This entry was posted on 4/18/2010 4:35 PM and is filed under Footnotes.
Right about now I should be entering Canadian airspace on my flight back to Austin – except I am still on terra firma in England, grounded by dust from a volcano I had not before heard of with an unpronounceable name. Since 18 April a cloud of volcanic particulate has spewed out of the ground and settled over most of northern Europe in a cloak of menace that governments have wisely decided represents a threat to air travel. It is a reminder of how little control we have of the world in which we live when the Magna Mater decides to assert herself.
Understandably those of us unable to complete our travel plans, numbering in the hundreds of thousands, are frustrated. Yet mankind’s sense of ability to control the natural world is a relatively new phenomenon. For most of humankind’s existence we have lived in awe of the world rather than in contempt of it. The volcano in Iceland’s Eyjafjallajökull
(it translates as "(the) island-fells glacier”) reminds us to be aware of how little control we have of the great forces that shape our world – quite separate from climate change a.k.a global warming.(1) In the ancient world, people had an innate sensitivity to places, seasons and weather to the extent that that they personified them as spirits and gods. Every forest, mountain and river had a life force that was owed respect. A newcomer to the place sought to placate the spirit of place – what the Romans called the genius locus – to avoid trouble. In the ancient world even city dwellers knew better than to upset the gods when taking a trip out to the country.
Progressively over the centuries that connection with nature, and with it, the respect for it, has diminished. The application of science – civil engineering, mechanics, hydraulics – has perhaps emboldened us into thinking we are masters of the world rather than its curators. We are apt to forget, perhaps that the measurement of a phenomenon – it even has a name, 'metrology', not to be confused with the science of the weather – only gives the observer insight but not control of it. Observation helps us better understand the natural world. The Romans were aware of the immense power of volcanoes – they knew Etna in Sicily was a dangerous place – and they explained it as the location of Vulcan’s forge.(2) Vulcan even had his own special day, the Volcanalia on August 23. (What god does not like a sacrifice and devotee a party?) Where we have the advantage over the ancient world is the substantial body of knowledge we have amassed from observing the world and making sense of it. The burghers of Pompeii for instance were not aware that the mountain they lived beneath, and the source of the bounties they enjoyed from its fertile soil, were volcanic.(3) Had they understood geology they would have known that the devastating earthquake of 5 February 62CE was a forewarning of the catastrophic eruption of Vesuvius on 24 August 79CE.(4) Today Vesuvius is covered with high tech instruments and sensors to provide advance warning, yet the local modern inhabitants of the bay area live almost with an ancient world mindset.
So, back to the volcano. We can watch from a safe distance at the cloud of smoke and ash, but bottom line, we cannot stop it. As our jet planes continue to be grounded we might take a moment to reflect on the awesome power of nature. I do not know precisely when I will get back home to Austin, and for safety’s sake I support the travel ban. Yet I am sure I will when the geologists, meteorologists, air traffic controllers and government ministers – and not forgetting the genius of Eyjafjallajökull – decide the time is right.
Lindsay Powell is a historian and the author of the groundbreaking book, Eager for Glory: The Untold Story of Drusus the Elder, Conqueror of Germania. He divides his time between Austin, Texas and Wokingham, England. See his website at http://www.Lindsay-Powell.com
