A Galaxy of Planets

An evening under the Milky Way in Marfa, Texas (C) Steph Goralnick 2011 (used by permission)

As far as we know, it was Galileo who first aimed a telescope at the night sky. This is easy to believe, since we can imagine that most other men of Galileo’s time were interested more in enemy encampments, brothel windows, and then, maybe, and a very distant third, the night sky.* Galileo was a nerd even by Renaissance standards.

Anyway, it was Galileo who first resolved the Milky Way into its constituent stars, in 1610, thus confirming what many philosophers, from 5th century BC Greece to Galileo’s 17th-century Italy, had surmised: that the Milky Way was a collection of stars, too distant and dim to be resolved by the human eye, and that our sun was but one of many stars in an island universe, a galaxy.

And this has remained the predominant understanding of our Milky Way home, until today. Astronomers at the 221st meeting of the American Astronomy Society have reported that their best estimate, according to the data presently on hand, is that the Milky Way galaxy may contain up to 17 billion earth-like planets. “Earth like” doesn’t mean you should book your vacation to one of these worlds, but it means terrestrial (rocky) planets of a size comparable to the earth, orbiting their parent stars at a distance that might be favorable to the conditions of life. In other words, 17 billion (somewhat) earth-like planets that might support life.

Growing up, I would wonder, sometimes aloud with parents or friends, if there were planets orbiting around the stars we see in the night sky. And, of course, if those planets had people on them. And if those people had telescopes, looking at us. (Okay, my thoughts were more along the lines of: if those people slimy creatures were donning latex human masks, marching onto troop ships with laser guns charged, and setting forth in our direction at ludicrous speeds for some high-tech interstellar pillage. But anyway.)

The first hard evidence for extrasolar planets, or exoplanets, came in 1992. Our view of the universe once again shifted, and one of our fundamental questions were answered. Since then scientists–and even some amateur astronomers with pretty nice telescopes–have discovered 874 exoplanets. Nasa’s modest but amazing Kepler orbiting space telescope, which has found over 100 confirmed worlds, is providing some of the richest data we have yet had access to. And it’s got another 2000 possible planets, called candidates, that it’s keeping it’s one-meter eye on. The 17 billion estimate comes from Kepler findings.

To quote Malcolm Reynolds, “It’s getting awful crowded in my sky.”

I can now open an Ipad app called Exoplanet, and pull up a list of all 874 planets. I can tell you when they were discovered, by whom and what method was used to detect them. Orbital period and eccentricity, which is not how weird they are but rather how ovular their orbits are. Mass and even basic type: terrestrial, gas giant, hot jupiter. I can look at a simulation of the solar system the planet belongs to, and even go to a wide angle model of the Milky Way and then zoom in to that particular star. I can find a list of links to publications about that system. Every couple of days, I get an alert that a new exoplanet is discovered, and I have to update the app’s database. It’s almost the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

Exoplanet will even tell me where in the sky I can find the parent star. And I can go outside, find that star, and know there’s a planet there. I can find the band of the Milky Way, and know that I’m seeing not just a river of billions of stars, but planets.

It’s an incredible time to be alive.

I will never look up in the same way again. I will never again have to say to a gathering of the interested public, “Well, we believe there are lots of planets orbiting around those stars, but we don’t really know…”

Now I can talk about evidence. I can tell people that, based on the publically-funded Kepler mission, astronomers now have evidence that there are as many planets as there are stars in the Milky Way, and that 17 billion of those are similar to earth: rocky, about earth-sized, and orbiting in a potentially habitable zone. And then I can tell them that this number is based on the idea that there are 100 billion stars in the Milky Way. There could be as many as 4 times as many stars, so…do the math.

Our sky is full of worlds.

* If the women of Galileo’s day were allowed to be educated, you can bet we wouldn’t be flabbergasted today at the idea that, of all the Europeans with telescopes in the 17th century, only one of them though to look at the moon with it. For more on this, see Kim Stanley Robinson’s excellent historical sci-fi novel, Galileo’s Dream.

Saturn’s Rings

I just can’t get enough of the Cassini probe photographs of the Saturn system. The thought that it might be shut down this year for budgetary reasons, with plenty of science and stunning imagery yet to beam us, is thoroughly depressing and I hope it doesn’t happen. Anyway, today’s Astronomy Photo of the Day (APOD) from NASA is a Cassini photograph of Saturn’s rings and its moon Tethys. The rings are about 250,000 kilometers wide, but they are remarkably thin and diffuse, so diffuse in fact that they are barely there. Their thickness varies from as little as 10 meters to as much as a kilometer and a half. Phil Nicholson, a planetary scientist at Cornell, called them “the most two-dimensional structure we know of in the universe.” As for the mass of the rings, they are less than the tiny moon Tethys in the upper right of the photograph. Just trying to help you get your New Year’s into perspective.

Two Self-Portraits (of planet Earth)

Earthrise, photographed by Apollo 8 astronaut Bill Anders on December 24th, 1968.

Just before the holidays, I had the opportunity to do a little driveway stargazing with a guest from Syria. His hometown is just outside the city of Homs, actually, and if you read or listen to just a little news you know his people are going through a very, very hard time. Getting shot in the streets kind of hard. In spite of, or perhaps because of, the suffering in his homeland, he is excited about any new experience, and he had never looked through a telescope before. We did a quick tour (it was very cold!), stopping at Jupiter, the Andromeda galaxy, and ending with the moon. It was the last thing that dropped his jaw. It turns out Muslims also use God’s name when amazed by something, but it’s an incantation of appreciation and wonder.

We had him back over for dinner on Christmas Eve. He had never experienced an American Christmas before. Actually, to a large extent, he still hasn’t…most of my household’s traditions come from Slovakia. When we gathered near the tree after the long “Dinner of Many Courses” (sliced apple, oblatky with nuts, garlic and honey, sauerkraut soup, fried chicken and potato salad and the cavalcade of cookies), our guest was surprised to find a gift waiting for him. It was a print I had made of the famous “Earthrise” image taken by Apollo 8 astronauts as they orbited the moon on Christmas Eve, 1968. I think he was touched.

That photograph is very significant. Though not the first photograph of the planet from space (I wrote about that image in this post) it was the most viewed and appreciated. Galen Rowell, the eminent nature photographer, called  Earthrise ”the most influential environmental photograph ever taken.” The first Earth Day was celebrated the following year, and now everyone had an image to keep in mind. Bill Anders, the Apollo 8 astronaut who took the photograph, later reflected: ”I instantly thought it was ironic; we had come all this way to study the moon, and yet it was this view of the Earth that was one of the most important events for Apollo 8.”

Anders continued: “There are basically two messages that came to me. One of them is that the planet is quite fragile. It reminded me of a Christmas tree ornament. But the other message to me, and I don’t think this one has really sunk in yet, is that the Earth is really small. We’re not the center of the universe; we’re way out in left field on a tiny dust mote, but it is our home and we need to take care of it.”

Flash forward four decades to another photograph, this one from August, 2011, snapped by the Juno spacecraft, 6 million miles into its journey to the planet Jupiter. Juno is an robotic spacecraft, so we can’t ask the photographer directed for comments. It gives perspective to our perspective. The earth is not just small. It’s really small. And please, people, for now, it’s all we’ve got.

Juno's photograph of earth and the moon. If the earth was a peppercorn, the moon would be a pinhead about an index finger's length away. Mars, our aspirational next destination for manned exploration, would be about 14 yards away.

Aresforming: The fine art of mucking up a wet planet

If you are a Mars-head like I am, you spend a lot of time thinking about terraforming Ares (the greek name for Mars). That is, making a pretty cold, thin atmosphere into a thicker, balmier one and planting a bunch of palm trees and laying some shuffleboard courts down and then just waiting for the first shuttles carrying retirees from Phoenix. Lots of science fiction careers have been staked on realistic supposition about how such a process would enfold. For my money, Kim Stanley Robinson’s Mars Trilogy is the best. But I’m in Utah, not on Mars (though sometimes I wonder) and so I’m really interested in Aresforming…how can we make Utah more like Mars?  (more…)

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