The Light That Obscures The Stars
Our nights may be illuminated for our convenience - but at the cost of beauty
Take a step outside of your door at night and look up. What do you see? A breathtaking spectacle or black, empty nothingness? Endless shimmering stars stretching across the heavens or a black canvas dotted here and there with faint glimmers that might be stars (or passing aeroplanes)? The outcome of this exercise ultimately depends on where your dwelling place resides: the city or the village, the rural or the urban, the wilderness or the urban “jungle”. For in the city, the light of the stars must compete with other lights, the lights of our industrial and electrified age1.
Our urban spaces, while giving us so much good, have also taken away from their inhabitants so much of that which is precious from creation: nature, silence and solitude, and clean fresh air. But perhaps one of the most precious things that urban spaces deprive us of is the nightly spectacle of a sky saturated with glimmering celestial bodies. As improbable as it seems, light pollution from our streetlights, headlights, and industries is strong enough to obscure and outshine the light emanating from stars whose sheer size would make our sun seem obsolete. The impossible task that Abraham was given by God to number the stars in the sky, is now well within the realms of possibility for modern urban dwellers who strain to make out the few faintly glimmering stars that remain in the empty void of the city night sky.
We have deprived ourselves of so much beauty, majesty and awe — and we barely seem to even notice.
Perhaps this is one of the plethora of reasons why our modern western societies are so inward-looking and infatuated with self, and thus so prepared to destroy and degrade our natural world: we have lost one of the greatest and starkest reminders of our minuteness and ‘cosmic insignificance’2 which puts humanity in its proper place. As I have argued elsewhere, we have lost our sense of awe partly because we are no longer exposed to that which is truly awesome. This dynamic is clearly at play here as instead of being awestruck by the profusion of stars, we are infatuated with a different light — the glow of the innumerable screens which glimmer in our cities and homes. This is the glow of trivial light, addictive light, and profane light — a light emanating forth from pixels shining with the glitters and shimmers of social media, stock market reports, and celebrity gossip.
And it has blinded us to that which is truly awesome.
The greatest tragedy of obscuring the stars is this: that the skies no longer proclaim the truly awesome glory of God to the extent that they once did3 for the actions of humanity have hidden this proclamation from view. The brilliance of the night sky which left our ancestors with a daily reminder of the grandeur, might, and transcendence of their Creator (and correspondingly of their smallness, dependence, and (in the grand scheme of things) insignificance4) has now disappeared, only to be replaced with glowing symbols of our industrial age’s dominion over nature and sky. Instead of being reminded of our weakness and dependence on the Creator, the lights of our modern world — most pertinently the lights in our pockets — proclaim to us our greatness, power, and importance. The messages these ‘media lights’ proclaim and the materialistic and consumptive desires they promote encourage further acts of pillaging, destruction, and replacement of creation. This leads to an ever-increasing dimming of the night sky5 and an increasing ignorance and rejection of the Creator.
I have no answers for all of this which I have decried. As much as I would like for us to return to skies strewn with visible stars, this is a vain hope. We have become dependent on our nights being illuminated for our safety (which is a good thing) and our economic productivity (which is perhaps not so good)6. For many of us, our nighttimes are as active as our daytimes and for this, we depend on (artificial) light. If we desire and demand such light, we must accept the inevitable sacrifice of the beauty of the starry night sky.
But there is one thing we can do. From time to time we can seek out those precious dark sky reserves — sanctuaries of deep earthly darkness where the light of the stars shines unhindered and unobscured. In these theatres of the glory of God, we can witness the great crescendo of the stars declaring the praise and glory of God with all their intensity and brilliance. And we can join them in worship — the worship of the Creator — that very thing we were made for.
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(Disclaimer: I think I read a quote somewhere which made the connection between the dimming of the night sky and the dimming of the proclamation of the glory of God in the night sky so this essay may not be an original thought. If I find the quote again I shall be sure to cite it here).
Note, as with most of my essays, this is a deliberately provocative and unbalanced piece aiming to imitate a conversation about what we have lost by illuminating the night rather than presenting a nuanced and balanced argument. I appreciate there are many benefits to having light at night - of which I am the beneficiary and also part of the cause.
Phrase from Kahane, G. (2014) Our Cosmic Insignificance. Nous 48, 745–772.
This is not to say that the truth of verses such as “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork” (Psalm 19:1) is no longer valid or true. It categorically is. (although we have obscured its truth from our sight and consciousness.)
Psalm 8:3-4. When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him? (ESV)
Wendell Berry has a practice of not writing at night because to do so would rely on electric light powered by the coal-powered power stations he so vehemently rages against. This demonstrates how intertwined our modern industrial age is with the destruction of creation. And although I do not follow his practice, I laud Berry’s consistency of belief and action.
I am well aware that illuminating the night makes it much safer for people who are out at night (especially women), and this is unquestionably a good thing. And also that illuminating the night is not intrinsically wrong. But this does come at a sacrifice of beauty, which we must accept.
"...we have lost our sense of awe partly because we are no longer exposed to that which is truly awesome" - we have the opportunity to visit my family in Switzerland each year, which allows us a few days in the Alps. Last year I hiked a new trails which led alongside a massive mountainside. It left me literally awestruck; I could not take my eyes from it. There are times when we will just sit and 'eat' the view of the waterfall, the mountains, the lush pastures; in those places God's creation speaks loud and clear.
Thanks Hadden. I think the best places I’ve observed the night sky with all the trillions of stars is Seychelles in the 1970s and NSW, Australia on a sheep farm in the mid 80s. Areas of Scotland and the western Isles are good too on a cloudless night! I do crave seeing the sky like that again and often try to find somewhere dark enough to look up and see. Yes, we have paid a great sacrifice for modern day convenience, entertainment and safety.