1. Winter's Milky Way
The importance of dark skies
Winter nights. Cold, dark, withdrawn. As November draws to a close and December-the month with the longest nights-begins, the darkness becomes more profound, encircling us in its arms, but does it stifle and smother, or does it embrace? It is time to rethink the dark this festive season.
Tonight is a New Moon. It is one of two that occur in December, this is known as a Black Moon, the dark counterpart to the Blue Moon, and just as uncommon. New Moon means no moonlight, and that means especially dark skies. If you are lucky enough to live somewhere unblighted by light pollution, then your night sky is blessed with one of the most beautiful sights, and a sight that is sadly becoming more rare in our modern, highly illuminated world.
The Milky Way is a shy thing, not showing under the glare of city lights and the noise and nightlife that entails, and preferring to adorn the sky in the very darkest, quietest places, on nights without moonlight, where the loudest noises are from crickets, owls or even wolves. Often one would have to travel to somewhere rural, even remote, far from streetlights and definitely away from urban areas, to even get an idea of what a true starry night would look like. A long drive across winding country roads, a sea journey across a wide ocean, a trip to a faraway country even. Once upon a time, this amount of fuss and travelling to see the marvel of the night was not required, all someone had to do was step outside on a clear night and look up, no matter where they were.
The Milky Way has been a source of wonder and mystery since the earliest times. It has been seen as a river, a bridge, a pathway or road, or a spill of divine milk across the inky black of night. This shimmering, almost cloud-like band is at its most prominent in summer months but can be seen all year round. The winter Milky Way needs a particularly dark sky to see it but its brightest patches are around the constellations of Cygnus the Swan and Cassiopeia the Queen, and it is a display of lights more subtle but more awe-inspiring than fairy lights and tinsel.
The name Milky Way is inspired by the Greek myth of Hercules (or Heracles), the son of Zeus who had an affair with another woman, if you know your Greek myths, you’ll know this was par the course for the king of the gods. Cheekily, Zeus gave the child to his wife Hera to suckle, and she accepted, under the impression that the baby was hers, but when she realised that she wasn’t the mother, she removed her breast from Hercules in anger, causing milk to spill across the sky! Indeed, the word ‘galaxy’ comes from the Greek word ‘gala’ meaning milk. Those few sips of divine milk were enough to give Hercules incredible strength.
But what exactly are we looking at? This band of pale light is made up of billions of stars, gathered by gravity into a spiral. Our solar system is located in one of the galaxy’s spiral arms, and we are looking at the Milky Way edge on, which is why it looks like a line or pathway rather than a spiral. In the centre of the galaxy is a bulge, and within this bulge is one of the most mysterious and intimidating objects in the universe-a supermassive black hole. Its gravity is so great that even light cannot escape, and yet its mighty gravity may well be holding the galaxy together. Or maybe it’s that ever-so-elusive stuff, dark matter, that’s also helping to bind that immensity of stars into a beautiful swirl.
Unfortunately, 80% of people in North America and Europe have never seen the Milky Way, because they live in places where it is obscured by light pollution. This is where artificial light spills upwards into the sky, blotting out the stars, and is a common fact of life in cities across the world, and as urbanisation increases, so does light pollution. This cuts people off from the majesty of the night sky, an inspiration and guide for humanity for millennia.
The Bortle Scale goes from 1 (extremely dark sky) to 9 (city centres). Places designated as having a dark sky, which are protected by organisations like Unesco or the Dark Sky association, rate from 1-3 on the scale, but outside of places that are sparsely inhabited, such as the most remote deserts, jungles and tundra, or the middle of the oceans, locations with a Bortle rating of 1 are hard to come by these days.
Modern humans are hooked on light, we can banish the night at the flick of a switch. (I could go into a rant about how this fits in with/is a consequence of capitalism-based hyperproductivity culture here, but I’ll keep it for another time…) The problem with light pollution is worse than not being able to see the pristine night sky as something to ‘tick off the bucket list’. Maybe our addiction to light can be compared to junk food-we can’t get enough of it, but it’s doing us harm. Artificial light, especially at night and in the bluer wavelengths commonly found in most electronics and screens and in LED outdoor lighting, affects our sleep, causing insomnia and fatigue, and other issues with physical and mental health caused by disrupted sleep or circadian rhythms sent out of whack. Could this be one of the causes of many modern malaises? Even if it isn’t as deadly as air or water pollution, we know overdosing on artificial light is slowly making us sick in body and mind.
If it’s bad for humans, it is even worse for other animals and plants. Nocturnal animals such as moths, fireflies, glow-worms, sea turtles, birds that fly by night, and countless others have their quality of life worsened by artificial light, and sometimes this has deadly consequences. Turtles crawling out of the sea onto land can be led astray by car headlights. Birds migrating at night fly into brightly lit skyscrapers, already disorientated by not being able to navigate by the stars. Even bats, creatures that are often thought of as relying more on sound than sight, are negatively affected by lit up areas. Trees and flowers bloom out of sync or photosynthesise by night, and deciduous trees growing near streetlights take longer to drop their leaves in autumn. These effects are very detrimental, causing stress in the plants, and making leaves tougher for insects to eat, which in turn is bad for the insects and those who feed on them. Not to mention that wasted light is also a waste of energy, in places where fossil fuels are still the predominant energy source, it contributes to climate change as well. And a waste of energy is also a waste of money.
The thing is, we humans lit up the dark because we feared it, and the primordial fear of darkness does come from a place of reason-we feared the dark because of what it concealed, how it robs us of our vision-in the dark, we cannot see where we are going and whether there is danger lurking there. It ties in with our unease at the unknown. The fear of the dark, or rather what or who lurks in the dark, is still justified when it comes to matters of safety and security, hence the need for lights in our cities and towns. This is particularly pertinent for women walking alone at night.
It is hard to endorse darkness in the deepest part of winter, especially for those who have Seasonal Affective Disorder. But we need the cloak of night to enfold us into slumber. It is darkness that helps our brains produce melatonin, helping us to sleep healthily. It is darkness that helps to regulate our natural rhythms as much as light. Nature needs the dark. In the world of night, nocturnal animals flourish, bioluminescent creatures glow brightest, and those with night vision use their superlative sight to hunt, mate and navigate, without the distraction of humanity’s lights.
Sadly, outside of designated dark sky areas, governments and councils are turning a blind eye to this, ahem, glaring problem, with little indication of any large-scale action to curtail light pollution. Many authorities do not see tackling artificial light as a priority, unless it shines directly inside people’s homes. Surely city councils and housing developments do not need such an excess of night lighting? Blue-white, brash and garish light that is over the top, turning night into day? Ok, barring a complete power blackout, it would still be impossible to see the Milky Way from a large urban area. However, there are ways of lighting that can keep us safe and light up buildings and streets efficiently with minimum overspill of light into the sky or out into nature, gentler forms of lighting that don’t mess with our bodies’ temporal rhythms or those of other creatures, providing us the security of light but also allowing us to admire the stars.
(I was going to add another rant about satellite mega-constellations and space junk, and how they are an even worse threat to our night skies than lights on the ground, but I’ll leave those dystopian thoughts for a less jolly time of year!)
Now I must stress here, I am a city dweller. I am one who finds dark skies to be a luxury as a result. I live at least three hours away from anywhere where the Milky Way is visible and as I don’t have a car, it’s not easy to access such places. I did wonder if writing about dark skies is something I am permitted to do as someone who lives in a Bortle 9 zone, as opposed to someone who has spent much of their life under unblemished starry skies, and therefore has lived experience of dark nights untainted by city lights. My experiences of dark skies are merely snatches, rare moments from past holidays, and in the last few years, really seeking the stars out on purpose. And yes, like pretty much everyone, I use and take advantage of artificial lights at night (it’s rather difficult not to in this day and age). But still, I think it applies to all of us, wherever we live. It’s not about cutting out lights entirely, but gently cutting back, only using what we need. Those moments when ‘townies’ like me do finally see true starlight make me wish it was accessible to everyone with eyes to see. And not just for humans, but for everything alive on this world. Yes, including in cities. In fact I’d argue it’s even more important to those who live in urban areas. For us to finally get a glimpse of what we’re missing under a fog of artificial light. It will benefit us all, and maybe we will remediate our (relatively recently) broken relationship with the night sky, a relationship that has affected humanity more deeply than we realise. Let’s rediscover what night time truly is.
Prompt:
What does darkness mean to you? Is darkness something you embrace or something you feared or still fear?
How can you re-evaluate your relationship with the night, and respect and preserve the dark for your health and the health of others, human and more-than-human? How could you help to reduce light pollution for your home, your community, your neighbourhood or town, and for the world as a whole?
Some suggestions: switch off lights when not in the room, reduce screen use at night, close your curtains, remove harsh white lights like ‘security lights’ from your outdoor areas and replace them with less bright and more yellow/amber toned lights that point down and are shielded to avoid glare. Yes, it is ok to use outdoor festive lights but don’t keep them on all night and try to use warmer toned coloured lights. Another way to develop a relationship with the night is to try an evening lit only by candles, or a candlelit hour before bedtime. (Taking fire safety regulations into account, of course!)
Serious and almost ranty talk over! The forthcoming posts will hopefully be a bit lighter in tone, focusing more on the myths and science of the stars. I wanted to write more on other cultural stories of the Milky Way and geek out about galaxy collisions and so on, but instead went on a tangent about light pollution…the stories will come eventually-maybe in summer or when I get myself to another dark place to inspire me. But I do think it is important to stress how we need to protect the night sky for future generations. For now, if you want cultural tales, I have a link to a podcast episode with a few…
Links
Tales of a Starry Night podcast: Introduction to the Milky Way
A great read. I live in a very rural area of Wrst Suffolk UK. 6.5 miles to the nearest town and our village does not have street lights.
I love the dark and often stand out at night looking at the beauty of the dark sky. I am not an astronomer but have a basic knowledge of what is above me.
Standing in my yard looking up and listening to owls calling and foxes barking is pure magic.