciveand 'GQ:nstroct, the :space that: provides cues for our behaviour, 'varies witJJ.'the InfiU.vid'ua:Hlrtd cUltuIialgroup. 'Mental map's dif-

fer from pers~m to person, and from culture to culture (Hall, 1966; Downs, 191'0)., These facts are OQ,W well WQWl1-. What is the nature cf the obje.;tive space over wmdi human beings. flaMevariously proj:ected their illusions? Itis cQlIl1non I!,;): assume that geO'metr!e.a].space isfh~, 'objec:tlve .reality, andtha; . pe,rsQW and ~!ilnu'a1: s)\l~ei Ollie,!:iisto:ttiqns .. In ;fact we l~now Qn1~ thatgeo' , me<t:r4c_al space iscultu;(al ,spll~,.a saplU~Ji~ated human ~Onsltt1¢J the adoptlon • of which bas elllfhled us ~.@"l!Ynt'fol natu:re t6' a. de"gree:l1jfl).ertQ:imPQssUite~ The questiQ:n of objective reality is tantalising but unanswerable, and it may be meaningless, However, we can raise the following question and expect a tentative answer: ,ifgeQmet~iGalspace is :a.l'elatj.y,ely ,late an-o sophistic-ate(,i cultural construct, wnat is the nature' Of man's otightal pact 'with his world; his original space? Theanswercan be couched only in general terms, for specification would lead to the detaiting of ri~hly·fiunis'Jl,edpersQ:n_al and 'cultur~al worlds •.We ean say little mare than that o.r~gina1 space possesses structure and

or

otientatlo.n by 'virtue !ilfthe Pte~ince~f the ]nunan boo}" .. Boo)" impllca'tes

:spa~e.;space '~Qexist'S'with the sentient bo,Qy..1ilYiSl prirl'tifiYerel~~ion~ip holds 'Wh~n the· ho~y is largely a system of 3llQn.y,maus,fu.neti'o.ns, 'before it can ,s~Fve as an instrurn~nt ·of Q01'IsCjl))us ,choice. and inJtentiuns: diFected~~o.warns an already' defmedfield (Merleau-Ponty, 1962; Ricoeur, 1965). Original space is a contact with the world that precedes thinking: hence its opaqueness to analysis. Like all anthropological spaces it p:r~~;pposes a nattiral (i.e., nonhuman) 'wQdd. This natural world is not g~Qmetrjca1, Since it eannor be clearly and explicitly :knOWI}.It can be ~nQwn o.nlY .as, [e~tstanc~s to -each humm space, inoludmg the: ·geomet.ri~, (hat-IS, .UnPQ$ed. thereon, Bx~pedentia.IIY., we know ,the non.-hl1m:aIl ..world in, the' ml;),mrents tnat' lrushlllt-e o,u.r will ,and

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arbitrariness (Fl€l.$S. 19-71). These are the.mcments that cause us to pause and pose the question, af an objective ~eility distinct from the one that our needs ana imagination call Into being. Visual perception, tOl.lllh., mo~eme'nt.and thought combine to, give us.our charaeteristlc sense of space. Bifocal Vision and dexterous hands equ'!p us physically to perceive reality as a world of objects rather than as kaleidoscopic patterns. Thought greatly enhances QUf ability to recognise: and,structure persisting objects among the wealth: Q:f fleeting impressions. The reeegnition of objects implies the, ret;;t)gpitiQQ of intenlals and distance r~lat.ion among 'Objects, and nence-Qf -:space. 'The' ~selns, a ,pe,rsistin:g.object Which is able lo'relate to other selves and.0bje(rts~ it can move towards them. 'and c-any out its, intentiQns amDn,gth~m (Hampshire, 1960" p. 30). Space. is: oriented by each, centte' of oo!'ls,ciouStlcss, and. p,rimitive 'OO:IiSciousnes:s more a question is, .pf:1 can' than' 'I think;'. 'Near' means "at hand'. 'High' means 'too far to reach' (Heidegger, 1962). 11.1. Space and Time The notion of 'distance' involves not only 'near' and 'far' but also tltetim.e notions of past, present and. future" Oist~nce is: a ~patj.(J..;tempolf,al in:tuitiO'l'I. 'Here" is -'how', "there." is '~then'·. And, just as 'here' is not merely a point in spaee, so 'now" ,i~ net merely a PQ~t - in time. 'Here' implies 'there', 'now' 'th~I'I.', nd 'then" litis both in .the past and4n the future. Both space and time a ar~ orientc;p, and structured by the purposeful being. Neither the idea of ~_p;we nor that 0ftime need rise to the level ,0 fconscioust1.e.s:s.w1:ten what 1'Want:is at hand, such as picking up a pencil on my desk; they are an indi$soluble part of the experience of ann movement. Units of time are often used to secure the meaning of 10l'l:g,distance.s_:: takes SQ"~y liays to go from :b.eieto .there, it. Distant places ~ also renwte in tUne, 'lying either in the remote past or future. In oon-Westeil'!'IsO'lieties, distant plaeesare located in the mythical past rather ,thaD future, ,out. since tilt).~ ,tends 1lobe perceived as cyclical remote past and 1fetfiQ~ future converge. In Western society, a distant place can suggest the~i®ea ,of a distant past: when explorers seek the seurce of the Nile ,or'ilie heart of a continent they appear to be moving, 'back in time. But in ~ience fiction distant stars are presented as distant future worlds. 11.1.1. The primacYQj time. ThQ.ugh time and space are insepatable in locomotor activity, they are Separabledn speech and thO\:lght'O~~th, 197,0), We can talk. abstractly about areas and volumes without :int!tQQ;ucinghe concept t

of time, and we can talk about duration and time without introducing the concept of space, although the latter is much more difficult to achieve in Indo-European languages. Experience in the real world supports both the primacy of time and of space. Confusion arises out of the different ideas that are grouped under these two terms. The time dimension matters more, one may say, because people appear to be more interested in narratives than in static pictures, in even1s"that unfold in time (drama) than in objects deployed in space that can becomp,tehendedsimultaneQusly. That unique endowment of the human Species', language, is fat better suited to the narration of events than to the depiction of SCenes. The .apprehension of distance, We know, often rests on measures of time. Nature's 'periodicities, suchoas night and day, the changing phases ,of the' moon, and the' ,seasonal cy~Ie., pr~Vidc: units for ealculating time. Bllt.natnre,·Qilier than the human body itself,.,daesrr't seem to provide convenient yatdsticks furtne meaSUl'em~mtof space ..'The psychological reason for the inclination to estimate space in time 'unit'S may be this. Man's ability to negotiate and manipulate the world depends ultimately on his biological ener~ . That energyJ-.isrenewable. For each individual, however, it has a limit that is circumscribed by his ,expectable life-span. Man can annul space with the help, of t:e~.flOlogy but he has little' comtrol Qver his aJilot,te6 life-span, which remains. at fhe: ,Biblical 'three S(orcSLaod ten, and j'S;mbject to termination through an manner of euntingeneies. Man f'eels vulnerable to events; he is more 1ll0,nstra:ine-a y' time than b'1 the eurbs that space may b impose. Significantly we s'ay of;a prisoner in. hiS cell that he is doing time. Fate is event, a tecmpotal ~ategoty. In philosophical disecurse, with the notable exception '0'£ Kantians (May, 1970) time has asstrrned greater importance than space since Leibniz(Jammer, 1969, p. 4). Both positivists and phenomenologists believe' that timeis logically prior to space. Among sc:ientific philosophers, the: incre'asin,g interest in the nature of cause puts the limelight on time, f~u the dir,ectioJllof Ith.eflow of time is thoughtto be determined by the causal interoonnection bfphenomena_ Space, in contrast, is only the order ~,f coexistingtdata. Among phenOitlefiologists time is believed to D:e' more' fUl'l.da;m·en:til than Space, a befief that seems to rest on their concern with 'the fiiUUFeof'being, becoming, duration, and experience. 11.1.2. The primacy of space: It is, possible 'to ar~e fot the primaey of space on the ground that space can be..:eomptehend.ed more direii:tly'than time; that a concept of spaeeeen give rise to theoretical science wheFe:as, in Kant's view, one-dimensional time eannnt(May, 1970,"1]1. 116)i.and that spatialisation

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is a capacity developed in tandem with the evolution of human speech, utterance dj,t'(:€ted.to.war-a the ,areatwn. of a p.ubli<; world. From the psychological viewpoint." knowledge ef 'Spac-e is .mut:h more direct and simpler than knowledge Qf time .. We can :pe:Dcei'Ve the whQ!e ~£ a spatial dimension, such as a straight line, simultaneously, "A, temp:~ra:l duration, however, no matter how shert it is, caaner be apPTehend.edat ~nce', Once we are at the end of it, the beginning, ((:aJ1 no lange!' 'be :l"erceived. Ino:.th.e.rwords, any knowledge of time pr;esup:poses arec9nst!'.\lct.io.n an the part. o,f the knower, since the beginning oflll1Y duration has already been lost and we cannot go back in time to find it again" (Piaget" 1971, p, 61).•CMo:ren app@hend space before time. A oneyear-oldehild plays 'peek.a·bQQ~ and ",an ask to be picked up or let down. At eighteen rnonthsa Ghild 'plays '~hid~-al'ld:~ek' and knows how to find his way in the house. But only some siXO'monthslater-does heaequire a r:udirnen.t<try knowledge of time, recognising, f{lJ·f in.stance" the return ~f the father as the signal for supper (Sivadon, 1970!;. p 411), At seven ~ear,s acnild shows .an interest in distant countries, and an elementary understanding ef g~ogr.aphy; he haS.s9me4de~ ¢{),n,cern1!lgthe r:elativ¢ ~~!il' and distance of plaees, But the · aJl'p.redatitlo :!':If historical, thne comes much Iater, In treating mentally disturbed. patients, psychiatrists ate heginnin,g to~£ind that they respond more readily to attempts at restor;ing thejF'fra~~llte(j spatlal.wodd than their fractured past (Mendel, 1961; Jzu.mi" .196): .QSn'lfmO,19.66,,1fhe stPJctuue Q.fthe present world can be elucidated anoenf!llrcei;{ by 8:r,cnitectufaImea;rrs; spati:al coherence can be pereeived, But the pa$t is ;~fie and l'an :0" reclUlea..only with the help of language .. Dreams" wh.en we remermbertltem, eel1!trce' Qfl few a images ...These 'remain, olte.n with· great vividness, while the narmtiYe .itself fades (Langer, 1972, p, 284), 'The causal link of events in. dreams has a. slender hold on our memory, 'but certain pictlITe~ can make an indelible impre'ss;Fo.r some peopl{l"Mo:t~ntY'~spattat relationships but the complex. 'flow of events are not clearly nncl.etstood without th.eaid. Iilf diagrams, this is, explication in space. Human speech is unlike animal 'utterance because it strives to create a stable .and public realm to whichallwhe 'spe'ak the same language have access. llycnie.st,a{e.s flfid public expression in the objective correlates that are visible in space. Ideas are 'bright' as the sun is bright and souls can be 'lost' like the bodies they inhabit. Sensat!QITs" perceptions, and ideas occur under two aspects: the ,otle 4lear' 3pq ptreci~e·;but impersonal; the other confused, ever changing, and me",pressible'" ,b,ecause.language cannot clothe it without arresting its flux and making it ;into public property. "We instinctively try to solidify our impressions in order to express them in language. Hence we
I

confuse the feeling itself, which is a perpetual state of becoming, with its permanent external object, and especially with the word which expresses this object" (Bergson, 1910, pp. 129-30). Speech creates social reality (Rosenstock-Hussey, 1970). In the social world the private lived-time of individuals is mapped onto space, where confused feelings and ideas are made sensible and can be tagged and counted. Pure duration thus becomes homogeneous time, which is reducible to space because its units are not successive but lie side by side. Heterogeneous and changing psychic states become discrete sensations and feelings; quality becomes quantity; intensity extensity. Language is suited to the telling of stories and poor at depicting simultaneous order. On the other hand, Benjamin Whorf (1952) has made us aware that a characteristic of Indo-European languages is to spatialise time. Thus time is 'long' or 'short', 'then after' is 'thereafter', and 'all times' is 'always'. European languages hrek ~peGiar w~nls to eilque!ls.duration, il:\tensilY and tendency, They use ·expLiGit spatial meitapnors ofslze, number .~plurality), p€lsition" .shape and motion, It is as 'though European ·sp~!;h. tries to make time ,and feelings visible, to constrain them to P:Q~ssspat:ia1 dimensions that !}1n1 be pointed to, if ner measured ..Not, all languages attempt this to the same de&ree, Hopi s~eeh, fin example, eschews spatial metaphors. It has ample conjuglltio:nal :and Ie~iea1 means to express duration and intensity, qualities and: patentials, directly .. Te,i'lIls descriptive of space have much in common \\dtet1ter' Indo-European ,o:r Hopi. The experience and apprehension 0 f :sp.aceis substantIally the same irrespeetive Qflangu:age (Wharf, 1952, p. 45). In flUS. sense, space is more basic to human experience than time, the meaning, of which varies fundamentally from people to people. 11.2. Space, Biology and Symbolism Anthropological studies have familiarised us with the tdea that peoplet.s OOl1ception of, and behaviour in, space differs wideb'. At a mCJ[eexafted level, mathematicians.appeaf to pull geometries out of a hat. We need', however; to be reminded of 's,patial perceptions and values that are grounded on common traits in human biology; and hence transcend the arbitrarirtess of culture. Although spatial Gonee.pts: .and belJavi·o·\nal'patterns vaFYe.ootmlilusly, they are all rooted in the original pact between boo:¥ and 'space. Spat4alc(r)1I~pt!>may indeed soar nearly out of sight from this origirtal pact, but 'spatial behaviour among eedlnary objects can never stray very fat from it ..As e" H. WaddIngton puts it, "Although in' mathematics we are free to cheese whether to bUild up our geometry on Euclidean or non-Euclidean axioms, -when we need to deal

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Siroight

Honzonlol

Verlicol

Oblique

Lefl

Righi

Up

Down

Up 10 Ihe rIg hi:

Fig. 1. A possible hierarchical schema for orientation in English: more words exist for QorJzontal.ami v~r~cal ~riept&tjQns th~ tQr cUIve!1jj.I1dQblique .1IDe~.tocabular)' \ richness in some ex)ressions, paucity in others - is a guide 'to wh~t a culture considers important (Based on Olson, 1970).

with the world of objects of the 'size of our own bodies, we find that it is the SuclicIean aJ!;lQmswhich. are by far the most appropriate. They are so appropriate, indeed, th.at We .arlm.o~t certainty have SQ.rne ge'netic Inedisposition DO thej[adopt!o~ hriiltiilte QUf genotypes, 60]' example the ,capacity of the eye to recognise a straight line" (1970, p. 102). Human beings are more sensitive to vertical and horizontal lines than to oblique lines, more responsive to right angles and symmetrical shapes than to acute or obtuse angles and irregular shapes (Figure 1). An increasing array of evidence supports this view...Thus children aged three to four soon learn to .c'hO(l~e I from -" but most 0:( ~hem have difficul~y learning to choose I and not \. They can .el',s.ily· discrjminate n ft9m U .but Dot I:' rrom~ (Howard and Ternp.1etO'Jl,1.966, p. I.83):. The bilateral orga,nizatjon -of 'the human ,body and the. dil'eetciori of 'gtavit.y ha\f~ beenSlilggested as the causes of such bias. Furthermore, orientations provide ecological cues for movement, and their

invariance is a decided advantage. When we move about, oblique lines are not invariant; left-tight ,diffe~ces are similarly loW' in invariance, but up-down differences are r,elatively st:able (Olson, 1970.•.p. 177). An angle of 93° is not seen as an angie in its Qwn right but as 3: 'bad' right angle. Streets that join at an angle are recalled as joinin,g st '~ight angles or nearly so. North and South America are .not aligned along the same meridian but in memory they tend to do so (Amheim, 1969, pp. 82, 183). In general, shapes that have their main axes tilted tend to be reproduced in a vertical orientation. Horizontally symmetrical shapes are sometimes reproduced in a vertically symmetrical position whereas vertically ~yrnmetricaJ figures Are. alW!WS recalled 1n their correct position, two Shapes are best dist:fUnmated when they ate vertical. The apparent length of a line tends to be; inax:im~y'exaggerated in the neighbourhood of the vertical, and it ,tends t!ll be J:rrinimiseu at anQut the horizontal pQSition (Pollock and Chapanis, 1952). Murnan 'beings are not alone-in their 'greate,r .sensitivity tOI vertical cues in their 'environment. like the human child, an Qctopus can readily discriminate vertieal from horizontal rectangles, but confuses rectangles oriented obliquely In different directions (Sutherland, 1957). Of course only among human beings do these natural biases acquire .symbolical meaning. The direction upwcarc1. against gravity, Is then not only' a feeling that guides movement. but a feeling that leads to the inscrip,tiQn of regions in space to ~hich we attach values, such as those expressed hy high and low, rise and decline, climbing and falling, superior and inferior, elevated and downcast, looking up in awe and looking down in contempt ..;Prone we surrender to nature, upright we assert our humanity. In g,ettin,g U.pl we gain freedom and enjoy it, but at the same time we lose: 9untact with the sU,ppoding ground, mother earth, and w.e miss it. The vertical pill'sition 'stands for that which is instituted, ereeted.jmd constructed; it represents human .aspi'ratio:ns.that' risk fal1and collapse (Straus, 1966). To go up 'is to, rise above our earth-bound origin toward's tile sky, which is either the abode of, orjde.ntical, witb..th~ supreme be,mg. Horizontal space is secular space; it is accessibl~ ~Q' the :~filie~. By contrast" the mental and mythical realm is symbolised by the vertical axis piercing through the heart of things, with its poles of zenith and underground, heaven and hades. The gods live on the mountain peak while mortals are bound to the plain. On medieval T-0 maps Jer~salem lies at the centre of the world; this is well known, but in Rabbinical literature fsrael is perceived to rise higher above sea-level than any other land, and "f<emple Hill is taken to be the highest point in Israel (Bevan, 193~"p! 66). Centre Implies the'vertical and vU.e versa in mytholQgjcal thinking (Figure 2.), The buman partial'it¥.. rore thee ve,rtic:al. with its transcendental

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A:

Tci-ho

Tien

TABLE I (i) Length and distance fingernail breadth and length of.finger span from thumb to little

(Audience Hom

B: Wu Men
(Gole of Ihe Noon Sun)

C:

T ien-on Men Gole of Heovenly Peoce}

finger
Body top of middle finger to elbow (cubit, ell = elbow) outstretched arms (= fathom) various kinds' of pacing

spear customary Thing length of cord or { chain

Action

spear cast bow shot { , day's journey

(ii) Area Oxhide Thing cloak ( mat day.s ploughing with a yoke of oxen, land

. Action
(

which Callibe .sown with a <lertainaffil,illot .. sumenan .. seed ~~. examp ·1'''' ancien; t S _, tor -e.tne fb-tlUca. Wlls sl! (gJain):~ theJabout' mrolW:d. was a, fac·toI· OfmeaSll-f(:p1ent

Fig. 2. The nlYrthern city o.ttuditiona:l :&king in II .diagram of the Chinese conception of cosmic OW-Ilr.Tne ·emperor at ·th:e centre. ,m his .A:uliien.ce, Hall, b~oks solithw:a:tds d.o,WiI the central' (m~ddiQna1) aldsto the wQrl~ or man, Tlie 'city;s plan can be Interpreted three dimensronliIly as·_a :gcing'towafus:theH::elftre is al$O 40 go <up sy.mboliQlllly (Based on Wu, 1963).

11.3. Spatial References and the Ego

(a) Primitive measures of length are derived from part's of the body. They also depend on the dimensions of commonly used objects, and on the actions that one performs-with one's body, such as a day's journey, or with an object, such the distance of a. bow shot. The move fmm the biolQgic. base" then, is from the 'body to the QDjeC:t. nd to acts pe_[~btmed with the .oDject. Measures a 0:( area seem less ·bgunit to: p!!:'rtsof Uilehuman."booy. !hex' .are 'b~dQn the sje;eof oommbn objects, thoSe wnilili hav.e ·bee.nmade or patt~y p;Fooessed by man, and to acts. performed with, them. tln1ike the. segrnt;a£ation of time, nature itself dQesn',t :See-m t!) Pfo~de suitable units for the measurement of either distance orarea, (See Table!), The parts of the human body' serve as a model for spatial organisation. Central African and South Sea languages, in particular, use nouns (names for parts of body) rather than abstract prepositional terms to express spatial relations, thus:

N~id,

as

message, is manifest in a vast arrayof architectural features that include megaliths, pyramids, obelisks, tents, arches, domes. eolUrnlns, terraces,; spires, towers, pagodas, Gothic cathedrals and modern :sky,serape.rs(Giedil1!l1,1964). We begin with the biological fact of the anima;te body m, space, Vertical elements in the environment provide relatively staJ:)lecues ;fot orientation as the body moves. In action vertical and horizontal fi,gures' ,are easier ti? dis· t1mgpish thQse<whicb: are Qtienled ol:H1cj_uely.in different directions. rGrav. ityis the pervasive environment for 311living, thipgs.t\nimals, no Iess than human beings, feel the strain of defy:ihg i.t; {!ii' move vertically is to· make the maximum effort. From this common biological fundament the human being has elaborated a world of meaning that pervades .his ev~' act and accomplishmertrt. footn·~booily'l'i"Ostures ootne 'verticality and iiO"!iiwntality of buildings. 1ft the ,fdI1Qw~g sections, I~aU attempt to clarify ~fiuAner.the nature of space asit isgroun4ed in. the' fl'eet;tsof ltihehuman ego and 'of social groups.

trum

Parts of body: Spatial relations:

face in front

II

back behind

head above

mouth. or stomach within

II ...

In addition,

material

objects

outside

"

the

" h.tunan

DPdy o.an :serve as

398

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AND PLACE

399

prepositional terms indicating position. Instead of 'back' meaning 'behind', the 'track' left by a person means 'behind'; and 'ground' or 'earth' means 'under', 'air' means 'over'. Natural objects lend themselves to locations in space but not, originally, to the measures of space, for which pre-scientific man depended on his body, his artIfacts" P:abiiual acts, and natural periodicities (Hamburg, 1970, pp. 98-99). (b) Locative adverbs, 'spatial demonstratives and personal, 'pronouns have parallel meanings,. and in some languages, they appear to be' et.ym010gically related ,(Humbolt, J 829). Ernst Cassirer points out that both 'personal and demonstrative p,ronoulls are half"mimetic,;, half-linguistic acts of indication: personal pronouns are spatially located. 'Here is always where I am, and what is here 1 ca11this, inconlrast tQd4s [that] and dort [yonder]' (Cassirer, 1953, p. 213). In Indo-Germanic languages the third person pronoun has close formal links with the: C~tresPQndi:ng demonstrative prOllOllnll. French it gees back to Latin il/e. (that, there.,. the latter};.Cothic is (modem German er) corresponds to. Latin 'is: (that, that way). In Semitic, A1taic', Am~ricm Indian and Australian languages, I-thou pronouns appear t~ have erose ties with demonstrative' pronouns [Cassirer, 1'9$31 p, 214}, Egocentrism prevails everywhere. We make fun of the capitallsatjon of the Of' in Engl~l1, but in Chinese 'and Japanese pen jen (I) means ~1li.is'Very self", the.person at the 'origin' or 'centre'., As to the egocentti~ of~pati.ar <kmon~tt~tiveli; Qnst!Jer.the expres~ sion, "We'tli1ked of this and that - but mostly "that". "Why", Bertrand Russell asked, "does the 'that' imply the triviality of the topics talked about?" (Figures 3(a) and (b)). (c) To the speaker of a European language, a striking feature of some American Indian languages, and of Kwakiutl in particular, is the speci.ficity :with which locatien in relation to the speaker is expressed, both in nouns and in ve~bs. Splftiai. designations h.a.vealmost mimetic immedi:acy';,they bind actors to speCifiC' contexts and aclivilies,. VariQus langu_a-g--e.s an Say 'the man c Is ~k' .only by stating at thesame time wh~ther thesubj:ect of the statement is. at.a gteate"'or :lesser distance from the .speaker or the listener andwhetheT he is visible or invisible to them; and often the place, PQs:itio:n ~d pos.tl.lre of the sick man are indicated by the form ofthe word sentence (Boas. 19t1, p. 445).

II.4. Personal Experiential Space

The structure and feeling-tone of space is tied to the persepmal equipment, experience, mood, and purpose of the human individual. We get tc;J know the

world through the possibilities and.1imitations of our senses, 1he spaoc that we' can pC1'ceivespreads out before and around 1l'8. 'and is divisible into· regiorts of ,differing quality . Farthest removed and covering the largest area is visual space. It is dominated by the broad horizon and small; indistlnc;t objects. ThiS purely visual region seems static even though thiligs move in it. Closer to us. is. the vi$ual",.aural space: objects in it 'can be seen clearlyand their nolses are heard. 'D$.namism characterises the feel of the Vi'sua'1-auraIzone, and this sense of' a Uvely world is the result of sound as much as ~patia1 displacements that can be' seen (Knapp, 1948). When we tum ffom the-.distant ;isual spa'e to the visual-aural zone, it is as though a silent movie comes into focus ~ is provided 'With sound tracks. Next to our body is.the, affective' zone, ~hieh is accessible to the senses of smell and touch besides those of Sight and hearing. In fact, the relative importance of sight diminishes in affective space: to appreciate the objects that give it its high emotional to-ne OUT eyes may even be closed. We cannot attend to all three zones at thesame time ..~In. particular, attendance to the purely visual region in the distance excludes awareness of the affective region. Normally we focus on the proximate world, either th~ intimate affective space or the more public visual-aural space. Here is an example of how the visual-aural zone can be further subdivided. I am engaged with people and things: they are in focus and lie at the foreground of my awareness. Beyond, in the middle ground, is the physical setting for t.he people and things that engage me fully. The middle ground may be the walls of a room or ball .. It is visible but unfocused. Foreground and middle ~()llnd constitute the; patent :zOll'e_ Beyond. the patent zone is the latent zone of habituality (the past'), wllieh is atsO 'the latent zone Q.£' potentiali!y (the futurel Although I cannot see through the walls of the hall, the unfocused nllddfe ground, I am subliminally aware of the e.xistence of a. world" 'not Just empty space, beyond the walls. That taient :zone is the ZOne 0f' one's past experience, what I have seen before coming into the hall; it Is also potentiality, what Lshal] see when I leave the hall. The latent zone is the invisible but necessary frilme to the patent zone (Ortega y Gasset, 1963, p. 67; Ryan and Ryan, 19~Q). It acts as a ballast to activity, freeing activity from complete dependence' on the patent, i.e., visible space and present time. In characterising the s-tructure of space, I introduce the terms past, present, and future. The analysis of· spatial experience seems to require the usage of time categeries. This. iSJ ,bee.al:1seour awareness of the spatial relations of obJeetsis never limited to the perceptions .of the objects themselves; present awareness itself is imbued with past experiences of movement and time, with memories of past expenditures of energy, and it is drawn towards the future

4QO

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SPACE

AND PLACE

401

QY the peroeptu.al, objects' call to. 'aotione A tree at the-end of the read snetehes out in ,advance, as ,It.were" the. steps I have to' take in·'()1~der reach to it (Brain" J,959). Distance, depth, height,and breadth are not terms necessary to scientific discourse; they are part of common speech and derive their multiple meanings from commonplace experiences (Kockelrnans, 1964; Straus, 1963, p. 263). Spatial dimensions are keyed to the humansense of adequacy, purpose, and standing. Certain heights are beyoIld my reach, given my present position or status. I feel inadequate and the obJects arQund me appearaUen, dtstant, and unapproachable. The window that is. near seems ve,Q:" O~,~ I have ,snuggle4 into bed, Distance slltinks and ,stretches tn tbe far course of the day and with the seasons as they affect ,my sense ef well-being and ~4equa¢y (Dardet, 1952, p. 13). A far-sighted person is not necessarily someone with good eyesight. He is a person who has a grasp of the future. Yet the popular Image of far-sightedness is someone gazing into the distant and open horizon. Statues of eminent statesmen often overlook sweeping vistas. Their gaze in-to the dtstanr horizon, is intended to suggest that they have the people'sprese:n1 and.future wellbeing, in mind; 'The open 'horizon stands f~r the op~n ··~ture (Mlnkowski, 1970, pp, '81-90): 'What Is ahead is. wbat is 'not yet - and beckons. Hope implies t11ecapacuy IQ a~t and oper:tS up .space. However, specific hope or expectat~on in'nihitsilCtivi1y ~-i"t is a lsiindof wailing during which the expected event appears to move towards oneself, and the co-ordinate spatial feeling is one of contraction. Many of our waking hours are spent in historical or directed-space (Stl'aus, 1966, pp, 3-37). Such space is structured around the s!!atio-temP9f!U points of here (now) and there (taen}Jan.d around a system of dit:~c,tionsj aheadbehind, over ... nder, right-left. In walking from here to, tnere,,, ~eI.gy and u time ,aree,onsurn.eD..to. Qv.e)"come 4is::tance.The pedestrian advance~ by leaving step. ,afte.r step behind him, and' by aiming at the' destination. ahead as though. i~ werear the end of a 1im~.demarc3l]ed line. This commonplace observation g,ams: inte:rest if we. think how raditally space-and-time changes when a person is not walking but marching with a band. The marching man still moves, objectively, from A to B; however, in feeling open space displaces the eonstrained space of linear distance and point locations. Instead ·of advancing 'by' leaving steps behind the marching man enters space ahead. The sense ot'beg'in~ ning and end weakens as also the articulation (iilf irections. Directed.,histori-, d cal space acquires some of' ~he e'fiatll1;tefistics of homogeneous .space - the. space of present time withoot past or future. In historical space, moving Cocwards and moving back may cover the same

route, but psychologically they are quite differentactivities, We move 'forwards or out 'to' our place of work even if we are driven there and have eur back to the dlrectton the car ,is moving; and we return or move f;l'aekhome even as we drive' the car forward on the same road. On a map the two routes are identical and may be shown by the same line' with arrow's, 'pointing in opposite dire¢tlons.Nowever, strictly speaking, :what: is. maPl'ltu is the rotlif:.e of the car and not that of its human occupant, fot whom ftof oruY'does the scenery change in major way.s" depen.ding 'Oft whether he is moving in one direction or" <Ulother, but. tne route itself acquires different feeling-tones dependin,g on whether the driver is moving forwards (as to dinner party or tlffiGe) or back horne. Distance is ,asynunetric fot reasoas more fundan'Lental than the example of the one-way street thai Nystuen ;gives(1963, p. ~79). On the seale of moving one's own body, walking backwards is painfully diffiGulf: one is .afraid ef falling over unseen obstacles or even of plunging ,iD!tQ' emptiness: in walkingbackw;trds the :space that cannot be see-n does not ,exist. Physiologically the human person Js not Duilt tQ' walk bcackwaFds~ 'There seems (to fle'ed to look beyond this. evident fact., Yet" as Brwil!:Sttau h.as pointed out, when we' dance to music, moWig backwards does not feel awkward: we have no feat ·of it, it does' not teet unnatural despite the fact that on a crowded dance floor moving backward may mean bumping into others. When we dance we are in homogeneous, nondirected 'presentic' space (Straus, 1966,

p.33).
Just as the human bias in favQur 'of th.c vertical fmds expression .in: the semiotics of body posture and in areni.tecture.. 'so the structures of.expenential space are manifest in spatial behaviour and in the physical setting. The space of work is essentially directed. A project has a beginning and an end. In mental work it could OCCUF entirely in the brain and -leave no trace ,in the external world. The logic of such work ls char:acterised, however, 'by the spatial metaphor 'linear'. 'Physical wQrk .requifesthe p:h~sica1 organisation of space:. a- manufact.uring. proces$. for example'f starts here (now) and ends there (then)'. 'Ihe :space Is historical. and directed; it is elongated. The factory itself, of course may be square in shape, for any single work process can be repeated: 'indiyidual,work spaces can be placed side by side to form a more isometric figure. The historical,. oriented space pflIl excellence is the highway or railroad. 'The sftai;ght .tail tracks leading from .one statiO.n to the next show a perfect correspondence between single-minded iittefitio,I1.pmce:ss,a.nd form. In contrast to. wOlk spa:ce" saered and reereanenalspaees are essentially ahistorical 'and non-direeted a1Q.ngthe horizontal 'plane. Sacre.d ~tfUCtutes su~h as temples md altars·telld to 'be lS"ofuettic; wnel'e. they depart fr'!l!tn

402

YI-FV

TV AN

SPACE

AND PLACE

403

equidirnensionality it is the result of the need to compromise ,eter:!1it1in the inter~st of time-bound human- belITgs WHO feel mote c.QmfQrtable in, directed space, Saered monuments that are solid andcanner admfl.people arealmost invariably equidimensional in ground plan. Recreational space is essendally homogeneeus, 'presentic' space in which means and ends, here and no.w -the:re and then, can be forgotten. Gardens of contemplation are isometrie, Vtlli._ei'e recreaJitmal space is elongated it may well be in response to the demands of the physical environment, such, as the-bank of a river or a main thomu,!htare; it is not required, by the inherent character ofrecreation or the enjoyment of nature, Many modern recreational activities (mountain climbing and s110w skiing, forinstlnce) a:(~ as or.iented as work" and hence ,re_quireand acquire the elQI}gate'dspace oflhe 'W.O)i}c line, BaC!ftr:ack~, 'it '~'trlJe; afe o¥iil-shaJ~ed. The:. statUng .a,nrj, t~nninaling, points are clearly marked, but in racing the 'destination ,itSelf:has no mhef_ent. lsigflific31ll:(e; it can indeed be identical with the starting point. What is important is speed - speed in non-directed space. Race tracks in the desert or on 'the beach, drag-strips for hot-rodders, are linear and yet non-directed, for the sensation of speed itself, within an abstract world, is the essential experience (Jackson, 1957-58). The type of directed space most familiar to geQg:ral?hersis, t11a1 in which ,arrow~, are drawn. to indicate thedlreetien of movement o(pe:ople. goods, and cultural (r.ails. One m3J> migh;t sl:i0W the fl-ow·of~oil out o_f'the ~ldl!lleEast to European. pmi:s;; anotherthecJTI£)-¥emen.tof people from Ameri~a~s easter;n seaboard mlo the ltiteriot, We are used to seeing the cne map, as.,a cartographic device ~ununaFisil)g, certain economic facts, and the other as a means for rcpI!esentin.g,<e¥ent~:iin hi.s~ofic.al ge~gl'aph~, IBut tile humanist geographer can ,fead lteiw.eenfne, lines:, ,FillOID. his pet&p,ec.tive, the arrows symbolise directed activities that give rise to oriented, historical spaces ona.world stage. Instead ofa mere short walk from here (now) to there (then), the journey of a tanker over thousands of miles of water, taking Severa1"Ylee~sMound the' :Cape of 'Good Hope, acquires a little 'of the drama o·f an odyssey. Home 'porland: destinarton to the captain of the' faIiKer" ase fiar,dIy the indif£erent points that they appear to "he. on a .map,.l'he .an,(!Iw·,s)embolises lived-space. which his is also his lived-time" If. ms~ead of an oil tanker one thinks of a ship embat~ing on a voyage oh~pl(!)r:atiQ.nihto the unknown.then.destination is destiny. 'On maps that depict, hist()ri~a1 movements, the arrows' appear to show ml;llie routes in space; but they also represent the temporal dimension. Months, aod perhaps years, have lapsed between the stem and the tip of the arrow. For tlre individual emigrants the journey ,takeS, them not only to a place that can be marked on th~ map", OJ ~Q a point later .in time that can be .shown on the calendar, but a place that 'symbolises their future.

11.5. Group ExperientialSpace Personal experiential space focuses on the expeneaee I(')f space in 'wh:jch the effect of the presence of other persons is left dilt oraccI)lUQt.This. dQes not mean "lllaJ the structure of the .personallyexperieneed Spa~ :is;unique' and private to theind.iY;igual .. En~ugh. eople: .nQFma11y .share its essl:ntiawelemenJts p to have an ,imp,act Qri the physical setting, 1Jlesharing is made possible. through thlrersu:bje€~i\fity', a concept often explored by phenomenologists. B¥ g!.'ou,P' ~x:petiential sp~e, I mean the spatial experience that is defined by the pfe__seneeof other people. The point of-departure is no longer 'personspace'; but. 'person-other persons-space' (Buttimer, 1969; Claval, 1970; Caruso and Palm, 1973). Consider the feeling of spatial constraint, the prickly sense that there .are too many people. Students of animal behaviour have applied their findingsto problems of human ~p<l;Oe'e with mixed results (Callan, 1970; Esser, 197); Lymag and Scott, 1~61';,Getis and Boots, 1971). As a feeling, 'crowdedness' is :not$Qmethjn.g that one can easily mea-sure. It .is only rougpl~' €orrelated,: ~it:h 11te,ar-ithmetic expression of density. A phenomenological de~crjption of 'crowdedness', applicable to human, beings, is needed to complement the; flood tide of ethological literature based on the observation of anj.rn-31s, The. idea that we can best (i.e., scientifically.) unaefstand humans Oi)'i ot studying n them direc~lf has, perhaps, been carl''iedto. undu_e l.l""treme;•.As. to the type of des.eripJ.i;ona humanistgeograplier migitt-umier-take, lsbaH at,tempt to illustrate with a brief sketch of one" type of 'so-c:iospa:tiaIexperience, namely,

cro:,,¥ded,lles&. Nature is not ordinarily perceived to be crowded. Not only is this true of

the great open space but abo of forested wilderness. A boulder field isa solitary place however densely it might be packed with boUlders;. foresls and fields- are a joy of 'openness' 19,the <tityman even though, fhey ,are,·eertam. to throng with pulsating organic life (Even people do _00:1 .make a:Ct9wd :if'tbey seem an organic part of the 'e.nyimnment, as, for exa,rnple·, wnentwe €orttemplate an early evening scenee In. whien tlshetmen intone In unison as they haul in t~it catch, or undulating; fields~Pt:c}Qed by peasants'harv:esti_n-~t1te.if:CTI-",p.s. Two' may be .a crowd if both are poets of nature (M~Carfn-y, 1970, !P.. 20S1)' OIl; the other hand ,a, baseball stadium packed with 30 QOe peC)lpleis'cetftaiDly crowded in a numerical sense.ibut it doesn't follow that the spectators feel the spatial constraint, particularly when an. exciting game isgotng on. The sense of spatial constraint and of crowding is more likely to occur on the highways leading to the ball park, although- objectively - the human density

404 then is lower than it is later in the. stadium itse1K The two poets of nature sense ,each other's presence as.obtmston because each req.uires, in psychologl~ neseessity, the entire field to b:imsel£: their purposes conflict despite the Caet: that they are identical. In the stadium, the eyes ,otthe ,spec,tatgrs are all tume4 10'1 the W1)e event;: by foeusing en the event the retnaind'er of the 'wsu'al'field ,inciudin'g, theil,' neighbours. peCQmes an ufto;ffending 'bluf_ A well-attended ball game and a mass political or te1ig)OilS rally late alike in that the crowds do not detract, but enhance thesi;grdfi<:a.n~e'Qf the: events: vast numbers of people do not necessarily generate th.e feeling of sp;atial oppressiveness. On the other hand, a large classroom packed with students may well create a sense of overcrowding, even theugh - ItS in the ball. game or political rally - the students' eyes are all focused"on a performatl.ce occurring beyond 'the space they themselves occupy. Superficially and objectively the situations are alike - crowd on the one side and an event ,of narrow feeus on 'the lQ:ther - but: p~cbologjc,.ally th~yare.wands apart. The student feels that ideallY' learning,'is '3 leIsurely dialogue D~tween the teacher and himsel€: the more packed the classroom the further it deviates frem the: 'l,;ereei¥e!iideal., and hence the more-urgent the sense of crowding, Where peasant farmers are barely able to eke out a livelihood on limited land, one might think that the sense of crowding would be· prevalent. Yet it is possible that :the half-starved peasants do not see it that way. Foremost in their minds are too many mouths to feed and not enough food to go around, but these facts do not add up to the sensation of CIQwtUng. To see the farmyard bustling with the activities of one's own half-naked <:hUc}Jlen ·tOe feel ~s oppressed by fate and a sense of inadequacy rather tWin. thattheft1 are too many people. Crowding, in this situation, would. be the (~u!t of,FatiMal taleo1~tim'l,.::nm :a dkr:.et .perception. The' .direG:t perception ·O'f cro.wdmgoceurs wh~n. t~r ~.xaJ'nple• a person.,. -aespe'lIately in need·of a:.job" 'pushes .epen the . door of the employment office and finds long lines of people waiting. 11.6. Mythical-conceptual Space In ddstiIlction to the'iYpes. o( felt. space dgscribe!i thus' far, the :spa.ce: hat I t ,call "l'llyth~ea1~onceptwil~'(se-el Figut~'3 and 4) is, more.tlie. pl'odux.tmf the. generalising mind. On the S'C.aIe·· total human ~XiperieIi.(le.. it occ1.l,piesa of pQSition between the- space of .sense perception :and the space ,t;)'f'p~ ,eog· niNon (geometry'). Mythi~al·COficeptr.taI sp-ace is still bound to theeg.o and to direct experience but it extrapolates beycond sen_sol)'evidence and immediate needs toa more abstract structure oithe world. '!'he def(!~tQf'd1st.an~e from

405

immediate needs is more' than compensated by-the. abiIily of m_ythic'alconceptual space to satisfy the stable and recurrent needs of a large community. Different tY,pes of mythical-conceptual ~pace exist. One ~ype is of outstanding importanee because it isbo.th sophisticated and widespread: this is the space that. is .focuseil ·onthecentre (the platle ef meR) and partitioned by a ~ystem·of cardinal directions (Durkheim and Mauss, 1967';:Marcus, 1973; MmJel., 1961; Wheatley, 1971). Among the scattered tribes and nations in the New Wmld, and among the disparate peoples in the ancient civilised centres of the Orient, 'we flOd spaee ,o1;ganisedaccorciing tothe same br9adpdnciples of centre, calidinal directions 'and the four quarters, The spatial co.ordinates are but a part of a total world view that em"br.~es the leyclical :rounds of nature, the constituent elements of the world •. animals, people and social institutions. Spatialco-or(iinates provide tIre:Qstensive frame-te which the less tangible experiences in nature' and sooiety can relate ..The',centre of the universe is the buman order ...MythlCai-Conoe.ptual spcaeeis~~egiously anthropocentric. It differs from j)etSQnai1e,cperien.tial space, not only in conceptual complexl,ty, but also in iliegr.andiosesca:te of'itsanthropocenttisrn. Instead of sub~uminga ~¢~or of pen:ejvedspace to' the needs of the moment, the entire universe i~ ,euncep.tually organised. ,a:ro·una wo:r1d of'man, The system thus the conceiv:oo is se luge and. elaborate that" Raradoxicall)l, the human king-pin from a: certain perspective - appears aqly-as one gear in the total mechanism. However. only frOID a oert.ain peli'speetive,can the people of non-literate and traditional societi~s claim that their world view recognises the necessity for human beings to submit aM adapt to the forces of nature; fromthe standpoint of their world view's organislng-prineiple, it is the universe that is adapting to man. The pueblo Indians of the American Southwest, for example, believe that people should not attempt to dominate natute. Yet their WQtld 'View is conceptually highly anthropocentric, As Leslie.White describes it, "Earth is the center'an(t,prirtejpal object of the cosmos, ,slm., moon, stars, Milky. Way [ate] accessories to the earth. Their function is to make the earth: habitable for mankind" (1942, p. 80) . A ettRr_al theme in this survey of space is the bond between: sp~ and the human ex:iste.ntiat; body ilnplicates space; spatial measures are derived from dimensions of .the Q~dy; ,:opafiiil.'qwl1ities haracterised as static, dynamic and c affectiye, patent ,and'latent, bjgb alldJew~.n'ear: and flU' ate clearly called' iaje being by .the'human l~J'e~nce:·de'p(h dist'ancea:re a function ,of'tfie human ,ana sense P1!111p:Ose .aaeql,lacy.;·cro-wdedness' is less an expression of demit~ and than a psychological condition. M¥tbical space is a sophisticated product Of

ar

406

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TUAN

SPACE

AND PLACE

407

~'

..- ~

..
.

o
.«l4

HuongHo Chung }'\IOn (cenlrol plain of Chino] MI. Kun·lun (equivolent of Mt.

MetuI
Fig. $. Ego- and ethnocentric organis.ations .gf s.pace _(I). and (IO. illustrating iDc~easing ,carlo-graphic sopbistication at -tile service· of persistent self-centred Viewpoints, 'necessary .to. pr~tital Ut:c:'AJ personal Pl'tIn0~ a.rrd 'spatial 'demonstratives; 13: Nuer ~oe-io-spa:tiil ca~e~OI:ie_s(q!tep 1illlJnl-hilchtiffJ, l'9JfO)~ C:, the w~tta o.f He9atcus (fl, 520 l.'C), p: . 1e._~Oys Ii<O~Qpa:plty it! East' A$ja,: E:' "(ilJ;~k. :~.~Qfn1a Ind'lan) id~~C the ~tikl (Qfte~ Wilterman, 1920):; f.:'C....o map', aEtel~ Isidore, Bishop ot,Seville';(AEJ S1~'36);;G: 4n-a ,and 'Water hemispheres c.ent;recl, 00 DOrtheft1 France,; H: Map, With;azim_uthallogarith~Iic distance scale, centred 6n central Sweden (after Hiigel'3trand. 1953).

the mind answering the needs of the communal group. Conceptualisation progressively .removes spatial structures fram the unstable requirements of the individual ego, and even from the 'bJasei' ,of,culture, so that in their most ethereal .form they appear as pure mathematical webs, creations of the disembodied intelligence, maps of the mind.- and hence, maps of nature 'insofar as mind is a part of nature.

408
A
(Yellow, M,cldle pumo) norlh OShipop

YI-FU

TU AN
B
r- __

SPACE

AND PLACE

409

~lR.:::::d,~ph;::oe:..:::";=:..l __ South (Summer., I.e)

71

Pueblo (C.nle;,

obodge,;

~~ e, ;;: ~

.. ,._
a

'3"

0-

i;

M,ddle lOuth IRed, baixo I) (Blod, ,.p"le~ co.,i1ol

Eas1ern

Norlhc," <!'opllol

friends' ,0[' is it primarily an exp,ressiono£ relative dist-ance as~ for example, when w.e say that 'thq' chair is close to the window'? From my discussion of space, it is crea,! that I believe the meaning of'hurnan relationship to be basic. Being 'dose' is, first, being close to another person, on whom one depends for emotional and material security far mote than 'O.Q the wodd's_ non-human facts (Erickson, 1969). It is possible. as Marjorie Gren.esuggests, that the: primary meaning of :place' is one's position in S()ciety r~fher than the more abstract understanding ()flocat'ion in space (1968" p, 113). ,Spatil;l1location derives frcm positic.m: in ,Society rather than vice Versa (Sorokin, 1964). The, illcf.anfs p.lace ,is the Qdb ; the eh.ild's place is the playroom; the social distance between the\cnair.m.an the bDlltid and myself is as evident in the places we sit at the banquet table as in the places we dQmici1e~the Jones's Uve un the wrong side of the tracks because of their low secio-eccaomic position; prestige, industries requiring skilled workers are IQCated. ,at different plaees fr:omJQwly industries' manned by un.skn~d labour" S~h examples can be muIt.ipliedr endIessly, People are defined fU':lit 'by their positions, in 'S!lciet¥~ th~irclm,aGter· istic life styles follow. life- style.is but a general term covel'iftg such p3:!\ttG.ulan as the clothes people wear, the fooos thet eat, and the-places 'at which they live and work. Place, however, is more than location and more than the spatial index of socio-economic status. It is a unique ensemble of traits that merits study in its own right.

or

111.2. Meaning of Place

Fig.4. Mythical-cO'nceptual spaces: A: a Pueblo Indian world ~: B: traditiO'nal Chinese world view; C~ ClassiG ,M~ya wO'r)d Yiew: qQadripartit,e mQdel of A.D''600-900; l£~d :the spa:tiai organisation of IQwland etassic .Ma,Ya,ftont: regional'Clpi.tal ti:) outlying hamlet: hexagonal model of AD 1930 (after Marcus, 1973).

Ill. PLACE

I1I.1 Definition In ordinary usage, place means primarily two thinge.one's position in society and ,spatial lotation. The study or status belongs to soeilllqgy whereas the study (if lOGa.1iQO bel!lng$ to geography, Yet dearly the two meanings overlll-p to a laFge degrge':,-0ne 'seems to, be a metaphor fQr ilhe other,. We may ask, which of the two meanings is literal and whicli is metaphorical 'c)QteIiliion? Consider, first, an analogous problem the wu--ro 'dose'. 18 it primadly a measure of human relationship, in the sense that 'JQbnand Joe ate close

III.2.1. Spirit and personality: A key to the meaning of place lies in the expressions that people use when they want to gi\l~ it a,sense' carrying 'greater emotional charge than location or functional node. People talk of the 'spirit', the 'personality' and the 'sense' of place. We can take 'spirit' in the literal sense: space is formless and profane except for the sites that 'stand out' because spirits are believed to dwell in them. These are the sacred places. They command awe. 'Personality" suggestS' the unique: places, like human beings, acquire unique signatures, in thi course oft~. A 'human per.sonality is a fusion of natural disposition and acqulred traits. Lilosely-spealdng, the personality of place is a compQsi.~~,of natural em::towment'(th~' phy,sique of the land) and the modifications wrought by successive generations of human beings. France, according to Vidal de laBlache (1903), Britain, according to Cyril Fox (1932), and Mexico, according to Carl Sauer (1941), have 'personality'. These regions have acquired unique 'face'S' through :the ,prolonged. Inter= action between nature and man. Despite the aeeretien of' cexperience. the c.hild

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is reeog~sable in the adult; and so too the structural lineaments of a region its diviSion into highland ~and lowland. north and south - remain visible through the successive -phases'ef change. Personality has two aspects: one commands awe, the other evokes affection. The' personality that commands awe appears as ~mething sublime and I):bject!ve, existing independently of hurnarr needs and aspirations'. Such is the pl:'fsonaliW of monumental art and holy places. Powerful manifestations of nature, like: the, Grand, Canyon and the MaIteihom. are also commanding personalities. By contrast, ,3 ~lao.e thar evokes affectiou has personality in the same sense that an old raincoat can be said to llave.c.haracter. The character of th-e raincoat is imparted by the perSQn who y{ea;[sit and :grows, fond of it. The raincoat is for use, ,and y:et in time it ac,quire.s a personality, a 'certain wayward shape and smell that isunique'ly its own·" So too, a place, thrcugh long association with: hurnart beings; can take on the familiar contours of an old: but still nl.lrturiIrg:nanny, When the geographer talks of the personality of a .region, he m~ have: both aspects in mind .. The region can be ,both cozy and sublime:' it is t;leeplyhumaniised and 'yet the physical fundament is fundamentally indifferent to human purpose.

To see an object is to have it at the focus of one's vision; it is explicit knowing. I see the church on the hill. I know it is there, and it is a place for me. But one can have a sense of place, in perhaps the deeper meaning of the t.erm, without any attempt at explicit formulation. We can knowa place subconsciously, through touch and rernembered-fiagrances.unaided by the discriminating eye. While the eye tak~,in a,lo~ely street seene and int~Digefl.celcategorIses it, our hand feels the iron of the school fence and stores subtimmaUy its. coolness and resistance in our memory (Santmyer, 1962, p. ,SO)., ThtOIllg,n. such modest hoards we can acquire in time a profound sense of place. Yet it is possible to be fully aware of our attachment to place only when we have left it and can see it as a whole from a distance.

111.3. Stability and Place

We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. T. S. Eliot, The Four Quartets

I1L2;2, A -sense of place. Place may be said to have, 's-pirit' or 'persenahty', but only human beings can have a sense of place. People demonstrate theit sense ofplaee when they apply their moral and aesthetic discernment to sites and loeations. Modern man, it is often claimed, has lost. this sensitivity. He transgresses against the genius loci because he fails to recognise it; and he fQils 10 recognise. it because the blandness of much modem environrnent combined with the ethos of human dominance has stunted the cnltivafien of place awareness. Sense, as in a sen.se ofpJa~' •.has' two meanings. One is-visual or aesthetic. The eye needs tOI be, traiii:~d so th:at it ,ean, dis"cem beauty where it existsl on the other hand beautiful places need to be ,c-reated to please the 'eye .. F.rom one limited point of view,- places are locations that. have visual impact. OJ) a plain, the burtes and Silos are placesiin arugged·karst landscape, the flat poljes are places. However. other than. the all-important eye, the world is known through the senses of hearing" smell, t~~le. an(l touch. These senses, unlike the visual, require close contact and long, association with the environment. It is possible to. appreciate the visual qualJUes of a town in an afternoon's tour; but to know the town's characteristic. ooours and sounds, the textures of its pavements and walls, requires a far longer period of contact. To sense is to know: SO we say 'he senses it', or 'he catches the sense of it'.

fiat

An argument in favour of travel is that it increases awareness, not of exotic places but of home as a place. To identify wholly with the ambiance ofa place is to lose the sense of its unique identity, which is rev~a:Ied only when one can also see it from the outside. To be always, on the move .is. ofcourse, to lose place. to be placeless and hav_e; iQ_stea4, merely scenes, and il;naE@$.,A scene may be of a place but theseene itselr is. not a place. blacks stahDitYi' it is in the nature of a scene to ~itt 'with· eVf'ry change: ,of persp~tive'_ -A scene is defined by its perspective whereas this is llot,ttue of plaee; it is in the nature of place to appear to have a stable ~stence ~dependent.ob£ the perceiver, A place is-the compelling focus of a field: it is a mail world, the'node at which activities converge. Hence, a street is not commonly called a place, however sharp its visual identity.; L'Etoile (place Il'e {Charle,S de Gaulle) is a place but the Champs-<Elyseesis not: one is a node, th.e other is a throughway. A street corner :is a place but the street itself is not. & we have noted ,ea-r1ier, a street is directed.,liiste:tieal spa.ce:.Qo·the horiZontal: plaae., only non-directed homogeneous spaces can, ~e place. When a street is tfaQsff)nne.d inrbfa eentre of festivities, with pell)ple milling; around in.ng particular direction" it becomes non-directed space _"and·3.place. It. great oce-an Im-er''is certainly a small werld, but it is not roeted in location; heiice it 'is not 'a place. These are not' "arbitrary judgments. They are supported 'by the enmmon use and understanding of

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language. It is a great wit who asks: 'When is this place (the Queen Mary) going to New York?'

III .5. Public Symbols In the ancient world, as well as among many non-literate peoples, the landscape was rich in sacred places (White, 1967). Let a thunderbolt strike the ground and the R:onlan.s reg1ltded it as holy. a spot that :mitted power. and should b-e fenced off (Powler •. 1'91I ,j pp. 36-7; Wissowa, 19l2', 461'-8" 477?5.15,).10. ancient' Greece Stfa~o~s desc.rjption suggests that onecolild ha.rd1r "st~pou.t. of doors without ,me.e:timg .shrine,a sacred enI1=IQ~u{e" image, a a: an .sacted stene or tree' (,8oQk 'S, 3, ,po" 1.2).. Spi,rits, populated tlte mountains and forests of ,China. So.me were. endowed with human .~digrees and carried lofficIal 'ranks: (De Groot, 1892; p. '223). Alth61lghanentire Jandscape could ,embtldy power (Scully, 1962, p. 3), yet it was often the-case that spirits lent numen to particular localities .at which they received periodic homage. Examples of the holy place can be multiplied endlessly from all parts of the world. The essential point is that location, not necessarily remarkable initself, nonetheless acquires high visibility and meaning because it harbours, or embodies, spirit (Eliade, 1963, pp. 367-8'7; Van derLeeuw, 1963, pp. 393-402), The belief system of many cultures encourages one ~Q. s,peak.lifer. ally, of the spirit of place. Modem secular society discourages. bell:£' in s,p,itjt, whether of nature or of the illustrious dead, but traces of it still ,Hnger ,m people's 'attitude toward burial places, particularly those of oationa} import .. ance; and of course in the attitudes of ardent preservationistswhe tend. tio viewwilde.mes.s areas, nature's cathedrals •.as sacred. Wilderness areas lin the United States are. sacred filaees' with well .. eflned boundaries, into, which one d

III.4. Types of Place

In the discussion on the personality and sense of place, I distinguished between places that yield their meaning to the eye, and places that are known omy,after ;prQIQoged expe-rience. I shall call the one type 'public symbols', and the other 'fields, of care"(Wild, 1963, p. 47), Public ~YJllbolstend to ha,_ve high im'lge"ab:lJity'be~ause they often cater to the. e1e. Field.s of care do not seek 'to ptojec,t Unage, IQ.utsi(ters; they areinconsp:icu!)us vi~ua1ly,PY:blie symbols '((Ocnunandattsnticn and evert awe; fields of care!e,voKe'afiection. 'It is ~relati,.,ely easy to identify places that are public symbols,; it is, diffIcult to identi'fyt;ie1<ls 'Q'f ease for they are not easily identifiable by external criteria" such :is: formal structure. physical appearance, and articulate opinion (see Table II). Obviously, many - perhaps most - places are both public symbols and fields of care in varying degree. The Arch of Triumph 'is exclusive.ly' a ,symbol; the :seclu.ded f'&Tl1stead,:the feeus ef bustling IUtal actMries, is, e~clusively a, field 'Q.f COate.But, th~ city' may be a pllb1i~{nati(lflal) s¥tn'bol aswelt as a fIeld ,Ot- caee, :ami the nei,gh'bouthood rnayb~ a field, of care and a puQ11csym.bol, a ~placcfhat :tQu.r.istsw{lnt ito. ,se-.e, What {it' the ,~hof 'rr,iun;tph and the :secluded farmstead. have' in corm:non so that both 'may be called places? I 'beiieve the answ,er tel), l)e tltateach is, in its ewn way ja small world~ i,~,. a c'eo.tre of power and :meaning lielative to its. environs. Wi9ia. monument the_ question fliatar.ises, is lioW a Uf1:1ess obJ~e.t can ®e_tnto be, a 'vi'talcerrtre of With a field of care the question is one of ll'l:aInienan.ce•.lhat, IS. wliat forces ,m e_~pedenci:, function, and re]igiQn.cansys.ta,4!- ,eo"h.e$.ive ,meaning, in..a field ~rc.af,e that aoes,.oot de,Ren4on ostentatious visual symbols?

an

to

enters with,. m,etaphorically ~~aklng, unshod feet,

PUblic: motlumeniflS C-i'ea,te:pla~~s y givingprominence and an air ofslgniflb cancete lQcalities .(figu:r;@~)., '~onument building i~ ll. charactenstw activity of all kigh ,civilisartloni (Johnson, 1968). Since th'e~cnineteenth, .century, however, monument building has<declitrettand with it~he' effort to. generate foci of interest (places) 'tnat pl'omote.looaI anti national pride. Mo:rtmonuments of modern times commemorate heroes, but there are important exceptions. St Louis'GateW.ay Ar,ch '(1St Louis, United States). for .example , commemorates a pregnant perl'od:in tlie city',s, and nation's; history. Public squares often display monuments and they- are also a type of 'sacred area', in the sense that they may be;dedicated. to lle:roic figu,tesand Iranscend pure~y u1ilita.ri~ ends. Certain public ,buildings are' :!I1so_S)'mMls: the HQuses .Q.fPadia;ment. Chartres Cathedral, the, Em,pi_reState Hui1din,g,and, in the United States, the palatial railway stations, To modem geogl'a~her~., it: ~may~em lax: usa~ to c;ill monuments and buildings 'places', just" lik:etown~ ana citie.$, bl:Lttbis re{lects our

meanmg.

TABLE Places as public.symbols (high imageability) sacred place formal garden monument monumental architecture public square ideal city

II Places as fields of care (low.imageability) park home, drugstore, tavern street corner • neighbourhood marketplace town

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parochialism and distance from phenomenological reality. ,Elizabethan geographers of the early seventeenth century did not labour under such constraint and freely described towns and buildings at the same level of concreteness (Robio'S"<1o,. 19:73:), Cities are of course places, and ideal.cities life also monuments .and~Ymbols .. In the second world war, CovelliIS' and Hiroshi.foa were t4est,r()¥ed.but Q~fQrd. and Kyoto were spared fromaerial decimarion (Ufton, 1,96i7,p, 16). Thlls,~l1e~1J)tural and historical signifie<mce'(the' $ymb~ncvalue) Qf Oxfo'rdand Kyoto, was recognised even by the enemy. This recognition by the nuts-idee is characteristic of places that are public symbols. Monuments, artworks,. buildings and cities are places because they can organize space into centres of-meaning. People possess meaning and are the centres of their own worlds, but' how can things made of stone, brick, and metal appear to possess life" wr.ap (so to speak) spacear'0und themand become places, centres of value andsignifieance (NorDcrg~Sc'ho1z.1971)~ 'The answer is not difficult with buildings and cities for these are primarily fields of care, habitats for·pe.!lple who endow. them'wifu meanin:g-'in the course of time. Buildings and cities can, however, also be considered as works of art, as piles of stone that create places. How they are able to do this is the problem for philosophers of art: that they have this power is a matter for experience. A single inanimate objeet; useless in itself, can appear to be the focus of a world. As the peet Whllace Stlr\len:8'(1965, p. 76) put it: i placed a jar in Tennessee, And round it was, upon a hill. It made the slovenly wilderness Surround that hill.
The· wildie)',ne5S IDse~ tm it, up Andsprawletl ar~ourid, no longer wild. 'I'M jar was roundhl.lpqft the.ground And tall a,nQ.of,a port i.n' air. If tOO.K dominiop everywhere. The jar. 'w,!s:gt'ayattd. bare. It. Ill!! n!1!tgive ~f bird O~ bush, Uk.e tlotl1'ingelse in 'Tennessee.

Only the human person can command a world. The art object can seem to do so because its form, as Susanne Langer (1953, p. 40) would say, is symbolic of human feeling. Perhaps this can·be put more strongly; personhood is incarnate in a piece of sculpture; and by virtue of this fact it seems to be the centre of its own world. Though a statue is..a,n'Qbject in our perceptual space, we see it as fh.e centre' of a.spaee .aU its. own. If scnJ,pture per.sona:l feeling

is

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made visible; then a building is an entire (u.netiofial.· realm made' visible, tangibl~~and ·senSible: :i't is the .embDairnel'li .of the' life of a [culture. l3tus monuments and 'buildings can 'be said 'to have'vita:lity and -spirit •.The spirit: of place is. appUcable to ·theni, but in a sense different from holy places in which spirits are believed to.dwell literally. Somesymools, trlUlscend the bounds of a particular eulture: for example, such largearchiteotural forms as the square and the circle, used to delbnit ideal. (cosmic)cJties, .anl:1.such smaller architectural elements as the spite, the arch" and the dome, used in buildings with cosmic pretemions.(MoholY·Nagy, 1968). Certain structures persist as places through aeons Of tiine~ they appear to defy the patronage of particular'C111tures. Perhaps anyQv~rpowe~ing feature in the landscape ereates- its own world, which may expand or cont.t:actwi~ the pasSing m!1iods oftn.e people, but which never completely loses Its identity. Ay,er's R.idck.in the heart of Australia, for example, dominated the mythical and 'perceptual field of the aborigines who lived there, but it remains a place for modern Australians who are drawn to Visit the m~n.olith »y its awe-inspiring image. Stonehenge is an architectural example No .doubt it is less a place for British tourists than for its ori~inal ,builders: ti1tlehaseaused its dread, no less than its stones, to erode, but .rtronetheless·StQnehen~e is still very much a place (Dubos, 1972, pp. 111-34; Newcomb, 1967). What happens is that a large monument like Stonehenge tarries bothgef):cyal and specific import: the speejfic import changes in time whereas the general import remains. The Gateway Arch of St Louis, for example, has the general import of 'heavenly dome' and 'gate' that transcends American history (Smith" 1950), but it also has the specific import of a unique period in American .hisl_Oty, namely, the opening of the West to settlement. Enduring placesc-of which there are~very few in the world, speak to humanity. Most pubHc .symbols. c.an:not survive the decay of their particular cultural matrix: with th~ d;e;partute of 'Britain from Egypt,. the statues of Queen Victoria no longer command worlds but merely ·stand in the way of traffic. In the course of time, most public symbols lose their status as places: and merely clutter up space.

IlI.6. Fields of Care

Public symbols can be seen .and known from the outside: indeed, with monuments· thete' j$ -nQc inside. view .. FIelds I>f,eare, 'byc:ontI'a~, carry few signs that declare the:b nature: they I}an be .known ,in essence oniY'fllom within, Human beings establish fields ,of'ca:re;networ,ks of irtterpetson-al concern, in a physical

setting (Wagner, 1972). From the viewpoint that they are places, two questions arise. One is, to what degree is the field oreare emotionally tied to the :ph"sieaI setting? The other is, are the people aware of the identity and limit of their world? The field of care is indubitably a;L$t) a place if the people are emotionally bound to thejfJDaterial. environment, and if, further, they are conscious of lts identity and spatial limit. Human rel~t:i6nships require material objects for sustenance and deep~ning. Personality itself depends on a minimum of mate rial possessJoDS,iJi.e1uding the possessian of intimate space. Even the most humble objeeteanserve to objectify feelings: like words - only more permanent - they are exchanged as tokens of' affeetive bond. The sharing of intimate space is another such expression. But .these myriad ,objee,ts and intimate spaces, do not n~c~arily add up to place. The nature of the r.elationshii? between 'in~.q:~ersonal.ties on the one hand and the space ave!' which they extend on the' ether is far from simple. Youth gangs have strong interpersonal ties, and they have a strong sense of the liml.ts of space: gang members know well where their 'turf ends and that of another begins .. Yet .~y have no tealaffecti0fi for the space they are willing to defend. When 'better,opportunity calls 'from the outside 'world, the loc:al tusf - known to the gang' members themselVes, for .itsshodcliness is abandoned without regret (Eisenstadt, 1949; Suttles, 1968). Strong interpersonal ties require objects: English gypsies,. fo·t·example', are aVid..eoUectors of china and old family photographs (Lynch, 1972;p ..4Ql. But the resilience of the gypSies shows that the net of human concern does not require emotional anchoring in a particular locality for its strength. Home is whereever we happen to be, as all. car.efree young lovers know. Place is position in society as w.en as 'locatloJ\ in space~ gypSies and young lovers are placeless in both senses of the word ·~d. thy)' ·do· not much care. The emotion felt among human beings finds expression .. nd. anchorage in a things and places. It can be 'S<Iid cr~ate things and places tal the extent that, to in its glow; they acquire extea meaning. The dissolution of tnehu.man Donlll can cause tli.e loss of meanin,g l1:l. the material environment. St Augustine left .his birthplace, Thagaste, [.or Cartbag~whe:n. his dosest fri~d died.in 'Young rnatihgo4. "MY.l1eatt was .nnw da~l'e:ned by 19rief, and everywhere. I looked I saw death. My native naunts"b:eeame a scene-.of torture te 'me, and my own home a misery, Without him ~very.thing we had done togethe.r turned into excruciating, ordeal. M.y ey's. kiept lookiilig 'for' him without firrding him. I hated all the places.where we used to meet, be~u'se they could no longer say to me, 'Look, here. he eomes' .• as they once did" 'Cn"ji!ssi(Jns~.Book 4: pp. 4-9). On the other hand, it is wclI .k=nownthat. the ,dissQlution of a human

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bond can cause a heightening, of sentimental attachment to material objects and places 'because they then seem the only means through which the dead can still speak. Sense of place turns morbid when it depends whot1y on the memory of past human relationships. What are the means by which affective bond lIeaches beyon\! human beings (0 'place? One is repea,ted eX,perience: the feel (lit' place, gets under our skin in die eourse. o(,d:ay-to"'liay moniad '(Rasmussen, 1962). The feel of the pavement" (he smell of the everting air, and the color o[autumn foliage besorne.,thEough: long acquaintance, extensions of ourselves - not just a stage bur sU:llPorting~ctors in the human drama. Repetition in~.fthe essence: home is "a place where every day is multiplied by days before it" [Stark, 194'8, p. 55). The functional pattern of our lives is capable of establishing a sense of place. IIi carrying out the daily routines we go regularly from one point to another, following established paths, so that in time a web 'of nodes and their links is imprinted in our perceptual systems and affects our bottily expee;tatiQns.. A 'habit field', not necessarily one that we can picture, is thus established: in it we rnose comfortably with the minimal challenge of choice. But the 'strongest bond to place is of a religious nature. The tie is one o(kinship, reaclting back in time from, proximate ancestors to distant semi-divine heroes, tOot~! gods of the famil~"hearth and of the city shrines. A mysterious continuity exists between the soil and the gods: to break it would be an act of impiety. This religious tie to place has almost completely disappeared from the modem world. Traces of it are left in the rhetoric e:fnationalism in 'wmch the state itself, rather than particular places. is addressed as 'father land' ()f 'mother land' (Gellner. 1973; Doob, 1964). Religion is maintained by rites and celebrations; these, in tum, strengthen the emotional links between people and sacred places. Celebrations as such, demareate timtl. that is. st~ges in the' human life cycle, seasons in the yeat~ and majQr events fu, the H(e0f,a nation; but notwithstanding this temporal priority celebrations, wherever they occur, lend character to place. The progressive decline in the sense of place, then, is the, result of vartous factors •.amongthern being,: the demise of the gpd~; the loosening ot: local networks, of human ooncelJl. with their.intense efltf>ltiona1involvements that colild .have lextended to place; the loss of intimate contact 'with the 'physical setting in an age when people seldom walk ,and almost never 'loiter; and the decline of meanio,gful-celebratious, that is, those, that are tinged with religious sentiment and tied to localities (James,

type of the field of care (Keller, 1968). Planners may believe an area to be a neighbourhood, and label it as such on the ground that it is the same kind of physical environment and people come from a similar socio-economic class, only to discover that the local residents do not recognise the area as a neighbourhood: the parts wi.fh which -they i9:,entify may be 'much smaller, for instance, a single street or an intersection- (Gans., 196>2, p.. 11). Moreover, although the residents of an area .inay have a strong sense 'of place, this sense is not necessarily self-conscious: Aw.ar~ness is not self-awarenes.s. Total immersion in an environment means: to open one's pores, as it 'Were, to all its qualities, but it also means ~g,nQ'ranCeef the tact that one's place as a whole has a personality distinct that of all otherplaces. ~ DardeI put~, it (1952,p.47): .

from

La realite geographique exige une adhesion si totale du $ujet, it travelS, sa 'vie affective, son corps, ses habitudes, qll,'U,lui arrive de l'ou.blier. comme il peut oublier sa pl'Ople vie organique. EUe vit pourtant •.cach6e et Plete it'se rewi:llefc.L'elojgncment, nexU,.l:invasion tirent I'environm~iitde l~fluDlie,e.:t Ie font apparalt:rc sou~ Ie mode de l~ priY!l!ion" de la souffrance ou de Ia tendresse. La n,ostalgie fait apparililre 'Ie p,ays cemme absence, 'SUI le fond d'un depay~ment. d'une discordance profonde. Conhit entre le geograpluque comme interiQ.rite. eomme passe, et Ie geographique tout exterieur du main tenant.

The sense of plade is perhaps never mere 'acute than when one is homesick, and one can onlY be homesick when one is no longer at home (Starobinski, 1966). However. the loss of place need not be literal. The threat of loss is sufficient. Resi4en~ UO't only sense but know -.that 'their world has an. identity and a boundary when they fa:l threa'terIed" as w~n people of ,anothe:r race wants to mQY:ein. (It when the area is, the tar~t ,of .highway ecnstruetiee or urban renewal (Suttles. 1'972~.ldcntlty' is de:cflne4 in lCQ:mpetion and in conflict with oilier'S":this, 'seems true of beth individuals and CQmIl1'unides (Figure 6). We owe oursense of being' not ,only to ;SU-P;l¥ortive force'S but also to those that pose a threat, Being has a centre and an edge: 'supportive forces nurture the centre while. tfueat'e.ning (or.ees~ stl'eo$hen the edge. In theological language, hell briStles with places that have sharply drawn - indeed fortified - boundaries but ne centre worthy of defence; heaven is full of glowing centres with the va,guest 'boundaries; earth is an uneasy compromise of the two realms. I1L7. What is a Place? The infant's place is in the crib, and the place of the crawling child is under the grand piano. Place can be as small as the corner of a room or large as the

1~61):
Unlike public symbols, fields of care lack visual identity. Outsiders find it diffiewt to recognise and delimit, for example, neighbourhoods which are a

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earth itself: that earth is our place in the universe is a simple fact of observation to homesick astronauts. Location can become place overnight, so to speak, through the ingenuity of architects and engineers. A striking monumeat creates, place; a carnival transforms temporarily an abandoned stockyard: or eemfield into place; Disneylands are permanent carnivals, places created ~~t of wholecloth. On the other hand" places are locations in which people h&ve'long memories, reaching bac'k b~yond the indelible impressions of their own individual childhoods to the common lores of bygone generations. One may argue that engineers create localities but time is needed to create place (Lowenthal, 1966; Lynch, 1972). It is obvious that most definitions of place are quite ar;bifI"azy. Geographers tend to think of place as having the size of' a settlemenu toe' plaza within it may be ,",o:unteda place, but uSllal1~net the individual houses, and certainly not that Q1d·I'O¢.i(.ing, by chair the fueplace. AEchitects think on a smaller; scale. To many of'them places are homes" shopping; ~ntres,and publiC''square-sthat can be t-aktn (t0111 the drawing' hoards and planted 1(1)0 earth: time" fat' from 'creating' place, is a threat to the pristine design of their handiworks .. To poets, moraiists. and his,totians, places are not only the highly visLblepublic ~nibols but also the fields, of care in which time is of the essence, since timeis.needed to accumulate experience and build up care. All places are smalIWQr14s1 the sense of a world, however, may be called forth by art (the jar placed on the hill) as much as by the intangible net of human relations. Places may be public symbols or fields of care, but the power of the symbQls to create place depends ultimately on the human emotions ili!at 'viticirate in a field of care. Disneyland, to take one example, draws .on the' eaprtal of sentiments that has accumulated in inconspicuous small worlds' eolsewher-e' and in other times.

IV. CONCLUDING

REMARKS

Fig. 6. The 'we-they' syndrome in the definition of space. Among peopleeftheJower middle socio-economic class: A: the 'we-they' distinctions tend to be ol~ly recognized at the local and national (superpatriotic) levels. The suspicion of,~traflgcrland foreigners extend-s, to th¥iI lands. AmODg the cosmopolitan and highly educated types:B: the home base ,is broadened beyO'nd the local neighbourhood to a region, and nationalism (national boundary)is "t~anscended by famillat'iW with th'e international life style.
1

Space and place' Lie at the core 0f Ol;lI d.iscipline, From the positivist perspective, geography is,tneanalysis of spatial .organisation. From the humanist perspective, space and place take on rather different characteristics. Showing what these are in a coherent structure is,the humanist's frrst task. It is true that "The modem. science o{ 'geography Iderives from man.'! sense of place", then the humanist geographer would ask, '"What is this sense of place on which we have not only erected a spatial geography ,o:t'cOllsii:lerabledeganee but, mere iJnpo.~tant, on which w~ still depend fbI'the d\M.isioflSand aers in our daily lives?" Unlike tne .sparial analyst, who· mast b~itr by making

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simplifying, assumptions concerning man, the humanist begins with a deep commitment to' 'the undeIstandifig of humaa nature- in all its intricacy. The relevance of' positivist and: humanisr geo,graphy to: ,~ other IIPpears to be this. To the humanist, pa~tivi$t concepts are; themselves material for further thought because they represent for him aneXitreme example of the universal human tendency toward ab$traetiQ.n,.Itis not only the social scientist but the man in thestrM:t who coostandyshuns dtrect-experienee and its implications in favour-of' the abstract typolopesof,people, space, and: place-(Schutz, 1970, p. 96). The broad aim of the humanist geographer must be: Given human nature' and. the direct, experience of space and ,place' in the qrdinary world, how can man have conceived different worlds, mOf1e lor less abstract, among which being the maps of utopia and the geographer's 'own concepts of location? As rus:tinct (110m the. concepts, the conclusions. Qf the' positivist geographer are !:It p.rimary interest 'to the humanist ·because.,like the findings of other ~ifmti:sts, they show him the limits to human f~eedom that he cannot otherwise know. DQ thew()tks of the humanist have any value for the positivist11.suggest .that 'they do for two reasons. One is:that they draw attention to, and clarify, ,certain kinds Qfhuman experience, at least some of which may be amenable: to the .pgsltivist's, own methods of reseazeh. The second reason is that humanist findings :pliomo~ self·koo,wle:dge_The promotion of selfknowledge is perhaps the ·ult:im.ate value of the humanities; and we are told on good ,authority that the unexamined lifeis not worth living.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Ad Hoc Committee on Geography, 1965: 'The Science of Geography', in National Academy of Sciences-National Research Council Publication, 1277, Washington, D.C. Arnheim, R.: 1969, Visual Thinking, University of California Press, Berkeley and Los Angeles. Bergson, H.: 19J 0, Time and Free Will, Allen and Unwin, London. Translation of Essai sur les donnees immedillt.e£ ,de la .CJ)n$cience, 4:an, Paris. A Bevan, E. R.: 1938, ~ymfJ,olj~m(JniJBeUe!. ~n and U!l'wiD,London. Boas., F.: 1911, 'Kwakiutl', ,in: F.. Boas !ed.). "HandliOQk 'of American Indian Languages', Bureau of Ameriean Ethl!o7:Q.gJI Blllfe.tin ,40:,.Smit.Q.'SOniannstitute" Wamillgton, D.C. I Booth, S.: 1970, 'The Temporal Dimensions of Existence", Philosophical Journal 7, 48-02. Brain, R_: 19'59, The Nature oj,EXMJjenCf:. Ox.totd 'J:lnivef~t)' Pf~S,. London. BUIl~"W,: 196;2, 'Tlte!i1retic.&l eography\ in Lund Studies in Geography, Series C, G G_en~l'aland;Mathematical Geography 1, Gleerup, Lund. Blittil!l~il i\.: 1969, 'Social Space in Interdisciplinary Perspective', Geographical Review 59,417-26. Callan, M..:. 1970, Ethology and Society, Towards an Antropological View, Clarendon Press, Qx;ford. Caruso, D. and Palm, R.~ 19'13. 'Social Space JDdSo~.Plaoe',P"ofe$siomfl Geogt'Ppher. 2S,22:1-2;25. Ca~irer, E.: 1953, The Philosophy of Symbolic Forms, Yale University Press. New Haven. Translation of Ph.iloso,phie del" .f)lmbf)lisGh£n .formen .• C,,-ss!le., Bedip" 1.9~3. Clay,al. J>.: 1970, 'L 'Espace e~ geographie humaine", Omadilm (JeQgraphe, 14, UOo-1'24, Dardel, E.: 1952, L'hom(Tle e/ 1iz·.tel're,;~qlUf'~de.ll!.~j'tegea~phique:., flresse~.Universita.ires de France, Paris. De.GW-Qt., ., J. M.t 18~2,'f'!IeRelit!~w iSy.tlemDfCh.itrl1:" Drill, Leiden, J Doob, L.: 19M,.Patriotism and Nationalism:' Their Psycbologlcal Foundations, Yale University Press, New Haven. Downs, it, M.: 1970" 'Geogra:phic Sp~ce l'et_c.eptio~.', in C. Board et a/' (e4s.), Progtess in Geogaphy :2. London. Dubes, ~iL: 1912,.A. GQd' Within .• 1i1mer .•New l'QrK. & Durkheirn, E._ ,and M.auss,M.: 1961,. "'imitill~ClQ.8$ifi~lion. UniveISiQ' of Chicago Press, Phoenix; edition. (l'r,anslation of tie .QiUelque5iol\mes. rimitives de da-ssificatio~:. conp tributionl [retUge des rept~senratiQns ,cane_ctt~s! ;411l1~e: ~ci'f?h2giq.~ 6.('I'90J-2), Pa;r;is, 19-Ql,). Eiselll!tailt.S,. N.: 1949, 'The Perception of 'Time and Sp_acein a.SituticJII! of CultQrc· Contac.t,\ Journal of the Royal Authropologicallnstitute of Great Britain and' Ireland

University of Minnesota

NOTES
1 First, I should thank my colleagues at the University of Minnes.ota for th~Jr tolerance - and even encouragement - of the humanistic approach to' geogr:aphy.Minnesota's benign climate makes it possible for at least twenty flowers (the present size of our faculty) to bloom .. Among geog'raphet:S, lowe a special debt to Hildegard Binder Johnson for her '~c)w1edg~ of the Europeen liter.a;t'ure, hOI .sympathy (and tea!); and to my fOJIller ,~Ueague at 1'9Tont.o. j,. A. May, whose train_ing in philosophy enables him to ~esi:st,l'at.!anall~, t~ doctrine that. positivistie sc.ience ,monopolises sense and rneaningin Ruman discOurse.. This partIcul_al"pa.pe-rhas b~~flte(l (c,Qmthe: genUe: SlUger-y I;) f Wa'ftl· . . j Barrett, Anne Buttimer, J. A •.May.. RisaP3bn, and P'. 'Potter; needless ,to' aiM; I alone am responsible for its remaining warts II#d. heteron6tii},.

:79, 6:3-6,8_
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s..

World Publishing Co., Cleveland, Payot, Paris, 1953.). J. M. Edie (ed.), New Essays in the Use of Space by Animals and

W:

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ama

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setting,;,