Science, philosophy, cosmology

Cosmology is the attempt to understand in scientific terms the structure and evolution of the universe as a whole. This ambition has been with us since the ancient Greeks, even if the developments in modern cosmology have provided a picture of the universe dramatically different from that of Pythagoras, Plato and Aristotle. The cosmological thinking of these figures, e.g. the belief in uniform circular motion of the heavens, was closely related to their philosophical ideas, and it shaped the field of cosmology at least up to the times of Copernicus and Kepler.

Nowadays it is not uncommon among scientists to question the relevance of philosophy for their field. This may be part of a simplified view according to which science is mostly about finding the best match between theories and empirical data. However, even on such a view one can identify interesting philosophical issues, like underdetermination of theories and theory ladenness of data. Moreover, apart from matching theory and data, science is often concerned with what the studied theories implies for our deeper understanding of the world. This involves the philosophical activity of interpreting the theories in question, and philosophy thus continues to be an integral part of scientific, including cosmological, thought. One may argue that cosmology is even more philosophical than most other sciences, in that it more explicitly deals with the limits or horizons of scientific knowledge. In particular, as cosmology involves the age-old questions of the possible temporal and spatial limits of the universe, it is naturally associated with irresistible speculations of what may cause or lie beyond those limits.

Read more...

"Philosophical aspects of modern cosmology" by Henrik Zinkernagel

"Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey"...a review

Overall, the program was a dismal failure. It wasn't even an hour long being interrupted by dozens of commercials. Why didn't PBS pick up on this science program? I like Neil deGrasse Tyson but his presence as narrator simply failed to illuminate much interest. I seriously doubt that I will watch the remaining episodes.

"Cosmos" Part III, an all CGI feature and hosted by some form of AI, will probably air in three and a half decades.

"Neil deGrasse Tyson's 'Cosmos' premiere ratings not so stellar on Fox"

by

Scott Collins

March 10th, 2014

The Los Angeles Times

To paraphrase the late Carl Sagan, billions and billions failed to show up for "Cosmos."

A reboot of Sagan's 1980 smash science series on PBS, "Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey" premiered on Fox on Sunday, this time with outspoken astrophysicist and science educator Neil deGrasse Tyson as host and — of all people — "Family Guy" writer-producer Seth MacFarlane as executive producer along with Sagan's widow, Ann Druyan. (Sagan died in 1996.)

But despite heavy promotion and curiosity — a science documentary right after "Family Guy," how crazy is that? — "Cosmos" did not exactly deliver a big bang, with 5.8 million total viewers, according to Nielsen.

That amounted to third place in the 9 p.m. time slot. Instead of true science, more viewers seemed to prefer sci-fi drama, with 13.3 million tuning in to the launch of ABC's "Resurrection," about the dead returning to life. It was this season's most-watched drama premiere after CBS' "Intelligence," which had the benefit of an "NCIS" lead-in back in January.

As for "Cosmos," it premiered simultaneously on 10 networks, including Fox, National Geographic, FX and FXX. Those numbers should be available later on Monday. Given the broad distribution, plus the time-shifting capabilities of DVRs, "Cosmos" might ultimately yield a decent audience.


"Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey"...airs March 9th

"Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey"...airs March 9th

"Neil deGrasse Tyson explains why the new Cosmos matters so much"

by

Jason Shankel

March 3rd, 2014

io9

This Sunday, March 9th, what is arguably the most important science show of all time returns to TV as Neil deGrasse Tyson hosts an all-new, updated version of Carl Sagan's Cosmos. We caught up with Neil DeGrasse Tyson on his whirlwind tour of the universe to discuss the what the show is and isn't, explaining why science matters to modern audiences, and his personal asteroid.

io9: How has the press tour been treating you?

Neil deGrasse Tyson: It's exhausting but exhilarating. While it's a huge hit to my day's calendar, I'm persistently reminded that for most people who are conducting interviews it's not "oh, this show is coming out and I gotta do an article." There's an enthusiasm and an anticipation. I find I'm deeply hopeful about what this means for the future of America and the world, that science literacy is something that can be embraced and nurtured and that the comfort level people have with science can change.
 
We were certainly excited to hear that you would be updating this series. We've come so far since 1980, not just in science but in visual effects and filmmaking that this is a great way to carry forward Dr. Sagan's legacy.

Tyson: The methods and tools of storytelling are significantly advanced, yes, but it's not only that. Because it's on network, we have some resources that have allowed us access to people who have previously brought their craft to cinema. Our director of photography is Bill Pope, who was the director of photography for the Matrix trilogy and Spider-Man.

When you think of a typical documentary, you think of somebody in a lab coat with a test tube and there's a camera on a tripod and they get asked a question and they answer it. In that scenario, the camera is visiting the scene. It's you, listening to the person.

When Bill Pope gets a hold of a camera, he brings the methods and tools he developed working on those films to bear on our telling of the story of the universe. So now when you see Cosmos, it doesn't just affect you intellectually, as it should, but also emotionally and spiritually. Spiritually with a small "s" — the awe and wonder of looking up. Because of this we have high expectations for the potency of the series.

Were there other factors that went into the decision to air this on commercial television, as opposed to PBS?

Tyson: When we first shopped around the idea, we went to the normal list of networks, PBS, Discovery Channel, Science Channel and National Geographic. While we were doing this, I met Seth MacFarlane at a special meeting in California intended to connect Hollywood storytellers and artists with scientists. I didn't think much would come of it, but Seth called me one day when he was in New York and invited me to lunch. He told me he wanted to do something to serve science in America and he asked me what he should do. I thought maybe he could invest in a pilot that we could use to show sponsors. He said "I have a good idea, let's take it to Fox."

Now, there are a series of thoughts I'm about to share with you that I think lasted about 12 seconds. My first thought was "This is the stupidest idea I've ever heard, he doesn't get it, this is a waste of a lunch."
But then I said, "Wait a minute, Fox is 20th Century Fox and Fox Searchlight Pictures, they brought Avatar and Slumdog Millionaire to the screen. Yes, there's Fox News, but also the Fox Network which has acerbic liberal commentary of The Simpsons and Family Guy. And there's Fox Sports. I realized Fox has more demographics of American culture going through their portfolio than any other network. And so, I concluded that there's no better place to be than on Fox.

So 12 seconds later I told him it was a great idea.

You often talk about the need for science to feed our everyday needs, to spur innovation and fuel the economy. Now you're working in an industry, filmmaking and visual effects, that has benefitted greatly from that kind of technological achievement. Do you feel that validates your point of view on the role of science in culture?

Tyson: My view is slightly different from that. It's not that space itself is what will be our savior. It's that when you go into space, it stimulates an interest in the STEM fields. It's the stimulated interest that promotes innovation in science and technology that leads to the 21st century economy. It's not "let's go to space because space does all this." It doesn't do it directly. It does it indirectly. And you get to make discoveries along the way. That's the fun part.

The IT revolution, as significant as it is, has left us unfulfilled with regard to transportation, energy use and infrastructure. There's more to society than information. We've been distracted by the stunning advances that information technology has brought us, to the exclusion of very deeply held needs that we have in society.

What is our control over natural forces so we don't have disasters like tsunamis and hurricanes? Do we run away from them? Or do we find a way to tap the energy of a hurricane and have that energy drive the city that the storm would have otherwise leveled? This is a whole other frontier that would be addressed if we go into space, because space involves hardware, people, going places you've never been before, life support, a knowledge of the solar system and the sun, and I see that as a transformative force that can turn a sleepy nation into an innovation nation.

You've been somewhat critical of people who say that our problem is leadership, that we need another Kennedy to lead us back into space. Did I see that you called Buzz Aldrin "clueless?"

Tyson: Ha ha! I don't remember calling him "clueless." I at one point said that there are factions among us who suffer from "Apollo necrophilia."

The context was he said something about our need to go into space being driven by our destiny or our DNA.

Tyson: I certainly have arguments against that. If I said something halfway disrespectful it's because we're friends and I can get away with it. He longed for the days when people remembered every astronaut that was launched. That was one of my early disagreements with him. It's the fact that we don't know the names of astronauts that makes it evident that going into space has become routine, and that's a good thing.

Speaking of things becoming routine, how do audiences today compare with 1980? Do you feel that people need less basic science explained to them today? Or more?

Tyson: As an educator in modern times, I'm going to answer you differently than I would have 35 years ago, because I'm just that old. My day job is in a museum. How long does a person stay at a museum? A couple of hours? There are people who would want exhibits at a museum to have a whole lesson plan so you can poll people and ask them "What did you learn?" Then you'd judge the success of the exhibit based on how well people do on these exams.

I have a different view. The person is going to spend incalculably more time in a classroom than they ever will in a museum. So a museum shouldn't be a supplement to a classroom. It should be a force to ignite flames within a person's soul of curiosity. An exhibit should make a person say "Wow! I've got to find out more about this!" and trigger them to explore more advanced accountings of the topic, in books or science videos. Once the flame is lit, the learning becomes self-motivating.

Cosmos at its best should be about that, and not about presenting you Wikipedia pages to read.

What would Carl Sagan learn if he was able to see your version of Cosmos?

Tyson: I want to clarify that the goal of this Cosmos is not to update the science. A lot of science has happened in the last 35 years. We've discovered a thousand exoplanets, for example. But that's not the goal, because any time of day you can channel surf and find a documentary about black holes, colliding galaxies, the search for life, the Big Bang, dark matter, the Higgs-Boson, etc. There's no end of documentaries that serve that goal.

Cosmos has, as its mission statement, the effort to convey to you why science matters. That is a different motivating factor than "Here's all this science I want to teach you." When you take ownership of why science matters, then you are self-motivated, driven. You take the responsibility yourself to continue to learn. It's a new Cosmos not because there's so much more universe to talk about, but because the country and the world needs to know more than ever why science matters.

You've said that astrophysicists are the most humble people in the world because they confront their ignorance on a daily basis.

Tyson: Ha ha! Precisely. If you ask me what was around before the Big Bang, I have no idea. What's at the center of a black hole? I have no idea. What is dark matter? Dark energy? I have no idea. These are not complex questions that require an advanced degree to ask. There are things we do know, and we're proud of that, but as scientists we use that to put a foot in the unknown and use what we know as a carrot to keep us searching.

You've said that dark matter and dark energy should be renamed "Fred" and "Wilma." Care to elaborate on that?

Tyson: Yeah, because if I say "dark matter" you say "What kind of matter is that?" Well, we don't even know if it's matter. It's really dark gravity. Dark matter is a misleading term. There is so much first impression in the word. People ask "What do dark matter and dark energy have in common?" because they sound the same.

If I called them Fred and Wilma you wouldn't ask what they have in common. You'd ask about them separately. But because they both have the word "dark" in them, people think they're related. Maybe they are, but at the moment there's no evidence that's at all the case. These are two entities that got involved in the name game earlier than I think they should have.

The main belt asteroid 13123, discovered by Shoemaker and Levy, was named "Tyson" after you. How does it feel to be a literal rock star?

Tyson: Ha! I never thought about it that way! In fact, the very word "asteroid" means "star-like" in Latin. In a telescope, they look just like stars, dots of light. In the early days, people just named things after what they look like.

But it is a high honor, although given the number on my asteroid, it should tell you that there 13,122 other asteroids with names on them. So, it's not a very exclusive club. I have many more achievements that fewer other people have achieved than had asteroid named after them.

Yet, it's still kind of a cool thing. Yeah, asteroid. Still kind of cool.
 
Cosmos premieres on March 9th on Fox.

"God does not play dice"...re-evaluated

We analyze Einstein’s views on God and religion, and his
views on Quantum Mechanics.

One of Albert Einstein’s most famous statements is “God does
not play dice with the universe”. The common interpretation of
this statement contains two myths (or perhaps misunderstandings)
that I wish to correct in this article.

 "What Einstein meant when he said "God does not play dice ..."" by Vasant Natarajan

Supplemental reading...

God Does Not Play Dice: the Fulfillment of Einstein's Quest for Law and Order in Nature

by

David Albert Shiang

ISBN-10: 0980237319
ISBN-13: 978-0980237313

Putting cosmology in its place...a good thing

It is comforting to know that I am not alone in these views.

Abstract...

Cosmology differs in some respects significantly from other sciences, primarily because of its intimate association with issues of a conceptual and philosophical nature. Because cosmology in the broader sense relates to the students’ world views, it provides a means for bridging the gap between the teaching of science and the teaching of humanistic subjects. Students should of course learn to distinguish between what is right and wrong about the science of the universe. No less importantly, they should learn to recognize the limits of science and that there are questions about nature that may forever remain unanswered. Cosmology, more than any other science, is well suited to illuminate issues of this kind.

 "Cosmology and Science Education: Problems and Promises" by Helge Kragh

New book by David A. Weintraub..."How Old Is the Universe?"

How Old Is the Universe?

by

David A. Weintraub

[David A. Weintraub is professor of astronomy at Vanderbilt University. He is the author of Is Pluto a Planet?: A Historical Journey through the Solar System.]

ISBN-10: 0691147310
ISBN-13: 978-0691147314

Reviews...

Gerald Petrey

When we look at something, it is only natural for us to wonder how old it is and where did it come from. This book answers those questions about the universe. Professor Weintraub does a fantastic job of showing the scientific evidence that has been accumulated over man's history that leads to a very accurate answer to this question today. Since something has to be at least as old as the things within it, he starts by discussing how we have determined the age of our Earth and Solar System, then the stars and our galaxy and finally other galaxies and the entire universe. Along the way there is a lot of interesting science covered and stories of many of the pioneers in science and how they made their contributions. Many interesting personal stories about these people are uncovered in this journey. One I found particularly interesting was the story of Henrietta Leavitt, who was one of a group of human computers hired to do mathematical calculations by hand for astronomers in the early 1900's. She was paid 30 cents per hour (5 cent more than most because her boss new she did exceptional work). They were all women since they could be paid much less. In 1908 she made one of the most significant discoveries of the 20th century in her analysis of Cepheid variable stars even though she was not an astronomer nor expected to do any analysis, just arithmetic.

This book covers a lot of science to come to the answer of the age of the universe and is a beautiful coverage of the scientific method. It is a true masterpiece!

Publishers Weekly

It's all very well for astronomers to say that the universe is 13.7 billion years old, but you have to wonder just how they figured that out. Vanderbilt University astronomer Weintraub (Is Pluto a Planet?) explains it all for astronomy buffs in an enthusiastic way. He starts with how scientists first determined the age of the solar system--about 4.5 billion years --by isotope dating the oldest known rocks: lunar rocks brought back by astronauts, and meteorites that have collided with Earth. He then shows how stellar life cycles indicate an age of about 13 billion years. Astronomer Edwin Hubble's discoveries--that fuzzy spiral nebulae were really distinct and very distant galaxies, and that those galaxies are moving away from us--offered a new measure and new result: 13.5 billion years. Refining that number requires measuring things we can't even see: dark energy and dark matter, including exotics like wimps (weakly interacting massive particles) and machos (massive compact halo objects). Weintraub guides readers on a winding journey through history, explaining various dating approaches and illustrating the determination of astronomers to find the answer to one of the most basic questions about our universe.

Is Pluto a Planet?: A Historical Journey through the Solar System

ISBN: 9780691138466
ISBN: 9780691123486

"Criteria of Science, Cosmology, and Lessons of History"...an interesting paper by Helge Kragh

Abstract...

Perhaps more than any other science, cosmology exemplifies the inevitable contact between science and philosophy, including the problem of the demarcation criteria that distinguish science from non-science. Although modern physical cosmology is undoubtedly scientific, it is not obvious why it has this status, and nor is it obvious that all branches of theoretical cosmology satisfy ordinarily assumed criteria for science. While testability is generally admitted as an indispensable criterion for a theory being scientific, there is no agreement among cosmologists what testability means, more precisely. For example, should testability be taken to imply falsifiability in the sense of Popper? I discuss this and related questions by referring to two episodes of controversy in the history of modern cosmology, the debate over the steady state theory in the 1950s and the recent debate concerned with the anthropic multiverse. In addition, I draw attention to the use of historical analogies in cosmological and other scientific arguments, suggesting that such use is often misuse or otherwise based on distortions of the history of science. 

  "Criteria of Science, Cosmology, and Lessons of History" by Helge Kragh

Assumptions and limits of contemporary cosmology

Bias is part of cosmological epistemology...

"Of course, science is not simply based on observation and experiment so innocently. If science were naively based on observation and experiment, the science as we know now may not be possible. On the contrary, science in reality is more related with the art of ignoring and selecting observations, and manipulating experiments, in accordance with a preconceived theory."

Abstract...

Physical cosmology tries to understand the Universe at large with its origin and evolution. Observational and experimental situations in cosmology do not allow us to proceed purely based on the empirical means. We examine in which sense our cosmological assumptions in fact have shaped our current cosmological worldview with consequent inevitable limits. Cosmology, as other branches of science and knowledge, is a construct of human imagination reflecting the popular belief system of the era. The question at issue deserves further philosophic discussions. In Whitehead’s words, “philosophy, in one of its functions, is the critic of cosmologies.”

 "MODERN COSMOLOGY: ASSUMPTIONS AND LIMITS" by Jai-chan Hwang

Deceased--Joseph Chamberlain

Joseph Chamberlain
July 26th, 1923 to November 28th, 2011

"Joseph Chamberlain, 88, Dies; Brought the Stars a Bit Closer"

by

Douglas Martin

December 11th, 2011

The New York Times

Joseph M. Chamberlain, who helped advance astronomical education and entertainment by leading planetariums in New York and Chicago into a new era of technology, instruction and visitor experience, died on Nov. 28 in Peoria, Ill., where he lived. He was 88.

His death was announced by the Adler Planetarium in Chicago.

Dr. Chamberlain’s love was sailing, and he taught celestial navigation courses during his 16 years at the Hayden Planetarium in Manhattan, 12 of which he spent as its leader, and during his 23 years as director and president at the Adler. His larger impact at both places was to build new facilities, buy new projectors to make tiny stars brighter and comets more dashing, hire more professional astronomers, strengthen and increase the number of special exhibitions and greatly expand educational offerings.

In an interview with The New York Daily Mirror in 1964, Dr. Chamberlain said a theatrical touch was essential. “Give the audience 40 minutes of astronomy and there would be no audience,” he said. “It has to be a combination of science and showmanship. If there’s a sunrise, we furnish appropriate sunrise music.”

Dr. Chamberlain was one of the first scientists to organize cruises to distant destinations for planetariums and other groups so people could witness heavenly events like eclipses and comets.

Joseph Miles Chamberlain was born in Peoria on July 26, 1923, and remained there after graduating from high school to enroll at Bradley University. But he left the college during World War II to become a cadet at the United States Merchant Marine Academy in Kings Point, N.Y., where he earned a bachelor’s degree. He then served on transport ships in the Atlantic and the Pacific before returning to Bradley to finish a second bachelor’s degree. To finance his education, he taught high school part time and worked in a cigar store.

Returning to New York, he taught nautical science at the Merchant Marine Academy and earned master’s and doctorate degrees from Teacher’s College of Columbia University, concentrating on meteorology and astronomy. He gave guest lectures at the Hayden Planetarium, averaging five a week from 1950 to 1952.

The Hayden hired him as an assistant curator in 1952. He then rose through the ranks to become Hayden’s chairman in 1956 and an assistant director of the American Museum of Natural History, Hayden’s parent, in 1964.

A high point of Dr. Chamberlain’s tenure came in 1960, when he bought a powerful new projector for the planetarium’s famous star show. It replaced one that was wearing out, and it was equipped to display more arcane celestial phenomena.

Dr. Chamberlain was frequently quoted in the New York press on matters like eclipses, the change of seasons and the visibility of particular planets. He would personally answer letters from children, including ones asking him to “please write up the solar system for me.” He told them to do their own homework.

As assistant director of the natural history museum in 1965, Dr. Chamberlain was sent to Florida to retrieve the 100-carat DeLong star ruby, which had turned up after being stolen from the museum. He carried it under his shirt. A private investigator who traveled with him carried a black attaché case handcuffed to his wrist as a decoy.

Dr. Chamberlain arrived in Chicago when oversight of the Adler was shifting from the city to a private board. He replaced fraying technology, charged admission for the first time, installed a telescope through which the public could directly view the heavens, and came up with attractions like the Stairway to the Stars, an escalator lined with thousands of flickering stars that linked two theaters. He got the Adler accredited as a museum.

He also occasionally invited people into the planetarium’s main dome to listen to him recite poetry from memory.

Dr. Chamberlain, who was chairman of the International Planetarium Directors Conference for 12 years, retired in 1991.

He is survived by his wife of 65 years, the former Paula Jane Bruninga; three daughters, Janet Flinchbaugh, Susan Cardwell and Barbara Vetterick; a brother, Thad; a sister, Barbara Abegg; and four grandchildren.

By the way, Dr. Chamberlain discovered life on Mars in 1958, according to a report in The New York Times. The breakthrough came as his employees were making a large globe representing Mars from plants for a flower show. He spotted a spider crawling over the planet’s surface. “Good heaven, there is life on Mars!” Dr. Chamberlain exclaimed.

The Beginnings of the Division for Planetary Sciences of the American Astronomical Society

Observational cosmology...Edwin Hubble and Harlow Shapley

Abstract:

Observational cosmology of the first decades of the Twentieth Century was dominated by two giants: Edwin Hubble and Harlow Shapley. Hubble's major contributions were to the study and classification of individual galaxies with large telescopes, whereas Shapley is best remembered for his work on groups and clusters of galaxies using telescopes of more modest aperture.

HUBBLE AND SHAPLEY - TWO EARLY GIANTS OF OBSERVATIONAL COSMOLOGY by Sidney van den Bergh


COSMIC JOURNEY: A HISTORY OF SCIENTIFIC COSMOLOGY



Astronomers and public perception

Shapley and Curtis documents on the universe--1921

"The Day We Found the Universe"--H. Shapley & the Milky Way

"The Great Debate" [1921]--Shapley & Curtis

Essay #3...cosmology and science fiction...a separation of scientists and writers?

The following is the third installment of nine selected informative, thoughtful, and well-written essays regarding science, science fiction, technology, and literature from Science Fiction Studies .

A book review and comments on cosmology and science fiction.

"Cosmology and Science Fiction"

by

Stanislaw Lem

Translated by Franz Rottensteiner

July 1977

Science Fiction Studies

These remarks owe their existence to a suggestion of Dr R. Mullen of Science-Fiction Studies, who received a review copy of Cosmology Now (ed. Laurie John, Taplinger Publishing Co., 168p, $10.95) but felt the book too peripheral to the journal's concerns for an ordinary review. The title too is Dr Mullen's choice. Therefore my remarks are addressed to the readers of Science-Fiction Studies, and they were written in German since my English is insufficient for the task.

1. Cosmology Now was authored by several British scientists for the BBC in 1973. The American edition, the one on hand, appeared in 1976. A reviewer both well-versed in the subject and malicious could claim with some justification that the book would be better called Cosmology Yesterday. If the cosmos is the most durable of things, this durability doesn't extend to the science that deals with its exploration. Even the best cosmological reference works written some seven or eight years ago are today totally out-of-date. The three life-years that Cosmology Now has now had have seen much change in cosmology. Since I don't have to write a "regular review," I will list only the most important innovations. The age of the cosmos is today estimated to be some 20 billion years. The experiments of Weber, who claimed to have registered gravitational waves, have been discarded, since his apparatus was of insufficient sensitivity. The health of the "steady state" theory which denies the evolution of the universe from a zero point has deteriorated noticeably. Scientists are inclined to award the palms of victory to the theory of the Big Bang. Moreover, many of the things described in Cosmology Now have lost their former, beautiful simplicity. For instance, there is now a whole "family" of black holes. In addition to the ones postulated originally, which were supposed to be the final stage of a collapsing neutron star, there have been new ones, for instance partially reversible black holes. These may not be assumed to be "gravity graves," invisible for all eternity. And there are especially the black micro-holes. As the new theory of Stephen Hawking of Cambridge will have it, these are objects with the diameter of a proton and mass of a mountain range. Quite a lot of them are said to have been created at the time of the Big Bang. I mention the theory of Hawking, first, because it introduces the method of quantum mechanics into the field of the general theory of relativity, and second, because it implies consequences that cannot be overlooked and may change our whole outlook. Although there are so far no irrefutable (empirical) proofs for the existence of any black holes, we cannot imagine any possible technological utilization of the big black holes, whereas one may consider the micro-holes as energy sources that can surpass the annihilation of matter by several million times, the so far energetically most potent reaction. Such a micro-hole is supposed to contain the energy of several million of hydrogen bombs. Sapienti sat. There are other important discoveries, but I cannot enlarge this short aside into a "regular book review." Therefore—finis.

In our times, scientific works grow old very fast. The Internal Constitution of the Stars by A. Eddington enthralled me when I read it 40 years ago, and it is still a magnificent book, but it must be read now as (genuine!) Science Fiction, because nothing in it corresponds anymore with our present knowledge. In my opinion the same may happen with Cosmology Now: please take this remark as a hommage. This volume will remain readable, indeed exciting, but very little of its aesthetically appealing, lucid simplicity in its development of the model of the universe will survive the changes to come. I say this as a dilettante and a heretic who knows more about the history of science than about cosmology. The first conquerors of new knowledge find it always easier to proclaim that "God may be subtle, but He is not malicious," because the biggest hurdles are discovered by the next generation of scientists. But it seems to me that one of the main theses of Cosmology Now will remain valid: that the universe is a continued explosion extended over a time of twenty billion years that appears as a majestic solidification only to the eyes of a transient being like Man. The question whether we are living in a rhythmically pulsating universe or in a cosmos that will finally dissolve into vacuum still remains to be answered. The pendulum of mutually exclusive opinions goes on swinging.

2. Now then, what is the relationship between cosmology and SF? The facts are clear: both universes, that of the writers and that of the scientists, grow ever more apart. The estimations of the "density of cosmic civilization" show this most evidently. The scientists, even the founders of CETI (Contact with Extraterrestrial Intelligences) feel compelled to attribute ever smaller figures to the psychozoic density in the cosmos, because the accumulating negative results of the "sky listening" (for signals) force them to do so. SF takes not the slightest notice of such changes. Therefore for SF one of the biggest riddles of contemporary cosmology, the silentium universi, doesn't exist at all. But it would be totally wrong to reduce the divergence of the two universes to only one parameter, the one mentioned. Science fiction started its escape from the real cosmos even before the question was formulated why the universe remains silent so stubbornly. This flight has by now evolved into a "steady state"; SF has encapsuled itself so much against the space of cosmology that it is unwilling to receive any signals; that is to say, any news from the field of science, with the exception of what manages to make the front pages of the newspapers (such as the tale of the black holes). This encapsulement took place when the authors got hold of two fantastic, very convenient inventions: unlimited travel in time, and unlimited travel in space. Thanks to time travel and FTL the cosmos has acquired such qualities as domesticate it in an exemplary manner for story telling purposes; but at the same time it has lost its strange, icy sovereignty. SF doesn't know of the cosmos of colliding galaxies, the invisible stars sucked in by the curvature of space, the pulsating magnetic fields. Nevertheless there is in SF not a single one of the civilizations of the "third stage" postulated by CETI, the civilizations which are, thanks to their applied science of astral engineering, able to control stellar energies. As far as their content is concerned, most of the civilizations in SF correspond to the state predicted for Earth in 2000 or 2300, although structurally they have remained arrested rather in the 19th century, with their colonisatory tactics of conquest and their strategies of war, whose magnification is only due to the principle of "Big Berta" [the German super-gun that shelled Paris during WWI]. SF has not the slightest idea what could be done with a power of the magnitude of a sun, if it isn't used exclusively for the destruction of inhabited planets. And in SF cosmic civilizations have no intellectual culture at all, because a future-oriented movement that claims to probe into the farthest future, and makes its home in a realm of naively contaminated, amateurish ideas on "primitive slave societies," must be held totally lacking in credibility. SF criticism often talks of a "sense of wonder" that the field is supposed to generate, but upon close examination that "wonder" divulges its close relationship to the tricks of a stage magician. As popular fiction, SF must pose artificial problems and offer their easy solution. The astonishing results of contemporary cosmology which border on paradox, are of no use to science-fiction writers, because they cannot be tucked into the narrow fixed frame of the artificial cosmos. Any comparison, including that with the stage magician, isn't quite exact, because the magician doesn't aim at anything beyond the production of some tricks, whereas the self-imprisonment that is characteristic for SF has made it unable to describe real space any more.

To do justice to SF, which looks so shabby when compared to the background of cosmology, it is necessary to further explain its dilemma. The sins of individual authors have always been relatively small. The development of the totally false, domesticated universe was a gradual process of self-organization, and therefore all together are responsible for the final deformation—and nobody. Thanks to the first SF invention all occurrences in space have become easily reversible, but the authors who "just" want to shine with a new version of time-travel have forgotten the larger context. It is particularly due to these unnoticed relationships that nature was softened in the cruelty of the irreversible flow of time that is its hallmark. In order that space might not be used as another cruelty to man, it was "short-circuited" by another invention, i.e. annihilated. The fact that a domestication of the cosmos has taken place, a diminution that whisked away those eternally silent abysses of which Pascal spoke with horror, is masked in SF by the blood that is so liberally spilt in its pages. But there we already have a humanized cruelty, for it is a cruelty that can be understood by man, and a cruelty that could finally even be judged from the viewpoint of ethics—granted that one could take this blood seriously at all. By looking at it this way, we come to understand what SF has done to the cosmos: for it makes no sense at all to look at the universe from the viewpoint of ethics. Therefore, the universe of SF is not only minuscule, simplified and lukewarm, but it has also been turned towards its inhabitants, and in this way it can be subjugated by them, losing thereby that indifference which causes man to project continually new enigmas to be solved and secrets to be lifted, in the vain hope to get there the answer to the question for his own meaning. In the universe of SF there is not the slightest chance that genuine myths and theologies might arise, for the thing itself is a bastard of myths gone to the dogs. The SF of today resembles a "graveyard of gravity," in which that sub-genre of literature that promised the cosmos to mankind, dreams away its defeat in onanistic delusions and chimeras—onanistic, because they are anthropocentric. The task of the SF author of today is as easy as that of the pornographer, and in the same way. Now that all the real stops to the satisfaction of their impulses have been pulled, they can have their fling. But with the stops has disappeared the indescribable richness that can be conveyed only by real life. Where anything comes easy, nothing can be of value. The most inflamed desire must finally end in miserable dullness. Once the credible, the real barriers have been blown up, the process of falsification must go on; artificial barriers must be erected, and in this manner the stuffed waxworks come about, the miserable ersatz that is supposed to be cosmic civilizations.

3. Why is it impossible to regain the universe that has been lost to SF? One could claim that the laws of the market do not permit it—that today no authors and publishers would dare to subject the readers to a cure of giving up that would equal the renunciation of easy solutions to fictitious problems. True, it must be admitted that not everything in SF is rotten in the same degree. After all, there was once the cosmogonic fantasy of a Stapledon. But Stapledon, as an isolated writer, was still able to view the universe of cosmology, and not the humanized universe of SF. It should be kept in mind here that "humanize" in this context doesn't mean to "make more humane"; we know that among the animals there are no sexual murderers, and a sexual murderer can hardly be called a humane being.

It must be admitted that the universe presents the "peak of indigestibility" for fiction writing in the whole field of our experience. For what can you do as an author with the central subjects of cosmology—with the singularities? A singularity is a place that exists in the continuum just as a stone exists here; but there our whole physics goes to pieces. The desperate struggles of the theoreticians, going on for several years now, have only the purpose to postpone this end of physics, its collapse, by yet one more theory. In fiction, however, things like that cannot be domesticated. What heroic characters, what plot can there be where no body, however strong or hard, could exist longer than a few fractions of second? The space surrounding a neutron star cannot be passed closely in a spaceship even at parabolic velocity because the gravity gradients in the human body increase without a chance that they might be stopped or screened, and human beings explode until only a red puddle is left, just like a heavenly body that is torn apart from tidal forces when passing through the Roche limit. Is there therefore no way out of this fatal dilemma: that one must either be silent about the cosmos or be forced to distort it? Cosmology shows us a way out.

Just as one may look at the knowledge of yesterday as a fantastic speculation—as I said about the famous work of Eddington—so one may imagine a cosmogony of tomorrow, dissimilar to the current one, but nevertheless understandable, for cosmic processes are accessible to us to the degree that they can be focused by reason. But nothing is today so much held in contempt in SF as reason. In this regard a total harmony unites the authors with the readers. Obscenity is no longer indecent—the intellectual has taken its place in the pillory. SF fans should be discouraged from perusing Cosmology Now, unless they are willing to free their imagination from its imprisonment to discover in the brightness of real suns the true face of nature.

Cosmology Now

by

John Laurie

ISBN-10: 0563123702
ISBN-13: 978-0563123705

Essay #1...nuclear energy as a metaphor for power in science fiction

Essay #2...first British science fiction magazine

Shapley and Curtis documents on the universe--1921

Remember Harlow Shapley [1885-1972] and Heber Curtis [1872-1942] debates. Here are two papers by Shapley and Curtis as published in the Bulletin of the National Research Council [Volume 2, Part 3, Number 11, May 1921].

The Scale of the Universe, Harlow Shapley

Dimensions and Structure of the Galaxy, Heber Curtis


Astronomers and public perception

"The Day We Found the Universe"--H. Shapley & the Milky Way

"The Great Debate" [1921]--Shapley & Curtis

Myth and astronomy--LYRA

Lyra was frequently visualized as an eagle or vulture as well as a lyre; both are shown on this engraving from the Uranographia of Johann Bode (1801). Near the tip of the vulture’s beak is the bright star Vega, here spelt Wega; Bode also gave it the alternative name Testa in reference to the tortoise shell from which the lyre was supposedly made by Hermes.

The lyre got Hermes out of trouble after a youthful exploit in which he stole some of Apollo’s cattle. Apollo angrily came to demand their return, but when he heard the beautiful music of the lyre he let Hermes keep the cattle and took the lyre in exchange. Eratosthenes says that Apollo later gave the lyre to Orpheus to accompany his songs.

Orpheus was the greatest musician of his age, able to charm rocks and streams with the magic of his songs. He was even reputed to have attracted rows of oak trees down to the coast of Thrace with the music of his lyre. Orpheus joined the expedition of Jason and the Argonauts in search of the golden fleece. When the Argonauts heard the tempting song of the Sirens, sea nymphs who had lured generations of sailors to destruction, Orpheus sang a counter melody that drowned the Sirens’ voices.

Later, Orpheus married the nymph Eurydice. One day, Eurydice was spied by Aristaeus, a son of Apollo, who attacked her in a fit of passion. Fleeing from him, she stepped on a snake and died from its poisonous bite. Orpheus was heartbroken; unable to live without his young wife, Orpheus descended into the Underworld to plead for her release. Such a request was unprecedented. But the sound of his music charmed even the cold heart of Hades, god of the Underworld, who finally agreed to let Eurydice accompany Orpheus back to the land of the living on one solemn condition: Orpheus must not at any stage look behind him until the couple were safely back in daylight.

Orpheus readily accepted, and led Eurydice through the dark passage that led to the upper world, strumming his lyre to guide her. It was an unnerving feeling to be followed by a ghost. He could never be quite sure that his beloved was following, but he dared not look back. Eventually, as they approached the surface, his nerve gave out. He turned around to confirm that Eurydice was still there – and at that moment she slipped back into the depths of the Underworld, out of his grasp for ever.

Orpheus was inconsolable. He wandered the countryside, plaintively playing his lyre. Many women offered themselves to the great musician in marriage, but he preferred the company of young boys.

There are two accounts of the death of Orpheus. One version, told by Ovid in his Metamorphoses, says that the local women, offended at being rejected by Orpheus, ganged up on him as he sat singing one day. They began to throw rocks and spears at him. At first his music charmed the weapons so that they fell harmlessly at his feet, but the women raised such a din that they eventually drowned the magic music and the missiles found their mark.

Eratosthenes, on the other hand, says that Orpheus incurred the wrath of the god Dionysus by not making sacrifices to him. Orpheus regarded Apollo, the Sun god, as the supreme deity and would often sit on the summit of Mount Pangaeum awaiting dawn so that he could be the first to salute the Sun with his melodies. In retribution for this snub, Dionysus sent his manic followers to tear Orpheus limb from limb. Either way, Orpheus finally joined his beloved Eurydice in the Underworld, while the muses put the lyre among the stars with the approval of Zeus, their father.

Ptolemy knew the constellation’s brightest star simply as Lyra. The name we use for this star today, Vega, comes from the Arabic words al-nasr al-waqi’ that can mean either ‘the swooping eagle’ or ‘vulture’, for the Arabs saw an eagle or vulture here. The constellation was often depicted on star maps as a bird positioned behind a lyre, as on the illustration above. It seems that the Arabs visualized Vega and its two nearby stars Epsilon and Zeta Lyrae as an eagle with folded wings, swooping down in its prey, whereas in the nearby constellation Aquila the star Altair and its two attendant stars gave the impression of a flying eagle with wings outstretched.

Beta Lyrae is called Sheliak, a name that comes from the Arabic for ‘harp’, in reference to the constellation as a whole. Beta Lyrae is a celebrated variable star. Gamma Lyrae is called Sulafat, from the Arabic meaning ‘the tortoise’, after the animal from whose shell Hermes made the lyre. Between Beta and Gamma Lyrae lies the Ring Nebula, often pictured in astronomy books; it is a shell of gas thrown off by a dying star.

© Ian Ridpath. All rights reserved

Visit Ian Ridpath's Star Tales website

Star Tales

by

Ian Ridpath

ISBN-10: 0876636946
ISBN-13: 978-0876636947

Thanks to POSP stringer Tim for the Lyra tip.

Glycine, propanol, propenal, etc....life forming chemicals in space

Glycine

"Comet Contains One of Life’s Precursors"

by

Hadley Leggett

August 17th, 2009

Wired

Scientists have discovered the amino acid glycine, a critical component of all living things, hiding in samples from the comet Wild 2.

It's the first time an amino acid has been found inside a comet, and NASA scientists say the discovery supports the theory that some of the ingredients necessary for life originated in space and traveled to Earth by comet or meteorite.

"If you're seeing amino acids in comets, then that really gives credence to the idea that the basic componenets of life are going to be widespread throughout the universe," said planetary biologist Max Bernstein of the NASA Astrobiology Institute, who was not involved in the research. "It's one thing for me to do it in the lab and say it should be so, but it’s another thing for somebody to actually measure it."

Glycine was isolated from tiny samples of material collected from Wild 2 in 2004 by the NASA spacecraft Stardust. As the spacecraft flew through dense clouds of gas and dust surrounding the comet’s nucleus, a container of aerogel trapped particles from the comet. Since the aerogel capsule was parachuted to Earth in 2006, scientists have been racing to analyze the contents of the collected samples. Although preliminary reports indicated traces of glycine in the aerogel, researchers didn’t have enough aerogel sample to determine whether the amino acid was an Earthly contaminant or had truly come from space.

To get enough glycine for their analysis, the scientists actually analyzed the aluminum foil that lined the inside of the aerogel collection grid. Volatile gas particles had diffused through the aerogel and gotten stuck to the foil — but even the foil provided only a half a nanamole of glycine to work with, and it took the researchers two years to confirm that the glycine had extraterrestrial origins.

"What we did was look at the carbon isotopes," said NASA scientist Jamie Elsila, who presented the work Sunday at the American Chemical Society meeting in Washington D.C. "The stuff on the Earth has a special signature, and the extraterrestrial signature is very different. When we looked at glycine and measured its carbon signature, we saw that it’s in the extraterrestrial range."

Elsila says the extraterrestrial glycine may have formed inside the comet when UV light hit the molecular precursors and caused them to react. Researchers say this provides some of the best evidence thus far that the precursors for life may have originated in outer space. "We don’t know how life originated on the early Earth," Elsila said. "But we have a pretty good idea that the comets and meteorites that bombarded the early Earth provided a lot of the material."


Quest for life-forming chemicals

The Royal Observatory...the beginnings

I almost forgot but today is the official beginning of The Royal Observatory in Greenwich, England as decreed by King Charles II.

"Greenwich Becomes Royal Pane on the Stars"

by

Randy Alfred

June 22nd, 2009

Wired

1675: Britain's King Charles II issues a royal warrant establishing an observatory at Greenwich. The Royal Observatory, then on the eastern outskirts of London, will enjoy a long and storied history and become a Prime piece of real estate.

Charles had a navy and a large merchant fleet. They needed better ways of navigating. Latitude could be determined by the angle of the sun in the sky at midday.

Longitude was a trickier matter. The hope was that accurate star charts, coupled with a table of the moon's position, would allow navigators to see how far east or west of Greenwich they had sailed.

So, the king decreed:

Whereas, in order to the finding out of the longitude of places for perfecting navigation and astronomy, we have resolved to build a small observatory within Our Park at Greenwich.

His Majesty also appointed John Flamsteed as the first Astronomer Royal. Architect-astronomer Christopher Wren designed the first building on the hill above the royal palace at Greenwich. Construction began Aug. 10 and was completed in 1676.

Edmund Halley — of comet fame — succeeded Flamsteed as Astronomer Royal in 1720. The lunar-distance method of charting longitude was proving none too reliable, and Parliament had established a 20,000-pound prize in 1714 for anyone who could find a better means.

If you had an accurate timepiece that told the time at Greenwich when you were on a ship hundreds, or even thousands, of miles away, you could figure out the longitude. Problem was, the accurate timepieces of the day were pendulum clocks, which aren’t accurate on a ship pitching and rolling at sea.

Clockmaker John Harrison eventually solved the problem and met the specs (half a degree of longitude or 2 minutes of time) with a series of highly accurate spring-driven clocks. But Nevil Maskelyne, the fifth Astronomer Royal, refused to believe that watchworks could compute longitude more accurately than the lunar-distance method. He kept insisting on more testing.

Harrison's four decades of work were finally recognized in 1773 by a begrudging parliamentary grant of 8,750 pounds (about $1.4 million in today's money). Several of his original timepieces are now on display at the Greenwich Observatory.

A century later, almost three-quarters of global commerce used nautical charts based on Greenwich, and an international conference in 1884 declared it the Prime Meridian of the world. The growing metropolis of London, however, soon enveloped Greenwich, and urban light and air pollution are not conducive to star-gazing.

The scientific institution known as the Royal Greenwich Observatory abandoned Greenwich in the mid-1950s, fleeing to Herstmonceux Castle in Sussex. RGO moved again in 1990, to Cambridge. The observatory buildings in Greenwich are now part of Britain's National Maritime Museum.

What's more, the Greenwich meridian is several hundred feet off zero degrees longitude on GPS systems. The Maritime Museum cites several reasons for this: variations around the globe necessitated by the Earth not being precisely spherical, the move to Herstmonceux, and inaccuracies in Doppler-satellite reckoning in the 1960s and 1970s.

But the grandly titled post of Astronomer Royal lives on. After 297 years, the position was separated from directorship of the observatory in 1972. The Astronomer Royal's post is now largely ceremonial, although the incumbent may be called on to give astronomical or scientific advice to the reigning king or queen.

"The Royal Observatory, Greenwich; a glance at its history and work" by E. Walter Maunder

John Flamsteed

And...

Astronomers Royal

John Flamsteed (1675-1720)
Edmund Halley (1720-1742)
James Bradley (1742-62)
Nathaniel Bliss (1762-4)
Nevil Maskelyne (1765-1811)
John Pond (1811-35)
Sir George Biddel Airy (1835-81)
Sir William Henry Mahoney Christie ( 1881-1910)
Sir Frank Watson Dyson (1910-33)
Sir Harold Spencer Jones ( 1933-55)
Sir Richard van der Riet Wooley (1956-71)
Sir Martin Ryle (1972- 82)
Sir Francis Graham Smith (1982-90)
Professor Arnold W. Wolfendale (1990-1995)
Martin Rees, Baron Rees of Ludlow (1995-present)

"The Day We Found the Universe"--H. Shapley & the Milky Way

The Day We Found the Universe

ISBN-10: 0375424296
ISBN-13: 978-0375424298

"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, Tell Me Are You Very Far?"

by

Joel Achenbach

April 26th, 2009

The Washington Post

Famous astronomy anecdote: It's 1923, and astronomer Harlow Shapley, the leading proponent of the theory that the Milky Way is the one and only galaxy, gets a letter from Edwin Hubble. Shapley reads it, turns to a colleague and says, "Here is the letter that has destroyed my universe." Marcia Bartusiak's new book is the backstory of that anecdote.

At issue are faint wisps of light known as spiral nebulae. Astronomers first detected them in the 18th century. There were dozens of them -- no, hundreds. Their nature was furiously debated. One camp argued that they were within the Milky Way, solar systems in the making -- clouds of dust and gas with an embryonic star at the center. The other camp argued that they were agglomerations of stars -- "island universes" -- that were outside the Milky Way and were small and faint only because of their immense distance.

The debate took a couple of centuries to play out. In the meantime, under scrutiny by ever larger telescopes, the spiral nebulae proliferated. There were thousands, perhaps millions of them. (Billions, it turns out.) For a while the island-universe theory was ascendant. Then contradictory observations pointed to the baby-solar-systems theory. We get all the way to the 1920s with the nebulae still a mystery, and astronomers still trying to figure out the scale of the universe.

The story of the spiral nebulae is a familiar one to astronomy buffs, but Bartusiak's intelligent and engaging book may well become the standard popular account. Some of the early chapters could have benefited from a red pencil here and there to excise unneeded verbiage, but that problem fades as the author hits her stride.

More problematic is the comprehensiveness of the tale. There are moments when I found myself despairing at the arrival on the scene of yet another astronomer, yet another telescope, yet another set of photographic plates, yet another incremental teasing of the truth from the murky heavens. Bartusiak cannot be accused of leaving anyone important out of her story. Indeed, there are almost as many characters as there are stars in the sky. Some of them, such as Shapley and Hubble, are charismatic and quirky; some never quite seem as interesting as their telescopes. However, there is a fine set piece on Henrietta Leavitt, a Harvard assistant who, laboring in this rigidly patriarchal field, realizes that certain stars serve as standards for measuring cosmic distances (she might have won a Nobel Prize had she lived longer).

The astronomers practice heroic science. The telescopes get bigger. The mountaintops get higher and colder. The universe becomes clearer: The nebulae are, indeed, island universes -- separate galaxies outside the Milky Way. Shapley's "Big Universe" turns out to be but a meager portion of Hubble's galaxy-strewn cosmos.

Bartusiak's book is, ultimately, about how hard science is, how taxing, particularly when you are trying to excavate truth from a grudging universe. The astronomers get it wrong about as often as they get it right. Just when a consensus seems to be forming, it is obliterated by a new observation.

There was no single breakthrough, but many of them, as well as many mistakes and misapprehensions. Hubble famously gets the credit for solving the mystery -- a certain kind of variable star he found in the Andromeda nebula revealed that Andromeda is a separate galaxy at great distance -- but his discovery was built on the labor and insights of so many others. Let's throw some love to Vesto Slipher. And Heber Curtis. Oh, and one more thing: Those distant spiral nebulae are racing away from us. Hubble figured that out, too, and with it the most compelling evidence that we live in an expanding universe.

Modern astronomy uses magnificent tools to intensify our perception. The universe says, "Look at me." The astronomers oblige, and you know how it turns out: The universe gets much bigger and much more interesting than we ever could have imagined.

Amazon Exclusive: A Q&A with Marcia Bartusiak...

Question: Was there really a single day when the modern universe was revealed?

Marcia Bartusiak: In some ways there was a unique day: January 1, 1925, at the height of the Roaring Twenties. That's the day when astronomer Edwin Hubble finally announced that the Milky Way was not alone but surrounded by sister galaxies just like our own. Eventually, Hubble directed our eyes to hundreds of billions of other galaxies, scattered like separate atoms through an ever-expanding space. It was the astronomical news of the century, if not of all astronomical history.

Q: In your book Hubble turns out to be a more complex character than portrayed in most astronomy books.

MB: He was an odd bird, but certainly a handsome one. Friends called him an Adonis. I think he resembles the British actor Jeremy Irons. Raised in Missouri, in a solid middle-class household, Hubble somewhere along the line yearned to be singular and distinct. Once he graduated from the University of Chicago, he went to Oxford University as a Rhodes scholar, where he completely reinvented himself; he adopted a British accent that he maintained for the rest of his life, dressed like a dandy, and began to add dubious credentials to his resume, like saying he once practiced law, which he never did. He married into a rich Los Angeles family, and throughout his life seemed intent on erasing his Midwestern roots. His wife never met Hubble’s mother or siblings. Hubble was not chums with his astronomy colleagues but preferred to socialize with the actors and writers in nearby Hollywood. One astronomer called Hubble, often arrogant and standoffish, a "stuffed shirt."

Yet, while Hubble fibbed to his friends about his background, he was meticulously careful about his science. In fact, when he obtained the first evidence in early 1924 that the Andromeda nebula was truly a distant galaxy, he held off an official report for almost a year. He first wanted to counter every possible argument against his find. Being caught in a scientific error was Hubble's greatest nightmare. And when he did finally release the data at that astronomy meeting on New Year's Day in 1925, after a lot of arm-twisting from his colleagues, he wasn’t even there. He had someone else relay the findings.

Q: The Day We Fond the Universe informs us that there were numerous important figures whose efforts contributed to this monumental discovery-that Hubble didn’t do it alone as the textbooks today seem to imply.

MB: Not at all. This is a far richer story--filled with trials and errors, serendipitous breaks, battle of wills, and missed opportunities. Several astronomers could have snatched victory years before Hubble but for various reasons didn't. However, they constructed the firm foundation that allowed Hubble to step in and make his great discoveries, revealing the modern universe as we know it today.

Q: Who are some of those other astronomers?

MB: The first was James Keeler, then director of the Lick Observatory on Mount Hamilton in California near San Jose, the first observatory in the world to place a gigantic telescope at high elevation. Its lenses were a yard wide. But Keeler chose to spend his time at a smaller telescope, which every other astronomer on his staff despised. He fixed it up and began to discover that there were tens of thousands of faint, disklike nebulae arrayed over the celestial sky. This was in 1899. At the time most astronomers thought these spiraling clouds were baby solar systems in the making. If he had continued, Keeler had a good chance of revealing they were actually galaxies, other Milky Ways. He had the smarts (he was one of the best astronomers in his day) and he had the equipment. But he died at the age of 42, likely of lung cancer. He was never seen without a cigar in his mouth. If he had lived, it might have been the "Keeler Space Telescope" now orbiting the Earth.

Q: Didn't anyone follow-up?

MB: Not right away, oddly enough. Most astronomers at this time were primarily concerned with the Sun and stars. The study of nebulae was not popular. It wasn’t until the 1910s that Heber Curtis, another Lick Observatory astronomer, went back to the same telescope that Keeler used and advanced this work. He found so many new nebulae that he estimated there were at least a million around the sky. Moreover, he began to report that they were indeed distant galaxies. He told one reporter that one he sighted had to be 20 million light-years away, an astounding distance for its time.

Q: So why don't we remember Curtis as the discoverer of the modern universe?

MB: Because all the evidence Curtis gathered was merely circumstantial. Astronomers were waiting for a "slam dunk." The novae, or sudden flare-ups, that occasionally appeared in these spiraling nebulae suggested they were far-off, since the novae were so faint when compared to the ones that pop off in our own Milky Way. But no one was sure. Some of the novae were so bright, there wasn't any physics to explain the phenomena. This was before astronomers understood that stars could completely explode. Curtis was on the verge of solving the mystery, but he took himself out of the game when he accepted the directorship of an observatory in Pennsylvania, where the nighttime skies were so bad that he could no longer compete.

What was needed to resolve the problem was an undeniable distance measurement out to those nebulae. It required a cosmic yardstick, but none was available. And that’s where an interesting woman, Henrietta Leavitt, comes in.

Q: The role of women in astronomical history is prominent in your work. What are the parallels between their experiences and those of contemporary female researchers?

MB: It was a far different time for women in the sciences at that time. Women astronomers weren't allowed to observe on the major university telescopes. It was considered unseemly to have women and men work together on an isolated mountaintop. At Harvard, for example, women were mainly relegated to being what were called "computers"-staying in offices, scanning photographic plates and recording each star's position, luminosity, and spectrum. Yet it was immensely valuable work. In the course of it, Henrietta Leavitt astutely discovered the celestial Rosetta Stone that later allowed Hubble to make his great discoveries. In 1912 she found a unique pattern to the blinking of variable stars called Cepheids. These are stars that repeatedly brighten and dim over a matter of days, weeks, or months. She revealed that the brighter Cepheids had the slower periods; the dimmer ones were faster. That meant you could follow the Cepheid's change from afar, determine its period, which would let you know how bright the star is and hence how far away it was.

Harlow Shapley, a young up-and-comer at the new Mount Wilson Observatory in southern California, was the first to take advantage of this wonderful new yardstick, discovering that the Milky Way was far larger than anyone had ever suspected. Ten times larger. It was now 1918, and Shapley could have continued outward, determining the distances to those mysterious spiral nebulae and beaten Hubble to the brass ring--but he didn’t.

Q: Why not?

MB: Because Shapley was mulishly wedded to his own vision of the universe. To him, the Milky Way was so big that its borders defined the very boundaries of the universe. The spiral nebulae were mere appendages. He saw no reason to study them. He regretted that blunder for the rest of his life.

Hubble had by then arrived at Mount Wilson, and at first stood in Shapley's shadow. Shapley was the golden boy of astronomy for his remake of the Milky Way. The two astronomers never got along, throughout their professional careers. Shapley, also from Missouri, retained his brassy and chummy country ways. Hubble's affectation for wearing jodhpurs, leather puttees, and a beret while observing or going around and saying "Bah Jove" was simply too much for Shapley to bear. To Hubble's relief, Shapley soon left Mount Wilson to become director of the Harvard College Observatory, which allowed Hubble to focus on the spiral nebulae and make his great discovery.

Q: How did Hubble go on to see the universe expanding?

MB: Well, that's where the standard textbooks don't get the story quite right. There was another astronomer, by the name of Vesto Slipher, who actually found the first glimmer of evidence that the spiral nebulae were fleeing outward. He did this from the Lowell Observatory in Arizona. By 1917 Slipher was sure they were distant galaxies and even reported they might be "scattering" in some way. By 1925 he pegged the velocities of more than forty galaxies, a momentous accomplishment because the galaxies are so faint. It sometimes took weeks at the telescope for Slipher to clinch just one velocity.

In 1929 Hubble took on a partner, Milton Humason, to see if the galaxies were moving outward in a specific way. Hubble pegged the galaxies’ distances, while Humason measured their velocities. Putting this information together, Hubble did find a trend: the velocity of the galaxies steadily increased as he probed deeper and deeper into space. At double the distance, a galaxy's speed doubled as well. But when Hubble first published this rule, he solely used Slipher's data already on hand. Yet he made no mention whatsoever of Slipher in the paper--no citation, no acknowledgment, a serious breach of scientific protocol. Slipher deserves half the credit but is now largely forgotten by the public.

Moreover, Hubble had no idea at this stage that his newfound rule meant the universe was expanding. That understanding didn't arrive until 1930, when astronomers finally became acquainted with the work of the Belgian Georges Lemaître, both a theorist and Jesuit priest. Working out a cosmological model based on Einstein’s general theory of relativity, Lemaître predicted that space-time was moving outward, with the galaxies going along for the ride. He did this in 1927, two years before Hubble even published his rule. But Lemaître's model went unnoticed for a couple years, because it was published in an obscure Belgian journal.

But today this story is now vastly simplified: everyone says Hubble went to the great 100-inch telescope on Mount Wilson and, voilá, discovered the expanding universe. It’s an ironic twist, because Hubble was never a champion of a universe ballooning outward. "It is difficult to believe that the [galaxy] velocities are real," he told a reporter. Up until he died in 1953, he always referred to the galaxy speeds as “apparent velocities,” to protect his legacy just in case a new law of physics sneaked in and changed the explanation. Hubble coveted an unblemished record: the perfect wife, the perfect scientific findings, the perfect friends, the perfect life.

Q: You write about these astronomical discoveries in light of the cultural and geopolitical context of the early 20th century. What were the connections?

MB: It was a unique moment, a fantastic era when technology was rapidly on the rise. Astronomy blossomed within this atmosphere. Cameras became standard equipment on telescopes, capturing pictures of stars and nebulae never before seen. And spectroscopes allowed astronomers to discern the very chemistry of the heavens. More important, prominent industrialists, enriched by the bounty of the Gilded Age, provided the money that allowed American astronomers to construct the large telescopes so crucial to solving the mystery of the spiral nebulae.

In this venture, American astronomers were also aided by a more somber event. European astronomers were diverted by World War I and its resulting turmoil. This allowed American astronomers to freely push forward on the most outstanding question of the day. Figuring out the universe’s true nature became an American obsession, its participants drawn from the Lick, Mount Wilson, and Lowell observatories newly built in the U.S. West. The world’s older observatories didn't have a chance at all, because the Americans had the most advanced telescopes perched on high-elevation sites, a combination that was essential to cracking the mystery.


"The Great Debate" [1921]--Shapley & Curtis


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