SENA KAYASÜ (ARCH/III)
sena.kayasu@ug.bilkent.edu.tr

History repeats itself. In fact, the universe is held together by a number of intersecting loops of events. For example, the Moon blocks our vision of the Sun once every eleven years. There have been ice ages, and there have been eons when the Earth was roasting, and both will happen again. There have been and will be tyrants who rise to power and are then felled by their people. There will be heroes celebrated by society, and society will turn on its heroes.

Our idea of nature also differs on this basis. People think nature is unbeatable; then they discover fire. Now, they don’t need to wait for the Sun all the time. Oops, a flood happens. People drown. Apparently, nature can put out our fires.

It has been a recurring mistake of humankind to assume that it has, finally, overpowered nature; that we’re no longer dependent on it. It’s true that we have built shelters against tornadoes and erected buildings to keep out the cold. But most of what we do is isolation rather than protection. No matter how hard we try, we cannot become independent of nature, because contrary to popular belief, we’re natural. When such a topic comes up, I say, “Humans are animals too,” and people are so bewildered, even offended. We are, though. Not just that, but everything we do is a part of nature as well. I’m not exactly comparing a poplar tree to a plastic bag, but what we do comes from what we see in the natural world. The idea of a bag itself, for example, probably comes from curved leaves that were used to hold water. Any medicine that we have today has been derived from the plants that animals ate to heal themselves. So, as the ancients thought, creativity is imitation.

One of the major “imitations” that we’re missing out on is bioluminescence: living organisms generating light. I’m no microbiologist, so I’ll refer anyone who might ask about the technicalities to Alper Özkan, a PhD student at UNAM by day and my fellow Bilkent News “Opinions” writer by night. All I know is that there are three molecules involved: luciferin, luciferase and oxygen. Luciferin is a pigment. It reacts with oxygen molecules to produce photons: the “particles” that release energy as light. Luciferin catalyzes the process—makes it go faster.

As popular culture has already revealed, Lucifer (a Christian name for the Devil) literally means “light bringer,” from the Latin lux (light) and ferre (carry). Hence, it’s not entirely surprising that particles that deliver light are similarly named.

Light has always fascinated humanity. It was light that allowed us to become cave-dwellers, giving us our first shelter from the elements. It was God who created light, and angels who were made of it. Beautiful people are said to bathe in it or emit it. It’s warm, it’s safe…it’s nice.

But it’s not only sunlight, as implied above, that amazes us. Many photos that you see as covers, as inspiration, as dreams, also feature the Northern Lights. These are the cool, blue-green bands that are photographed in northern Norway or Iceland, or at the North Pole (or the South Pole, though no one in this hemisphere really talks about the Southern Lights). As a matter of fact, one of my very few long-time aspirations is to see them properly—a blurry view doesn’t count, of course.

Another type of very impressive light image uses bioluminescence. If an insect is emitting light, you rarely see the insect itself. In a photo of a dark forest, for example, the self-illuminating dots add so much. They add mystery. At first, you can’t tell where the light source is, and you never see it. They are just floating in the air like stars; stars that can fly around.

I’m pretty sure this is where the legend of the will-o’-the-wisp comes from. In the movie “Brave,” for example,  will-o’-the-wisps were shown as tiny blue creatures that drew our heroine to her fate. They can be as misleading as they are enchanting.

Being a fan of the fantasy and science fiction genres, I make the conscious choice to think of bioluminescent creatures as enchanting. It helps, of course, that I’m usually not lost in a forest. However, in reality, these creatures have quite a variety of different purposes for emanating light.

The uses of bioluminescence may be divided into three rather disenchanting categories: defense, attack and reproduction. Light-radiating organisms are seen on land (most famously in the form of fireflies), but a much greater percentage live in the water. Makes sense, since oceans become very dark very fast. Many creatures recede into the murky depths in order not to be seen against the light above by the animals below them. So they sometimes need light of their own.

For defense, a smaller bioluminescent animal may surprise its attacker by suddenly emitting a blast of light. It can also discharge a pack of bioluminescent particles to confuse the predator as to the location of its prey. It can, no joke, drop off one of its limbs for the same purpose. When the prey has the advantage of numbers, each individual can luminesce to illuminate the attacker and cause its predator to turn on it. The smaller animal can also use bioluminescence as camouflage—by illuminating itself to match the surface light and thereby become invisible—or the opposite, by completely lighting up to warn off the predator.

For offense, the predator can use bioluminescence to shock or illuminate its prey in order to catch it. The bigger fish may also have the light source on an extension to draw smaller animals to it, fooling them. The worst is when the prey is bioluminescent, and the predator can spot a group by the light they naturally emit.

As all natural things must, bioluminescence also relates to reproduction. The light, coming from a potential mate, can be a signal to attract another of its species. Without being aware of it, humans also abide by these functional categories. We use light to defend (camouflage) or attack (like the spotlights used by the police). We use terms such as “lit up” or “turned on” to describe when humans are ready to reproduce. Interestingly, light may represent a new idea, too. Being “in the limelight” is another usage. There may be no other word that is as common a signifier as light: the basis of civilization.

Amendment: In my last column, I referred to Prague’s characteristic Baroque architecture as Gothic. Oops. I also described the site as 45 square meters instead of hectares. I must have been a little sleep-deprived. I apologize.