The Great Vanishing Act (of the Night Sky)

Ever drive out into the countryside and marveled at the big strip of the Milky Way arching across the sky and thousands of stars shining everywhere, then wondered why you couldn’t see that from downtown Geneva or from your own driveway? No, the air is not clearer. There’s simply less lights.

The Author, His Telescope and the Milky Way, Cherry Springs State Park, PA

The Author, His Telescope and the Milky Way, Cherry Springs State Park, PA

The splendor of the night sky is all but invisible from most of the places we tend to live and congregate because of what’s called light pollution. Roughly defined, light pollution is too much light in general and light needlessly shining where it is not wanted.

The cause of light pollution is bad lighting design. For the most part, we put lights outdoors to illuminate what’s below them: walkways, parking lots, streets, driveways, and doors. Yet most outdoor lighting shines in every direction: out the sides and even up. The sideways light causes glare, which makes it harder to see anything at all at night, and light trespass, light that shines where it’s not wanted, like in your bedroom windows at night. The upwards light causes sky glow, an orange haze over heavily lit areas that hides the stars and Milky Way.

All these components of light pollution have real life consequences. That’s why we call it pollution. And it’s a global problem. In a November 2008 cover story, National Geographic reported that 1/5 of humanity (that’s over 1 billion people) live in skies so light polluted that they cannot see the stars and the Milky Way. 2/3 of humanity (that’s 3 billion people) suffers some kind of light pollution. It’s bound to get worse. Our race just recently turned a corner; just over 50% of all humans alive now live in cities. As these cities grow and develop, they’ll get brighter. And the night sky will cease to be a source of visible wonder for most humans.

According to the experts, here’s why light pollution is bad:

• It disrupts melatonin production in humans, which messes with our sleep cycles. • It makes driving at night way more dangerous because of glare, which makes it harder to see anything but the bright lights. This problem is worse with older drivers. • It disrupts the normal cycle of hormone production in women, which puts them at greater risk of breast and other cancers. • It kills 100 million birds a year because they collide with lighted buildings and towers. • It disturbs the reproductive cycles of frogs (kermitus interruptus) who are already dying off worldwide for unknown reasons. • It hurts sea turtles, who can’t find dark beaches to lay their delicate eggs.

The American Medical Association (AMA) just declared light pollution a public safety and health hazard, citing the above reasons as well as the 2.2 billion dollars a year we waste on lighting things we don’t intend on lighting (like the night sky.)

The solution to the light pollution is unbelievably simple. It’s better lighting design. Most outdoor lighting (like the irritating “old fashioned looking” globes that line downtown Geneva or HWS campus) are non- or semi cut-off fixtures. Common streetlights are the latter. They don’t shine line up, but they do shine a lot of light sideways.

Full cut-off lighting only shines light down, where we really want it. You can’t see the bulb itself (unless you are under it) but you can see what it is supposed to light up. These lights don’t need to be as powerful since all the light is going where we want it, so that saves money over time. The city of Calgary, Canada, saved over 1.7 million dollars a year in energy costs when it switched its streetlights to lower-wattage, full cut-off designs.

One of the reasons often cited for not solving the light pollution problem is safety. The more lights, the better, and everywhere, the argument goes. Let’s not give crooks and rapists shadows to hide in, the argument goes. Let’s light up the roads so that drivers can see.

Bad lighting actually makes the situation worse. Take two flashlights and go outside. Shine one at your face and one at your car. Can you read your license plate number? Now shine both of them at your license plate. That’s better, right? That’s how full-cut off lighting works to make your nighttime safer and your night sky prettier.

You can help solve the problem yourself. Next time you’re changing or adding a light fixture outside, choose a full cut-off design. You’ll sleep better at night, perhaps literally.

The problem is also solvable at the municipal level as well. Many cities, like Calgary, Canada, and Flagstaff, Arizona, have enacted dark sky ordinances that essentially call for all newly installed outdoor fixtures to be low-wattage full cut-off designs. Some communities have grandfathered in existing fixtures but stipulated that when they are replaced, full cut-off designs are used.

Having visited Flagstaff this July, I can tell you that it’s a pleasure to drive there at night. You see the roads but not the glaring streetlights. And from the middle of the city, you can see the Milky Way!

There are a lot of reasons to solve the light pollution problem: economics, the environment, public health and safety. But let’s not overlook an important but immeasurable benefit of the night sky. Our window to the universe is critical to the development of the human mind and the cultivation of a far-seeing wisdom. I see the effect of it every time I let someone look through my telescope. I saw it this summer out west, in National Parks that have fought hard to preserve their dark skies. The starry night changes people’s behavior; it stops and makes them think, and we need more thinking. It gets people talking in wonder together, and we need more community. We need the natural world—and the night sky represents the part of that world that is most challenging to our understanding—to inspire us and humble us in a way that no computer generated graphic ever can.

You can learn more about light pollution…online, of course. Visit the International Dark Sky Association webpage for lots of infomration: http://www.ida.org

How to look through a telescope

Last night I went to a lecture at HWS by Robert Bowman, a former Air Force colonel who was in charge of the “Star Wars” program under Reagan in the 1980s. He spoke about his road from warrior to peacenik. Very interesting talk. Anyway, I thought there might be a good crowd, and I figured that a little stargazing might go well with an exercise in imagining a very different world, so I packed up my small refractor telescope and mount into the car. I left during the start of Q&A, and Larry Campbell, who was hosting the speaker, announced that I’d be outside at the end of the talk.

I set the scope out under the glaring lights in front of the library. Before I tell the rest of my story, let’s talk about light pollution. As an astronomer, I hate light pollution, which is basically defined as light pointing wastefully into the sky instead of on the ground where we’d like it to be. There’s a growing world-wide movement against light pollution. It makes the sky ugly and orange. It hurts animals and trees. It hurts people. And keeps us ignorant of the existence of the rest of the universe, a necessary context without which we cannot make wise decisions for the future of a fragile, isolated planet. Light pollution is also bad for our immediate health and safety. The American Medical Association has just declared that glare from outside lighting is a public health hazard. Read why here.

Anyway, the lights around the library were glaringly bright. I could however see the two targets for the evening’s program–the almost full Moon and Jupiter. I started with Jupiter. I was interested to see how students would react. There’s a whole batch of new first years that just arrived on campus…would they be too cool for school? How would the experience compare to setting up the scope on the sidewalk downtown? I have to admit I assumed there would be a slightly more educated audience.

They weren’t too cool. Well, some boys in cars that zoomed by did shout a few things at us. But with the doppler shift, I couldn’t really tell what they said. I assumed it was complimentary. A guy with a telescope is really cool. And anyway, there was a respectable crowd around me, and they were just wishing there was someone in their car to impress. The stargazers that joined me were enthusiastic, some of them contagiously so. For some of the first years, I can see them thinking at the back of their minds: yeah, this is college!

But in terms of knowledge of the universe, they were like most people I meet. Which is to say, pretty unaware of what’s out there. It’s not a dig. It’s not their fault. There just isn’t enough amateur astronomers and earth science teachers with the desire to teach about the greater context of earth to go around. And I think there’s a resistance in humans to this. Some people don’t want to feel tiny and insignificant, and advertising agencies rush in to convince us it isn’t so (and feel better by buying our new hyperdoodadthingy!) Bill McKibben once watched all the programming available on every cable channel for a 24 hour period–it took him weeks. And what he found was a resounding and overwhelming message; the individual is the most important thing. Not family. Not community. Not world. He wrote a great book about the experience, called The Age of Missing Information:

We believe that we live in the “age of information,” that there has been an information “explosion,” an information “revolution.” While in a certain narrow sense this is the case, in many important ways just the opposite is true. We also live at a moment of deep ignorance, when vital knowledge that humans have always possessed about who we are and where we live seems beyond our reach. An Unenlightenment. An age of missing information.

-Bill McKibben

But there’s a countervailing force, a desire or curiosity to see what’s out there. It drives people to the telescope. As if the thing itself excuses the basic curiosity, breaks the monotony of day to day living. There was some people at the telescope last night that were very excited to see Jupiter. Joe, for example, who was from New York City. He mentioned that looking at the night sky through a telescope had been a life-long dream. I was pleased to be able to oblige. (But Joe, please, don’t yet consider the dream fulfilled. There’s a whole sky up there that you could barely see because the colleges like to light up buildings and trees as if there was no such thing as night. Go out on one of the side roads around the college at night with a few buddies and look up. You’ll be started by what you can see.

Yang Hu and Joe at the telescope.

Yang Hu and Joe at the telescope.

Jupiter is 11 times the diameter of earth. Cut Jupiter in half and scoop it out like a cantaloup and you can fit all the other planets inside it. It’s makes the solar-system a rather portable kit, just find another star. Jupiter is 500 million miles away. Get in your car and start driving, you’ll get there in about 900 years. Beware: cops love to use the asteroid belt between the orbit of Mars and Jupiter as a speed trap. Jupiter is a gas giant like Saturn, but bigger and different. It’s surface is characterized by beautiful belts and eddies of gas. Through the 3-inch refractor I had set up, you could clearly see the two darkest cloud bands across the planet.

Jupiter has four large moons, called collectively “The Galilean Moons”. They are: Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto. We named them after Galileo because he was the first human to see them, through an early telescope. He didn’t call them “Galilean Moons”–he called them “Medicean Stars” because 1) he didn’t know they were moons (they look like stars through small telescopes) and 2) because the de Medici family was sponsoring his research. You have to nod to your sponsors. Anyway, these four moons are really important to the development of human thought about the cosmos, because they helped Galileo realize that the earth might not be the center of the universe. The idea was that everything revolved around the earth. But night after night, Galileo watched these four “stars” dance around Jupiter. Even in one observing session, they can shift position. Basically, he concluded that if something could orbit Jupiter, then everything didn’t orbit the earth. Thus, a revolution in scientific thought and a very unpleasant run-in with the Roman Catholic Church that didn’t get resolved until 1992 when John Paul II stated that it was all a case of “tragic mutual incomprehension.” I’ll let that hang for a moment.

Cool College Kidz Hang Around My Telescope

Cool College Kidz Hang Around My Telescope

The dance of the Galilean Moons was charming last night. At first only two were visible. I thought it was Calliso and Europa. Io, I knew, wasn’t visible through my scope because it was over Jupiter’s surface so it blended in. I also thought that Ganymede was transiting Jupiter, but I was wrong. Later, someone said “I see two stars above Jupiter and one below.”

“Two above?” I checked. He was right. Europa and Ganymede were so close they had appeared as one. Not an hour later, they were visibly separate. It’s amazing how quickly things can change in the cosmos. Just when I absorbed that, something else: Io’s shadow appeared on Jupiter’s surface. And unlike Io, which is about the same shade and color of Jupiter and so blends in as it transits, Io’s shadow appears as a sharp pin-prick of black. Most people could see it.

I stated a while back that my mission is to bring views of the universe to them who need seeing it. I have to remember that that means pretty much everybody, from working class blokes on the sidewalk downtown to fairly privileged college students.

Bonus Coda: I’ll close with a little piece of advice I gave to most of the people who stopped by to look through the scope. Most people close one eye shut tight when trying to look through the telescope. That works, but it’s not very comfortable and quickly becomes untenable. Instead of doing that, leave both eyes open, but cover the one that’s not at the eyepiece with your hand. It’s way more relaxing that way. Here, a student demonstrates the proper procedure:

outreach-1

Bonus Coda II: Yang Hu took a photo of the moon through the telescope with her digital camera. Check it out:

The mostly full moon. The top edge is eclipsed by the eyepiece lens.

The mostly full moon. The top edge is eclipsed by the eyepiece lens.

Bonus Coda III: “Human beings–any one of us, and our species as a whole–are not all-important, not at the center of the world. That is the one essential piece of information, the one great secret, offered by any encounter with the woods or the mountains or the ocean or any wilderness or chunk of nature or patch of night sky.” -Bill McKibben, The Age of Missing Information

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