Phantom Time

In June 2005, at a conference in Toronto on "Anomalous Eras - Best Evidence: Best Theory," Heribert Illig presented a paper he called "The Invented Middle Ages." It was not the first time this theory of history had been presented to the public—it had been known in Germany since 1996—but the first time it had been presented outside of Europe. In it, he explained his path to finding an anomaly in the historical record: that 300 years of our history did not exist! This theory is called the "Phantom Time Hypothesis."

Illig was born in 1947 in Germany. He studied economics, mathematics, physics, some art history and Egyptology, and describes himself as "not a historian in the narrow sense of the word." While reading the theories of Immanuel Velikovsky (that Earth has barely survived closes passes by Venus and Mars, before they settled into their present orbits, and that these fly-bys took place within the memory of ancient man and were recorded as myths), he began to question the historical record in Egypt, which led him to co-author a book, Wann lebten die Pharaonen? (When Did the Pharaohs Live?).

Diagram of missing and "recalibrated" years.

Once he was comfortable with questioning the accepted history of the human race, he started looking at the Middle Ages. He asked himself questions. Why did certain documents with earlier dates only get discovered later? How far off might the calendar have been by the time Pope Gregory insisted it be fixed? Could the engineering of Charlemagne's time really produce a building like the Chapel of Aachen, which looks to be part of Romanesque architecture style, which only existed two centuries after Charlemagne? As for Charlemagne himself: did he really create a re-birth from 768-814, when everything on either side of him is still "dark," and could one man possibly have done all that scholars say he did? How much can we trust those periods in western Europe that we now call "Dark Ages"?

His conclusion: there is a gap of years, from 614 to 911, for which any dates and events ascribed did not in fact take place. Essentially, a 300-year span has been "presumed" by historians who have tried to make sense of the unclear and inaccurate data we have; methods of radiometric and dendrochronological dating are unreliable, et cetera. Others have picked up on this and added to it; of course, he also has his opponents.

Illig has to assume enormous errors on the part of archaeologists and historians, as well as an elaborate conspiracy taking place in the centuries after 911 to "record" history that took place in the three centuries previous. Some of his arguments result from his misunderstanding of Gregorian calendar reform and dating methods. Some are just assumptions that contemporary witnesses are untrustworthy.

Is there a chance he's right? Is it possible that we are living in the year 1715 CE? Fortunately, astronomy helps. The Persian Wars between Greece and Persia lasted from 499-449 BCE.* The Greek historians of the wars tell of two solar eclipses taking place not far apart. The only times for two solar eclipses near each other in that part of the world were 2492 years ago and 2490 years ago, on 2 October 480 BCE and 14 February 478 BCE.

So there it is. No missing time. Thanks, science!

*One of these battles, Marathon, is remembered in the present day in footraces across the world. Another battle, Thermopylae, gave us the plot for the movie "300."

The Birth of Tick-Tock

A city without bells is like a blind man without a stick. —Rabelais

Rabelais (c.1494-1553) was a little late for this blog, but his statement in Chapter XIX of Gargantua indicates a reliance on time-keeping that the modern world can understand. It was not always thus, however, for the Middle Ages.

I discussed yesterday how early concepts of time by their nature might have made it difficult to think of time as something measurable. I mentioned a mid-1200s definition of time that came from Franco of Cologne, the mathematically-minded music theorist who created what is the basis for modern musical notation. Franco's most diligent biographer places him as chapelmaster at Notre Dame in Paris.

Johannes de Sacrobosco (c.1195-c.1256) taught at the University of Paris, probably contemporaneously with Franco. Johannes was an astronomer who, among other things, declared that there was a flaw in the Julian calendar: it was 10 days off. (That error wouldn't be corrected until long after.) He also wrote of an attempt he knew to construct a wheel that would make a complete rotation in one day. Robertus Anglicus wrote a commentary in 1270 on Sacrobosco's treatise, mentioning the device and further spreading the idea. In that same decade, a clock is described by someone writing in Spain that runs by the flow of mercury from chamber to chamber in a wheel.

It only took a generation for this idea to catch on. By 1300, clocks were becoming widely known (if not widely owned), but the early ones only measured hours—they rang bells, but had no faces with markings around a dial, no minutes or seconds were counted, that we know of.

The device described by Sacrobosco and Anglicus used a weight hanging from a line around a wheel or cylinder. The Middle Ages understood wheels, gears, levers and pulleys, but how could these be used to guarantee a steady revolution of the weighted wheel? Sometime around 1300, or not long after, some early mechanical "Eureka" moment took place. Someone designed what we call the "escapement," which rocked back and forth on a toothed gear, allowing the wheel to turn at a steady, measurable, predictable speed. It also had a side-effect: a steady sound that we have been listening to ever since.

The escapement.

Within a generation after 1300, Dante Alighieri (c.1265-1321) considers his audience familiar enough with clocks and their mechanism to use gears as a metaphor:

As the wheels within a clockwork synchronize
       So that the innermost, when looked at closely
       Seems to be standing, while the outermost flies. (Canto xxiv, Paradiso)

Humans could now mark time in sequences of ticks and tocks. Minutes and seconds could be distinguished. Hours could be regulated. Six hours before noon became the same, whether it were dark in winter or already light in summer. (That's right: the 12 hours from sunrise until sunset used to be extended or shortened depending upon the season.) This was a change from the canonical hours described by the Rule of St. Benedict, for whom prayers at Matins were supposed to end as the sun rose, and therefore had to be started at different times depending on the season. In 1370, Charles V of France installed a clock in his palace, and decreed that all clocks in Paris be set according to his. Punctuality, crucial feature of our modern world, was born.

Changing Time

Since today will have one extra second added to it, I thought it would be a good time to talk about calendar corrections in history. We'll avoid the modern arguments about what actually constitutes a "year" and go back to a simpler time.

Readers of this blog are probably familiar with the pope's work to "fix" the calendar when he realized that the Julian calendar was "off" by several days. Sure, the Julian took into account that a "year" is actually 365 and a quarter days, but it wasn't exactly a quarter-day off, and so adding a day every four years wasn't sufficient to even things out. Every 131 years, the solstices and equinoxes would be off by a day. This was a real problem for the Church, because over the centuries Easter started shifting to summer, rather than spring.

Pope Paul III (1468-1549) saw the problem and gathered several astronomers to develop reforms.* Then Paul III died, five popes came and went, and in 1572 Pope Gregory XIII was elected and found himself faced with a growing problem and several possible solutions. He mulled it over for a few years, and then declared to the world:

• The Leap Day would move to after February 28 (it had been tucked in before February 25).
• The date of Easter would be calculated differently.
• A Leap Year that is divisible by 400 will not have a Leap Day.
• Ten days needed to be omitted from the calendar, to bring it back into alignment with the solstices. Accordingly, in 1582, the day after Thursday, October the 4th, was Friday the 15th.

...and then everything was fine. Except when it isn't, like when we have to add an extra second here or there. (And can you imagine trying to explain to someone 1000 years ago that the year gained about 45 seconds every 10 millenia because the Earth's rotation was slowing?)

The 1582 change gave rise to a slight oddity for historians, because technically, every date prior to October 4th, 1582 is a Julian date, but also has a corresponding Gregorian date that is several days different. How you count it depends on whether you consider the date to be just a label given by those who were there at the time, or a certain number of days prior to the present day. Or its important if you want to declare the anniversary of an event.

Anyway, enjoy your extra second; it will be added just before midnight, so feel free to stay up so you can say you remember the time when a minute was 61 seconds long!

*Copernicus had dedicated his work De revolutionibus orbium coelestium (On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres) to Pope Paul III, hoping it would save him from potential hostility for his radical thoughts. Had Paul called, Copernicus probably would have come running to join the team of calendar reformers; alas, he had died in 1542.