{"id":1027,"date":"2018-04-28T23:34:33","date_gmt":"2018-04-28T23:34:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/?p=1027"},"modified":"2023-08-31T13:36:07","modified_gmt":"2023-08-31T13:36:07","slug":"with-the-lights-on","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/2018\/04\/28\/with-the-lights-on\/","title":{"rendered":"With the Lights On"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

I\u2019m not fond of doing more of the same, albeit, strictly speaking that\u2019s actually impossible. Anyway, the point here is that I\u2019ve addressed this before in an earlier essay. In that essay I pointed out that I can\u2019t remember what it is that pushed me to this direction, what made me cross a threshold to think of it, but I guess that\u2019s hardly important anyway. What is important is that since that essay, meant as a sort of a companion piece to a presentation, elaborating certain aspects in greater detail than there\u2019s time in a presentation, I simply did more background work on the topic, landscape <\/em>and darkness<\/em>. It was by no means an easy task to find more research on the topic, but, as it tends to be the case, one text lead to another and so on. Once I found some good texts, I was able to trace others, to get a better overall picture of it all. Before getting into this, as a heads up, unlike in the previous essay on this, I won\u2019t go into details pertaining to photography in the dark, something that is, in short, very difficult in the absence of light. If you are interested in that, do consult that essay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You might be wondering why I\u2019m returning to this topic? Well, so far I\u2019ve kept it all to myself. It\u2019s been a sort of a side project that I never imagined would lead to anything, beyond it being a topic for a whimsical one-off presentation that I ended up doing just to challenge myself, not even knowing anything about it before. Anyway, for some reason, at some point in time, it appeared to me that, huh, there isn\u2019t much on landscapes <\/em>in, let\u2019s say, non-ideal conditions. While I\u2019m getting a bit off topic already, but I\u2019ll include this here, if for nothing else but amusement, David Lowenthal (88) characterizes how we tend to conceive the landscapes <\/em>most dear to us:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201c[I]n a heritage landscape it never rains[.]\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

This is from his book \u2018The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History\u2019, first published in 1996. The pagination is from the 1998 edition here, in case you want to look it up. As you might object to this, he (88) quickly counters his own statement, or rather part of it, by adding that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201c[E]xcept for desert-dwelling Navajo Indians, for whom \u2018back then everything was in harmony and it rained all the time[.]\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Now, you could replace the Navajo by any group of people known for living in the desert. That\u2019s not exactly relevant here. Instead, what\u2019s relevant here, and why I\u2019m bringing this up, is that when we think of landscapes<\/em>, they are ideal<\/em>. For most people rainy days are hardly ideal<\/em>, unless you happen to live in arid conditions. This is the point made by Lowenthal. We are in the habit of hoping for good weather, that is to say sunshine and warmth, not rain. I realize that I\u2019m getting all opinionated here but I reckon rain gets a bad rap and it\u2019s somewhat unwarranted. I\u2019m not saying that I celebrate rain unlike others, far from it, but that people make too much of a fuss of it. Just dress accordingly and you\u2019ll be fine. If it\u2019s really coming down, well, yeah, sure, what I can I say, take cover and wait for it to pass. Okay, fair enough, it\u2019s going to be far from ideal <\/em>if it results in flooding. There\u2019s that, granted. Then again, this is actually something I encountered when I was investigating news coverage on disasters while working abroad in Canada, for some reason, people are up in arms about flooding, when it\u2019s sort of obvious that the area is prone to flooding. I don\u2019t know how it elsewhere, but at least in Finland it is, or at least used to be, a thing not to build by the river, because, well, the risks involved, risks that might not actualize in one lifetime but eventually catching up on others. Anyway, in general, the only place where rain might be seen as fitting is in Regensburg, Germany.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, what was the point of that tangent? To amuse you, yes, but also to point out that when we think of landscapes<\/em>, we are in the habit of imagining them in ideal <\/em>conditions. That\u2019s why the weather is always ideal<\/em>. This can also be extended to lighting conditions. We are in the habit of depicting landscapes <\/em>in ideal <\/em>or rather idealized <\/em>lighting conditions. Who doesn\u2019t like sunshine? Aye, people in arid conditions might be the exceptions here, but in general, I reckon, most people are quite fond of sunshine, a nice, warm, bright day. To make it even more ideal<\/em>, to push it a bit, it\u2019s not the midday sun that we like. It\u2019s either before or after it, it\u2019s when the colors come out, soft and diffuse, having that warmth that\u2019s just not there in the midday sun. This is perhaps getting too artsy already, mulling over what one considers ideal <\/em>in terms of lighting conditions. So, fair enough, we can disregard the question of what\u2019s ideal <\/em>in terms of the appearance<\/em>, whether we prefer this or that, a bit softer or harsher sunshine, more pronounced or subdued colors, yet, when it comes to research, we still take daylight <\/em>as the default lighting condition. What is meant by daylight <\/em>conditions is, of course, a tricky thing as lighting conditions change each day, week, month, and they are also affected by the weather conditions. What I\u2019m on about here is that we are in the habit of ignoring difference. This applies to both landscape <\/em>and linguistic landscape<\/em> research.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In \u2018The Production of Space\u2019, Henri Lefebvre (319-320) addresses how we come to understand space<\/em>, dividing it by use <\/em>and users<\/em>, creating certain zones of inclusion <\/em>and exclusion <\/em>based on certain criteria, for example by parceling it \u201cinto spaces for work and spaces for leisure[.]\u201d Particularly importantly for this essay, he (320) adds that space <\/em>is also divided \u201cinto daytime and night-time spaces.\u201d He (320) elaborates that what is not permitted in daytime may be permitted during night-time. His (320) examples have to do with \u201cbody, sex and pleasure[.]\u201d It\u2019s worth emphasizing that he (320) is not saying that once the sun goes down the impermissible simply becomes permissible. He (320) notes that while darkness <\/em>is thus a counter-space<\/em>, making it possible to engage in all kinds of transgressions <\/em>of norms<\/em>, darkness <\/em>itself is countered by illumination<\/em>, by the presence of artificial lighting. As a result, when the lights come on, transgressions <\/em>end up being regulated and to certain extent exploited for profit, as explained by Lefebvre (320):<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201c[I]n a brightly illuminated night the day\u2019s prohibitions give way to profitable pseudo-transgressions.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

As indicated in the title already, \u2018The Production of Space\u2019 deals mainly with space<\/em>. It\u2019s not that it doesn\u2019t deal with time<\/em>, as evident from the segments covered here already, but that his later work pays more attention to it, how it is that time, or rather our perception of it, affects the production of space. His last book, a rather short one, published posthumously, \u2018Elements of Rhythmanalysis: An Introduction to the Understanding of Rhythms\u2019, addresses this in particular. He (30) emphasizes that we shouldn\u2019t think the issue at hand, the topic of this essay, night <\/em>and day<\/em>, as a mere matter of night <\/em>and day<\/em>, as polar opposites, as binaries, but rather as having to do with darkness <\/em>modifying our rhythms <\/em>of everyday life, slowing them down. He (30-31) goes on to clarify that it\u2019s not merely a matter of the day being done once the sun goes down as the world is still very much in operation, even if no one is around to witness it:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201c[E]ven at three or four o\u2019clock in the morning, there are always a few cars at the red light. Sometimes one of them, whose driver is coming back from a late night, goes straight through it. Other times, there is no-one at the lights, with their alternating flashes (red, amber, green), and the signal continues to function in the void[.]\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I don\u2019t know how it was, two, three decades ago, but at least nowadays, at least in Finland, the traffic lights don\u2019t actually do that by themselves, regulating non-existing traffic. I\u2019m not an expert on how they work and worked back in the day, but at least nowadays they stay one way, I reckon green for the direction that has the most traffic, but quickly switch if there\u2019s no traffic when a vehicle approaches the intersection from the other direction. They have sensors for that these days. Of course that doesn\u2019t change much. The lights still operate in the dark<\/em>, as if someone is around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s worth adding here that if the world simply went dark <\/em>after the sun goes down, as it does if there are no lights that are switched on, then, as argued by Nina Morris in \u2018Night walking: darkness and sensory perception in a night-time landscape installation\u2019, a 2011 article in Cultural Geographies, it might not \u201cbe appropriate to even label it a landscape, given that this term has embedded within a notion of the scene and that which is visible.\u201d However, Morris is actually referring to rural conditions, as expressed by Robert MacFarlane (30), a mountaineer and outdoor enthusiast, in \u2018The Wild Places\u2019 (pagination here from \u2018Noctambulism\u2019, as included in \u2018The Way of Natural History\u2019):<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cThe sensorium is transformed. Associations swarm out of the darkness. You become even more aware of landscape as a medley of effects, a mingling of geology, memory, movement, life. New kinds of attention are demanded of you, as walker, as human. The landforms remain, but they exist as presences: inferred, less substantial, more powerful. You inhabit a new topology.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

In short, the world appears very different once the light goes out. That said, as noted by him (31), we don\u2019t exactly end up in total darkness <\/em>when the sun goes down, unless we happen to be somewhere remote enough where that does apply. It used to be the case that when the sun went down everything was indeed different. You needed to either adapt to the darkness<\/em>, which takes a fair bit of time, or come up with a source of light<\/em>, such as a torch or a candle. These days we obviously don\u2019t have to resort to such. We have plenty of permanent light fixtures to take care of that. Just look outside from your window and you\u2019ll see, unless you happen to live somewhere remote enough for that not to apply that is.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Robert Williams examines space and landscape in his article \u2018Night Spaces: Darkness, Deterritorialization, and Social Control\u2019. He (517) argues that to understand night <\/em>better, what implications it has \u201cfor societal order and disorder, for stability and change\u201d, \u201c[w]e must spatialize time \u2026 and temporalize space[.]\u201d Following Gilles Deleuze and F\u00e9lix Guattari in \u2018A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia\u2019, he (517) proposes that we start from their concept of territorialization<\/em>. In summary, he (517) states that territory <\/em>is typically understood as a stable entity<\/em>, having distinct boundaries <\/em>and being governed <\/em>by a recognized official authority<\/em>. To be more specific, he (517) clarifies that the territory <\/em>entails sovereignty <\/em>and legitimacy <\/em>of the authority<\/em>, as well as the loyalty <\/em>or docility <\/em>of those who inhabit the jurisdiction<\/em>, the territory<\/em>. However, he (517) is not content on this definition because it is very much a static <\/em>understanding of territory<\/em>. In other words, as expressed by him (517), it presumes stability <\/em>and authority<\/em>, assuming that people behave in orderly <\/em>fashion. It\u2019s not that they don\u2019t behave orderly<\/em>, but what\u2019s missing here is time<\/em>. Therefore he (517) argues that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cWe should be alerted to the importance of time of day because in the dark of night, spaces are often approached and appropriated differently than during the light of day.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

This is a key thing in the article. We are in the habit of thinking everything in daylight <\/em>conditions. Making use of the concept of territorialization<\/em>, he (518) clarifies how darkness <\/em>works in society<\/em>:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cBecause of its transgressive meanings and societally harmful uses, darkness threatens to deterritorialize the rationalizing order of society. Darkness serves to deterritorialize society when it obscures, obstructs, or otherwise hinders the deployment of the strategies, techniques, and technologies that enforce the rationalizing order of society, thereby allowing potentially transgressive behaviors to occur under a veil of anonymity.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I couldn\u2019t have put that better myself. If you are not familiar with the concept of deterritorialization<\/em>, the point is that societies <\/em>tend to function around daylight <\/em>conditions. When the sun goes down, people go to sleep, only to wake up when the sun comes up. If we go back in time enough, people were very much limited by this. You couldn\u2019t work properly when the sun went down and you started working once the sun came up, just so that you could get the best out of the day. It tends to be fairly hazardous to do anything arduous in the dark. Okay, fair enough, you could have torches, candles and later on oil lamps, but they are not exactly comparable to contemporary electric lighting, the static fixtures you can find wherever there\u2019s infrastructure. That said, darkness <\/em>does offer certain advantages, ones that pertain to the human <\/em>dependence on vision<\/em>. Simply put, darkness <\/em>makes it harder to be detected. Sure, that also includes criminal acts, as noted by Williams (518). Then again, as also noted by him (518-519), it\u2019s not limited to criminal acts, but also includes acts that are deemed as inappropriate<\/em>, immoral <\/em>or unwanted<\/em>, such as lovers meeting and political gatherings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I pointed out, permanent fixtures of lighting are a fairly new thing. Paraphrasing Gaston Bachelard (34-35) in \u2018The Poetics of Space\u2019, Wolfgang Schivelbusch (96) argues in \u2018Disenchanted Night: The Industrialization of Light in the Nineteenth Century\u2019 that a source of light<\/em>, such as a lantern, marks two-way surveillance:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201c[Bachelard] goes on to describe the process of surveillance, counter-surveillance and mutual surveillance that is set in motion when a lantern is lit.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Moreover, he (96) adds, this time, if I understood correctly, in reference to Bachelard\u2019s book \u2018The Flame of a Candle\u2019, that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cAnyone who is in the dark and sees a light in the distance feels that he or she is being observed, because \u2018this lantern in the distance is not \u2018sufficient unto itself\u2019. It constantly strives outwards. It watches so unflaggingly that it watches over<\/em> things.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Now, it\u2019s worth noting here that we are to assume that the person feeling observed, the one seeing a lantern, also has a lantern. Schivelbusch (96) continues:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cSomeone who feels observed in this way tries to turn the tables. He extinguishes his own lantern so that he is not exposed defenceless to the gaze of the other, who he can now observe without himself being observed.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

If you\u2019ve ever been somewhere properly dark<\/em>, say, countryside, you may be quite familiar with how this works. It\u2019s quite easy to spot someone carrying a light source<\/em>, such as a flashlight, in the dark<\/em>. It\u2019s highly unlikely that the source of light <\/em>is not carried or put into place by a human. There are some creatures of the night <\/em>that do emit light<\/em>, the ones able of bioluminescence<\/em>, but that\u2019s a rare exception, one that doesn\u2019t bear much relevance here. Also, if you\u2019ve ever been to the military, or, to mention something more common, played capture the flag at night<\/em>, you should be aware of how carrying a source of light<\/em> yourself exposes your location in the dark<\/em>. So, in summary, as explained by Schivelbusch (96-97), light <\/em>has this \u201cdual function as an instrument of surveillance and a mark of identification that exposes one to the surveillance of others.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You might now be wonder if this lantern business will actually get anywhere? Well, yes, it will. Schivelbusch (97) explains that in the middle ages there were regulations that made it mandatory to carry a light source <\/em>when venturing outside at night<\/em>. Of course, this is still far from how things are these days and it was, rather obviously, easy not to adhere to such regulations. You just opted not to. However, that\u2019s not the case when instead of necessitating everyone to carry light <\/em>with them light <\/em>is made a permanent fixture in the society<\/em>. Now you simply cannot ignore the rules. Schivelbusch (97) comments on this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cPeople submitted to [the state monopoly on light] because it promised to guarantee stability and security.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

There\u2019s that and one should acknowledge that. It is true that light <\/em>makes it safer to go on about our everyday lives. For example, it\u2019s less likely that you get hit by a car if there\u2019s plenty of light<\/em>. It\u2019s also easier to stay on the road if you can see where you are going. This is, more or less, why vehicles have lights <\/em>on them. However, that\u2019s not the end of the story. Schivelbusch (97) is quick to add that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cBut although public lighting was welcomed as holding out the promise of security, it was also a police institution and, as such, attracted all the hostility traditionally directed at the police.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

What he (97) means by this is that, as silly as it may seem now, people actually violently resisted this development, literally going after the light <\/em>fixtures on streets. As noted by him (97), it was simply more cost effective to put up lanterns than to have plenty of police on the street at night<\/em>. Apparently, as indicated by him (97), at least in Paris street lighting was part of the police budget. He (98) characterizes how people took objection to their newly lit surroundings, smashing lanterns with sticks and when the lanterns were put up higher, people went after the ropes that held the lantern up high. I honestly never really thought about the height of lighting fixtures before, but it does make sense to put them fairly high, not necessarily because people go after them, but in case they do. Later on, he (120) does, however, add that one of the reasons for the high placement of electric light <\/em>has to do with keeping them outside the normal field of view<\/em>, that is to say to avoid being dazzled, as well as to get most out of the lights, to make the area lit by one light source <\/em>as large as possible. Actual flood lights, such as the ones used on football stadiums are good examples of this logic. Schivelbusch (116-136) actually provides some fascinating reading on the flood light concept, how for a brief period of time, the plan was not only to light <\/em>streets as we do these days, but whole districts and cities from a central point or points. It\u2019s really interesting reading, but perhaps this is enough of it here. Anyway, apparently, at first, part of going after lanterns was motivated by the pleasure <\/em>it gave to people, but later on it evolved in the a whole movement of lantern smashing, going after not only one or two of them, here or there, but all of them, everywhere, as explained by Schivelbusch (98-105). More importantly, Schivelbusch (106) states that, at least in the French context, \u201c[l]antern smashing was above all a practical strategy in street fighting against the forces of the state.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It would be exaggeration to state that even then street lighting had much importance, beyond its symbolic importance, of course. Schivelbusch (114-115) states that prior to the 1800s outdoor lighting was not particularly common nor did it illuminate <\/em>much beyond the light <\/em>source itself. He (115) adds that as technology improved, importantly moving from oil lamps to gas lamps and finally to electric lamps, and more light sources <\/em>were put in place in distance from one another, the scene changed radically, merging separate pools of light <\/em>into a sea of light<\/em>. You only have to wander outside when the sun goes down to see how intense street lighting is and how they do not only create pockets of light<\/em>, here and there, but seamlessly merge into one another, into a sea of light<\/em>, as Schivelbusch puts it. On top of that, the lights are bright alright, lighting up not only the street directly underneath them, but also the vicinity. If you happen to live right next to a street, the odds are that you don\u2019t even need to put the lights on at night too see what\u2019s what indoors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Right, back to Williams (519) who goes on to provide examples of contemporary disorderly <\/em>conduct that occurs in the night-time<\/em>. As acknowledged earlier on already, these may well be criminal acts, even acts of violence, but it should also be noted that many things once illegal are these days not illegal. Among his examples are sale and consumption of alcohol, think of prohibition in the 1920s and 1930s, as well as sexual and racial relations. For example, Valdemar Melanko\u2019s book \u2018Puistohomot: raportti Helsingin 1960-luvun homokulttuurista\u2019 (translating into English, along the lines of, \u2018Park Gays: A Report on Gay Culture in 1960s Helsinki\u2019) elaborates how homosexuality<\/em>, once explicitly illegal, was something that was, at the time, expressed at night-time<\/em>, for rather obvious reasons. It\u2019s also very telling that Melanko actually studied this back in the day, decades, no, wait, nearly half a century before it got published. I guess it would have done more harm than good to publish it at the time, so that\u2019s probably why it took so long to have it published.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If you are familiar with territorialization<\/em>, as defined by Deleuze and Guattari in \u2018A Thousand Plateaus\u2019, then you\u2019ll be aware that deterritorialization <\/em>is coupled with reterritorialization<\/em>. In summary, what has been explained so far, darkness <\/em>offers the possibility to deterritorialize social order<\/em>, as elaborated by Williams, as well landscape<\/em>, as elaborated by Morris. However, as argued by Williams (521-522), this is not exactly in the interest of everyone and therefore this deterritorialization <\/em>must be countered, not in opposition of it, but rather steering it in order to reterritorialize <\/em>it, \u201cwith the intent to reinforce some semblance of conventional order and regularity in the darkness\u201d and \u201cto create an expectation of safety and security by re\/asserting social order on the landscape at night.\u201d This is, in a way, a sort of a if you can\u2019t beat them, join them moment, albeit while simultaneously appropriating it. Williams (521-522) explains how this is done via three modalities of reterritorialization<\/em>. He (522) elaborates the first one:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cThe modality of channeling directs activities and desires into the socially \u2018appropriate\u2019 places. [It] typically involves the technologies of illumination and advertising as well as those discourses stipulating the appropriate places to be at night.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

To exemplify this, he (522) points to what has already been covered quite a bit already, the illumination <\/em>of roads between places of particular importance, \u201clike home, work, and sports of consumption[.]\u201d Also, as already mentioned a number of times, he (522) adds that not only they facilitate travel between these places, they also act to facilitate surveillance<\/em>, deemed as necessary in order to protect people and property. So, as he (522) makes note of it, it\u2019s should be of no surprise to us which properties are lit and which aren\u2019t, not to mention why <\/em>that is. In summary, as suggested by the label chosen for this modality<\/em>, channeling <\/em>functions to channel<\/em>, make <\/em>people do <\/em>this and\/or that, as well as to prohibit <\/em>them from doing this and\/or that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Williams (521-522) argues that channeling <\/em>is particularly important for businesses as they seek to attract customers. To put it in terms used by Deleuze and Guattari, Williams (522) characterizes channeling <\/em>as \u201cinclud[ing] the intentional focusing of the consuming gaze so as to continually make and remake us into \u2018desiring machines\u2019[.]\u201d I\u2019m not exactly sure why Williams uses the terminology from the \u2018Anti-Oedipus\u2019 here, instead of speaking of assemblages<\/em>, how we come to engage with machinic assemblages of desire<\/em> and collective assemblages of enunciation<\/em>. Then again, it\u2019s of little consequence here. What\u2019s important is, as explained by Williams (522), that it is in the interest of advertisers to channel <\/em>our desires<\/em>, which, if you\u2019ve read Deleuze and Guattari, are not something subjective <\/em>and voluntary <\/em>but rather bubbling under. This is of particular interest to me, as it\u2019s something that is not only hard to miss, but also particularly relevant in studying the linguistic <\/em>and\/or semiotic components <\/em>in landscapes<\/em>. Williams (522) characterizes how businesses make use of the lack of ambient light<\/em>, arguing that it matters not if it\u2019s garish as there\u2019s rationale to it:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cThe brighter the lights or the more vivid the hues, the better to attract potential customers. Gaudy neon points the way to conspicuous and inconspicuous consumption. Even after stores are closed, the illumination and advertising reminds us, should we chance to look, that their brands exist and that the consumption places are still there, ready for us on the dawning of the next business day. Businesses, especially in highly competitive times, cannot afford to let us forget them or their particular brands even for a moment[.]\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Take a walk in the dark, preferably in an urban area, and it shouldn\u2019t take too long for you to run into the first sign that demands your attention and engages with you. Sure you see the street lights and what is visible underneath them, typically road signs and traffic lights. They are quite hard to miss in an urban environment. That said, they pale in, sorry, I can\u2019t just help but to use the word, contrast to brightly lit signs. Well lit big billboards stand out particularly well, but the ones that really stand out are the ones that are illuminated <\/em>from within the sign itself, including but not limited to what we call neon signs. The contrast of an illuminated <\/em>sign and darkness <\/em>just makes them pop out, making them very hard to miss. In comparison, in daylight <\/em>conditions they have to compete with all the other signs, not only a handful of road signs, but also the ones that are hardly legible or visible in the dark<\/em>. Of course, large illuminated <\/em>signs cost money to make and maintain, but that\u2019s the price business are willing to pay, to get that competitive edge, as pointed out by Williams (522).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The second modality defined by Williams (522) is marginalization<\/em>:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201c[I]t creates and reinforces subordinate places for the so-called \u2018demi-monde\u2019. Its effects is to categorize groupings of people as somehow socially inferior, dangerous, or both \u2013 and thereby to spatially segregate them[.]\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

This is the point also made by Lefebvre (319-320), how we come to understand space<\/em>, dividing it by use <\/em>and users<\/em>, creating certain zones of inclusion<\/em> and exclusion <\/em>based on certain criteria, as noted earlier on already. Williams (523) elaborates that this is typically achieved by zoning, marking certain areas for certain uses, for example as residential or commercial areas, which then restricts what is permissible in these areas. He (523) notes that, for example, zoning areas as residential can prevent certain businesses and services from operating in the area, which, in turn, may prevent the people from using the said services. In other words, to clarify this, as a result, some people may end up living too far to use the services, only because zoning. He (523) also adds that it doesn\u2019t even have to pertain to formal codes<\/em>, such as zoning, as it can also pertain to informal codes<\/em>, what is generally deemed as permissible <\/em>in what area. His (523) example is how you can simply be in the supposedly wrong neighborhood in the wrong time of the day, as judged by, among other factors, your \u201crace, ethnicity, and\/or gender[.]\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The third modality defined by Williams (523) is exclusion<\/em>:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cIt creates superordinate places of security or consumption, even within marginalized areas. Like marginalization, the modality of exclusion is a type of spatial segregation, but here the goal is to be walled in, erecting barriers to create a protected enclave.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

So, in others, simply put, this has to do with gated communities. I\u2019m not sure this needs plenty of elaboration, but, as discussed by Williams (523-524), they tend to be marked by physical barriers, typically walls, possibly with razor wire on top, access keys, alarms systems, guards and flood lights. This is, however, not the only way to create exclusion. Walls and fences are indeed meant to keep people out while securing those inside, except when it comes to prisons and prison camps, but Williams (524) adds that exclusion can also be economic<\/em>. To be more precise, he (524) states that it\u2019s possible to create exclusivity <\/em>by outpricing people. Also, linked to the second modality, he (524) adds that people can also be socially excluded<\/em> by setting up certain criteria that only certain people can meet, for example, at the door to a night club.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After defining and elaborating the three modalities of reterritorialization<\/em>, Williams (524) states that it is important to realize that they are not mutually exclusive. Therefore they can reinforce one another. It\u2019s hardly surprising if marginalization <\/em>and exclusion <\/em>happen to go hand in hand. I\u2019d be surprised if they didn\u2019t. Williams (524) states that by no means are they limited to involving only certain actors at a time, be they governments, corporations, communities or individuals. They can also influence and reinforce one another. Williams (524) adds that the modalities <\/em>can also end up contradicting one another. For example, marginalization <\/em>can be bad for business, hence contradicting channeling<\/em>. This can also be the other way around. Channeling <\/em>business into certain areas may end up depriving products and services from people who live afar, thus marginalizing <\/em>them. Williams (525) warns not to think of the modalities <\/em>as inherently stable<\/em>, meaning that what ends up happening is not exactly predetermined and therefore certain night-time spaces<\/em> may end up being transgressive or nearly so. He (525) argues that society <\/em>and private businesses may not necessarily have the resources to reterritorialize <\/em>all night-time spaces<\/em>, thus resulting in pockets of spaces <\/em>that are not reterritorialized<\/em>. This is what Lefebvre (320) means when he speaks of \u201cprofitable pseudo-transgressions\u201d that occur in the night-time<\/em>, people coming up with all kinds of innovative and lucrative arrangements that are \u201cillegal or immoral\u201d, as characterized by Williams (525). This also opens them up for contestation, as argued by Williams (525).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In summary, as indicated already, once or twice, darkness deterritorializes <\/em>how we construct reality<\/em>. To be more specific, it deterritorializes landscape<\/em> as it relies on vision<\/em>, as explained by Morris. It also deterritorializes <\/em>the social order<\/em> in general, as elaborated by Williams. As expressed by Lefebvre, when darkness <\/em>falls, a counter-space<\/em> is created. This is, however, particularly problematic to public and private interests. There isn\u2019t much anything you can do about the sun going down, unless some ludicrous plan to illuminate <\/em>entire cities or neighborhoods with floodlights is put into action. The problem is twofold. Firstly, darkness <\/em>is particularly problematic in terms of visibility <\/em>and identification<\/em>. All kinds of mischief may take place in the darkness <\/em>and employing people to counter such is prohibitively expensive. It\u2019s much cheaper to illuminate <\/em>all the properties that are of importance, that is to say economic importance<\/em>, and set up an optical surveillance <\/em>system. To put it more bluntly, those properties rely on visual surveillance <\/em>and therefore they require light<\/em>. To make this very simple, try taking video in the dark <\/em>and then do the same after switching the lights on. It makes a world of difference. There are, of course, certain benefits to illumination<\/em>. It is indeed handy to see where you are going and where others are going, but that is, of course, also the downside of it, as pointed out already. Secondly, darkness <\/em>is bad for business. Well, that\u2019s not exactly true. Darkness <\/em>is only bad for business if you can\u2019t afford to be seen<\/em>, if you don\u2019t have the money to have your advertising illuminated<\/em>. If you do have the money to be seen<\/em>, then it\u2019s actually even better than in the day time<\/em> as darkness <\/em>limits the attention of cons\u2026 sorry passers-by only to the illuminated <\/em>areas in the landscape<\/em>. In other words, if you have the money, then you can use darkness <\/em>as a competitive edge against those who don\u2019t have the required assets to do so. In summary of this summary, it\u2019s evident that it is in the interest of public and private entities to illuminate <\/em>the world <\/em>in the dark<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I think this is enough of this topic, for now. I\u2019ll probably return to this in the future, but I won\u2019t make any promises. This will do for a complementary piece to a presentation that I\u2019m giving at a conference next week. It’s worth emphasizing that is complementary to the presentation as the content of my presentation will not be exactly the same as what’s discussed here. This fleshes out much of what I will be presenting on, but also leaves out a bit of this and that, here and there, in order to avoid repetition (if that\u2019s conceptually even possible). For example, I didn\u2019t feel like explaining how I understand landscape <\/em>here. If you are not familiar with it, then, well, feel free to read my other essays. My recommendation is, however, to look up the relevant plateau in \u2018A Thousand Plateaus\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

References<\/h4>\n\n\n\n
    \n
  • Bachelard, G. ([1958] 1964). The Poetics of Space<\/em> (M. Jolas, Trans.). New York, NY: Onion Press.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Bachelard, G. ([1961] 1988). The Flame of a Candle<\/em> (J. Caldwell, Trans.). Dallas, TX: The Dallas Institute Publications.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Deleuze, G., and F. Guattari ([1980] 1987). A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia<\/em> (B. Massumi, Trans.). Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Lefebvre, H. ([1974\/1984] 1991). The Production of Space<\/em> (D. Nicholson-Smith, Trans.). Oxford, United Kingdom: Basil Blackwell.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Lefebvre, H. ([1992] 2004). Elements of Rhythmanalysis: An Introduction to the Understanding of Rhythms<\/em> (S. Elden and G. Moore, Trans.). London, United Kingdom: Continuum.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Lowenthal, D. ([1996] 1998). The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History<\/em>. Cambridge, United Kingdom: Cambridge University Press.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Macfarlane, R. ([2007] 2008). The Wild Places<\/em>. New York, NY: Penguin.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Macfarlane, R. ([2007] 2011). Noctambulism. In T. L. Fleischner (Ed.), The Way of Natural History<\/em> (pp. 29\u201341). San Antonio, TX: Trinity University Press.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Melanko, V. (2012). Puistohomot: raportti Helsingin 1960-luvun homokulttuurista<\/em>. Helsinki, Finland: SKS Kirjat.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Morris, N. J. (2011). Night walking: darkness and sensory perception in a night-time landscape installation. cultural geographies<\/em>, 18 (3), 315\u2013342.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Schivelbusch, W. (1988). Disenchanted Night: The Industrialization of Light in the Nineteenth Century<\/em> (A. Davies, Trans.). Berkeley, CA: The University of California Press.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Williams, R. W. (2008). Night Spaces: Darkness, Deterritorialization, and Social Control. Space and Culture<\/em>, 11 (4), 514\u2013532.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

    I\u2019m not fond of doing more of the same, albeit, strictly speaking that\u2019s actually impossible. Anyway, the point here is that I\u2019ve addressed this before in an earlier essay. In that essay I pointed out that I can\u2019t remember what it is that pushed me to this direction, what made me cross a threshold to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3554,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[850,71,123,45,27,495,853,501,856,51],"class_list":["post-1027","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-essays","tag-bachelard","tag-deleuze","tag-guattari","tag-lefebvre","tag-lowenthal","tag-macfarlane","tag-melanko","tag-morris","tag-schivelbusch","tag-williams"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1027","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3554"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1027"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1027\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5315,"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1027\/revisions\/5315"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1027"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1027"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogit.utu.fi\/landd\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1027"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}