Deus Ex Vulcan

Every day, Harvard Square moves a little closer to Leicester Square in London and Huacaypata in Cusco. Of course, the earth is not shrinking. The natural features of the earth do not dramatically change—our expectations of transportation do. This past week, the earth has reminded us of our own limits through a volcano that has spelled even with its name: Eyjafjallajokull.

Iceland, geographically an isolated island, has become a symbol of the interdependence of the global community, both in the good and in the bad. When the financial crisis struck economies across the globe, the collapse of Iceland’s banks exacerbated the problem. In its aftermath, The Wall Street Journal has reported that investment from foreign banks in Iceland’s banking system severely worsened the damage.

More recently, Iceland has advertised itself as a launch point for trans-Atlantic travel. Advertisements in subways, magazines, and television encouraged travelers to look to the island as a boon to cheapen and improve their air travel.

Enter Eyjafjallajokull.

The volcano has stranded thousands of travelers each day since last Thursday. Simply put, there has never been a sudden stop in travel like this before. Heathrow, the world’s busiest airport, halts activity periodically because of snow or even human reasons, from a terrorism scare to a botched terminal opening. When Heathrow cannot operate, it becomes more difficult to travel through Europe or connect to destinations across the Atlantic. This weekend, however, every airport in Europe was shut down. Ash high in the atmosphere has halted flights to and from cities as far from Iceland as Madrid and Tel Aviv.

The ash is undiscriminating in its reach, grounding the world’s celebrities and dignitaries. We humans like to move around—and we have never moved around as much as today. It is now feasible for students at Oxford to attend a birthday party in New York City and be home for the week. As just one example of our expectations of mobility, take one such group that ventured across the Atlantic for a gathering four days ago. Flying the day before the volcano, the group made it to New York in just a few hours and expected only a bit of sleep trouble as the cost. On Saturday, however, simply mentioning Iceland in conversation drew curses and nervous looks.

Quick transit from anywhere in the world back to our homes has become more than a mercurial possibility in the modern outlook. We are used to finding any information, on any topic, via a quick Google search. We can hold up our phones to a strange song and find out instantly the name of its obscure band, or speak with people anywhere at any time.

Every aspect of society assumes quick transportation. The Boston Marathon today must proceed without one of the sport’s most high-profile figures—Abdellah Falil. The Moroccan Olympian and star can no longer cross the Atlantic, and so he will not be crossing the finish line. Athletes in major sports events across the globe are now stranded.

The inability to fly is a great equalizer reaching every tier of society. John Cleese has increased his fame by paying over five thousand dollars for a 930 mile cab ride from Oslo to Brussels, a fifteen hour trip. President Obama has had to cancel his trip to pay respects to the victims of the recent air tragedy that claimed many of Poland’s political and social leaders.

Beyond simply transporting ourselves from one location to another, we depend on air transit for so much more. The airline industries are losing two hundred million dollars each day, but we will not know the economic impact of Eyjafjallajokull until long after airports have returned to normal. Only the residents of neighborhoods near the world’s busy runways will enjoy the silence in the skies.

The BBC asked philosopher Alain de Botton to imagine “a world without planes” inspired by the current transit crisis. His proposed future, with man returning to pre-modern forms of travel, deserves reading. The scenario, however, is unlikely to become reality any time soon. If anything, some volcanic ash has revealed just how integral air travel has become. Our politics, economies, and even entertainment rely on materials and people taking to the air. Even as technology makes it easier for us to communicate and transfer information at long distances, we depend on the ability to move ourselves.

When the ash has settled, we can reflect on the philosophical implications of dependence on air transit. For now, at least, the ash reminds us that our connected world just cannot function the same without it.

Alexander R. Konrad ’11, a former Crimson associate editorial editor, is a history concentrator in Quincy House. His column appears on alternate Mondays.