“Modern man has conquered distance but not time. In a life span, a man now--as in the past--can establish profound roots only in a small corner of the world."
--Yi Fu Tuan, Geographer, Topophilia
We have not just one command central (in America, home is
more an action center than castle) but a far-flung network from neighborhood to
local, regional, state, national and international territories. Based on our body and the personal space that
bubbles around it, our own personal territory consists of our web of errands,
work, socializing spots (like Starbucks, the archetypal third space), school,
church, club, post office, health club.
Culture defines these spaces as well as the weak and strong forces that
protect us while we are in them and between them. Standing in line at the bank or pharmacy on
one hand, along with military defense of national borders on the other, show an
equal respect for territory.
Even our steady gaze at a museum painting establishes
ownership of the space in between, and deters others from walking in front of
us as long as that gaze continues. Intensive territories, especially the home,
are protection and shelter, relief from stress, and a huge reserve of memory to
draw upon that helps to create our identity and maintain continuity over time (Winifred
Gallagher, The Power of Place). The
ownership, distribution, and applied understanding of the space and place
require an entire cultural rulebook that is often just implicitly obeyed, above
and beyond legal standards. “Rather than
relying on muscle,” Gallagher says, “we usually depend on law and custom to
help us hold our ground” (187). This
cultural enforcement is the reason home invasion, or just a burglary, is so
devasting—the entire citadel is transformed by the trauma in memory for all
time.
Establishing the concept of base camp for our early
hunter-gatherer ancestors created a stable, safe, protected enclave, which allowed
early people to venture out into the unknown and deal with their fears about
new environments. Our expansiveness was
possible because the safe circle of the earliest campfire could become a symbol
of security and the reassurance of a future anchored in the family and tribe.
Another factor was the basic space required to support human
life based on meat as well as fruit, nuts, and roots: ten square miles per
individual. This number equals 300
square miles of range for a band of 30 people.
By contrast, baboons can live in a range of 15 square miles for 40,
while howler monkeys need just a half square mile for 17. Both apes and monkeys stay within their
established range for a maximum of around 15 square miles of home range over
their lifetimes. Most animals remain in
their home territory; it is nearly impossible to dislodge nonhuman primates
from the place they grew up and learned through long experience. Staying put backed by group defenses is a
proven survival technique—until Man began the process of developing the desert,
forest, and grasslands.
This explains that once we ventured out of the African
homeland, we quickly colonized the planet; we found a way of creating over and
over again a campfire hearth that promoted ceremony, communication, trust, community,
self-awareness with mutual support, an inviolable shared space—to build and
maintain this “first zone” of cultural evolution.
Human territorial history is the story of our species’
exploration and domestication of the planet, from cave-dweller to world
domination. We achieved this through cooperative
group hunting of large animals, herd-following, tool and weapon-making,
language, and division of labor between the sexes based on child-rearing.
Exogamy—marriage outside the immediate group—and skill competition expanded the
ranges of growing kinship groups as they sought more space and renewed
resources. Refugee migration, much in the news, is an example of fleeing
oppression as motivator.
The mentality of belief reflects our wide historical range
and personal space. Belief is a form of
territory claiming and defense in the abstract, a form of mental ranging, in a
campaign of dominance of our ideas over others and other groups. We can hear it
in expressions like digging our heels in, scoring yards, and ceding defensive
positions. Our possessions (including land), as well as symbols like badges,
flags, and signs marking out ownership and influence, are highly charged with
the power of both defense and its naturally attendant aggression.
M. R. O’Connor, in Wayfinding (2019), correlates our
hippocampus health and grey matter volume with our cognitive mapping skills
basic to navigating the environment. We have always been acutely aware of our
territory: the limits to where we can go without the permission of others and
what we are and are not free to do there.
The invisible limits of personal space as we move through our world –
walking, in cars, climbing stairways, opening and closing doors, knocking, ringing,
or clicking to win entry to old and new places – is a critical part of who we
are and how we own or “lease” space shared with others, and negotiate an
ongoing peace or conflict with them in the course of every day. In fact, it is the learned experience of the
rules of space—the culture of human geography--that make our social lives
possible by avoiding the high costs of ongoing aggression. Behind every activity (not just sports) is a
rich overlay of conventions and contracts that have evolved to let us operate
in space and time without violating the limits or ego or sparking group
defenses.
The question of how people are able to build inclusive
organizations requiring close cooperation while also preserving personal and
kinship cohesion is one of the great paradoxes that makes humans unique.