Welcome to the future – what’s the date?
Or to 2012, at least. Changing the numbers on the calendar often prompts me to think about calendars, and I’m not the only one. This year even more so than usual, what with all the Mayan calendar hype, and a proposed calendar reform in the news.
What’s wrong with what we’ve got, and why are calendars so complicated anyway?
Humans need a way to keep track of time, from when to plant in the spring to when to celebrate birthdays and holidays, to managing our business and government affairs. We’ve tried different ways to do so for millennia. There are still at least a dozen calendars in use worldwide, although the Gregorian calendar is by far the most common.
Even the Gregorian calendar was established in 1582. Human culture has changed drastically since then: is it time for a new calendar?
Maybe, but based on what? We like to break time into manageable chunks: hours, days, weeks, months, years. But we also like to have those chunks correspond to the world around us. Spring happens during certain months, winter others, and so on. A calendar must be tied to the solar or lunar year, and to the day.
Like most if not all natural phenomena, astronomical days and months and years follow their own patterns determined by orbital mechanics, not the neat patterns that we’d like them to.
Days are the easiest to observe. Sunrise to sunrise, right? Except day length changes with season (unless you live at the equator), so that doesn’t work very well. Medieval timekeeping used 12-hour days and 12-hour nights, and let the hour length change with the season. We’ve standardized our hour length and our day length. A day still has 24 hours but they’re of equal length, and don’t match up with sunrise and sunset. An hour is 60 minutes, a minute is 60 seconds, and a second has been defined very precisely by relating it to physical constants.
The average length of a solar day is 24 hours, but individual days vary. Using a star instead removes the seasonal variation: star-rise to star-rise of a particular star should give a good measurement of day length. A stellar day is about four minutes less than 24 hours though, giving one more stellar day than solar day per year. So let’s just keep the average day length of 24 hours and not worry about it.
Years must be easier, right? A solar year is from the vernal equinox to the next, when the Sun returns to exactly the same place relative to the Earth. A solar year is about 365.25 days. (Wouldn’t it be nice if it were an integer?) If we just used a 365-day calendar all the time, we’d get farther and farther away from the calendar year matching the seasons: that’s why a leap day is added every 4 years. Almost: it isn’t exactly a quarter-day off, so once in a while we skip the leap day to keep the calendar from going off in the other direction.
Or we could measure years by comparing the position of the Sun to a star, same as we did for days. The sidereal year is about 20 minutes longer than the solar year. Never mind.
We’re making progress: we’ve settled on 24-hour days to match the annual mean, and on solar years of 365.25-ish days, with some kind of system to deal with that quarter-day to keep from getting too far off.
How to break up the year? Months could be based on the changing phases of the moon, from full moon to full moon. That’s called a synodic month, and there are lots of many other ways to define months. A synodic month changes length during the year, but the average value is 29.53 days. That doesn’t fit well with either our hours or our years.
It also doesn’t have anything much to do with the months of the Gregorian calendar, which range from 28 to 31 days in an irregular pattern due largely to Roman politics.
The seven-day week is historically-based too, and doesn’t match with either months (lunar or calendrical) or years, continuing in sequence across all both.
The Gregorian calendar, then, is rather a mish-mash of historical and astronomical quirks. Days of the week are the oddest, perhaps: consecutive years start on different days, so date and day are unrelated. Months are of irregular lengths, so quarters are also different lengths (a business accounting problem, among others).
And then there’s the epoch: where does the calendar start counting? A political date? Religious date (as in the Gregorian calendar)? Astronomical date? Confusing!
Can we fix it? Should we fix it?
What would it look like if we did?
There’s the Stardate system, which uses days and decimal days, counting from an unknown epoch. This makes a fair bit of sense in a universe where humans still want to work and sleep on a 24-hour schedule, but are completely divorced from the seasonal cycle on a particular planet.
The Hanke-Henry permanent calendar keeps the seven-day week and a 364-day year (not 365), but standardized the length of months and the relationship between day of week, day of month, and day of year. Under this system, not only is January 1, 2012 a Sunday, every New Year’s Day is a Sunday. If your birthday is always a Tuesday, well, too bad. This calendar manages the regular quarters and other business-friendly aspects, but isn’t so friendly to the social aspects that we’ve become accustomed to. It also requires adding a leap week after December every five or six years, which doesn’t seem very efficient to me. On the other hand, if you made that leap week a global holiday? I could be persuaded.
There are lots of other proposed calendar systems, both factual and science fictional. The calendar we use now has been changed many times. Do you think we should change it again? What kind of calendar would you like to live under?



Years ago I remember Garrison Keillor suggesting a “metric” calendar. It only had ten months and since he resided in Minnesota, he decided to leave out February and March as nobody likes the weather during those months. It got a chuckle out of me.
I also recall some experiment from way back where subjects were sequestered underground for extended periods of time. They were allowed their own sense of time and to the surprise of many, I believe they all gravitated to a 25 hour day. I wonder why?
It has been suggested that our internal clock is longer than a true day because it’s easier to correct a clock that runs slow, by resetting it with each sunrise, than to slow down a clock that runs fast.
25 hours happens to be near the mean time between moonrises.
I read about that 25-hour thing some time ago too. I think there is some merit to a regular calendar with integral number of weeks. But the social issue is big.
The simple solution (within the 364-day calendar) I have is just to do away with numerical days of the month. That way we won’t complain about our birthday failing to rotate among days, because our birthday won’t be, for example, the 8th Day of December it will be the Second Monday of December (or whichever day you were actually born so many years ago).
The idea of living under a calendar specifically designed to make business easier (The Hanke-Henry permanent calendar) creeps me the hell out. Have we really sold so much of our souls to our corporate over-lords that we even need to redesign *time* to serve them better?
Our Gregorian calender is a record of our history in Europe, each epoch leaving their own mark on it. It would be a shame to come along and said, ‘all that history is meaningless–we’ve got something new so forget about the past!’. Of course. it’s less good for other people in the world as it’s not their history…
Anyway, I’m perfectly happy with the calender we’ve got. Can’t we just keep it and work on a simple way to translate from one calender to another across cultures? That seems far better than ditching everyone’s calender and making everyone use a new one.
I’d say that as long as we’re confined to Terra Firma we’ll use the 364 day year with an extra day every four years. Though we could stand to reorganize the units used to measure segments of time within a planetary rotation (hour, minute, second) or orbit around the sun (month).
If we ever get around to colonizing other planets we’ll probably develop several other local calendars depending on the length of each world’s rotation and orbit. And most likely some kind of “universal” calendar for interplanetary records (let’s say, a digital conversion of the average year length in the solar system, no division into days necessary).
I also suspect that as long as Christianity remains the dominant religion in the Western world an ancient estimate of the birth of the so-called messiah will remain the starting point for the most commonly used calendar. And odds are we’ll keep using it (albeit as Common Era instead of Anno domini) for a very long time regardless. Though I would rather use some date such as the discovery of the heliocentric solar system or the Apollo 11 landing.
Months and weeks are convenient units, and I see no reason to drop them.
I’d make the sequence of month-lengths 31 30 30 31 30 31 30 31 30 30 31 30¼ — this gives the best ‘balance’ of the odd days. Leap day at the end, to simplify some computations.
The year ought to begin at a solstice or equinox.
Leap day ought to be near aphelion (when the planet is moving most slowly), to minimize its effect on the seasons.
Combined, these constraints suggest starting the year at northern solstice. (In the US at least, the school year would then end shortly before the calendar year.)
If humanity is not alone in the galaxy, neutral standards can be based on (convenient multiples of) Planck units.