It’s not your clock — it’s the world

It’s not your clock — it’s the world

Astronomical clock, Prague • Photo by Fabrizio Verrecchia on Unsplash

Originally published 4 April 1988

Yes­ter­day [April 3, 1988] was one of those days that make you want to throw out the clocks and cal­en­dars and go back to keep­ing time by the sun and seasons.

By some unfath­omable design, East­er and Day­light Sav­ing Time arrived togeth­er, forc­ing us to con­front at once two per­plex­ing tan­gles of time.

Take East­er. East­er falls on the first Sun­day after the first full moon on or fol­low­ing the spring equinox. Sim­ple enough, right? Well, not quite.

The offi­cial rule for deter­min­ing the date of East­er was estab­lished by Pope Gre­go­ry in 1582. The rule defines the equinox as March 21st. But in fact, the true astro­nom­i­cal begin­ning of spring — the moment the sun cross­es the equa­tor from south to north — can occur on the 19th, 20th or 21st of March, depend­ing on the year. The rea­son for the vari­abil­i­ty has most­ly to do with the occa­sion­al extra day in February.

Why leap days? In one cir­cuit of the sun, the Earth turns on its axis 365.2422 times, more or less, so there are 365.2422 astro­nom­i­cal days in a year. But as Pope Gre­go­ry’s experts said, “Annum civilem nec­es­sario con­starre ex diebus inte­gris,” which rough­ly trans­lat­ed means there ain’t no such thing as .2422 days in a calendar.

To keep the cal­en­dar from get­ting wild­ly out of sync with the sea­sons, we add a day to every fourth year, except in cen­tu­ry years not per­fect­ly divis­i­ble by 400, which brings the aver­age num­ber of days in a year to rough­ly the astro­nom­i­cal num­ber. Fig­ur­ing this out exer­cised the best sci­en­tif­ic minds of the 16th cen­tu­ry, so don’t wor­ry if it sounds confusing.

Full moons and real full moons

To make things worse, the full moon defined by the East­er rule isn’t quite the same as the real full moon. An actu­al lunar month, from full moon to full moon, is 29.5306 days. Pope Gre­go­ry’s experts decid­ed that such frac­tion­al quib­bles were beyond the typ­i­cal cler­ic, and so estab­lished a table for find­ing the day of the full moon that more or less approx­i­mates the real sit­u­a­tion. But even this “sim­ple” sys­tem for fig­ur­ing out East­er is so com­pli­cat­ed that most of us just throw up our hands and take the word of the drug store calendar.

And then there’s Day­light Sav­ing Time. How does set­ting the clock back or for­ward save day­light? It does­n’t. But the tilt in the Earth­’s axis gives us short days in win­ter and long days in sum­mer. By the time we get up on sum­mer morn­ings we’ve already wast­ed a few hours of day­light. So we set the clocks back an hour and move the day­light to the active end of the day. They say it’s good for busi­ness and saves ener­gy, but almost no one under­stands it.

The prob­lem is not with the clocks and cal­en­dars, the prob­lem is with the world. Some philoso­phers in New­ton’s day referred to the world as the Great Clock­work and to the cre­ator as the Watch­mak­er. One mod­ern the­o­rist calls the evo­lu­tion­ary laws of nature the Blind Watch­mak­er. Blind or sight­ed, the Watch­mak­er botched what might have been a neat job. If he/she/it had been more fas­tid­i­ous, our clocks and cal­en­dars would­n’t be so confusing.

If I were mak­ing the world, I’d do it differently.

First, I’d cor­rect that awk­ward tip in the Earth­’s axis. Let the plan­et go around the sun stand­ing straight up and down like an hon­est man. Days and nights would be of equal length all year round, and there would be no need for Day­light Sav­ing Time.

Sec­ond, I’d make the Earth turn a sen­si­ble num­ber of times on its axis as it cir­cles the sun. A nice round num­ber like 360. Not 365.2422, but 360, on the mon­ey. That would get rid of the need for leap days, and one year would be like any other.

Third, I’d make the moon go around the Earth in exact­ly 30 days, not 29.5306. And no wob­bles, no tipped orbits, no eccentrics, no tidal fric­tion. Just a nice, well-craft­ed solar sys­tem that runs smooth­ly, like a fine Swiss watch. Then East­er would come at the same time every year, and we could buy our East­er duds with a rea­son­ably sure idea of what to expect for the weather.

A world without wobbles

And while I’m at it, I’d start my Clock­work run­ning with a new moon on New Year’s Day, so that a month on the cal­en­dar would be an hon­est-to-God lunar month.

What! You say you like a few tilts and wob­bles in your world? You like the vari­able sea­sons — East­er bun­nies in the spring and pret­ty leaves in the fall? You actu­al­ly enjoy those fun­ny lit­tle rules: Spring for­ward, fall back? Thir­ty days hath Sep­tem­ber? You wel­come the extra day in Feb­ru­ary that puts off the day of reck­on­ing on income tax. You pre­fer a risk of sleet on your East­er bon­net to a world were noth­ing ever changes?

Did I hear you say that we’ve made our lives mechan­i­cal enough with­out smooth­ing out the last few wrin­kles in the world we inher­it­ed? Well, then, I guess it’s just as well that the Watch­mak­er was not so fastidious.

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