I met an elderly farmer the other day and during the course of our conversation he told me how when he was young, he’d look up at the sky and the stars looked enormous. “Kbar, jixgħelu, u miljuni kien ikun hemm (huge, bright and millions of them),” was how he described it.

In contrast, today, they look microscopic and so far away. “But admittedly my eyesight is not what it used to be,” he quipped.

Try and look up at the sky tonight and the chances are that you’ll have to squint to see the stars. And it’s not because we’re suffering from collective short sightedness, or because the stars are abandoning us; the night sky is the same as it was when the farmer was a child 60 years ago. It’s the light bulbs which have tripled.

Obviously, artificial lighting is incredibly valuable. I’m typing this on a laptop with a dying battery, in the light of two candles fished out from under the cupboard, as all of Lija has gone into an evening blackout. (This despite the multimillion brand new power station – fortunately my neighbours round the corner had no fashion parties going on.)

So, yes I know that we cannot really live without electricity but this black-out has made me realise how I rarely look up at the sky these days unless I’m watching a fireworks show. Isn’t it a shame that every night nature provides us with a stellar show – and we either forget about it or there’s too much light pollution to watch it?

I remember the times, years ago, when I was completely bowled over by star-gazing. Once in the Serengeti in Tanzania, when I was camping in the middle of plains under a 180 degrees canopy of stars; and another time in Dwejra, Gozo, when I was still an archaeology student and we thought we’d spend the night looking up after a day of digging down.

Isn’t it a shame that every night nature provides us with a stellar show – and we either forget about it or there’s too much light pollution to watch it?

Each time I can’t even begin to describe the surreal feeling of awe and tinyness. As you lie on your back you’re thinking: “While I’m looking at this, other people from other continents are looking at the same sky from a different angle.” Nothing else gives such a profound sense of perspective – you simply stop thinking that life revolves around you when you feel this great sense of connection with the rest of humanity.

These days I’m only seeing constellations on computer screens. When I do remember to look up, invariably I only see a sort of reddish hues. In fact, two years ago, a scientific paper confirmed that light pollution in Malta made it impossible to observe the Milky Way from almost 90 per cent of the country – most of Malta has a permanent ‘skyglow’ at night due to artificial lighting.

According to the Institute for Astronomy and Space Sciences, Malta is one of only five countries where it is practically impossible to observe the Milky Way – that river-like pattern of stars. The other four countries are the heavily illuminated Singapore, San Marino, Kuwait and Qatar.

Our job is to take care of the environment, but who cares? Go on and flood the area with lights

There’s only one area which has, so far, not been starved of darkness and that’s still Dwejra in Gozo. The area was popular in daylight for its now gone and much missed Azure Window, but it was and still is, very important at night time. In fact, it is so outstanding for astronomical observations that it’s designated as a dark sky heritage area, and on the list to become a Unesco World Heritage Site.

Till now.

Because this week things have gone slightly awry. The restaurant in Dwejra, the Azure Window Restaurant, had applied to install a canopy, a sign, tables outside and… more lights.

Woah, hold your horses, astronomy experts said: the introduction of lighting at the site would be “madness” and “disastrous”. Wahey, no way, the NGOs told him: more light over there threatens the entire ecology of the area and Dwejra is a Natura 2000 site, specially protected under the Wild Birds Directive.

The list of objectors to his application included the Physics Department at the University of Malta, the Light Pollution Awareness Group, Birdlife Malta, Friends of the Earth Malta and Nature Trust Malta. The Planning Authority weighed their scientific input and came to a decision: it refused the restaurant owner’s creative embellishments.

The owner appealed, as was his right, and then the oddest thing happened. The Environment and Planning Review Tribunal overturned the Planning Authority’s decision. The Tribunal tore to bits all the scientific, geographical, biological and astronomical facts laid on its table and said: “Our job is to take care of the environment, but who cares? Go on and flood the area with lights.”

It did not feel the need to protect this dark-sky region for astronomers, or to value the importance of its nocturnal wildlife, or appreciate the growing number of tourists who, instead of the Azure Window want to see what the night sky actually looks like. What it saw was keeping the restaurant owner happy. What it saw was money.

And here we go again. If the Dwejra night sky is to survive, no environment tribunal will stick up for it. NGOs need to pass round the kitty again in order to collect the hefty sum needed to file an appeal in the law courts to try and block the light-up. And once more we’re left with the million-dollar question: who is really behind this tribunal?

Studies show that the vastness of the night sky improves the sense of scale of who we are and our place in the universe, and consequently makes us think more about the common good and keeps our egos in check. Perhaps star-gazing should be compulsory for all the members of the Environment and Planning Tribunal (and, while we’re at it, for both of our country’s leaders).

In the meantime, to survive this mediocrity we have must keep on aiming high. As Oscar Wilde said in his play Lady Windermere’s Fan, “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

Now, with my laptop battery flashing warnings, and with no TV, YouTube and iPads, I will go out in the garden and do like people did millennia ago – watch the sky as a pastime.

krischetcuti@gmail.com
twitter: @krischetcuti