Light Pollution: Finding the Best Way to Live With the Tyranny of the Majority
This morning I journeyed to the outhouse in a landscape so flooded by moonlight I didn’t need a flashlight, even though I was walking over the uneven surface of pahoehoe lava. On my way back I saw a dozen new solar lights that a neighbor had installed during my last trip.
It made me sad, and a little angry. I live in a world beleaguered by light pollution. I moved out to the Kalapana Gardens lava field in 2007 when there were fewer than 6 homes in the subdivision; now there are over 50 and every year we get a few more. Many of my neighbors have chosen to light up their yards at night, every year taking away more and more of my eyes’ ability to fully dilate in order to appreciate the full magnificence of the stars and the glow of the lava at night.
I understand the convenience of light pollution. The ability to light up the night and extend productive hours is a key aspect of modern civilization. I often use electricity for light when it’s dark.
I feel frustrated, though, when people have lights on at night when nobody’s using them. Solar lights charge every day and shine all night whether anyone needs to see by their light or not. Their invention has greatly increased the number of artificial lights I see at night. It makes me sad how popular they are.
Solar lights mar the nighttime scenery for me, in part because they show me how out of step I am with today’s U.S. citizens. I go through my house and cover up digital clocks and electronic displays as best I can in order to decrease light pollution; meanwhile my neighbors and friends are spending time and energy to increase light pollution.
It reminds me of this year’s election between Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. How is it possible for people to live side by side with each other when their values are opposite? If one person wants light, and the other doesn’t, who gets to win? If one person wants oil pipelines and the other doesn’t, who wins? If one person wants government-subsidized health care and the other doesn’t, who wins?
One way to deal with the issue is segregation. Just as animals in the zoo have different and separate habitats to take care of their different and separate needs, humans can have different habitats for people with different values. If I moved to an Amish area, I imagine I would be delighted at the lack of light pollution. Gated communities with CCRs help like-minded people find each other to live together; I could create a subdivision with rules that prohibit lights at night except when they are in direct use. I could move to a different country, perhaps one that is so poor that nobody would think to waste money on unused lights at night. I could segregate myself, moving to an isolated property with no visible neighbors, far away from any glow of a distant town or city.
I often segregate myself, choosing separation over a change in my values. What I’ve noticed is that being alone in my values doesn’t feel as good as being surrounded by people who have the same values as me. I have the body of a social mammal, with a brain wired to respond to the approval and acceptance of other mammals. I can override my social inclinations with rational logic; it feels better, though, when I don’t have to, when my logical mind and my emotional body are both getting their needs met.
In the case of my neighbors’ solar lights, my logical mind knows that the LED lights are mostly eyesores; the light they emit is so weak it probably affects my night vision very little. It’s mostly my emotional body that doesn’t like being surrounded by people who seek out light pollution on purpose. It’s a reminder that I’m the odd man out, the misfit in the group. It creates a fear of the future — what will happen when more people move in, and more and more light pollution infects my subdivision? Will I have to leave my beloved home because I have different values than the majority of my neighbors? If I have to abandon my home, it’s my own fault. A little forethought could have shown that a subdivision is not the best place for somebody to live who likes a dark night, even a subdivision that had been abandoned because it was run over by lava 15 years ago.
Unfortunately, human society in general does not seem like a good place for somebody to live who likes a dark night, which is perhaps why the proliferation of light pollution makes me feel so isolated and alone. I’m guessing that many people feel isolated and alone for some reason — maybe they’re the only vegan in their school, or the only one who hates swimming among their friends, or the only one at the 4th of July family reunion who hates fireworks. We are all bundles of preferences, and we’re bound to be the odd man out at least some of the time.
For myself, the quest for like-minded people goes on. The older I get, the more I can distinguish between the issues that matter more to me and the issues that matter less. As your roommate, I don’t care if you leave dirty dishes in the sink for a week, but I do not want to live with you if you are going to throw compost and recycling into the trash. The quality of my life is affected far more by the latter than by the former. Other people, with other values, will feel the opposite. I won’t take it personally if they don’t want to live with me, and I hope they don’t take it personally that I don’t want to live with them.
Even though the light pollution has increased in my subdivision, it’s still one of the better places for stargazing. Being off-grid helps; there aren’t too many bright lights at night because most people want to use their limited electricity for something else. Living close to the Mauna Kea observatories helps, because the local towns have policies to reduce light pollution in order to help the astronomers see better at night. Even though my predilection for dark at night is a minority position, I’ve found an area with some influences to keep it on the darker side even as the population swells with light-lovers.
Living in the body of a social mammal while surrounded by people who have different values from me is not easy. It is part of the human condition to balance personal preferences with the needs of the group. I imagine different people have different strategies depending on their values. For me, if the tyranny of the majority encroaches in an area that I care about deeply, I remove myself from the situation as best I can and seek out a new situation where the majority opinion is the same as mine, even if it means living alone so that mine is the only vote.
