Thoughts from J. Bockman
I heard a radio interview about National Dark Skies Week--that's how I know it existed as a week at all. The man being interviewed mentioned how it would be kicked off with Earth Hour, a campaign to get everyone to turn off their lights for an hour. Earth Hour, according to their website, began last year in Sydney, while the dark skies organization(s) have been around a bit longer. But that's a tangent, I was talking about the interview. In answering the question of the campaign's underlying importance, the man spent far more air time speaking in terms of his personal connection to the night sky, of being able to see the stars, of the feeling of infinity it inspired, than in the more global issues underlying the movement. Keep in mind, I'm summarizing here from an interview I heard awhile ago while most of my attention was on driving. National Dark Skies Week was actually a couple weeks ago.
Dark skies has a particular importance to Tucson, and I was listening for an expert's take on it. It was mentioned, as were a couple other points, but none were really covered, so I went looking for a good discussion on why dark skies are important. Maybe I didn't listen to the right stations, read the right news sites. (I don't watch television news, but they're given to sound bytes and so never do more than peck at a matter anyway.) I never did find a good discussion.
While National Dark Skies Week, and having dark skies just in general, may not match the importance of gas prices and sustainable living in our social dialogue, the issue is related and rates more than the symbol of a week in its name, more than the lights-out-for-an-hour awareness campaign. It absolutely needs more of a discussion that one person on the radio talking about how the vastness of the stars changed his perspective on himself. Which is not to say that moment isn't important. I knew exactly what he was talking about; I've had the same experience. Not an "aha" moment, more of an "I never knew" wonder that sets you on your backside and never really leaves you. I hope everyone has the chance to experience it. But, it's a very personal thing and what the interviewee effectively glossed over were the public reasons dark skies are important, the reasons we the public, we the city residents, should care.
And, I don't think a news blip about a campaign to turn light off does much to address this. Actually, if I wasn't already at least peripherally aware of the issue, it may have had the opposite effect on me. I'm sick of being asked to participate in symbolic acts that don't really do anything, especially when it's titled (i.e. Earth Hour, National Dark Skies Week) because it smacks of the cause of the moment.
The issue behind the dark-skies movement is light pollution. Light pollution is not really something that's in our social consciousness. That is to say, we generally don't walk outside at 10 o'clock at night and wonder if the fact the parking lot sports light poles every ten feet has consequences that out-weigh the safety benefits of seeing our car from seven rows away. I know that I only started to think about how bright cities were when I moved from Phoenix, where my mother used the street lights flipping on as the deadline for me being home and where on major streets you can't find a shadow with any muscle to it. I could count the number of stars in my field of vision (two). Tucson is the literal dark side. Most neighborhoods haven't a streetlight at all (the shadows are big bullies, hiding pot holes and laughing when you trip over them) and the university campus is lit in this weird orange glow that just looks contaminated, if you're coming from cities with typical street lighting.
Maybe because I just generally like Tucson, and certainly because I live with someone who knows quite a bit about telescopes, I've reversed my view on which is the bad city when it comes to lighting.
Incidentally, if you want to see how much of the continent is lit at night, there's a good photo here and here. It's tricky to get past how beautiful it looks and understand the sheer amount of energy being used every night. But that's not as hard as moving beyond energy consumption to other things affected. Actually, I think it's impossible unless you have some context about it. After all, it's light, what does it hurt?
According to International Dark-Sky Association, the adverse affects include: energy waste (and the pollution caused by energy use); disruption of bird migration routes, and public safety, among other things. The radio interview I heard passingly mentioned a couple of these, but I recommend looking at the IDA website if anyone wants a comprehensive take on light pollution.
What's way down on the list of reasons to control night lighting is something very important to Tucson, and really to the desert in general: telescopes. Specifically scientific telescopes. In fact, the telescopes on Kitt Peak are why Tucson's lighting ordinance is the way it is--the amount of light at night directly interferes with how much a telescope can do, so the city put strict regulations on lighting in order to accommodate scientific observations.
On the surface, it doesn't seem so important -- a couple telescopes on a small mountain just south of the city, versus the city teeming with residents who can't see beyond their front porches at night, at least not without a flashlight. But it is important, in that long-term subtle cascade way. The Kitt Peak Observatories were, are, successful. They gather useful data and -- best of all to those involved -- they don't need to make extreme accommodations to do so. The observers can live nearby or visit from out of town, the support staff can live nearby, in an area with lots of amenities, as opposed to driving or flying thousands of miles to get to work. (One example of the extreme in telescopes: for the observatory at the south pole, the staff live in New Zealand and fly to the site every few months.)
Our region has the dry-air conditions observatories need, and the mountains nearby that make things drier, colder, and even better for gathering images. Tucson has a technically knowledgeable work base, many of whom have worked on telescopes before. The university has the facilities for the optics, for developing the support structure, etc. In fact, Tucson is one of the largest optics research centers in the U.S. It's attractive to build telescopes here and the benefits to the region have tumbled down from there. Tucson has many technical job opportunities--from engineers that design the equipment to technicians that maintain the power lines to the telescopes. And, the economy all through the area gets a cash boost. One example: we have observatories on Mt. Graham. Some employees live in nearby Safford (thereby paying for housing, food, etc in town.) Others commute & stay on the site for several days, generally buying groceries in Wilcox or other communities. Visiting observers -- the telescopes are an internationally funded, so there are occasionally people here from Germany or Italy -- will take time off to be a tourist. All because Tucson turned the lights down.
Arizona has optical telescopes at Kitt Peak, Mt. Hopkins, Mt. Graham, Mt Lemmon, and Flagstaff. (It should be noted, we also have radio telescopes here & in New Mexico, but that's not directly related to dark skies.)
I think there's a lot to say about why dark skies are important. Telescopes are just one, the one I'm most familiar with, and therefore the one I chose to open the discussion with.
And I think there's a lot to say about finding the balance between street safety and lighting waste. Cities are slowly changing their lighting ordinances, but it's the public who determines where the priorities are. Most everyone I meet that's new to Tucson demands to know why Tucson doesn't do something about the lighting. If they had their way, there would be a street light every ten feet on every single street, not because they don't care about environment or about economy, or any of that, but because we, most of us, don't realize there are consequences to it. We've been taught the more light the better; it's just light.
