Attempts to reconcile space and time from a social-science perspective have recently become more common. This article goes about this task by developing a workable concept of social space-time, focusing on the connections between historicity—the relationship of the past, present, and future as it is constructed in the social sphere—and social constitutions of space such as the home or the nation-state. In the context of an exploratory study within the area of biographic constructions, this article draws upon twenty-four biographical-narrative interviews to reconstruct constitutions of time and space. It will be shown that certain relationships between past, present, and future concur with certain spatial constitutions. Space-time is therefore a concept that enriches empirical and theoretical work in the social sciences. Macrosociological analyses of modernity, of a transition to flexible accumulation, or processes of exclusion can be elucidated by differentiation between the proposed concentric-linear, networked-episodic, and insular-cyclical space-time types.

Engaging with space and time simultaneously is highly popular among social scientists at present. Consideration of these dimensions seems indispensable to social macroanalyses, all the more so as analysis of both sociospatial (Harvey 1995; Castells [1996] 2001) and temporal structures (Rosa 2005; Virilio 1998) appear to be undergoing simultaneous, fundamental change.

These examples raise the question of whether these changes in space and time are connected—that is, can one speak of social space-time? This is answered by almost all theorists with an unequivocal “yes” (see, for example, Sturm 2000; Massey 2005; Castells [1996] 2001; Adam 2004). It remains largely unclear, however, how such a connection can be conceptualised and what its significance for empirical research might be. This article addresses the question of a social space-time as one concerning the mutual interdependency of spatial and temporal determinations. Social actors make claims that determine certain concepts as valid and important—the determinations of what kinds of space and what kinds of time, I argue, are interdependent.

Problems conceptualising social space-time are already apparent at the level of defining the terms space and time. It is relatively commonplace to reject distinctions between physical and social concepts of space and time (see, for example, Adam 2004 on time and Soja [1996] 2005, on space) and instead to understand space and time as multiple in their complexity, and their possible relationships to each other, and therefore not amenable to systematic identification. Among such congeries of different temporal and spatial determinations, one can easily advance from the conclusion that social events occur at some time and in some locality to the postulate of a social space-time. In contrast to this, social space-time will be spoken of here, by analogy with physical space-time, only if it can be shown that certain spatial determinations stand in direct relation to certain other temporal determinations.

This is achieved through understanding narratives about biographies and everyday life, wherein different modes of understanding space and different modes of understanding time are not random, but patterned and linked. Such a finding is neither obvious nor insignificant; in fact, it could have far-reaching repercussions. Should, for instance, the question of how futures are planned in fact be connected to whether or not we have established a home as spatial centre of our lives? The considerations employed here can thus be understood as a contribution to social-science basic research, first defining the theoretical place of social space-time at a conceptual level, and subsequently searching for empirical evidence for such a relationship—two as yet unfulfilled challenges in current sociological theorising and research.

The following pages offer a systematisation of the concepts of space and time, before developing a heuristic framework to determine which concepts of space and time can be used to conceptualise space-time from a social science perspective. Based upon this, an exploratory research design will empirically investigate the relationship of space and time at the level of biographical constructions. How do people relate the past, present, and future of their lives, and what spaces are relevant for them from a biographical perspective? The presentation of this investigation’s findings will show that certain space typologies relate to certain temporal typologies. Reflection on these connections and the emergence of empirically available space-time typologies can be performed socioculturally and with recourse to an analysis of social modes of reproduction. A concluding overview will focus on the significance of the conception of social space-time.

It is useful to consider three different concepts of space and time exhibiting—as Habermas (1981) discusses—three varying ways of relating to the world. In the case of time, one can distinguish between a concept of chronology that relates to the external world, another of historicity that relates to the social world, and a third of the experience of duration that relates to the internal, psychological world. Spatial definitions are based upon physical or social spatial concepts, or on a notion that focuses on the experience of distance.1

On the distinction between concepts of time, firstly: chronological definitions of time relate to succession in courses of events. These can be formed when a consistently recurring event (such as the sun rising or the oscillations of a quartz crystal) can be used as a standardised, temporal interval of measurement for other events (see Elias 1982, 1016). In this way, it can be determined if one event occurs before, after, or simultaneously with another event. Such determinations of time, generated by measurement, demonstrate a relation to the external world. Although the placing of two events in relation to one another can be understood as resulting from the human capacity for synthesis, and the units of time developed as a human construction (Elias 1982, 850), the chronology concept provides an objectivised determination of time that claims as its reference point the relations existing in the world, and whose acceptance or rejection is likewise to be undertaken in relation to this external world. The statement “We have been waiting five minutes” is not falsified by the response “It felt longer to me.”

Historical determinations of time are performed with the aid of the concepts of past, present, and future. They function differently than chronological determinations, as their reference point is not the external but the social world. In focusing on the relationship of actions, the future is framed as the time in which the intended outcome of an action will be achieved (Neckel 1988, 468f.). All the components of an action until that point are ascribed to the present. Depending on the context of actions under consideration, the present can last several weeks, such as in the sentence “At present, I’m writing this article.”2 Because the temporal extent of the present changes in different contexts, there exists no general rule for translating between chronological and historical determinations of time. In addition, in some contexts the past and the future need not be constituted at all. Nomadic cultures without systems of writing, for example, conceive of the historicity of their societies as an eternal present (see Dux 1992), even though such cultures also use chronological determinations of temporal intervals with the help of concepts such as day, month, or year. The historical concept of time thus stands as a second concept alongside the chronological, enabling a determination of time with the aid of a classification of events into the past, present, and future. The past, present, and future, as well as their relationships to one another, emerge as autonomous, meaningful entities in the social world.

The experience of duration relates to the inner, psychological world. Determinations of time that have recourse to this concept address the sensation of how quickly or slowly time appears to pass. Thus, time can seem, for instance, to travel as if under a temporal magnifying glass, while the perception of time can be manipulated through the use of psychoactive substances. Here, too, translation to a different form of temporal determination by means of some fixed rule is logically precluded.3 In sensing time, one is dealing with a third form of determination that must be understood by means of its own, autonomous concept of time. Temporal determinations based on this concept, like the other two forms, abide by their own rules. The sense of time communicated by another person cannot be verified but must be believed on a basis of trust. Analytical philosophy of time has long recognised these three time-forms (here A-, B-, and C-series, following McTaggart [1908] 1993) and are largely considered uncontroversial (see Bieri 1972). Within sociology this distinction is much less familiar and is addressed at the conceptual level less often. Examples are Alfred Schütz (1932), who differentiates in passing between physical and historical time, and the internal consciousness of time, but Niklas Luhmann and Norbert Elias are also aware of the difference between chronology and historicity.4

One can thus distinguish between three kinds of temporal determination that are irreducibly distinct and which, owing to their differing relations to the world, function by means of different rules. Behind these three forms of determination are three different concepts of time that can be analytically and in most cases also empirically differentiated, since speakers will in any one occasion be concerned with only one definition of time.

The word “space” is used, almost analogously, with three different meanings. Either objective determinations of distance are pursued in relation to the external world; or socially meaningful spatial constitutions, such as nation-states, are addressed; or the focus is on direct, initially prelinguistic, perceptions of distance. Behind these various spatial determinations, one can discern the concepts of a physical and a social space,5 as well as that of an internally perceived, psychological space.

Physical space is understood as the product of an external universe. Serving to determine distances within this space are the most varied units of measurement, whose rather complex characteristics are described within the framework of physics. By relating to the external world, the acceptance or rejection of statements determined in this way must likewise refer to the external world. Analogously to chronological time, the sentence “The size of the apartment is ninety-five square metres” cannot be falsified by the reply “But it seems smaller to me.”

Social constitutions of space function in a fundamentally different way. Their emergence can be understood with reference to Martina Löw’s “sociology of space” (2001) as the placing-in-relation of various elements (synthesis) and as an arrangement of such elements (spacing). Particular spaces are constituted on the basis of the relational arrangement of social goods and living beings. The constitution of a multiplicity of social spaces, such as living rooms, homes, or nation-states, is institutionalised in the social world, coupled with meaning, and is to a large degree historically mutable. Here, too, a reduction of sociospatial to physically spatial determinations is not possible. A place is not, for example, of necessity a part of my home country/state/province/county simply because it is located ten kilometres away from the city in which I was born.

Finally, the direct perception of distance is explored above all within the field of perceptual psychology. Within this area fall spatial determinations such as the feeling of surprisingly great height when one climbs up to the three-metre diving board in a swimming pool for the first time. Humans have a fundamental tendency to overestimate vertical distances by comparison with horizontal ones (see Künnapas 1955). The conscious mind generates direct impressions of distances, and of the position of one’s own body, that cannot be reduced to the metrically determined distances.

In daily life we often translate chronological concepts of time into psychological ones, for example, or use objectivised determinations of distance in social spaces. We can feel ourselves under pressure for time due to a deadline approaching in three hours, or we move house because a new place of work is situated three hundred kilometres away. That temporal and spatial determinations are mutually irreducible to various relations to the world does not mean, therefore, that they can exert no effect on one another. One should note, however, that such translations are not inevitable: a deadline needn’t necessarily place one under time pressure, and an enthusiastic driver might not relocate, so long as they have access to a fast car and the appropriate infrastructure has been built. Such translations are thus highly contextual rather than universal or overdetermined. The ways each kind of transferal is empirically performed—from a chronologically to a historically temporal determination, for example, or from a physical determination of distance to a sociospatial constitution—would be worth a research project in its own right, and would need to take seriously the differentiation between the ways they relate to the world, and thus the different concepts of space and time involved. It is thoroughly conceivable, for instance, that being perpetually employed under temporary work contracts (a chronological structuring) leads to a biographical historicity that fails to create a connected narrative passing from the past, through the present, into the future, but rather is constructed as episodic and fragmented. Chronological structuring is only one among many causes for this kind of historical constitution (the notion of a release from socially defined obligations, for example, can prompt a project-oriented, episodic lifestyle). It remains to be established whether chronology and physical spaces at all influence historical and sociospatial constitutions, or more generally whether the various forms of spatial and temporal determination are not completely independent of one another. At the same time, no form can be reduced to any other or is monocausally determined.

The idea of space and time being connected in the social world is not something plucked out of thin air—there is an anthropological argument. According to Helmuth Plessner, people stand, owing to their eccentric intentionality, “out of place and time in nothingness, constitutively homeless” ([1928] 2019, 310) but are culturally reembedded through the constitution of social space and historical time. One can follow this up on the basis of considerations in the sociology of knowledge by Peter L. Berger and Thomas Luckmann ([1966] 2001): if we are concerned with time and space as social institutions that are simultaneously generated because they are fundamental to our reembedding in the world, then it is to be expected that the legitimation of our constitutions of space and time is a collective process and they must therefore be compatible with one another. The result would then be an empirically present relationship between types of spatial and temporal constitutions relating to the same subject area (such as biographies) that one may not be able to conceive of as strictly deterministic, but that all but preclude contradictory legitimisations (see Weidenhaus 2015, 190ff., for a more detailed discussion).

To understand the theoretical position of a social space-time, we will first consider which spatial and temporal determinations could be considered in tandem—that is, what concepts of time and what concepts of space might combined yield a social space-time.

The three temporal and three spatial forms of determination provide nine possible combinations of space and time concepts (Table 1).

Table 1.
The theoretical position of a social space-time. Is a direct interdependence between space and time possible?
Table 1.
The theoretical position of a social space-time. Is a direct interdependence between space and time possible?
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All these combinations can be meaningfully addressed within the context of social-science and psychological research—that is, given this heuristic, space and time can be considered together in nine different ways. The selection criteria in the context of this investigation, however, is whether a mutual dependence of spatial and temporal determinations can be expected, since only then will one be able to speak of a social space-time. To this particular epistemic end, an initial selection on the basis of theoretical considerations can be made, as not all combinations of spatial and temporal concepts logically admit dependency between spatial and temporal determinations. If, in speaking, a reference to the world switches between space and time (in all the grey areas presented), then a direct mutual dependence of spatial and temporal determinations seems less plausible, since for this the external, social, and internal psychological worlds would have to be in some way reducible. As demonstrated above, I consider this assumption to be untenable.

There remain three combinations of spatial and temporal concepts sharing the same relations to the world. The search for the connection between space and time with the aid of concepts relating to the external world boils down to whether the length of one metre relates to the duration of one second. According to Einstein’s theory of relativity, this is the case. Theorising in this area must be judged by the expertise of physicists, however. The concepts that relate to the internal, psychological world, on the other hand, lead to questions such as whether one’s sense of time decelerates when one perceives vertical distances to be especially large (as when suffering from dizziness or vertigo). Whatever the answer may be, it is most honestly to be expected from the perspective of a cognitive psychologist or a phenomenological philosopher. Social scientists seem predestined, by contrast, to research the relationship between space and time with the concepts of social space and historicity.

All possible common treatments of space and time are nonetheless often identified in the discourse as social space-time (e.g., Sturm 2000; Franck 2002; Massey 2005). Doreen Massey and Gabrielle Sturm focus on social constitutions of space and find that the constitution, institutionalisation, and possibly the deinstitutionalisation of such social spaces can be chronologically described. They thus combine a concept from social space with a concept of chronological time. As correct and important as this processual form of thought relating to social constitutions of space is, it hardly implies an interdependence between space and time. The chronological structure of time is not influenced by the spatial constitutions dealt with. Put another way, the one hundred years of the nineteenth century would have occurred and been marked by the Gregorian calendar, regardless of whether or not the nation-state had prevailed as a dominant form of sociospatial constitution. Although both Massey and Sturm refer to Einstein, their conception of space-time does not imply any mutual dependence between spatial and temporal determinations and thus misses the heart of what is meant by the concept, introduced by Minkowsky (1909) with the theory of relativity in mind, of “space-time.”

A question relating to the formation of nation-states, understood as a social space of a new kind, that could in fact imply interdependency between space and time, would need to be put thus: would the concept of a linear historicity with an open future (Rammstedt 1975) have prevailed as the dominant form of sociohistorical temporal constitution if no nation-states had formed?6 Here the spatial and temporal concepts would have had the same relation to the world (the social world). Such a perspective occurs very seldom in social-science discourse. The only source known to me that explicitly addresses this kind of dependency relation is to be found in John Urry’s book Sociology beyond Society. Here it is postulated that specific constitutions of space are directly connected to specific notions of historicity (Urry 2000, 140). Urry’s example is a representation of home in Bruegel’s painting The Harvesters. To this space belongs a notion of “glacial time” that is indeed linear, but that flows only slowly onwards and is largely determined by the past (for which reason the connection of traditions with one’s home is so important). Abrupt historical fractures or overly rapid changes do not occur in this form of historicity and would pose a threat to one’s home. Should the constitutional form of historicity break down, then the social constitution of space would also collapse. Conversely, a renunciation of the spatial constitution of “home” would change the constitution of historicity. If such phenomena, initially postulated by Urry, could be empirically demonstrable, then one could speak of a social space-time.

The concept of social space-time is also used in sociological discourse when social phenomena are investigated in physical space and using a chronological concept of time: following Thorsten Hägerstrand (1975), Georg Franck (2002) presents a highly plausible argument suggesting that through the use of chronological time and physical space for value creation in regimes of accumulation, a mutual dependence arises between spatial and temporal scarcity. This phenomena, too, is designated “social space-time.” The discovery of “scarcity” on the basis of the “use of time and space” nevertheless leaves the structure of space and time unscathed. The structure of space as a division of the earth’s surface and of time as a chronological measure of duration must necessarily be conceptualised in the context of such investigations as socially invariant in order to provide a stable grid for describing the increasing scarcity (what does a square metre cost at what point in time?). Time-use studies are thus not in the first instance studies of time (as time itself and its structuring remain independent variables) just as studies on the use of space, such as mobility studies, are not in the first instance studies of space (as here, too, space remains an independent variable). Georg Franck himself correctly noticed that “space and time are as such neither scarce nor are they sources of value creation” (2002, 61). Here, a concept of physical space is combined with a concept of chronological time. These concepts in fact have the same relation to the world, and the spatial and temporal determinations could therefore indeed stand in a mutual relation of dependency to one another. This relationship must nevertheless be described with relation to the external world and thus in physical terms: according to Einstein’s theory of relativity, in contrast to Newtonian mechanics, a chronological-temporal interval must be specified for any physically spatial distance in order to generate an unequivocal determination of distance between two events.7 For this reason, a direct dependency relation exists between spatial and temporal determination. In the context of Newtonian mechanics, by contrast, spatial and temporal determination are only additively combined and do not mutually influence one another.

In summary, it can be maintained that the social sciences, depending on the questions posed, can and should conduct their research using different concepts of space and time. When the social sciences use chronological concepts of time and physical concepts of space, they are researching within space and time. By contrast, when one reconstructs historicity and social constitutions of space, space and time are themselves being investigated. If the criteria for speaking of a “social space-time” is, by analogy to physical space-time, a mutual interdependency between spatial and temporal determination, then a connection between historicity and social constitutions of space should be sought.8 At the same time, this is not to say that such a connection can be found empirically.

The considerations presented on the heuristics of social space-time now allow for a development of the research design with which a relationship between historical and social-spatial constitutions can be empirically sought.9 What is problematic here is that almost all relationships of action and meaning are accompanied by their own such constitutions—this is true for tomorrow’s cycle ride as much as for ideas of a future world order. There is, empirically, an unwieldy abundance of specific relationships between past, present, and future, and a virtually endless number of spatial constitutions to be encountered (see Löw 2001). A context for the empirical search—that is, the scope of the research—must therefore be selected. Two criteria are expedient to such a selection: firstly, one should expect that within this scope, both historical and spatial constitutions are relevant; secondly, different constitutions should be expected in the case comparison, otherwise the possible relationship of space and time will not be discernible. The context of biography fulfils both these criteria. One can expect, in the course of the biographical processes, that both the historicity of an individual’s life will have been constituted, and certain spatial constitutions will also be relevant. At the same time, at least in individualised societies, one can anticipate that people will structure the historicity of their lives differently, and that a variety of spatial constitutions will be relevant to their lives. In addition, biographical narratives are, from a sociological perspective, remarkably placed to make visible the general in the particular, since “the reconstruction of individual cases within its social context enables the interaction between the particular and the general, between the individual and society, to be traced” (Rosenthal 2009, 50). One could therefore postulate a social space-time for the context of biography if it were possible to show that certain kinds of constitutions of biographical historicity always present together with certain types of constitution of life-space.10

As part of the research design, and on the basis of twenty-four biographical-narrative interviews (Schütze 1983), various types of biographical historicity and life-space constitution were established,11 and the possibility of tracing specific correlations between these types was interrogated. To this end, initially two different samples of twelve cases were formed, in order to independently develop typologies of biographical historicity and of life-space constitution. In a second step, the samples were brought together and the spatial types established for the temporal sample cases, as well as the temporal types for the spatial sample cases. This procedure was designed to prevent knowledge of the biographical historicity constitutions from influencing the strategy by which the spatial types were formed, and vice versa.

The interview material was assessed in accordance with a hermeneutic sociology of knowledge (Soeffner and Ronald 1994), in order to present in detail the structuring of biographical historicity and the patterns of relevant life-spaces. In order to make visible the general in the particular, the approach has been made to work illustratively. This means that case studies are required that are in the position to clarify what is typical and what can be generalised. The action types formed are thus inevitably idealisations (Soeffner and Ronald 1994, 39). The focus is thus to develop ideal-typical constitutional forms out of the biographical historicities and life-spaces.

Owing to the exploratory character of the study, a sampling strategy is employed that allows for a rotation between evaluation and observation phases (theoretical sampling; see Strauss and Corbin [1990] 1996). This is vital, as it was unclear at the start of the investigation what categories would be appropriate for the observation of structures of life historicity and life-spaces. Theoretical sampling allows the surveying of new cases after a first and second phase of evaluation along the lines of the categories discovered, so that the heterogeneity of the sample can be increased in a targeted way with regard to the research question, in order to maintain the most complete typology possible (see Kelle and Kluge 1999). In accordance with this grounded-theory-oriented approach, four interviews made by the group of researchers and artists “niko.31”12 were used in the first survey phase, and were provided to me with reference to their apparent relevance to temporal structures. Sixteen biographical-narrative interviews conducted by myself were combined with these. For an initial validation, in the final survey phase four interviews were selected at random from the archive “Deutsches Gedächtnis” (“German Memory”).13

Alongside differences in socioeconomic status and gender, the cases also exhibit differences with regard to their uses of time and space. To better examine the structuring of life historicity and life-space within the world of employment, only cases of people between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five were selected (with the exception of two cases surveyed early on in the time sample). All interviewees are German residents, but live distributed over the country (ten cases come from the former GDR). The narratives in these cases consistently focused on the relationship of individual people to the system of gainful employment, even when this status had not (yet) been achieved.

The total sample includes ten women and fourteen men. Three people have a migrant background; six are normally employed, three have fixed-term contracts of employment, four are self-employed, two are studying (although more are registered as students), five live on transfer income, and four make ends meet with occasional jobs.

Five people live in rural areas, nineteen in towns and cities; of these, six own residential properties, seventeen rent, and one person lives in their own construction trailer on rented land. The size and heterogeneity of the sample should suffice to survey at least the most important, socially relevant biographical constitutions of space and historicity. Owing to the use of archival material, the time period of the survey is very broad (2000–2011), which is justified by the exploratory character of the study. The focus is initially only on ascertaining whether there exists any relation at all between constitutions of life-space and life historicity.

Three ideal types could be found for both life historicity and life-space. In fact, it can be shown that cases belonging to one particular temporal type could always be ascribed to one particular spatial type. It is solely owing to this surprisingly unambivalent relationship that the following presentation of the findings, within the context of which space and time are considered together, is at all possible and valid. This section thus presents, along with brief insights into the empirical material, three forms of biographical space-time constitution.

The categories for reconstruction of life-spaces developed from the materials included, on the one hand, “strategies for adoption” of individually relevant spatial constitutions that could be described in terms of Löw’s concept of space; and, on the other hand, “spatial patterns,” a category that records the relationship existing among various biographically relevant spaces. The three central categories for the examination of life historicity are the “chronological expansion of the present,” the “degree of the logical connection between past, present, and future” (the extent to which, for instance, the present is viewed as a consequence of the past), and the “reification of past and future.”

4.1 The concentric-linear type

The concentric-linear mode of social space-time constitution appropriates the future in a planned way. Important biographical decisions are prepared well in advance. Central sentences in the interviews include those such as this, from Nathalie: “Well, I wasn’t one of those who didn’t know what direction to go in once I completed my secondary education, who just chose whatever subject was fashionable.” Instead, Nathalie describes long-term considerations on what subject to study and where, even forging plans for the time following her university studies. Already two years before the planned completion of her studies, she sought to make contact with potential employers and to acquire additional qualifications targeted towards her favoured profession. Reorientation during the course of one’s life is extensively discussed, justified, and tied to past biographical lessons in linear constitutions of historicity. Steffan, a trainee secondary-school teacher, ended one narrative sequence on terminating his legal studies with the following words: “I have to admit that it was foolish, the things I imagined and came up with. And everyone who said so beforehand was basically right—among others my parents, who are both lawyers—but I knew better.” The biographical past, the present, and the future are thus logically connected to one another. People who view their biography linearly understand their present situation to a large extent as a product of their past. At the same time, very concrete ideas for the future are developed, which Steffan sums up as follows: “First of all complete my traineeship. Then I imagine continuing to live here in the flat. […] But my aim is in any case relatively quickly to find a flat of my own here in Town D, and to remain here.” The chronological extension of the biographical present is relatively short, because in a life history built up stepwise, the next step towards the future has already been planned.

This linear constitution of historicity accompanies a concentric constitution of life-space. At least two biographically relevant spatial constitutions are placed alongside each other and extensively discussed: one’s own home and the place one lives. Steffan, furthermore, sees his neighbourhood, his home region, and the nation-state as relevant to his life. All of the spaces present in concentric types lie at different levels, those at the higher levels encircling those below. The strategy of adopting one’s home is based on strong social bonds, often to family members, as in the case of Steffan, who combines his plans to acquire a property of his own together with the idea of living with his girlfriend.

Neighbourhood and city are, by contrast, moulded around one’s circle of friends. Thus Steffan justifies moving to a new neighbourhood in his home town with the words: “And it was also because, at that point in time, District B was at the centre of my life and all of my friends were there—they’re still there now. That’s simply my neighbourhood, you could say. I know people there—yeah—and that’s where I wanted to move.” When describing the end of his adoption of District B, where Steffan began his legal studies, he also refers to friends: “It went really badly for me there. I didn’t have any real friends there, and instead it ended up that I travelled each weekend to Town D, and then in the second semester I pulled the emergency brake and said: I’m not staying here.”

By connecting the constitution of one’s home to strong social bonds, and one’s place of residence with a stable circle of friends, there arises in concentric life-space constitutions the tendency to search for work in the city or its close surroundings. Home and place of residence are, in this particular adoption strategy, not to be displaced in a hurry. Both Steffan and Nathalie want to remain for the long term in their local vicinity. This prospect is not insignificant to Steffan in his choice of teacher-training programme, and Nathalie plans to approach locally situated potential employers. This is not to say that people with concentric-linear biographies do not move (career plans can make this a necessity), but a move always means establishing a new home and a new circle of friends, and must therefore be considered carefully.

A central prerequisite for concentric-linear space-time constitutions is the assumption of a certain institutional stability, which is necessary if one is to be able to plan at all for the future. People must be able to reliably expect, for example, that the career profile one is planning to embark upon does not change so rapidly as to render one’s plans ineffective.

In total, the mutual occurrence of linear biography and concentric life-space constitutions could be observed in all nine cases in which the temporal sample had previously been typified as biographically linear, or in which the spatial sample had been typified as concentric.

Figure 1.
Concentric life-space constitution.
Figure 1.
Concentric life-space constitution.
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Figure 2.
Linear life historicity: The schematic presentation of linear life historicity makes use of an underlying chronological time axis on which the duration of the present is marked.
Figure 2.
Linear life historicity: The schematic presentation of linear life historicity makes use of an underlying chronological time axis on which the duration of the present is marked.
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4.2 The networked-episodic type

In the case of networked-episodic space-time, the chronological duration of the biographical present is comparatively long, because it is connected to current projects. This might be the running of one’s own club for electronic music, or a doctoral thesis—projects that mostly require several years. The biographical past and future are situated beyond the boundaries of this project, and remain exceptionally vague in interviews.

By contrast with linear biographies, discontinuities in the course of one’s life are viewed as normal and require no justification. A typical statement in an episodic life-historical constitution is “I once studied law for eight semesters, um, and then I was registered for four semesters for business administration, but I never turned up.” With such sentences, the testimony of this segment of one’s past is brought to a conclusion. Neither is the future logically coupled to the present. It is not planned, and instead it is expected that at some point a relatively spontaneous decision for a new project will come along. The sentence “It depends on where chances will come about, somehow—I don’t know for sure” expresses this decoupling of the future from the present.

Frank, a music-club manager in his midthirties, locates his biographical future beyond the temporal boundary of the club. He does not know, however, when this time will begin and what form it will take. In a short passage in the interview, he provides the following consideration for this postclub period: “Then I’d have to, I guess, sod off for a year first of all and think it all through.” Or he’ll look for something somewhat different. “Maybe it would even be a chance for a complete change of direction, and to say, all right, that part of my life’s finished, now it’s time for something new, yeah, pff.” Another option is to take a distance-learning course for event management that he signed up for some time ago, without having pursued it. Or he’ll get involved in local politics: “’Cos I’d actually quite like to look at going into politics.” A further idea consists of leaving Germany for a while: “It could also be that I, that I maybe go abroad for a few years with, I don’t know, an NGO.” Presumably, Frank would hardly be surprised if none of these options were realised, and if something completely unforeseen transpired instead.

Frank highly identifies with this spontaneous mode of changing course and continues in this manner through his daily life: “Okay, to say every day I’ll do this for two hours, this for two hours, this for two hours, between this and this time I’ll have lunch—that doesn’t work. And I’m fine with that. And that’s, well, exactly why I don’t take on a job somewhere as an employee.”

Cornelius, a fixed-term research assistant at a social-science institute, also formulates why he rejects committing himself to a permanent contract in a way corresponding to an episodic biographical type: “… Because a permanent contract a) isn’t available in the relevant field, and b) in a normal job sounds a little like something for the rest of my life, and I just don’t want that at all.”

The past, present, and future of one’s own life thus remain largely unconnected, while at the same time the chronological expansion of the present can encompass several years. One’s own biographical future is hardly envisioned in concrete terms, and the past is left behind in much stronger terms that in linear constitutions of life historicity.

Correlating with this episodic constitution of historicity is a networked life-space constitution. The most conspicuous characteristic in this case is that home is not a topic raised for discussion. The place where one has a bed of one’s own remains, from a biographical perspective, largely irrelevant. Cornelius uses the word “home” only once in the interview and, indeed, only to distance his lifestyle from that of others who constitute such a space: “What else can you do if you have a family and children and then in any case don’t want to go home from work, because there you have to deal with all the domestic stress.”

Relevant life-spaces exist exclusively at the level of cities and neighbourhoods, the atmospheres of which and, connected to this, the scenes represented within them form the principal basis for their adoption. All networkers characterise cities using sentences such as “City O was cool. That’s why I stayed there, instead of going to City D or somewhere”; or, in another case, “And somehow you have a sense about the city that you can’t really describe.” The constitution of these urban spaces functions less through circles of friends and places of work, as is the case in concentric-linear biographies, than through the atmosphere, scenes, and other nonspecified options on offer. Berlin, a city that enjoys a high regard among networkers owing to such diverse options, is described in exemplary fashion by Cornelius: “Where you’re surrounded… yeah… by more relevant people, so that you think to yourself, when you’re walking through town: yes, here there are people around me who, I think, I could actually get along with these pretty well; rather than heading out and first of all trying to disappear, to stay unnoticed, until you meet people at some place where you think, yes, this is the environment for me.” Unlike in the case of concentric life-space constitutions, what is decisive here is not whether “people” are really friends. Instead, it is enough that one “could” get along with them. In these cases, the increased relevance of post-traditional forms of communitisation in terms of scenes is apparent (see Hitzler, Bucher, and Niederbacher 2001).

Those with networked-episodic biographies, such as Cornelius, thoroughly perceive their spatiotemporal way of being in the world as an idiosyncrasy: “So for me there is actually a complete divide between a circle of acquaintances that live like I do and who are spread across Germany, doing something in one place and then another, and people who have remained in one place, and then in the meantime live in City F or somewhere else close by, have gotten married, built a house, had kids.”

As the relevant life-spaces lie on the same level of scale, there is constant comparison in the interviews between cities and neighbourhoods. One of a wealth of possible quotations comes from Cornelius, who, after completing his secondary schooling, searched, once again spontaneously, for a city to study in: “I hitchhiked two or three weeks across Germany and took a look at a few university towns. To see which I liked. […] City M sucked, that was clear to me after just one night, but somehow I took a liking to City G. And so I stayed in City G.”

Over time a network of interconnected, relevant life-spaces form at the level of cities and neighbourhoods—places that one continues to revisit. The networked-episodic space-time structure of one’s own biography is expressed most clearly in the following quotation: “For me it’s really true that, after a few years in one place, I start to feel cooped up.”

Figure 3.
Networked life-space constitution.
Figure 3.
Networked life-space constitution.
Close modal
Figure 4.
Episodic life historicity.
Figure 4.
Episodic life historicity.
Close modal

This connection was apparent in a total of seven cases, all of which had initially been typified as constituting either an episodic biography or a networked life-space. One distinction within the type is worth remarking upon: while several cases strongly identified with this space-time constitution and interpreted it in terms of a liberation from socially defined obligations, others give the impression of being somewhat encumbered by this mode, discussing experiences of loss at the level of stable social ties.

4.3 The insular-cyclical type

In insular-cyclical space-time constitutions, the historicity of one’s own life is constituted as an eternal present. The course of the interview is not at all oriented towards the chronology of lifetime events. Much more narration is given over to stories whose quality of experience is relevant, and in most of these cases it can only be ascertained when the events took place by asking directly, if at all. The daily life of cyclicals is occupied with patterns of action sharing in common that they start over unaltered and, at the same time, amount to an entire life’s purpose. For instance, one interview partner, Enrico (forty-two, immigrated in 1983 from Cuba), breeds parakeets, goes fishing regularly, maintains an allotment garden, works sporadically in the building industry, and is writing a book that will never be finished, perhaps because for himself it is already complete. (“I have the book in my head. I know how it will end and everything—I have everything in here. And there isn’t a day that passes in which I don’t somehow think—maybe a few minutes about the book.”)

Neither the biographical past nor the future is identified in the interviews, simply because they are not constituted as such. Typical are interview passages that occur as the result of some association, and that simply refuse to be classified into a biographical historical context that postulates more than one present, such as this description of one’s pattern of action on getting up in the morning: “I go to the window, put down my bottle of water there, ashtray—have a look at the people outside. [Half sentence unintelligible—G.W.] Look at who’s driving too fast—who’s driving too slowly—see who waves to me, because many people here know where I live. Wave back—I like that. I stay near an hour at the window. Breakfast alongside me and then on with life.”

Cyclicals tell stories—not history. As part of these stories, people often document that they were always exactly the way they are today. They consider themselves to remain more or less identical over time. A typical ending to such a story goes: “… Well, I am who I am, no?”

The everyday routine often earns a contemplative character that emphasises the preeminent significance of the present. Enrico thus describes fishing as follows: “But I am waiting for myself, in fact. I go fishing in order to unwind. I immediately turn off. I don’t think of anything at all. I concentrate, regenerate—I don’t know. […] There I’m away.”

In these cases, life-space is constituted as insular, with an intensely private character, usually separated from the external world by clear boundary constructions. Their physical extension, compared to the life-spaces of other types, is extremely limited. They are small, readily comprehensible spaces. Enrico, for example, discusses as relevant life-spaces his home, his allotment (which he labels a “refuge”), and the somewhat secluded lake where he goes fishing (which he calls a “paradise”), all of which are located within walking distance from one another. However, most life-spaces in insular-cyclical space-time constitutions consist of a single space: the home, adopted through strong social ties, mostly to family members, and in which one ideally has a great deal of control. It is typical in the course of such interviews to hear elaborate descriptions of the arrangement of these spaces, in which much continues to be affectionately “tinkered with.”

Boundary constructions accordingly carry great significance in the context of these life-space constitutions. The clearly defined spaces within them are firmly cordoned off from the rather vaguely envisaged external world. Gunnar, a man in his midforties, living in a hut on his own weekend plot in the countryside, describes his response to a conflict with a neighbour: “We’re rounding up eighty posts here, and then you’ll see how quick I can put a fence up. I’ve already laid the wire. [Detailed description of the erection of a fence—G.W.] Then we would have had, I dunno, within two-and-a-half or three hours the whole fence up.”

The fence mentioned is tall enough and so densely fitted that continued social contact with the neighbour is rather unlikely.

Figure 5.
Insular spatial constitution.
Figure 5.
Insular spatial constitution.
Close modal

An image illustrating cyclical historicity communicates little, as a circle cannot have a chronological structure meaningfully applied to it, and because neither the past nor the future is constituted. The biographical present spans beyond all patterns of action into eternity and resists illustration.

All eight cases in the sample for which an insular-cyclical space-time could be reconstructed share in common, virtually without exception, strong social ties. These ties are mostly with family members and lifelong partners. Beyond these close ties, social contact is rather reduced. Enrico expresses it as follows: “I don’t maintain any [sic] contacts because … as I’ve said … that’s how it is. If people approach me, they are welcome here. But there are really only a few people I call my friends.” This preference manifests itself in daily decisions: “I don’t like these mobile phones. Nope, none of that stuff appeals to me. […] Then I changed my number twice because too many people knew it. […] I don’t like it when people call me nonstop. At home, too—I generally leave the answerphone on in the house.”

Accordingly, one tends finds in insular-cyclical spatial constitutions a rejection of the urban lifestyle. Enrico proclaims: “I like living outside the city. I’m not a city person. I hate cities. All that noise. I don’t want to live like that.” In the interview with Gunnar, too, this motif is clear: “We realised, first of all in town, even just in Town L [five thousand inhabitants in the town centre—G.W.], we can’t do it, because when we see the people there—We always thought we were misanthropes, that we hated people, because they’re so awful—Nope, we had to realise it’s just in the cities that people are so strange. They think everything there and all that consumerism is so important, while out here is where real life is going on.”

The people in the sample with insular-cyclical space-time constitutions all live at a low material standard on the basis of sporadic employment or transfer income. In several cases, emancipation from the socially recognised system of regular employment appears to have led to complete satisfaction with the contemplative way of life gained. Others, on the other hand, feel themselves involuntarily excluded from the labour market and rather give the impression of being depressingly trapped in their insular cycles.

4.4 Summary

As part of this exploratory study, three ideal types of spatiotemporal relations to the world could be ascertained within this sample of German society. Those with concentric-linear biographies narrate a story of self-development—from the past, through the present, into the future. They constitute their life-spaces around a central home and discuss at least the place they live in as a further space of relevance. Networked-episodic types describe their lives as a stringing together of largely unconnected bubbles of the present. Relevant life-spaces exist largely at the level of cities, which are adopted on the basis of their atmospheres, unspecified potential, and loose ties (scenes). Finally, people with insular-cyclical biographies do not narrate a history so much as they tell stories whose experiential quality is made present in their telling. They see themselves as remaining identical to themselves across time. From this emerges an endless present that acts as a temporal structure for their own lives. Relevant life-spaces are readily comprehensible islands, divided from the external world through boundary constructions.

Table 2.
An overview of space-time types
Table 2.
An overview of space-time types
Close modal

This typology must be understood as culture specific and primarily relates only to contemporary German society. Owing to the small number of cases, its comprehensiveness cannot be unequivocally guaranteed. The search for counterexamples has not, however, revealed any further types. The question of space-time constitutions arises, for example, in the belief in predestination. No such case was found, however.

The argument from the anthropological sociology of knowledge sketched out at the start—namely, that there is a relationship between space and time—grounds the assumption that a relationship between space and time exists, but it does not itself explain the concrete manifestations of specific social space-times that have been presented as part of this investigation. In order to further develop initial hypotheses on the empirical space-time types, it is necessary to take a sideways glance at macrosociological analyses of the present that consider the transformation of social modes of reproduction and cultural shifts. The following will, by these means, attempt to classify the differential aspects of the three space-time constitutions.

Fundamental to the following considerations is the idea that biographical spatiotemporal relations to the world can be understood, following the work of George Herbert Mead (1932) and Axel Honneth (1992), as a subdivision of identity (see, in more detail, Weidenhaus 2015, 195ff.). From this perspective, space-time constitutions reveal themselves on the one hand as adaptations to the social world, but on the other as a product of personal preferences that cannot be entirely explained sociologically. This understanding reflects Mead’s notion, according to which identity emerges as a process of mediation between sets of internalised expectations of behaviour on the one hand (the various forms of “me”) and unregulated impulses on the other (the “I”) (1932). It follows from this that in spatiotemporal relations to the world, there is always a partial recognition of the structure of the social world (see Honneth 1992) while, at the same time, the structuring of the society one inhabits cannot fully determine one’s spatiotemporal relation to the world. Whoever works in a profession in which a good deal of spatial flexibility is expected, and who must then continually relocate, is not obliged to become a networker, even if such a biographical spatial constitution would simplify one’s adaptation of social expectations.14 Thus, at the individual level, social space-time constitutions cannot be deterministically derived from biography (a description of the events of one’s life in terms of chronology and physical space)—they remain stubbornly unpredictable.

Initial reflections on the emergence of the three types found can now be offered on the basis of three hypotheses. The first hypothesis posits that concentric-linear space-time may be regarded as the reference type for relating to the world by the modern subject. In the course of individualisation, with the onset of modernity in Europe and the subsequent liberation from obligations of class, the life of an individual becomes increasingly viewed as a project for which one is oneself responsible (Kohli 1985). While individual historicity had previously been strongly merged into collective historicity, the subject is now invited to take their life and its direction in their own hands. The “institutionalisation of the course of life” (Kohli 1985) helps to generate a framework for long-term planning in this context. The institutionalised course of life comprises not only a chronological, sequential programme for life, with preparatory, active, and resting phases, but also focuses explicitly on orientational knowledge that accompanies an individual’s biographical constitutions of historicity (Kohli 1985, 20). It was at this time, towards the end of the eighteenth century, that the literary genre of the autobiography emerged to document the developmental history of the individual, just as history documented the collective singular (Koselleck 1979). The historicity of life increasingly becomes conceived of linearly.

In this development, individuals are freed in large numbers from the requirement to “till the field” and are therefore required to seek out their life-spaces themselves. Against the backdrop of this spatial emancipation, together with the beginning of industrialisation and the processes of urbanisation, the modern city emerges as a new type of spatial structure (Held 2005). These create a differentiation between private and public life that finds its manifestation in individuals’ life-space constitutions in the spatial spheres of the home and the city. Likewise, in the “threshold period” from 1750 to around 1850 (Koselleck 1979), the principle of the nation-state becomes widespread. Nations, as large-scale territorial units formed through affiliation, become an ever more important frame of reference for the orientation of the subject, as would be collectively expressed in the consolidation of national movements (Anderson [1983] 2005). With the sociospatial constitutions of the home, the city, and the nation-state as reference points relevant to daily life, a concentric model of life-space constitutions becomes dominant. The transition to biographical self-regulation in the modern period thus impacts both the temporal and the spatial relation of the subject to the world. Altogether, one can speak of a concentric-linear biographical space-time, though cracks have since appeared in this picture. Increasing demands on mobility and the “subversion” of the institutionalised course of life (Brose 2003) appear to demand still more flexible ways of relating to the world.

The second hypothesis is that the development of the social mode of reproduction towards flexible accumulation (Harvey 1995) favoured networked-episodic space-time constitutions. Ever shorter cycles of production and consumption of goods made possible through the vertical disintegration of corporations, paired with increasingly more flexible decisions about where to locate oneself on the basis of newer communications and information technologies, allow a “space of flows” (Castells [1996] 2001, 1:431ff.) to emerge and are an indication of accelerated social change (Rosa 2005, 168ff.). These developments accompany an increasing deregulation of the labour force, expressed among other ways through an increase in fixed-term and temporary working conditions. In many areas, the qualifications for the labour market have become so transitory that it cannot be predicted when new training phases will need to be biographically incorporated. The institutionalised course of life (Kohli 1985), which functioned as a stable social framework for an individual’s planned appropriation of their future, has been eroded. Once the stability of this framework comes into doubt, this causes the estimated life span of present social conditions to shrink to a shorter duration than that of one’s gainful employment, giving a planned appropriation of the future, and therefore a linear constitution of historicity, ever less meaning (see Rosa 2005, 220). It seems more rational to wait and see what options emerge in the unknown future, and otherwise to focus upon the present project. Episodic constitutions of historicity thus appear an appropriate reaction and possibly characterise at the temporal level what Uwe Schimank describes as a new life-management strategy of “coping” (2011), in which the ball is simply kept in play without the possibility of planning any long-term goals.

For the subject, the regime of accumulation simultaneously accompanies the invocation of spatial flexibility (Castells [1996] 2001; Sennett 1998). Whoever builds stable connections in one place might seem unsuitably positioned to fulfil the mobility requirements for participation in the labour force. The demand for spatial flexibility does not only affect the location of production and consumption; this expectation is carried down much more to the subjects involved in the production of goods and services themselves. Whoever constitutes their life-space as a network appears to have an advantage here.

This thesis, too, can be extended with the aid of an argument from cultural sociology: in the course of secularisation, money has become the means per se for managing contingency, because it keeps open nonspecific options (Deutschmann 1999). In addition, Hans Blumenberg (1986) sees in the use of options the functional equivalent of the notion of eternal life. The more chances are seized and made use of, the more one has lived (see also Rosa 2005). From this perspective, long-term life plans become destructive to one’s options, as Cornelius’s association of permanent employment contracts with a life sentence (see above) clearly illustrates. Looking at the empirical results, it is important that this keeping open of options, in contrast with most social-science interpretations (see Rosa 2005; Blumenberg 1986), does not have purely temporal connotations. It is not insignificant that the club manager quoted above talks of the option to “sod off” or go “abroad.” The point is to keep open the option of experiencing spatial seclusion and foreignness. Not coincidentally, he speaks in terms of “[…] where chances will come about” and not “when.”

It should be mentioned at this point that there are also cases in the sample that are clearly biographised as networked-episodic, but that do not identify themselves as positively with this spatiotemporal relation to the world as do Cornelius and Frank. These people also discuss their experiences of having lost strong social ties and of a longing for spatial and temporal stability. They indicate that their networked-episodic mode is not one they have willingly adopted, but has been a necessary adaptation to the instability of institutional frameworks.

Finally, there is the third hypothesis that exclusion leads to insular-cyclical space-time constitutions. Linear life prospects are undermined not only by the instability of institutional frameworks but also by long-term displacement from forms of social recognition (Bude and Willisch 2006, 8). In their study of Marienthal, Jahoda et al. ([1933] 1975) showed at an early date that without prospects of social integration, one can observe a disintegration in subjects’ future prospects and an increased withdrawal into their private spheres. A future orientation, as is observable in linear biographies, thus appears in accordance with the concept of identity proposed by Mead to be dependent on social recognition. The long-term goals of such people can, without exception, be described as socially approved, regardless of whether it focuses on career or self-development. With the decoupling of economic growth from labour market integration (Dahrendorf 1988) and the growing precariousness in perpetual poverty connected with this, neither a linear perspective nor the idea of manoeuvring episodically from project to project make much subjective sense. Exclusion of this kind, as the reference to the Marienthal study already illustrates, has always belonged to the operating principles of capitalistic societies. Today, though, the excluded themselves no longer appear to be properly integrated into political discourse (even that of unions); instead, their living situation is increasingly interpreted as a mass outcome of the fates of individuals (see Kronauer 2002, 15). Being excluded is more and more seen as a private problem for very many people.

As already mentioned, a purely temporal interpretation falls short. Exclusion is accompanied by spatial segregation and demands a retreat into one’s private sphere because of the precarity of one’s social recognition. The insular life-space constitutions are interpretable as much as a phenomenon of avoidance as they are one of creating a space of refuge. Social contact with the external world is avoided because a potential loss of self-esteem is expected, and the safeguarding of a private space is closely connected to social ties whose mode of recognition can be described, after Axel Honneth, as “love,” the feeling of being wanted for one’s own sake.

There are, nevertheless, individual cases of insular-cyclical space-time constitutions in which an emancipation from the recognised system of gainful employment can be observed, and here, too, an insular spatial constitution is maintained. The contemplative lifestyle of these people is accompanied by a focus on their close environment, which can be characterised through its seclusion, calm, and beauty. Here, a life can be realised at an exceptionally low material level, whose success can be envisaged beyond the obligations of economic growth and development.

According to this summary, hypotheses for differentiating the concentric-linear, networked-episodic, and insular-cyclical space-time types present in current German society can be developed with reference to modern capitalistic socialisation, to the transition to flexible accumulation, and to processes of exclusion. Crucial here is that neither the empirical material nor the reflections offered indicate the primacy of space (see Castells [1996] 2001, 1:431) or of time (see Rosa 2005, 60ff.) as the sociological research object of principal importance. While Hartmut Rosa claims that constitutions of time determine those of space, because they are socially more variable than the more anthropologically determined constitutions of space, Manuell Castells argues that in a networked society, it is space that determines time. We argue here, by contrast, that space and time are equiprimordial and constitute mutually complementary forms.

The limits of the investigation presented here are clear: a quantitative estimate of the distribution of the various space-time types in current society is not possible, nor is a diachronic perspective available that would enable this distribution to be determined.15 The construction of a quantitatively applicable questionnaire to determine space-time constructions would provide some redress to this, but is still pending.

The question remains of the completeness of the typology developed here, especially were other times and cultures to be examined. The empirical material also suggests that biographical space-time constitutions can alter during the course of life (see also Weidenhaus 2015). An in-depth discussion of this phenomenon and the social conditions in which it occurs has not to date been undertaken.

In addition, there is the question of the general applicability of the concept of social space-time, whose plausibility has thus far only been empirically validated within the field of biography. Considerations of the emergence of the space-time types suggest that one can expect to find corresponding space and time constitutions for the scope of society as a whole. In the modern era, social development has been linearly conceived, and society has been based upon two concentrically arranged forms of spatial structure, that of the city and the territory (see Held 2005). The territory has since appeared to have lost significance, while a global urban network is becoming ever more important and, simultaneously, the great linear narratives of social development are disappearing from discourse. It seems as though society itself can be described by interrelated forms of spatial and temporal constitutions that, in the context of current diagnoses of the present, resemble a shift from a concentric-linear mode to a networked-episodic one. Validating a thesis of societal space-time is, nevertheless, impossible without a comparative research design that examines the space-time constitutions of various societies systematically.

Nonetheless, the concept of biographical space-time already provides plenty of possible leads to further areas of interest in sociological research. There is the question, for example, of the structuring of partner relationships involving differing space-time constitutions. Here, presumably, is where the potential of a spatially sensitive analysis becomes apparent. The problems that occur as part of a romantic relationship between linear-concentric and networked-episodic partners could be expected to have less to do with time than with space. That is, a concentrically biographised person would attempt to constitute a home in which the physical presence of the opposite partner might be a fundamental part of the success of the spatial constitution. At the same time, the empirical material repeatedly suggests that certain social entities are culturally connected with certain constitutions of space. Thus, in the interviews, there is frequently a connection made between (starting) one’s family and spatial centring, as well as the security of one’s future. A society that both maintains these cultural norms while at the same time spatiotemporally organising its labour market fundamentally differently should not hope to see an increasing birth rate. These examples furthermore indicate the necessity for a perspective on spatiotemporal constitutions sensitive to gender and milieu that has to date not been achieved.

Finally, there are signs of a tendency, especially in political and economic discourse regarding “successful” lifestyles, that from a spatiotemporally informed perspective must be considered disastrous. An orientation towards concretely imagined futures appears to remain popular, as is illustrated by the demand for a gapless curriculum vitae and the perpetually future-orientedness of the education system. These demands are nevertheless combined with the notion of the subject’s nearly limitless spatial mobility only observable in cases of networked life-space constitutions. People with linear constitutions of historicity nevertheless consolidate the basis of their plans with the aid of spatial constitutions featuring a less mobile notion of home and place of residence adopted through the location of one’s circle of friends. The entreaties of late-capitalist society are thus likely to provoke cognitive dissonance at the individual level. Here the scope becomes apparent of a concept by means of which individuals organise their relation to the world in terms of space-time—but not in both space and time.

The author declares no conflicts of interest.

All narrative biographical interviews were transcribed and are stored digitally. However, it is not possible to make the data available because this interview form cannot be anonymised. Life stories are highly sensitive data consisting of occupational biographies and a sequence of places of residence, as well as family developments with the corresponding time data. To prevent de-anonymisation would mean blacking out almost the entire interview.

1.

This distinction can already be found in Plessner as one between external, shared, and internal worlds (1981, orig. 1928).

2.

See also Günter Dux, who formulates the issue thus: “In practical experience, the present is not the timeless boundary between past and future, but rather the area of life lying along their horizon and to which action is directed” (1992, 191).

3.

A joke by Walter Moers that translates the internal psychological experience of time to a chronologically determined temporality provides a striking illustration of this issue: “Under the influence of cannabis, the space-time continuum stretches by a factor of 500%; that is, regular consumption can enable one to live to be 400 years old, more than is achievable through any other drug” (Moers 1997).

4.

Niklas Luhmann recognised that meaningful temporal orientation within the social world is performed first of all with the aid of historical constructions. Chronology is in this case a tool for the processing of problems of synchronisation. Modern, functionally differentiated societies incidentally produce such problems of synchronisation on a perpetual basis, which is why clocks are of such importance to them. Nevertheless, Luhmann insists that “one must not confuse time with chronology” (1990, 119).As shown above, Norbert Elias defines time as chronology, but notes that historical determinations of time are not covered by his definition and therefore designates it a “fifth dimension” (1982, 855).

5.

The concept of social space applied here must be strictly distinguished from the term as used by Bourdieu ([1982] 1985) or Sorokin (1927). Both authors are using spatial metaphors to describe sociostructural perspectives. Here we are not concerned with space as metaphor.

6.

There is in fact much to suggest that the modern nation-state and history (as a collective singular, conveying the understanding of a linear historicity with an open future) are closely connected to one another (Koselleck 1979). At the very least, both phenomena arise in the same geographical places at the same chronological time.

7.

Two events, for instance, exhibit a distance of four kilometres if the time interval between them amounts to one hour. The same two events could also occur only two kilometres away from each other, in which case the time interval between them must equal two hours (if the distance halves, the time doubles). This phenomenon only occurs, however, within a framework involving very high relative velocities, for which reason it is largely irrelevant for sociology.

8.

It should again be emphasised how important the observation of chronological time and physical space is for the social sciences, even if its research by necessity places historicity and social constitutions of space at their centre. Thus, for example, the analysis of problems of synchronisation is fundamental for the understanding of modern societies (see, for instance, Nassehi 2008). As the term “synchronisation” already reveals, the problem here concerns chronological time, whose inner structure is included in analysis as an independent variable.

9.

Methodological access to space and time obviously varies depending on the concepts used: physical space and chronological time are measured; social space and historical time can be reconstructed as structures of meaning from a variety of possible sources (interviews, texts, etc.); psychological perceptions of space and time must be surveyed directly from subjects.

10.

The German term originally used here, Lebensraum, is problematic due to its instrumentalisation during the Nazi era. I am against any naturalised conception of human life-spaces. The term is here used to refer to the spaces relevant to people, considered from a biological perspective. This study shows that there is no particular, natural structure for these spaces, but instead that life-spaces should be properly understood as cultural productions.

11.

This interview form initially only sets a stimulus that invites people to tell their own life story. Therefore, these interviews—usually lasting one to four hours—are particularly suitable for reconstructing the relevance that the interview partners themselves set in their lives. This makes it easy to explore which spaces are actually central and how the relationship between past, present, and future is constructed.

12.

The group niko.31 (Jens Fischer, Katja Heinecke, Reinhard Krehl, Silke Steets) carries out biographical-narrative interviews for the purposes of research as part of a project on dwindling cities. The sociologist Prof. Silke Steets recognised the potential of this material regarding an analysis of temporal structures and provided it to me as a starting point for the empirical work.

13.

The archive is affiliated with the Fern Universität in Hagen and collects subjective testimonies of memories of all kinds. The collection holds 2,700 biographical interviews, several of which were kindly provided to me for secondary analysis.

14.

As part of a small student research project with a similar objective, an interview was carried out with one person who, owing to a high-ranking position as party functionary, was continually required to relocate, but who had nevertheless formed a highly stable concentric-linear biographical space-time constitution. In the course of her life, the person had successively had four detached houses built for herself and her family, in order to stabilise this constitution under the given circumstances.

15.

There is, though, some data available for the last thirty-five years to determine the relationship of past, present, and future among young adults (above all from Shell Youth Studies). These suggest an initial growth in cyclical biographisation and subsequently in episodic constitutions of historicity, each reducing the (nonetheless continued) dominance in size of the linear types (see Weidenhaus 2008).

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