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Take back the night: Establishing a "right to darkness" could save our night skies

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Tuesday, April 15, 2025

The technicolor Florida sunset had faded into darkness, and my extended family, assembled from two continents and three countries, gathered on the beach at Longboat Key to look at the stars. We were incredibly lucky that night in 1984, when I was seven, because a satellite came into view. With no clouds and few lights, it moved steadily like a bright little star across the dark, dark sky. We oohed. We ahhed. Today, some laypeople may still gather to watch a gaggle of newly-launched Starlink satellites, each designed for a lifetime of about 5 years, as they move through the sky like a string of pearls, or a long ellipse of unblinking stars. But the satellites are common enough these days that they often zip through the field of view of astronomers' telescopes, and their radio signals interfere with the signals used by those telescopes. With sunlight reflecting off their solar sails, at times satellites can be brighter than the stars that, from our viewpoint, surround them, and there are enough of them to brighten the night sky. There is little regulation of such space sources of light pollution. And work to better regulate and limit terrestrial, or ground-based, light pollution, while showing some promising results, is still in its infancy. Could an increasingly popular, intermittently successful legal argument involving what's called the Rights of Nature or more-than-human rights possibly reclaim our planet's dark skies? It sounds like a goth dream, but do we have a legal right to darkness? Is light pollution really that bad? It's a small step from annoyance to menace. While satellites offer many benefits, including environmental data gathering, with hundreds of thousands satellites expected to swarm the skies within the decade, we are looking at a genuine threat to the nighttime darkness within which we, and all living things, evolved over hundreds of thousands, in fact millions, of years. Not that satellites are the only concern. Light pollution from terrestrial sources has been a gradually growing menace to dark skies since the Industrial Revolution, as electrical lighting, explosive population growth, and dramatic increases in industry over the years have steadily brightened the sky while dimming the stars, especially near large urban centers. Since the advent of LEDs, though, the problem has become dramatically worse. The low cost, perceived environmental benefit, and abundant availability of LEDs has led to lights being used in entirely unnecessary ways. "Ground-based light pollution has been growing with urbanization, but there's an inflection point just a couple of years ago due to the arrival of LED lights, which have made it much easier to make much more light with less energy," astronomer James Lowenthal, also a dark skies advocate and professor of astronomy in Northampton, Massachusetts, told Salon in a video interview. "And not only are they bright, they're very blue ... It looks white to your eyes, it looks sparkling while, like an emergency room, operating room kind of light". "We see the stars less and less than we did just ten, twenty years ago." White light with that cool, bright white appearance, like intense moonlight, actually contains a higher proportion of short-wavelengths, the blue and green part of the visible spectrum. This cool blueish light is said to have a high temperature (the higher the temperature of light, the bluer it looks to us). In fact, the original LEDs that hit the market around 15 years ago had such a high temperature that when cities and towns installed them in street lights, people were horrified, Lowenthal said, describing "many cases of cities where citizens just revolted against what their city had done."  As most late-night computer users know by now, probably thanks to someone nagging at them, informatively but in vain, to get off the damn screen, blue light has effects on animal and human eyes, especially on older humans. "Just as blue sunlight scatters in the Earth's atmosphere and makes the sun look slightly less blue, light from a strong blue, rich white street light enters your eyeball, scatters around in your eyeball and causes a sort of gauzy veil of glare," Lowenthal explained.  There's more, though. The short wavelength blue light of LEDs bounces around more in the sky, intensifying the brightness of light pollution more than an equivalent amount of less blue light energy. To add insult to injury, our eyes' sensitivity shifts towards the blue end of the spectrum at night. That's why moonlight looks bluish, when it's actually the same color as sunlight. "And that's actually one of the main reasons that we see the stars less and less than we did just ten, twenty years ago," Lowenthal said. A few steps short of regulation As a result of these twin Earth-based and sky-based threats to the skies under which we all evolved, dark sky advocacy became a thing. So have dark-sky preserves, where light pollution is restricted; dark sky certification, which echoes programs such as the UNESCO World Heritage Sites; and dark skies as a marketing attraction.  The Dark and Quiet Skies report, a 2021 report commissioned by the United Nations Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space, notes from the first paragraphs the wide scope of dark sky advocacy — from the importance of that astronomical research for protecting the Earth from asteroids or for advancing scientific research that benefits all humanity, to the cultural significance of dark skies. Many Indigenous peoples use the stars for orientation as their ancestors did, and the panorama of stars serves as a "library" of Indigenous knowledge. Want more health and science stories in your inbox? Subscribe to Salon's weekly newsletter Lab Notes. "We are adapted to darkness. But I would say not just in a physiological way," Aparna Venkatesan, an astronomer at University of San Francisco, told Salon in a video interview, citing numerous studies on human creativity at night, the rich history of references to darkness in human languages and storytelling, and the prevalence of human origin stories — including the scientific account of the Big Bang — that begin with total darkness. Venkatesan, with astronomer and dark sky consultant John Barentine, coined the term "noctalgia," meaning "sky grief," to describe "the accelerating loss of the home environment of our shared skies." It's a loss that affects all of us but has intense implications for Indigenous people, for whom access to dark night skies is a vital factor in preserving traditions around navigation and calendaring. It even impacts food sovereignty, as pollinators are impacted by light pollution. "There's individual rights and community rights, including the rights of future generations and freedom of religion," Venkatesan said. "All of that is true, but I also want to advocate that we are part of the continuum, that darkness lives in our language, our storytelling, our identity, our science, our creativity. Really, much of our human identity rests with darkness." In response to concerns about terrestrial light pollution, dark sky preserves or parks have been springing up around the world (there are more than 120 in the U.S.), offering a distinct attraction for tourism as well as residents — and the ecosystems that are able to enjoy a kind of life that has become largely endangered, life where circadian rhythms follow the same schedule as our ancestors' did. Comparison showing the effects of light pollution on viewing the sky at night (Jeremy Stanley/Flickr/Wiki Commons)International Dark Sky Places is an international program of independent third-party certification of particular areas that apply to become IDSPs. Starting with Flagstaff, Arizona's appointment as the first Dark Sky City in 2001, the organization has certified dark sites, which can be communities, parks or protected areas, on six continents, 22 countries. There are now some 200 of them around the globe, representing 160,000 square kilometers of land on Earth from which you can see clear night skies, glittering heavens, the full starry span of the Milky Way rarely visible from cities or even the average over-illuminated suburb. Some of these are in the remote, austere sites that often serve as ideal sites for astronomical observatories. But not all of them.  There are practices of light pollution mitigation that can be learned and adopted if everyone in a given community is on board — or brought on board through policy decisions. But getting agreement and motivation to pursue dark sky certification status by working to achieve light pollution reduction targets is easier said than done. "There are no binding treaties that have to do with the night sky, with that type of environmental protection," Barentine told Salon in a video interview along with Venkatesan. That's even though certain U.N. instruments do mention it—the U.N. Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and the underlying treaties establishing the United Nations Environment Programme are among these, he said. "At best, what we might get is a series of recommendations to members states of these different conventions that they could choose to enact if they wanted to."  "Much of our human identity rests with darkness." But voluntary standards for light pollution, like voluntary standards for much else where profit and community or ecosystem well-being might be at odds, have a habit of failing to meet the need, of being inconsistently applied, and of simply being ignored. In fact, Ben Price, director of education at the Community Environmental Legal Defence Fund, which assisted in establishment of the world's first community rights of nature legislation, notes that the establishment of minimum protected areas tends to be supported or even promoted by the corporations that cause greatest environmental harm, effectively maximizing the amount of harm that can be done everywhere else.  The federal Clean Air and Clean Water acts, and similar state laws, likewise set out in law just how much degradation or destruction of the natural world corporations or others can get away with. Partly as a result, environmental damage is far, far worse and natural habitats are far smaller and more fragmented than they were half a century ago, before these pieces of legislation existed. Price told Salon in a video interview that he enjoyed amateur astronomy as a child and plans to travel to a noted dark sky preserve in the Pennsylvania wilds. "But really, do you have to travel hours and hours to see the stars the way they actually come through?" he asked rhetorically. "Do we really need to have every damn thing on the surface of the Earth lit up?" Or in the sky — Price has also watched satellites and has memories of seeing Sputnik overhead. Legislation, Price believes, is the answer to bringing back the dark — as opposed to carving the Earth up into little pieces, a few fragments of which might achieve protected status. But with over two decades of work to advance rights of nature at the community level in the United States — nearly 200 communities have adopted CELDF-drafted community bill of rights laws including rights of nature — he believes that the entrenched domination of property rights in the U.S. means that it's going to be an uphill battle.   The damage done by bright skies In the law, reparations are often thought of in terms of damages. Well, there's plenty of damage to be redressed. Remember how our eyes naturally become more sensitive to the blue end of the visible spectrum at night? That's just one of the many known and other likely unrecognized ways in which even daylight-waking creatures like us have been conditioned by millions of years of evolving in a world with roughly equal hours of daylight and darkness.  Nocturnal animals obviously depend on having adequate darkness for the kind of eyesight they've evolved and the nighttime behavior they've evolved to carry out in the dark of night. But diurnal animals like humans, and crepuscular animals, like cats, that are naturally at their most active at dawn and at dusk, also have exquisitely calibrated chronobiology, with hormone patterns that change according to the light and processes that take place during either daytime, when the sun is out, or nighttime, when it's not.  Research demonstrating the negative health impacts of messing too much with our bodies' ingrained expectations about light and darkness has accumulated over decades. Light pollution is linked to a host of health harms. Exposure to artificial light when we should be asleep alters our production of the important hormone melatonin, increasing risks of obesity, reproductive problems, certain cancers such as breast and prostate cancer, and mood disorders, and negatively affects immune function. Seine et Marne on march the 6th 2021 at night. Taurus constellation. On this image we can see the effect of the movements of artificial satellites through the sky. On the left we can see the planet Mars, on the right the famous stars cluster the Pleiades (M45). From the bottom right the luminous trail of the satellite STARLINK-1269, and from the top the luminous trail of the satellite STARLINK-1577. (Christophe Lehenaff / Getty Images)It's even worse for animals, who aren't able to make choices like dimming the lights at a decent hour, using a red shift filter on their phones, or installing blackout curtains. Exposure to constant bright light causes pigeons to lose their regular locomotor and feeding patterns, and goldfish that are normally active in daytime likewise lose their own consistent patterns of activity and rest. Abnormal patterns of light and darkness reduce reproductive capacity in male sheep. Both sunlight and moonlight play roles in regulating the spawning and migration of Japanese eels. Outdoor lighting can trap migratory birds and moths. In fact, even kingdoms of life beyond Animalia depend on darkness. Plants, linked in our minds with light thanks to their ability to turn it into energy through photosynthesis, require darkness, too. Artificial light that hampers nocturnal pollinators reduces plant reproductive success and fruit production. It also puts trees' schedules out of whack, affecting the dates of when leaves bud and how and when temperature triggers leaves to change color (though it also might delay plants' schedules for flowering, budding and leap-dropping otherwise moved forwards as a result of global heating-induced changes in seasonal temperatures.) Even fungi need darkness, as they evolved to use patterns of light to interact with the world. They sense light with photoreceptors, and while they use them to avoid too much of it so as not to dry out, that's not all they're for. Fungi can have white collar proteins and cryptochromes for detection of blue light, opsins that detect green light, and phytochromes for red light. These photoreceptors also regulate things like sexual and asexual development and metabolism, accumulation of protective pigments and proteins, and growth. Artificial light seems to reduce the diversity of both fungi and beneficial ("good") bacteria living on grassland plant species, destabilize natural bacteria communities in soil, and may cause harmful algal blooms of blue-green algae in freshwater lakes.  And it isn't just darkness, but specifically the clear view of the stars that dark skies provide that is key to wellbeing for some species. Songbirds that migrate at night calibrate their magnetic compass to the setting sun, then use the stars as a compass. Bull ants use stars to find their way home. The dung beetle, which disperses seeds as it rolls its dung balls, fertilizing topsoil and enhancing biodiversity and engineering its environment, normally orients itself using the Milky Way and the moon. When light pollution or skyglow (light pollution from elsewhere reflected downwards) dims it, the beetle is forced to orient itself by sources of light on Earth. This increases competition within the species as all the dung beetles are attracted to the same artificial light source, or results in them becoming disoriented when they can't find a replacement for the stars. Either way, the result is less of that dispersal that's so important for soil health and biodiversity. Suing for dark skies "Now, of course, there is no legal precedent in U.S. courts for non-human entities having rights in and of themselves. When we talk about laws like the Endangered Species Act, it's always about the value of those species to humans, even if it is only our curiosity or our wonder," Price said, noting that momentum is building in other countries towards a less anthropocentric approach.  "We should draft and enact local [and] state laws," Price argued, "that recognize the right to dark skies as belonging intrinsically to nocturnal life, and not just nocturnal because what happens to life at night, if it's diminished or wiped out is going to have absolutely devastating effects on those creatures and on [that] plant life and so forth that is more active in daylight. It's all connected, and that's the very point of it all." A rights of nature argument would be about "conveying enough legal recognition to those natural systems that they can at least compete with the Western view of humans being at the legal and environmental apex," where the purpose of the nature is framed as being the benefit of humans, and nature is to be made subservient to us, Barentine said. He has scoured the global legal literature for examples that could serve as precedents for applying legislation to dark skies. "There has to be a change in paradigms that are at the foundation of how we run our society and the kinds of laws we create." Some countries have subjected light pollution to law and to judicial review, Barentine said. "And I found some examples of countries that have given a level of consideration to these natural systems that are at least close enough to that, to where you can make the jump and say, if you would protect a river, for example, under rights of nature by giving it [legal] standing ... that there's really no reason that you cannot apply exactly the same logic to light pollution." But the more foundational idea of a legal right to darkness — or, complimentarily, a right to starlight — has not been tested in courts. But rights of nature arguments more generally have found favor with courts in enough jurisdictions that it's definitely no longer a fringe or symbolic legal concept, despite Price's reluctance to be over-optimistic about how quickly change can be achieved. And the framing of darkness or starlight as a right is not entirely new. In 2009, the general assembly of the International Astronomical Union passed "Resolution 2009-B5", which among other related points, states that "an unpolluted night sky that allows the enjoyment and contemplation of the firmament should be considered a fundamental socio-cultural and environmental right, and that the progressive degradation of the night sky should be regarded as a fundamental loss." And since this resolution built on a 2007 conference called the "International Conference in Defence of the Quality of the Night Sky and the Right to Observe Stars held jointly by UNESCO and the IAU, the idea that it's a sociocultural right might seem to be endorsed by UNESCO, the global body dedicated to such rights. But there are limits to how far international bodies are willing to go. Noting a "growing number of requests to UNESCO concerning the recognition of the value of the dark night sky and celestial objects," by 2007, UNESCO's World Heritage Centre stated that "the sky or the dark night sky or celestial objects or starlight as such cannot be nominated to the World Heritage List within the framework of the Convention concerning the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage." Nor, they say, can Dark Sky preserves be considered under the various categories of cultural and natural properties subject to protection — because no criteria exist for them to be considered. And that's still several steps away from an enforceable right. So we're not there yet. If a person or group of people are going to go to court on behalf of nature, "it is a stronger case if the complaint is brought by a human person who lives in a place that is affected by that thing. So it would be hard for me to make an argument that I should be the plaintiff in a case involving light pollution in China or Europe or somewhere like that," said Barentine, who lives in Tucson, Arizona, a dark sky city, "but I could be the person who brings the complaint in my part of the United States, because I can argue that I am impacted by this and I have an interest in this ecosystem." Barentine and colleagues have been developing the concept of a lightshed, analogous to a watershed, a geographical region that may cut across existing legal boundaries but that could define an area within which total light pollution must be kept within a certain limit in order to mitigate harm and limit skyglow. "If we believe that there's anything like a commons and that there is a public interest in the commons, then I could bring suit on behalf of all people similarly situated. We could define a class of people. I can say that literally, every person who lives in my city is affected in one way or another by this issue, and therefore could stand to suffer a legal injury that we're asking a court to remedy," Barentine said. While restrictions on local governance in the US and the country's strong legal emphasis on property rights makes it extremely difficult to advance dark sky legislation through a rights of nature argument, Price said that, in theory at least, were a bill introduced this year in the New York legislature that would grant rights of nature to the Great Lakes ecosystem prove successful, it might then be possible to argue in court that documented harms resulting from light pollution must be rectified under that legislation. The proposed legislation would devolve powers to local municipalities and counties to protect the ability of local ecosystems to exist, to flourish naturally, and to be restored when harmed. And as we've seen, humans, animals, and other organisms might have a strong case that we've all suffered harm from too much light when it should be dark, and even too few stars when the sky should be a-glitter with them. Still, Price thinks that this bill is likely to be a public learning experience more than anything else.  "There has to be a change in paradigms that are at the foundation of how we run our society and the kinds of laws we create," he said. "It's really people's minds that have to change more than the laws before they can accept these laws."  But he quoted science fiction author Ursula K. Le Guin on the eventual inevitability of once-unimaginable change. Accepting an award from the National Book Foundation, Le Guin said that "We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable — but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings." Read more about rights of nature

Dark sky proponents mull the rights of nature to battle light pollution. Here's how it would work

The technicolor Florida sunset had faded into darkness, and my extended family, assembled from two continents and three countries, gathered on the beach at Longboat Key to look at the stars. We were incredibly lucky that night in 1984, when I was seven, because a satellite came into view. With no clouds and few lights, it moved steadily like a bright little star across the dark, dark sky. We oohed. We ahhed.

Today, some laypeople may still gather to watch a gaggle of newly-launched Starlink satellites, each designed for a lifetime of about 5 years, as they move through the sky like a string of pearls, or a long ellipse of unblinking stars. But the satellites are common enough these days that they often zip through the field of view of astronomers' telescopes, and their radio signals interfere with the signals used by those telescopes. With sunlight reflecting off their solar sails, at times satellites can be brighter than the stars that, from our viewpoint, surround them, and there are enough of them to brighten the night sky.

There is little regulation of such space sources of light pollution. And work to better regulate and limit terrestrial, or ground-based, light pollution, while showing some promising results, is still in its infancy. Could an increasingly popular, intermittently successful legal argument involving what's called the Rights of Nature or more-than-human rights possibly reclaim our planet's dark skies? It sounds like a goth dream, but do we have a legal right to darkness?

Is light pollution really that bad?

It's a small step from annoyance to menace. While satellites offer many benefits, including environmental data gathering, with hundreds of thousands satellites expected to swarm the skies within the decade, we are looking at a genuine threat to the nighttime darkness within which we, and all living things, evolved over hundreds of thousands, in fact millions, of years.

Not that satellites are the only concern. Light pollution from terrestrial sources has been a gradually growing menace to dark skies since the Industrial Revolution, as electrical lighting, explosive population growth, and dramatic increases in industry over the years have steadily brightened the sky while dimming the stars, especially near large urban centers. Since the advent of LEDs, though, the problem has become dramatically worse. The low cost, perceived environmental benefit, and abundant availability of LEDs has led to lights being used in entirely unnecessary ways.

"Ground-based light pollution has been growing with urbanization, but there's an inflection point just a couple of years ago due to the arrival of LED lights, which have made it much easier to make much more light with less energy," astronomer James Lowenthal, also a dark skies advocate and professor of astronomy in Northampton, Massachusetts, told Salon in a video interview. "And not only are they bright, they're very blue ... It looks white to your eyes, it looks sparkling while, like an emergency room, operating room kind of light".

"We see the stars less and less than we did just ten, twenty years ago."

White light with that cool, bright white appearance, like intense moonlight, actually contains a higher proportion of short-wavelengths, the blue and green part of the visible spectrum. This cool blueish light is said to have a high temperature (the higher the temperature of light, the bluer it looks to us). In fact, the original LEDs that hit the market around 15 years ago had such a high temperature that when cities and towns installed them in street lights, people were horrified, Lowenthal said, describing "many cases of cities where citizens just revolted against what their city had done." 

As most late-night computer users know by now, probably thanks to someone nagging at them, informatively but in vain, to get off the damn screen, blue light has effects on animal and human eyes, especially on older humans.

"Just as blue sunlight scatters in the Earth's atmosphere and makes the sun look slightly less blue, light from a strong blue, rich white street light enters your eyeball, scatters around in your eyeball and causes a sort of gauzy veil of glare," Lowenthal explained. 

There's more, though. The short wavelength blue light of LEDs bounces around more in the sky, intensifying the brightness of light pollution more than an equivalent amount of less blue light energy. To add insult to injury, our eyes' sensitivity shifts towards the blue end of the spectrum at night. That's why moonlight looks bluish, when it's actually the same color as sunlight.

"And that's actually one of the main reasons that we see the stars less and less than we did just ten, twenty years ago," Lowenthal said.

A few steps short of regulation

As a result of these twin Earth-based and sky-based threats to the skies under which we all evolved, dark sky advocacy became a thing. So have dark-sky preserves, where light pollution is restricted; dark sky certification, which echoes programs such as the UNESCO World Heritage Sites; and dark skies as a marketing attraction. 

The Dark and Quiet Skies report, a 2021 report commissioned by the United Nations Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space, notes from the first paragraphs the wide scope of dark sky advocacy — from the importance of that astronomical research for protecting the Earth from asteroids or for advancing scientific research that benefits all humanity, to the cultural significance of dark skies. Many Indigenous peoples use the stars for orientation as their ancestors did, and the panorama of stars serves as a "library" of Indigenous knowledge.


Want more health and science stories in your inbox? Subscribe to Salon's weekly newsletter Lab Notes.


"We are adapted to darkness. But I would say not just in a physiological way," Aparna Venkatesan, an astronomer at University of San Francisco, told Salon in a video interview, citing numerous studies on human creativity at night, the rich history of references to darkness in human languages and storytelling, and the prevalence of human origin stories — including the scientific account of the Big Bang — that begin with total darkness.

Venkatesan, with astronomer and dark sky consultant John Barentine, coined the term "noctalgia," meaning "sky grief," to describe "the accelerating loss of the home environment of our shared skies." It's a loss that affects all of us but has intense implications for Indigenous people, for whom access to dark night skies is a vital factor in preserving traditions around navigation and calendaring. It even impacts food sovereignty, as pollinators are impacted by light pollution.

"There's individual rights and community rights, including the rights of future generations and freedom of religion," Venkatesan said. "All of that is true, but I also want to advocate that we are part of the continuum, that darkness lives in our language, our storytelling, our identity, our science, our creativity. Really, much of our human identity rests with darkness."

In response to concerns about terrestrial light pollution, dark sky preserves or parks have been springing up around the world (there are more than 120 in the U.S.), offering a distinct attraction for tourism as well as residents — and the ecosystems that are able to enjoy a kind of life that has become largely endangered, life where circadian rhythms follow the same schedule as our ancestors' did.

Light pollution country versus cityComparison showing the effects of light pollution on viewing the sky at night (Jeremy Stanley/Flickr/Wiki Commons)International Dark Sky Places is an international program of independent third-party certification of particular areas that apply to become IDSPs. Starting with Flagstaff, Arizona's appointment as the first Dark Sky City in 2001, the organization has certified dark sites, which can be communities, parks or protected areas, on six continents, 22 countries. There are now some 200 of them around the globe, representing 160,000 square kilometers of land on Earth from which you can see clear night skies, glittering heavens, the full starry span of the Milky Way rarely visible from cities or even the average over-illuminated suburb. Some of these are in the remote, austere sites that often serve as ideal sites for astronomical observatories. But not all of them. 

There are practices of light pollution mitigation that can be learned and adopted if everyone in a given community is on board — or brought on board through policy decisions. But getting agreement and motivation to pursue dark sky certification status by working to achieve light pollution reduction targets is easier said than done.

"There are no binding treaties that have to do with the night sky, with that type of environmental protection," Barentine told Salon in a video interview along with Venkatesan. That's even though certain U.N. instruments do mention it—the U.N. Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples and the underlying treaties establishing the United Nations Environment Programme are among these, he said. "At best, what we might get is a series of recommendations to members states of these different conventions that they could choose to enact if they wanted to." 

"Much of our human identity rests with darkness."

But voluntary standards for light pollution, like voluntary standards for much else where profit and community or ecosystem well-being might be at odds, have a habit of failing to meet the need, of being inconsistently applied, and of simply being ignored. In fact, Ben Price, director of education at the Community Environmental Legal Defence Fund, which assisted in establishment of the world's first community rights of nature legislation, notes that the establishment of minimum protected areas tends to be supported or even promoted by the corporations that cause greatest environmental harm, effectively maximizing the amount of harm that can be done everywhere else. 

The federal Clean Air and Clean Water acts, and similar state laws, likewise set out in law just how much degradation or destruction of the natural world corporations or others can get away with. Partly as a result, environmental damage is far, far worse and natural habitats are far smaller and more fragmented than they were half a century ago, before these pieces of legislation existed.

Price told Salon in a video interview that he enjoyed amateur astronomy as a child and plans to travel to a noted dark sky preserve in the Pennsylvania wilds. "But really, do you have to travel hours and hours to see the stars the way they actually come through?" he asked rhetorically. "Do we really need to have every damn thing on the surface of the Earth lit up?" Or in the sky — Price has also watched satellites and has memories of seeing Sputnik overhead.

Legislation, Price believes, is the answer to bringing back the dark — as opposed to carving the Earth up into little pieces, a few fragments of which might achieve protected status. But with over two decades of work to advance rights of nature at the community level in the United States — nearly 200 communities have adopted CELDF-drafted community bill of rights laws including rights of nature — he believes that the entrenched domination of property rights in the U.S. means that it's going to be an uphill battle.  

The damage done by bright skies

In the law, reparations are often thought of in terms of damages. Well, there's plenty of damage to be redressed. Remember how our eyes naturally become more sensitive to the blue end of the visible spectrum at night? That's just one of the many known and other likely unrecognized ways in which even daylight-waking creatures like us have been conditioned by millions of years of evolving in a world with roughly equal hours of daylight and darkness. 

Nocturnal animals obviously depend on having adequate darkness for the kind of eyesight they've evolved and the nighttime behavior they've evolved to carry out in the dark of night. But diurnal animals like humans, and crepuscular animals, like cats, that are naturally at their most active at dawn and at dusk, also have exquisitely calibrated chronobiology, with hormone patterns that change according to the light and processes that take place during either daytime, when the sun is out, or nighttime, when it's not. 

Research demonstrating the negative health impacts of messing too much with our bodies' ingrained expectations about light and darkness has accumulated over decades. Light pollution is linked to a host of health harms. Exposure to artificial light when we should be asleep alters our production of the important hormone melatonin, increasing risks of obesity, reproductive problems, certain cancers such as breast and prostate cancer, and mood disorders, and negatively affects immune function.

Seine et Marne on march the 6th 2021 at night. Taurus constellation. On this image we can see the effect of the movements of artificial satellites through the sky. On the left we can see the planet Mars, on the right the famous stars cluster the Pleiades (M45). From the bottom right the luminous trail of the satellite STARLINK-1269, and from the top the luminous trail of the satellite STARLINK-1577. (Christophe Lehenaff / Getty Images)It's even worse for animals, who aren't able to make choices like dimming the lights at a decent hour, using a red shift filter on their phones, or installing blackout curtains. Exposure to constant bright light causes pigeons to lose their regular locomotor and feeding patterns, and goldfish that are normally active in daytime likewise lose their own consistent patterns of activity and rest. Abnormal patterns of light and darkness reduce reproductive capacity in male sheep. Both sunlight and moonlight play roles in regulating the spawning and migration of Japanese eels. Outdoor lighting can trap migratory birds and moths.

In fact, even kingdoms of life beyond Animalia depend on darkness. Plants, linked in our minds with light thanks to their ability to turn it into energy through photosynthesis, require darkness, too. Artificial light that hampers nocturnal pollinators reduces plant reproductive success and fruit production. It also puts trees' schedules out of whack, affecting the dates of when leaves bud and how and when temperature triggers leaves to change color (though it also might delay plants' schedules for flowering, budding and leap-dropping otherwise moved forwards as a result of global heating-induced changes in seasonal temperatures.)

Even fungi need darkness, as they evolved to use patterns of light to interact with the world. They sense light with photoreceptors, and while they use them to avoid too much of it so as not to dry out, that's not all they're for. Fungi can have white collar proteins and cryptochromes for detection of blue light, opsins that detect green light, and phytochromes for red light. These photoreceptors also regulate things like sexual and asexual development and metabolism, accumulation of protective pigments and proteins, and growth. Artificial light seems to reduce the diversity of both fungi and beneficial ("good") bacteria living on grassland plant species, destabilize natural bacteria communities in soil, and may cause harmful algal blooms of blue-green algae in freshwater lakes. 

And it isn't just darkness, but specifically the clear view of the stars that dark skies provide that is key to wellbeing for some species. Songbirds that migrate at night calibrate their magnetic compass to the setting sun, then use the stars as a compass. Bull ants use stars to find their way home. The dung beetle, which disperses seeds as it rolls its dung balls, fertilizing topsoil and enhancing biodiversity and engineering its environment, normally orients itself using the Milky Way and the moon. When light pollution or skyglow (light pollution from elsewhere reflected downwards) dims it, the beetle is forced to orient itself by sources of light on Earth. This increases competition within the species as all the dung beetles are attracted to the same artificial light source, or results in them becoming disoriented when they can't find a replacement for the stars. Either way, the result is less of that dispersal that's so important for soil health and biodiversity.

Suing for dark skies

"Now, of course, there is no legal precedent in U.S. courts for non-human entities having rights in and of themselves. When we talk about laws like the Endangered Species Act, it's always about the value of those species to humans, even if it is only our curiosity or our wonder," Price said, noting that momentum is building in other countries towards a less anthropocentric approach. 

"We should draft and enact local [and] state laws," Price argued, "that recognize the right to dark skies as belonging intrinsically to nocturnal life, and not just nocturnal because what happens to life at night, if it's diminished or wiped out is going to have absolutely devastating effects on those creatures and on [that] plant life and so forth that is more active in daylight. It's all connected, and that's the very point of it all."

A rights of nature argument would be about "conveying enough legal recognition to those natural systems that they can at least compete with the Western view of humans being at the legal and environmental apex," where the purpose of the nature is framed as being the benefit of humans, and nature is to be made subservient to us, Barentine said. He has scoured the global legal literature for examples that could serve as precedents for applying legislation to dark skies.

"There has to be a change in paradigms that are at the foundation of how we run our society and the kinds of laws we create."

Some countries have subjected light pollution to law and to judicial review, Barentine said. "And I found some examples of countries that have given a level of consideration to these natural systems that are at least close enough to that, to where you can make the jump and say, if you would protect a river, for example, under rights of nature by giving it [legal] standing ... that there's really no reason that you cannot apply exactly the same logic to light pollution."

But the more foundational idea of a legal right to darkness — or, complimentarily, a right to starlight — has not been tested in courts. But rights of nature arguments more generally have found favor with courts in enough jurisdictions that it's definitely no longer a fringe or symbolic legal concept, despite Price's reluctance to be over-optimistic about how quickly change can be achieved.

And the framing of darkness or starlight as a right is not entirely new. In 2009, the general assembly of the International Astronomical Union passed "Resolution 2009-B5", which among other related points, states that "an unpolluted night sky that allows the enjoyment and contemplation of the firmament should be considered a fundamental socio-cultural and environmental right, and that the progressive degradation of the night sky should be regarded as a fundamental loss." And since this resolution built on a 2007 conference called the "International Conference in Defence of the Quality of the Night Sky and the Right to Observe Stars held jointly by UNESCO and the IAU, the idea that it's a sociocultural right might seem to be endorsed by UNESCO, the global body dedicated to such rights.

But there are limits to how far international bodies are willing to go. Noting a "growing number of requests to UNESCO concerning the recognition of the value of the dark night sky and celestial objects," by 2007, UNESCO's World Heritage Centre stated that "the sky or the dark night sky or celestial objects or starlight as such cannot be nominated to the World Heritage List within the framework of the Convention concerning the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage." Nor, they say, can Dark Sky preserves be considered under the various categories of cultural and natural properties subject to protection — because no criteria exist for them to be considered. And that's still several steps away from an enforceable right. So we're not there yet.

If a person or group of people are going to go to court on behalf of nature, "it is a stronger case if the complaint is brought by a human person who lives in a place that is affected by that thing. So it would be hard for me to make an argument that I should be the plaintiff in a case involving light pollution in China or Europe or somewhere like that," said Barentine, who lives in Tucson, Arizona, a dark sky city, "but I could be the person who brings the complaint in my part of the United States, because I can argue that I am impacted by this and I have an interest in this ecosystem."

Barentine and colleagues have been developing the concept of a lightshed, analogous to a watershed, a geographical region that may cut across existing legal boundaries but that could define an area within which total light pollution must be kept within a certain limit in order to mitigate harm and limit skyglow.

"If we believe that there's anything like a commons and that there is a public interest in the commons, then I could bring suit on behalf of all people similarly situated. We could define a class of people. I can say that literally, every person who lives in my city is affected in one way or another by this issue, and therefore could stand to suffer a legal injury that we're asking a court to remedy," Barentine said.

While restrictions on local governance in the US and the country's strong legal emphasis on property rights makes it extremely difficult to advance dark sky legislation through a rights of nature argument, Price said that, in theory at least, were a bill introduced this year in the New York legislature that would grant rights of nature to the Great Lakes ecosystem prove successful, it might then be possible to argue in court that documented harms resulting from light pollution must be rectified under that legislation. The proposed legislation would devolve powers to local municipalities and counties to protect the ability of local ecosystems to exist, to flourish naturally, and to be restored when harmed. And as we've seen, humans, animals, and other organisms might have a strong case that we've all suffered harm from too much light when it should be dark, and even too few stars when the sky should be a-glitter with them.

Still, Price thinks that this bill is likely to be a public learning experience more than anything else. 

"There has to be a change in paradigms that are at the foundation of how we run our society and the kinds of laws we create," he said. "It's really people's minds that have to change more than the laws before they can accept these laws." 

But he quoted science fiction author Ursula K. Le Guin on the eventual inevitability of once-unimaginable change. Accepting an award from the National Book Foundation, Le Guin said that "We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable — but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings."

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Cloud-9 is a new type of object: a failed galaxy

Cloud-9 is the 1st example astronomers have found of a failed galaxy. Hubble found the galaxy contains no stars, but it is home to dark matter. The post Cloud-9 is a new type of object: a failed galaxy first appeared on EarthSky.

This image shows the location of Cloud-9, which is 14 million light-years from Earth. The diffuse magenta is radio data from the ground-based Very Large Array (VLA), showing the presence of the cloud. The dashed circle marks the peak of radio emission, where researchers focused their search for stars. Follow-up observations by the Hubble Space Telescope found no stars within the cloud. The few objects that appear within its boundaries are background galaxies. Before the Hubble observations, scientists could argue that Cloud-9 is a faint dwarf galaxy whose stars could not be seen with ground-based telescopes due to the lack of sensitivity. Image via NASA/ ESA/ G. Anand (STScI)/ and A. Benitez-Llambay (Univ. of Milan-Bicocca). Image processing: J. DePasquale (STScI). Cloud-9 is a new kind of object. Astronomers have identified the first-known starless, gas-rich, dark-matter-dominated cloud. They believe it’s a relic from the early universe. It’s a failed galaxy. Cloud-9 contains abundant neutral hydrogen but no stars. Its existence suggests there are many other small, dark matter-dominated structures in the universe. The lack of stars in Cloud-9 provides a unique window into the intrinsic properties of dark-matter clouds. Future surveys should help discover more of these relics. ESA published this original article on January 5, 2026. Edits by EarthSky. EarthSky’s 2026 lunar calendar is available now. Get yours today! Makes a great gift. Cloud-9 is a new type of object: a failed galaxy A team using the NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope has uncovered a new type of astronomical object. It’s a starless, gas-rich, dark-matter cloud that astronomers consider a relic or remnant of early galaxy formation. Nicknamed Cloud-9, this is the first confirmed detection of an object of its type in the universe. The finding furthers the understanding of galaxy formation, the early universe and the nature of dark matter itself. Principal investigator Alejandro Benitez-Llambay of the Milano-Bicocca University in Milan, Italy, said: This is a tale of a failed galaxy. In science, we usually learn more from the failures than from the successes. In this case, seeing no stars is what proves the theory right. It tells us that we have found in the local universe a primordial building block of a galaxy that hasn’t formed. Team member Andrew Fox of AURA/STScI for the European Space Agency added: This cloud is a window into the dark universe. We know from theory that most of the mass in the universe is expected to be dark matter, but it’s difficult to detect this dark material because it doesn’t emit light. Cloud-9 gives us a rare look at a dark-matter-dominated cloud. The Astrophysical Journal Letters published the peer-reviewed result on November 10, 2025. And the team presented the results at a press conference at the 247th meeting of the American Astronomical Society on January 5, 2026. The relic is a RELHIC Astronomers call the object a Reionization-Limited H I Cloud, or RELHIC. The term H I refers to neutral hydrogen. And RELHIC describes a natal hydrogen cloud from the universe’s early days, a fossil leftover that has not formed stars. For years, scientists have looked for evidence of such a theoretical phantom object. It wasn’t until they turned Hubble toward the cloud, confirming that it is indeed starless, that they found support for the theory. Lead author Gagandeep Anand of STScI said: Before we used Hubble, you could argue that this is a faint dwarf galaxy that we could not see with ground-based telescopes. They just didn’t go deep enough in sensitivity to uncover stars. But with Hubble’s Advanced Camera for Surveys, we’re able to nail down that there’s nothing there. The discovery of this relic cloud was a surprise. Team member Rachael Beaton of STScI said: Among our galactic neighbors, there might be a few abandoned houses out there. RELHICs are thought to be dark-matter clouds that were not able to accumulate enough gas to form stars. They represent a window into the early stages of galaxy formation. Cloud-9 suggests the existence of many other small, dark matter-dominated structures in the universe … other failed galaxies. This discovery provides new insights into the dark components of the universe that are difficult to study through traditional observations, which focus on bright objects like stars and galaxies. Cloud-9 is different from other hydrogen clouds Scientists have been studying hydrogen clouds near the Milky Way for many years. These clouds tend to be much bigger and irregular than Cloud-9. Compared with other observed clouds, Cloud-9 is smaller, more compact and highly spherical. That makes it look very different from other clouds. The core of this object is composed of neutral hydrogen and is about 4,900 light-years in diameter. The hydrogen gas in Cloud-9 is approximately 1 million times the mass of the sun. But if the pressure of the gas is balancing the gravity of the dark matter cloud, which it appears to be, Cloud-9 must be heavily dominated by dark matter, at about 5 billion solar masses. Cloud-9 is an example of the structures and the mysteries that don’t involve stars. Just looking at stars doesn’t give the full picture. Studying the gas and dark matter helps provide a more complete understanding of what’s going on in these systems in a way we wouldn’t otherwise know. Observationally, identifying these failed galaxies is challenging because nearby objects outshine them. Such systems are also vulnerable to environmental effects like ram-pressure stripping, which can remove gas as the cloud moves through intergalactic space. These factors further reduce their expected numbers. Cloud-9 is a faint and dark failed galaxy. This image, without the overlay of radio data from the Very Large Array, shows how it remains hidden in visible light alone. Image via NASA/ ESA/ G. Anand (STScI)/ and A. Benitez-Llambay (Univ. of Milan-Bicocca). Image processing: J. DePasquale (STScI). The discovery of this unique object The starless relic was discovered three years ago as part of a radio survey by the Five-hundred-meter (1,640 feet) Aperture Spherical Telescope (FAST) in Guizhou, China. The Green Bank Telescope and the Very Large Array facilities in the United States later confirmed the finding. But only with Hubble could researchers definitively determine that the failed galaxy contains no stars. Cloud-9 was simply named sequentially, having been the ninth gas cloud identified on the outskirts of a nearby spiral galaxy, Messier 94 (M94). The cloud is close to M94 and appears to have a physical association with the galaxy. High-resolution radio data show slight gas distortions, possibly indicating interaction between the cloud and galaxy. The cloud may eventually form a galaxy in the future, provided it grows more massive. Although astronomers are still speculating how that would occur. If it were much bigger – say, more than 5 billion times the mass of our sun – it would have collapsed, formed stars and become a galaxy that would be no different than any other galaxy we see. If it were much smaller than that, the gas could have been dispersed and ionized and there wouldn’t be much left. But it’s in a sweet spot where it could remain as a RELHIC. The lack of stars in this object provides a unique window into the intrinsic properties of dark matter clouds. The rarity of such objects and the potential for future surveys is expected to enhance the discovery of more of these failed galaxies, resulting in insights into the early universe and the physics of dark matter. Bottom line: Cloud-9 is the first example astronomers have found of a failed galaxy. It contains no stars but is home to dark matter. Source: The First RELHIC? Cloud-9 is a Starless Gas Cloud Via ESA Read more: Did we just see dark matter? Scientists express skepticism Read more: Dark matter might leave a colorful ‘fingerprint’ on lightThe post Cloud-9 is a new type of object: a failed galaxy first appeared on EarthSky.

This state had the most lightning strikes last year, says a new report

Florida has long been regarded as the lightning capital of the U.S. Not last year.

Florida has long been regarded as the lightning capital of the United States — but it may have competition. A new report by environmental consulting firm AEM found that Oklahoma was the nation’s lightning hot spot last year, with approximately 73 flashes per square mile, while Florida was bumped down to second place.The group used data from its lightning detection network, an array of 1,800 sensors, counting more than 88.4 million lightning flashes across the United States in 2025. Most of the flashes featured multiple pulses, or flickers of charge — with about 430 million lightning pulses in 2025.Behind Oklahoma and Florida, Louisiana and Kansas came in third and fourth place, respectively.Part of the reason Oklahoma took the top spot came down to a high number of mesoscale convective systems. Those are large, sprawling thunderstorm complexes and squall lines that are often as wide as 100 miles or more. A wider storm means a more expansive and dynamic horizontal electric field, which tend to be prolific producers of lightning. Florida, meanwhile, gets a seemingly nonstop barrage of summertime pulse-type storms, or individual storm cells that usually bubble up in the afternoon. Each one delivers a few hundred lightning strikes before dissipating an hour or two later, but they add up over time.This year, severe weather over the central and southern Plains drove more lightning to eke out Florida’s long-standing top spot. Last year, Florida was drier than average during the summer, whereas Oklahoma saw its 11th-wettest summer in the past 131 years. That same busy pattern meant lots of lightning.Kay County, Oklahoma, also proved to be the nation’s most lightning-prone county in 2025. The county, which borders Kansas along Interstate 35, averaged 123.4 flashes per square mile, according to the new report.Texas, meanwhile, tallied the greatest sheer number of strikes — partly due to its large size, but it’s also an indicator of its storm-prone nature. The state logged 13 million flashes (bolts of lightning — not pulses). That’s about 1.3 million more than average.As a whole, nation ran about 9.8 percent lightning flashes above last year.The report also focused on specific tourist-sites and airports. Chicago’s Millennium Park was exposed to more than 11,000 lightning flashes, according to the report. And Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport — the busiest airport in the world — dealt with 10,000 flashes.Tiger Stadium (Detroit), Kyle Field (College Station, Texas) and the Cotton Bowl (Dallas-Fort Worth) were also the three most lightning-prone stadiums, according to the report.AEM also found a strong correlation between expansive, high-impact severe weather and lightning activity.The report pointed to a devastating tornado outbreak in Arkansas that coincided with the state’s highest lightning activity in April. In Wisconsin, a May 15 peak of lightning activity “marked the start of a billion-dollar tornado and storm event.” And in Texas, its peak lightning day on May 26 coincided with disastrous storms.There were 21 known lightning fatalities in the United States in 2025. That’s on par with the annual average of 20, according to John Jensenius, a meteorologist who operates the National Lightning Safety Council.“Florida led the nation with 4 fatalities followed by North Carolina, Oklahoma, Georgia, New Jersey, and Colorado, each with 2 fatalities,” Jensenius wrote in an email. “The remaining lightning deaths occurred in Mississippi, Texas, Missouri, Ohio, Wisconsin, Louisiana, and Puerto Rico.”

California's longest-tenured wildlife department chief steps down after 15 years

Charlton "Chuck" Bonham is leaving the top post at the California Department of Fish and Wildlife at the end of the month to join the Nature Conservancy. He departs as the state contends with mounting human-wildlife conflict and disputes over water policy.

Charlton “Chuck” Bonham will be stepping down as director of the California Department of Fish and Wildlife at the end of the month, after contending with a slew of contentious issues during his long tenure, including the resurgence of wolves and plummeting salmon populations.Starting Jan. 26, Bonham will become the California executive director of the Nature Conservancy, one of the country’s major environmental nonprofits.“After 15 years, I just felt like I gave all I could to public service, and it was just the time for change,” Bonham said at a California Fish and Game Commission meeting this month.Initially appointed by former Gov. Jerry Brown in 2011, Bonham is the longest-serving director of the agency, which has an annual budget of roughly $1 billion and more than 3,000 employees. It’s wasn’t an easy job, Bonham said. Being the state’s top wildlife manager entails balancing the conservation of animals with the needs of people, including public safety and economic pursuits. A decision that delights animal welfare advocates can anger industry stakeholders (and vice versa).Take wolves. The same year Bonham took the reins of the agency, the first gray wolf the state had hosted in nearly a century wandered in from Oregon. Wolves have since recolonized the state — a development hailed by conservationists as an ecological win but derided by many ranchers whose cattle are slaughtered by the skilled pack hunters.Recently, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife made what Bonham described as a “gut-wrenching decision” to euthanize several members of a wolf pack in the Sierra Valley that was responsible for an unprecedented number of livestock attacks.“I feel like it’s affected my health. It’s been miserable, but it is the balance of the two things that are happening,” Bonham said at the recent commission meeting. There’s the “beautiful recovery” and “what our rural communities are going through.”Then there’s salmon. Bonham’s colleagues have publicly praised him for overseeing the removal of four dams along the Klamath River, leading to a salmon renaissance in their historic habitat. While many see that as a major win, it doesn’t represent the bigger, bleaker picture for salmon in the state. The native fish have suffered steep declines amid drought and human development. With the population so low, commercial salmon fishing has been closed for the last three years — earning Bonham scathing criticism. In an interview, Bonham acknowledged the challenges — particularly those that affect people’s livelihoods — have worn him down. The department is involved with water management, housing development and the energy transition. Compounding the difficulty in addressing such complex matters is what Bonham described as waning civility in public discourse. “I don’t think any individual moment or issue or day for me ever became a tipping point, but I will say cumulative impacts, or effects, is real.”At the recent Fish and Game Commission meeting, Samantha Murray, commission vice president, described him as having a “steady, calm, like, sedate presence,” and hailed his long institutional knowledge. “All we see is the even-keeled leadership in the face of an ever-growing suite of novel challenges related to climate, drought, wildfires, human-wildlife conflicts,” she said.Gov. Gavin Newsom praised Bonham in a statement, saying he led the department with “heart and conviction” and calling him “a champion for California’s natural heritage.” But to others, Bonham represents an ill-advised turn for the department that critics say has been hijacked by left-leaning values and has become out-of-touch with the state’s hunters and fishers. Some suggest the way the agency presents itself is evidence of this shift: In 2013, the department assumed its current name. Prior to that, it was called the California Department of Fish and Game. “During his time as the director Californians have lost the ability to fish and hunt for countless species of fish and game due to mismanagement,” Mike Rasmussen, a Northern California fishing guide, wrote in an Instagram post about his departure. “Bye Felicia!” he added.Bonham described his transition to a nonprofit as “coming back home.”The outgoing director grew up in Atlanta and attended the University of Georgia as an undergrad.After graduation, he volunteered with the Peace Corps, landing in West Africa’s Senegal.After that, “I wanted to go back to a space that really mattered to me as a person, which is the outdoors,” he said.For several years, he worked as an outdoor guide, primarily leading whitewater rafting trips at the Nantahala Outdoor Center in North Carolina.But he believed there was more he could do to take care of the wild places he cherished. So he enrolled at Louis & Clark Law School in Portland, Ore., where he studied public interest law with a focus on the environment.He also interned for Trout Unlimited, a nonprofit that aims to protect rivers and streams, which turned out to be his conduit to California.The nonprofit asked him to handle their legal work in California, which he calls “the greatest place.”It was in that position, in the early aughts, that Bonham first became immersed in the fierce disagreement over what to do with scarce water in the Klamath Basin — irrigate farms or protect salmon. Native Americans clashed with farmers. It was “described as a choice between people and the environment. Fish or farms,” he said. “And it was dramatic.”That experience was tapped for the next stage in his career, when Bonham became director of the state wildlife department. He transitioned into a key negotiator with stakeholders including tribes and the federal government, leading to the takedown of four hydroelectric dams. Once Bonham departs, Valerie Termini, the department’s chief deputy director, will take the reins on an interim basis. It will be up to Newsom — or whoever succeeds him once his term ends next year — to appoint a permanent replacement. Brendan Cummings, conservation director for the Center for Biological Diversity, said that while he often disagreed with Bonham’s decisions, he ultimately thinks the state’s wildlife is in a better place than had someone else been at the helm. With threats like climate change looming, “whoever succeeds Chuck will play an essential role in whether California is able to protect our natural heritage in the very, very difficult decades ahead,” he said. The Nature Conservancy, a more than 70-year-old nonprofit, focuses on ocean and land stewardship, as well as shaping state and federal policy — and coming up with “creative solutions,” Bonham said.It’s similar to what he’s been doing, but he believes that in the private sphere, “I can do it often a little bit more nimbly and entrepreneurially, and I’m looking forward to that.”

‘Ghost resorts’: as hundreds of ski slopes lie abandoned, will nature reclaim the Alps?

With the snow line edging higher, 186 French ski resorts have shut, while global heating threatens dozens moreWhen Céüze 2000 ski resort closed at the end of the season in 2018, the workers assumed they would be back the following winter. Maps of the pistes were left stacked beside a stapler; the staff rota pinned to the wall.Six years on, a yellowing newspaper dated 8 March 2018 sits folded on its side, as if someone has just flicked through it during a quiet spell. A half-drunk bottle of water remains on the table. Continue reading...

When Céüze 2000 ski resort closed at the end of the season in 2018, the workers assumed they would be back the following winter. Maps of the pistes were left stacked beside a stapler; the staff rota pinned to the wall.Six years on, a yellowing newspaper dated 8 March 2018 sits folded on its side, as if someone has just flicked through it during a quiet spell. A half-drunk bottle of water remains on the table.The Céüze 2000 resort when snow was plentiful.The Céüze resort in the southern French Alps had been open for 85 years and was one of the oldest in the country. Today, it is one of scores of ski resorts abandoned across France – part of a new landscape of “ghost stations”.More than 186 have been permanently closed already, raising questions about how we leave mountains – among the last wild spaces in Europe – once the lifts stop running.It was costing more to keep it open than closed … We looked into using artificial snow but realised that would delay the inevitableAs global heating pushes the snow line higher across the Alps, thousands of structures are being left to rot – some of them breaking down and contaminating the surrounding earth, driving debate about what should happen to the remnants of old ways of life – and whether to let nature reclaim the mountains.Snowfall at Céüze started becoming unreliable in the 1990s. To be financially viable, the resort needed to be open for at least three months. In that last winter, it only managed a month and a half. For the two years before that it had not been able to operate at all.Opening the resort each season cost the local authority as much as €450,000 (£390,000). As the season got shorter, the numbers no longer added up. To avoid a spiral of debt, the decision was made to close.The resort closed permanently during the 2020 winter due to a lack of snow. Photograph: Thomas Valentin/The Guardian“It was costing us more to keep it open than to keep it closed for the season,” says Michel Ricou-Charles, president of the local Buëch‑Dévoluy community council, which oversees the site. Even under the most optimistic projections, the future looked bleak. “We looked into using artificial snow, but realised that would delay the inevitable,” he says.It was seven years before the trucks and helicopters came in to begin removing the pylons. Still, the local community grieved for the small, family-oriented resort, which was host to generations of memories. As demolitions began, they came to take nuts, bolts and washers as mementoes of what they had lost.Degrading wild terrainIn France, there are today 113 ski lifts totalling nearly 40 miles (63km) in length that have been abandoned, nearly three-quarters of them in protected areas. It is not just ski infrastructure. The Mountain Wilderness association estimates that there are more than 3,000 abandoned structures dotted around French mountains, slowly degrading Europe’s richest wild terrain. This includes military, industrial and forestry waste, such as old cables, bits of barbed wire, fencing and old machinery.There are 113 abandoned ski lifts in France, nearly three-quarters of which are in protected areas. Photograph: Thomas Valentin/The GuardianCéüze ski resort is fast becoming one of these pollutants. The little wooden cabin at the bottom of the first button lift is shedding insulation. Ropes once used to mark out the piste hang in tatters and bits of plastic are falling off a pylon. The old sheds at each end of the ski lifts often still contain transformers, asbestos, motor oils and greases. Over time, these substances seep into the soil and water.Corrosion and rust from metal structures left over from the second world war, such as anti-tank rails and metal spikes, have led to changes in plant species in the surrounding area, potentially offering a vision of what could happen if pylons are left to rust over the coming decades.Don’t think that you are making eternal things; they will end up becoming obsolete … ask yourself: what will remain?Nicolas Masson, Mountain Wilderness“In Latin, we say memento mori – remember that you are mortal. Don’t think that you are making eternal things; they will end up becoming obsolete,” says Nicolas Masson, from Mountain Wilderness, which is campaigning for old ski infrastructure to be dismantled to make space for nature. “When you make them, ask yourself the question: what will remain?”Some believe the resorts should remain memorialised landscapes, honouring generations of people who lived and skied here; others believe they should be returned to wild landscapes with their disintegrating machinery removed.Ecologist Nicolas Masson is part of a campaign to dismantle old ski infrastructure. Photograph: Thomas Valentin/The GuardianNature’s recoveryCéüze’s deconstruction started on 4 November 2025, a month before the ski season would once have kicked off. The resort’s ski lifts were airlifted out using a helicopter to minimise environmental disturbance and compression of the earth.French law requires ski lifts to be removed and dismantled if they are no longer in use. The law only applies to ski lifts built after 2017, however. Most last for 30 years, so no lifts would be considered obsolete until at least 2047. The process is also expensive: dismantling Céüze will cost €123,000. This means most abandoned ski infrastructure is left to disintegrate in situ. What is happening in Céüze is rare. With pylons cleared and the resort already closed for seven years, early signs of ecological recovery are already visible. A red haze floats over the white snow: winter berries of the dog rose are sprouting where the piste is no longer mown.Berries can be see on dog rose shrubs which are starting to flourish now the piste is no longer cleared for skiers. Photograph: Thomas Valentin/The GuardianThe berries are important winter food for birds such as the rare red-billed chough, and their thorny stems are used for nest-building come spring. In the summer, orchids and yellow gentians bloom over these hillsides. The hills surrounding the site are classed as Natura 2000, meaning they are home to Europe’s rarest and most protected wildlife.The trees are coming back too. “I don’t know if it would take 10, 20 or 50 years, but this is becoming a forest,” says Masson.A fraction of a degree changes everything in the mountain environment. It’s the difference between snow and no snowWild boar and roe deer living in these forests will benefit from quieter winters. Birds such as grouse shelter from severe cold in winter by digging into the snow, and prefer deep powdery snow – just like skiers. The species is endangered in all the mountain ranges of France.The dismantling of Céüze comes at a time when many spaces for nature are shrinking. Pierre-Alexandre Métral, a geographer at the University of Grenoble Alpes, who studies abandoned ski resorts, says: “There is a lot of debate about the nature of this dismantling – is it just removing mechanical stuff, or are we attempting to put mountains back into a kind of original state?”Ecological recovery can be filled with surprises, he says, noting that the maintenance of pistes can be beneficial to some alpine flowers. “If we let nature come back spontaneously – in a wild, uncontrolled way – there are also risks that some invasive species that tend to be stronger could colonise faster,” says Métral.The hills around the former resort are home to some of Europe’s rarest and most protected wildlife. Photograph: Thomas Valentin/The GuardianThere is scant research in this area, but studies from the Valcotos ski resort closure in Madrid’s Sierra de Guadarrama in 1999 show it led to significant recovery of native vegetation and cleaner waterways, while reducing soil erosion.“These are laboratories of what the mountain could be like in the future with new closures,” says Métral.On the brinkThe question of what to do with these places will play out across Europe’s mountains, and around the world. Skiing is disappearing from many alpine landscapes. “Many lower ones are already closed,” says Masson. “A fraction of a degree changes everything in the mountain environment. It’s the difference between having snow and no snow.”Richard Klein believes the resort should have been saved. Photograph: Thomas Valentin/The GuardianResearch suggests that with 2C (3.6F) of global heating, more than half of existing resorts risk having too little snow. Higher altitude resorts are vulnerable to the loss of permafrost, threatening pylons that have been drilled into it. Some resorts, such as St-Honoré 1500, were abandoned before construction was even completed. Even bigger resorts, which typically have funds to invest in new pistes and artificial snow, are struggling to survive.For some, the loss of Céüze feels premature. Richard Klein,who lives in Roche des Arnauds, near Céüze, feels the ski resort could – and should – have been saved. “It’s a wonderful place to learn to ski – it’s the best. I think it’s really stupid they closed it,” he says. “There were always loads of people.” Klein believes the local authority should have begun using artificial snow, adding: “Now it’s too late.”Yet life has not disappeared from Céüze. In October 2025, the resort’s Hotel Galliard is being sold to a developer looking to open it for events, according to Ricou-Charles. A property developer has bought the children’s holiday residence, and a carpenter has moved into the building where the old ticket office was. The rooms used as a holiday camp for children have cracks appearing down the side, but might open again in the future.“Céüze will continue to live, despite the loss of the resort,” says Ricou-Charles. “We are not mourning Céüze because it is not dead.”On winter weekends dozens of cars still gather in the car park, with people enjoying quieter activities on the hillside, such as walking, snow-shoeing, cross-country skiing and sledging.A poster from the resort’s 80th anniversary celebrations. Photograph: Thomas Valentin/The GuardianMasson does not like the term “ghost resort” because it suggests total abandonment when what is happening in his area is more complicated. “People continue to come,” he says. “We don’t need large machines to make mountains attractive.”What happens at Céüze is a glimpse into a future that faces dozens of other small resorts, and mountain landscapes, across Europe. “What is our heritage that we will want to keep,” asks Masson. “And what is just a ruin we want to dismantle? That is a question we have to ask every time, and it requires some reflection.”

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