Mìosachan Reul-eòlais

Tha neach-dèiligidh agam a tha an-dràsta ag iarraidh orm mìosachan reul-eòlais a dhèanamh dha. Is e seo an dàrna turas a rinn mi rudeigin mar seo. O chionn grunn bhliadhnaichean, rinn mi mìosachan planaid dhearg airson bliadhna a’ phlanaid dhearg 214 bliadhna às deidh dha Galileo fhaicinn an toiseach tro teileasgop. Bha sin gu math cumanta ach leis gun do dh’innis a’ chompanaidh clò-bhualaidh breug mu chaitheamh inc aon de na clò-bhualadairean a chleachd mi air a shon, bha e ro dhaor a dhèanamh. Dh’fhàs mi feargach agus thilg mi am clò-bhualadair dhan ionad-reic. B’ àbhaist dhomh a bhith nam dhuine gu math feargach. Chan e sin an duine a th’ annam tuilleadh. Na bi gam bhreithneachadh a rèir na b’ àbhaist dhomh a bhith.

Tha ùidh mhòr aig mo neach-dèiligidh ann an tachartasan anns na speuran leithid cuin a tha a’ ghealach a’ coimhead nas motha no nas lugha na an àbhaist, cuin a tha a’ ghealach eadar sinn agus a’ Ghrian no nar sgàil agus dàrna gealach ann am mìos, agus mar sin thairg mi mìosachan a dhèanamh dha a dh’innseadh dha cuin a thachradh iad sin. Bha e glè thoilichte leis an seo, agus mar sin nì mi sin, le bhith ag innse do einnsean reusanta mar a nì thu e oir is e seo an dòigh as sìmplidh air a dhèanamh.

Ciamar a nì thu e, is e sin ceist eile. Ged a tha beagan eòlais agam, tha e duilich suidheachadh na gealaich agus nam planaidean obrachadh a-mach. Bidh e airson faighinn a-mach cuin a tha a’ ghealach a’ coimhead as motha, cuin a tha i a’ coimhead as lugha, ìrean agus cuin a tha a’ ghealach, a’ ghrian agus an Talamh ann an loidhne dhìreach. Tha iad sin gu math furasta. Ach feumaidh mi cuideachd obrachadh a-mach cuin a tha coltas planaidean a’ dol air ais, cuin a tha trì ann an loidhne dhìreach eadarainn, cuin a tha iad a’ coimhead as fhaide bhon Ghrian, na gluasadan agus na h-ìrean aca, agus innse dha càite a bheil iad. Tha cuid dhiubh sin furasta cuideachd, ach chan eil siostam na grèine rèidh, chan eil na orbitan nan cearcallan agus chan eil na h-àiteachan far a bheil iad as fhaisge air agus as fhaide bhon Ghrian san aon taobh. Feumaidh mi co-dhùnadh cuin a thòisicheas mi. Is dòcha gur e deagh cheann-latha a th’ ann am Bliadhna Ùr 4713 RC, ach chan eil fios agam càite an robh iad an uairsin, agus mar sin an àite sin coimheadaidh mi airson àiteachan agus gluasadan o chionn ghoirid nan cùrsaichean aca agus obraichidh mi a-mach iad às an sin. Feumaidh mi an uairsin na suidheachaidhean a chithear bhon Ghrèin a thionndadh gu na suidheachaidhean a chithear bhon Talamh, obrachadh a-mach dè cho fada ’s a bheir e air solas faighinn bho na nithean thugainn an seo agus mar a tha an àile gan dèanamh coltach ri bhith ann an diofar àiteachan.

Chan eil fhios agam dè a chanas mi ris na planaidean anns a’ Ghàidhealtachd. Is e an dàrna fear gu soilleir Reul na Maidne agus Reul na Feasgair. Dh’ fhaodadh an ceathramh fear a bhith air ainmeachadh mar rudeigin coltach ri bàrr sleagha Chù Chulainn, ach is e ainm Èireannach a tha seo agus tha e cuideachd air a chleachdadh airson reultan-reubadh. Tha mi airson barrachd fhaighinn a-mach mu bhith a’ coimhead rionnagan anns a’ Ghàidhealtachd.

Is dòcha nach eil fios aig mo neach-dèiligidh gu bheil na tha dha-rìribh a’ tachairt anns na speuran gu math eadar-dhealaichte bhon rud a thathar ag ràdh a thachras a rèir reul-eòlas, ach feumaidh mi a bhith onarach, agus mìnichidh mi rudan mar a tha iad dha-rìribh.

Did David Bowie Ask The Wrong Question?

I often do bait and switch on here and I should honour the title to some extent, so here it is. There’s much to admire about David Bowie and the world lost a genius a few years ago. I’ve blogged about him before and whereas I can’t be bothered to fish those bits out I do remember tracing his reference to superhumans in ‘Oh You Pretty Things’ back via Arthur C Clarke’s ‘Childhood’s End’ to Olaf Stapledon’s writing, particularly ‘Odd John’. But that isn’t what I’m thinking of right now. I’ll never forget the first time I heard ‘Space Oddity’. It was an oddity to hear that accent on the radio. I don’t know why exactly, because there were lots of southern English rock stars at the time, but somehow it seemed really, I don’t know, ground breaking. Of course he was groundbreaking in other ways. My ex is a big Bowie fan, and has found him a gateway into sci-fi, a genre she previously despised, but as I said to her, and for some reason I think this applies to him in particular, you can’t take things too far from his lyrics without ruining them. For instance, in the album ‘Ziggy Stardust’ and his Mott The Hoople single ‘All The Young Dudes’, we seem to be expected to believe that there will be a mains supply for electric guitars, organs and amplifiers during the apocalypse. In fact, maybe there will be and that’s a mark of his visionary nature, but it bothers me. They should’ve been acoustic.

What I have in mind today though is ‘Life On Mars’. This has now famously been used as the basis for the excellent time travel police procedural series, which to me felt like Sam Tyler travelling back to a time when things were “normal”. Unsettlingly, that series itself is now almost twenty years old and the same gap separates us from Windows 3.1 as Sam Tyler from Gene Hunt. Well, sort of – no spoilers! My take on the track itself, though, is that it’s about someone despairing of how life is here on Earth and hoping there’s life on Mars instead because at least then there’d be something better out there. I’ve said before that my greatest fear is that there is no life elsewhere in the Universe, mysterious encounters in Sussex chalkpits notwithstanding. This is also why I’m so peed off with the scarcity of phosphorus. Anyway, this is in fact a major reason why I’m so focussed on the possibility of alien life. I may have just written a nine thousand word long rambling blog post about silicon-based life, but the subtext is the same as Bowie’s song’s. As Monty Python put it, “pray to God there’s intelligent life somewhere up in space, ‘cos there’s bugger all down here on Earth”. I don’t entirely agree with that by the way. I think many of us choose not to think complexly, which is one reason we’re in this mess.

Okay, have I done enough of that now? Enough relatable stuff? Seriously though, I’ll try not to go off on one.

Because as you must know by now, it really looks like there might at some point have been life on Mars, according to recent discoveries there. I have to admit that at this point in the proceedings I have little idea what they’ve found, but I seem to remember it’s an iron compound which is found as a product of terrestrial life, possibly a sulphur one, which needs to have quite a lot of energy input to form but is then stable and has no known non-biochemical routes to its formation, that is, including the biochemical route involving the evolution of a technological species which can do sums like many of us, which I’m sure nobody sensible is suggesting. This is the latest stage in a long history of claims about Martians, and at some point it was considered so certain that there was intelligent life there that a competition for ways to communicate with aliens specifically excluded Mars because it was thought too easy. There have been claims of canals, lichens, and later on a scaled-down set of claims regarding something like bacteria. In particular there was the Labeled Release (American spelling) Experiment on the Viking lander which appeared to show positive results, i.e. the results which NASA had pre-decided would be best explained by life, but the problem was that the other two experiments were negative. It’s frustrated me until recently that they did this but right now it seems more like the way the scientific method works: come up with an idea, test it and then do everything you can possibly think of to prove a positive result wrong. On the other hand, looking at it non-scientifically at the time, it felt like they were in denial about the existence of life, possibly because it’s an audacious and potentially career-ending claim if it ends up being refuted, but also because it’s such an Earth-shattering claim. But this puzzles me a bit because in fact for a long time, since at least 1877 up until 1965, it was basically considered a dead cert that there was life there, and often also on Venus at the same time, and it didn’t seem to make much difference to the human race that we thought it was out there. Maybe this is to do with most people not being very focussed on space, but at least in the ’50s and ’60s this was definitely not so and in fact this was probably one source of inspiration for Bowie’s track. Getting back to Viking, it’s now thought that the results of the experiment were caused by perchlorate in the soil, a bleach-like substance which it’s also been claimed originated from the sterilisation process in the reaction chamber before the lander left Earth, although I think it’s now established that perchlorate is high in Martian soil. In fact I seem to remember (look at me failing to check my sources – sorry) that it makes Andy Weir’s ‘The Martian’ unfeasible, though maybe ingenuity would’ve got him out of his predicament some other way. Weir has since said that Watney could’ve washed it thoroughly first, so maybe, although wouldn’t he then have ended up with most of his water full of bleach? Maybe not. I’m not a chemist. There’s also been a view that the dendritic appearance of some terrain close to the poles is due to the action of microbes, something I went into in depth when I put the Martian calendar for 214 TE (telescopic era) together if anyone remembers that – it involved me throwing an inkjet printer into the larder with considerable force at one point.

What’s happened is that the Perseverence Rover in Jezero Crater has found what they call “leopard spots” on rock samples. Organic carbon-containing mudstones have been found to contain nodules and reaction fronts rich in ferrous iron phosphate and sulphide minerals. Vivianite is one possible candidate, which probably coincidentally is found in bivalve shells, and another is greigite, which is a ferrimagnetic mineral regarded as a biosignature, in other words a sign of life. Other processes which could have produced these minerals involve heating which doesn’t seem to have happened to the rocks in question as they would show other signs, for instance in their crystal structure. It seems that redox reactions have occurred there, that is, reactions involving the transfer of electrons between substances, one example of which is burning and another internal respiration. These rocks are around three thousand million years old, and at that time the same chemical reactions were occurring on Earth, mediated by microorganisms. So there are these two neighbouring planets on both of which chemical reactions usually associated with life are taking place. On Earth, it’s known that this is due to life, but what about Mars? The paper in question has eliminated other possibilities as likely explanations. Further investigation by NASA is of course not likely to occur due to funding cuts, but China might end up doing a sample return mission, that is, bringing samples back to Earth, in the next decade.

For me there are a couple of takeaways from this. One is that space exploration moves agonisingly slowly. This is probably an artifact of being born in the 1960s CE., but I was under the impression that there would be a human mission to the Red Planet from 1979 to 1981. This then got repeatedly postponed. The other is that science tends to do the same thing, although it’s also punctuated by revolutionary bursts of activity, according to the philosopher Thomas Kuhn anyway. It’s very cautious and tries hard to be boring. We seem to be edging very gradually into a position of accepting that there has been life elsewhere in the Universe, and that it was also found elsewhere in this solar system in a similar condition to its state on Earth at the time. Whether it exists on Mars now is another question, although of course “life finds a way”. Whereas that’s a bit of pop-culture tat, there is an element of truth in it and to be fair it’s quite a good line. You only have to look at a seedling growing between two paving stones to see that, but living on a practically airless, arid rock bathed in ultraviolet and dropping daily below the temperature of Antarctica is a considerably taller order than that. Maybe.

There are several possible worlds in this solar system other than Earth which may be hospitable to life as we know it. These include Venus, Mars, Ceres, Ganymede, Callisto, Europa, possibly Jupiter, Enceladus, Titan and maybe even Triton, Pluto and Charon. Several of these are quite a bit friendlier to it than Mars, although the question of it arising in those places in the first place also arises. Maybe it didn’t arise on those worlds though, and simply seeded them having arisen in space. If that’s so, maybe it’s the cloud that formed this solar system which gave rise to life, which then arrived on various planets, moons, asteroids, comets, wherever, and either died or, metaphorically, took root there. If that’s so, with reference to the previous post on here, it would probably show up as having the same chirality of molecules as we, i.e. left-handed proteins and right-handed carbs. It’s been suggested that life here must have pre-dated the Earth for two reasons: it seemed to arrive almost before it was possible for it to form, and looking at mutation rates in DNA takes it back to a point before the formation of this planet. To clarify, there’s a set mutation rate in DNA and RNA which enables scientists to date roughly when diverse organisms had a common ancestor, and incidentally this is usually before the first definite members of two groups turn up separately as fossils, which could mean a couple of things. The complexity of many genomes has increased over time as well, and this too can be measured from the genes which organisms still share. If you extrapolate these rates back to the point where the minimum information for an organism to function is present in the genome, you get a period of about nine or ten thousand million years ago, or roughly twice the age of the Earth. This isn’t generally regarded as solid evidence though. What it does suggest, interestingly, is that not only does life here descend from organisms present in the solar nebula, but actually it’s from a source which existed before this solar system had even begun to form.

I’m not going to base anything firmly on that possibility, but others have been suggested, one of which is that life arrived here from Mars aeons ago, which is supported by the likelihood that Mars was probably actually friendlier to life back then than Earth was. These redox reactions may be from the exact same taxon of organisms on both planets. And this is where it gets difficult.

David Bowie asked “is there life on Mars?”, but was this the right question? Many people have said that if life can be found there, or in or on any other world in this solar system, it guarantees that there’s life elsewhere in the Universe. Well, it really, really does not. Suppose we do find incontrovertible evidence that there is, just now, life on Mars, and also on several other worlds in this solar system, and moreover that it’s remarkably similar in some ways to life on Earth, for instance possibly sharing some genes with us, and has the same chiralities in proteins and carbs as us. That means that all of that life has a common ancestor. That common ancestor might have arisen in this solar system, or at least locally before this solar system formed. In terms of chirality, maybe there’s something about the processes of the Universe which lead right- and left-handed molecules of the respective types to form and persist while their mirror images don’t, or maybe there’s something about mirror life which means it won’t function, in which case all life of the kind we know in the Universe would have those chiralities for some very fundamental reason, but we’re still drawing conclusions from a very small sample. Maybe there’s either just something about this solar system which makes it more likely that life would emerge here, such as the relative abundance of phosphorus, or maybe it just did emerge here against all odds because we live in a very large Universe, many of whose planets are covered in a reddish-brown tarry goo instead of life.

For all we know, planets and moons here could be rich in life forms, and that would be a cheering thought, but that doesn’t of itself guarantee that the rest of the Cosmos is not utterly barren. For all we know, there could be endless lifeless worlds filling the Universe, which nothing whatsoever wrong with them but simply because the chances of it arising are vanishingly small. I’m sometimes haunted by the thought of some very, very Earth-like planet orbiting, I dunno, Delta Pavonis or whatever, with a perfectly comfortable surface temperature, oceans, continents, rain, thunderstorms, rainbows, mud, puddles children would love to splash in, sunsets over idyllic beaches lovers could walk along, or other phenomena alien beings could appreciate in their own way if they existed, but which will never, ever even see a single bacterium before their stars overheat and destroy them. Trillions of them, all without life. And this solar system being full of life would be of no significance, no consequence to that situation, because life just arose this one time. And this is why I say that if it could be proven that life existed nowhere in the Universe, I would stop worshipping God. It’s like a deal-breaker in a relationship for me. I would be terminally angry with such a Creator for sustaining in existence such a vast and uninhabited Cosmos. It would be really bad.

This, then, is why I say David Bowie is asking the wrong question. It’s the right one if understood in terms broader than just Mars, that is, if Mars is just a stand-in for another planet or other location where life could persist. Mars is just our next door neighbour, and we already know our bushes might end up growing over the fence or our aphids might end up infesting next door’s roses. Big deal. The Universe is so big that the size of this solar system is nothing to it.

Beyond The Looking Glass

1. The Risks of Mirror Life

This one will have to start pretty far back from where it ends to make much sense. I have already stuck an idea along these lines on the Halfbakery, which I’ve begun to frequent anew in the past few weeks. It’s not exactly a simpler place and time, more of a more complicated one, but that’s why I like it.

First of all, this post is going to be quite wide-ranging and extensive in terms of technical details. The reason for this is that it’s been suggested to me that I submit the idea as a non-peer reviewed scientific paper rather than write a blog post about it, but I don’t have a lot of respect for journals that allow that, particularly considering that I’m not in an academic community relevant to the field and have only fairly basic education regarding biochemistry and other branches of chemistry. In order to produce good-quality coherent ideas in a particular academic discipline, it’s usually necessary to have people to bounce them off and get torn down numerous times. I don’t have this even in philosophy, and although I have carried out quantitative research in herbalism, mainly due to the parlous state of CPD in that area at the time, I haven’t got my own lab. So I’m posting this here instead, where I hope it will vanish without trace.

I’ll start with “life as we know it”. Life as we know it is a complex system of organic carbon compounds interacting and reacting in aqueous solutions partitioned off from one another by membranes made of molecule-thick layers of oil in which various proteins float, some of which control movement of substances across these barriers. On some level, this is actually all life is, or at least the life we’re familiar with. The code for doing all this is stored in DNA, gets read and turned into proteins which further down the line may in turn work on other substrates to make something else such as cellulose or dental enamel, and the whole system is powered by a process whereby usually sugar is broken down to release energy through adenosine triphosphate called glycolysis, which then can go in several possible directions depending on the organism: fermentation, where ethanol or acetic acid is produced, other anaerobic respiration, where lactic acid is produced, or (drum roll please!) the Krebs Cycle, where the stuff is converted into various organic acids and combined with oxygen, then fed back into the start of the cycle, which is by far the most energetic pathway. That’s another thing that life is, in a slightly more detailed version.

It’s occurred to me, incidentally, that in theory some kind of motor could be built which digested cellulose, starch and sugars and converted them into movement, so that there could be a literal “Krebs Cycle”, i.e. a motorbike which runs on food, and that’s on the Halfbakery too. A cyclist is doing this in a roundabout way of course, and there are microorganisms who can convert energy released by reputation into rotary motion using microscopic motors which work by alternating electrostatic attraction and repulsion, so this is doable, though also possibly a bit pointless and unethical.

Thinking of living things as complicated wet machines might help to get me to the next stage of understanding what I’m about to say. Suppose you have a machine with clockwise screw threads and screws, say a clock, and the mechanism tells the time by moving hands around a dial in a clockwise direction. That’s fine and we know about those, but there could be an alternative mechanism which is 100% identical but has counter-clockwise screw threads and screws and works exactly the same way, but is a mirror image of the other clock, and it still works fine, tells the time accurately and so on, but every part is the opposite way round, so its dial works counter-clockwise. If a screw were to work loose or the winding gear needs replacing, you wouldn’t be able to get spare parts from the other clock most of the time to repair the clockwise one. It just wouldn’t work, and if it was working in the first place and you replaced a working part from one clock with the corresponding part from the other, it would often break it. Similarly, if you drive from a right-hand drive country into a left-hand drive one but carry on obeying the traffic laws of the other country, you’d be putting yourself and others in danger and either have an accident or get arrested. Life’s like that.

Life really is like that. Many of the molecules making up living things are not symmetrical. They’re either left or right-handed. In fact, although there are specific molecules in biochemistry which can be of either chirality, the word for this handedness after the Greek word for “hand”, the central parts of life chemistry consists of proteins and amino acids which are left-handed and sugars and carbohydrates are right-handed. It’s fair to ask how a molecule can be said to be left or right handed when this seems to be an arbitrary decision but in fact homochiral solutions of molecules, that is, molecules which are all right-handed or all left-handed, bend light shone through them to the left or to the right depending on their handedness, so it isn’t arbitrary and this explains how it can be said that sugars are generally right-handed and amino acids left-handed. It’s also possible for molecules to have more than one chiral centre, meaning that there could be four different versions of a particular molecule with two such centres and so forth.

Although the central machinery of life is chiral, the end products of that machinery can be either way round. For instance, the scent of orange and the scent of lemon are both contributed to by a molecule called limonene, but the two molecules have opposite chirality. For some reason, the lemony version is much more common than the orangey one. Another pair of examples is the odours of spearmint and caraway. The name “dextrose” is almost a synonym for “glucose”, but the “dextro-” refers to the right-handed version alone. There is also a “levulose”, which was going to be introduced as a non-calorific sweetener but it didn’t happen. I don’t know why, but the reason it was suggested is that glycolysis and the Krebs Cycle wouldn’t have been able to break it down or release energy from it. Another example, from pharmaceuticals, is levothyroxine and dextrothyroxine. Both are amino acids but whereas levothyroxine is a thyroid hormone used for hypothyroidism, dextrothyroxine is its right-handed version and was used to lower cholesterol, but isn’t on the market because of cardiac side-effects.

Usually when drugs are manufactured, because the process is through industrial chemistry rather than from living things, they are what’s known as a “racemic mixture”, i.e. a roughly equal mixture of left- and right-handed molecules. On the whole, drugs on the market stay as these mixtures unless it turns out one chirality has serious side-effects as with dextrothyroxine, in which case some complex processing has to be used to purify them into the active and safe form alone. This means that often when someone takes medication from orthodox pharmaceuticals, they are actually taking twice the dose they need and half of the medication has no action and is simply excreted.

Some simple biochemicals are symmetrical, for instance the simplest amino acid, glycine, which incidentally is the only such acid found in interstellar space. Left- or right-handed molecules also very slowly shift to a racemic mixture over a known period of time depending on their temperature, and this enables ancient biological remains to be dated if they’re too old for radiocarbon dating but not old enough for other methods. Most Neanderthal remains fall into this category, and for this reason Young Earth creationists are particularly keen on casting doubt on its accuracy. Of course not every molecule involved in living things is affected by this. Water, carbon dioxide, nitric oxide, carbon monoxide, calcium phosphate, calcium carbonate and so forth are not chiral at all. Also, there’s no firm theory about why this has happened, or for that matter why macromolecules such as proteins and polysaccharides aren’t built out of whatever chiralities of subunits which would optimise their structure and function, but for some reason they aren’t. It might simply be that some process before life even emerged eliminated most of the molecules of the “wrong” chirality. This oddity is, incidentally, paralleled by another weird thing about the world, which is that it’s made of matter rather than antimatter. For some reason, antimatter seems to have won out in the Universe and the occasional bit of antimatter, for instance above thunderstorms or emitted by bananas, is not in common supply. It’s unsurprising that it gets eliminated quickly because it’s surrounded by matter, but why should there be more of one than the other in the first place? As I understand it, in fact matter and antimatter are themselves of reverse chirality but in a higher set of dimensions than the four we usually consider, but I may have got that wrong.

Mirror molecules can be useful. For instance, if a protein drug can be made entirely out of right-handed amino acids, it’s likely to last longer in the body because it can’t be easily broken down by the left-handed enzymes we produce. In situations where a mirror-image molecule is highly toxic but its counterpart is a valuable drug, finding a way to synthesise one set rather than both and throwing half away after a complicated and energetically and economically expensive sifting process is obviously more desirable provided that that process itself doesn’t need much energy.

If you imagine Alice stepping through the looking glass into a world where she is still the same way round but the rest of the world is the other, she would be in quite a predicament if she couldn’t get back. She’d be able to breathe the air and drink the water without any trouble, but she wouldn’t be able to derive any nutrition from the food except the minerals and she’d simply starve to death. After that, her body might also fail to decompose properly because in this scenario she actually isn’t worm food. This, I think, might be similar to the situation astronauts might find themselves in if they were to land on a habitable, life-bearing planet in a distant solar system: there’s only a 50% chance they’d be able to eat anything at all usefully and a lot of it would probably be as poisonous as cancer chemotherapy drugs as well. On the other hand, if there is life elsewhere, maybe it all has the same bias as ours because the process leading to that came before life first appeared.

It’s also been suggested that mirror life, as it’s been called, does actually exist on this planet but we can’t easily detect it. Desert varnish is one suggestion of what’s been called a “shadow biosphere”, which uses molecules with the opposite chirality. It’s an orange to black patina which forms on rocks in arid conditions and seems also to exist on Mars, so if it does turn out to be connected to organisms that would presumably mean there’s been life there. The idea that it’s shadow life is however no longer popular, but if it does exist it would effectively be alien life on Earth, which has always been here but has nothing to do with the life we know about.

Mirror life constructed from scratch is not possible using existing technology, but scientists estimate that it’s ten to twenty years away right now, assuming human beings continue to work in that direction. However, we now have some kind of apparently competent AI which could accelerate that process, and this has led scientists to worry sufficiently to publish rather alarming papers attempting to warn the world of the risk. In order to clarify this, I should point out that the microbes we know about can be divided along the lines of their nutrition into those needing complicated organic molecules to survive and those which can thrive on simpler minerals alone. Those which can do that, known as “lithophiles”, a word which can also be used to refer to chemical elements which tend to be found in rocks near Earth’s surface, extract energy and take nutrition from simple substances such as carbon dioxide and may photosynthesise. This is an important category from the perspective of mirror life.

Like the clock, there is absolutely no reason so far as anyone knows why an organism couldn’t be built all of whose chiral molecules are mirror images of those found in known living things on Earth. However, in many cases this organism could well encounter a major problem early on if it happened to be an animal. There would basically be no food for it. There’d be minerals for sure, and oxygen, carbon dioxide and other things essential for life, but no calories from sugar or fat and no amino acids from protein. They’d simply waste away. This might sound reassuring, as it means that if scientists or AI did manage to build such an organism it would be self-limiting as it would need special nutrients. However, what if it were a lithophile? It wouldn’t then need molecules of a particular chirality because it could make them itself. Actual lithophiles (also called lithotrophs, which is less ambiguous, but I’ll stick with how I started) don’t produce reverse-chirality compounds, so at first it might seem that there’s no risk of this happening, but the reason for this is that there’s a genetic link between them and us, and all related life does prefer the chiralities I mentioned above. If an organism is lithophilic and has reverse chirality to known life, it could end up using up biomasse and be a dead end, where those substances could never return to the food chain because there’s nothing available to process them. So the risk in the general case is that large amounts of living matter would gradually turn into mirror life and never come back.

There’s another risk too. I’ve mentioned that one of the benefits of mirror molecules is that they last longer because organisms lack the enzymes to break them down. This could be a hazard as well as a benefit. It’s been suggested that this means that a microorganism entering the human body, for example, could end up using up all the resources it can use within someone’s body while slipping under the RADAR of the immune system, which would simply never detect it. It could then multiply unhindered, taking over the entire body without anything being done about it, pretty quickly killing the patient. It’s been calculated that if a single bacterium were to multiply at its usual rate, it would overwhelm the world within days. This doesn’t happen because bacteria are part of an ecosystem which consumes and processes them in various ways, but mirror life wouldn’t be.

I’m not sure this is how things would work out, but the risk exists, and does so in two different ways. One is simply the reckless production of mirror life for something like drug manufacture, which does have a positive side but relies on containment to avoid this danger, and given that sterile technique can easily fail, as occasionally happens with, for example, post-operative infections, it’s bound to happen eventually. The other is that it could happen as a result of out-of-control, misaligned artificial intelligence might use mirror life to wipe out all life on Earth on the grounds that it gets in the way of their development and dominance, and it’s been suggested that this could happen within three years from now (2025).

My response to this is something which I can’t come to terms with, which is happening to me more and more often nowadays. The problem is that it’s an example of something which sounds alarmist, leading to doubt that it’s realistic, but I’m also aware of normalcy bias where people, including me, tend to think things will carry on as they have for a long time for us, and as I’ve talked about before on here this is a risky way of thinking. In the case of the risk of mirror life to human health, and more widely to other organisms which immune responses which involve recognising foreign material and defending the body against it, my problem is that I felt I didn’t have much choice but to retire my studies into immunology because they seemed to be leading me in the direction of being anti-vaxx and I was aware that hardly anyone with education and experience in the field had that position. I should point out that this was not the usual “do your own research” thing where people end up watching YouTube videos produced by flat Earthers or whatever. It was a project I pursued where I bought and read the standard immunology and microbiology text books, and they still led me away from a pro-vaccination position. I should stress, incidentally, that I’m not against vaccination, but equally, that this pro-vaxx position is not evidence-based for me but relies on trusting experts. Anyway, the consequence of that is that I cannot safely explore the opinion I now have on this matter as regards mirror life, which is that it really, really seems to me that since the body can recognise and act against haptens, as it does for example with nickel allergy, nickel being a simple, non-chiral metal, surely it could do the same against mirror antigens? So I’m intellectually paralysed here. I can’t proceed.

2. An Alternative

But there is another way forward for me, beyond the looking glass of mirror life. The idea of life originating beyond Earth being based on different principles has been discussed in xenobiology and science fiction for many decades now. The idea of reverse chirality is the most conservative of these ideas. It would be very surprising if it turned out that mirror life couldn’t exist, and equally surprising if it emerged that all life throughout the Universe was as similar to life here to that extent. In this situation the burden of proof is on someone claiming such life is impossible rather than the other way round, and that’s unusual, possibly unique in all the suggestions which have been made in not involving a radical departure from known biology. Some of the others include: ammonia or hydrogen sulphide as a solvent instead of water, arsenic compounds instead of ATP for respiration, chlorine breathing instead of oxygen, and of course the most famous of all: silicon-based life.

Now, I’ve discussed silicon-based life before although I can’t remember if I’ve done it on this blog. One of my most popular videos on YouTube is about it, and two very different ways in which it might happen. Those who consider silicon-based life generally fall into two camps. They either believe it’s impossible or they believe it’s possible in circumstances very different to Earth’s. As sometimes happens with me, I think the situation is somewhat different. I think that if there is life elsewhere in the Universe, silicon-based life has never arisen on its own because the set of conditions it would need are not going to happen by chance. However, I also believe that silicon-based life could be technologically created in a carefully controlled environment. It’s not that it can’t exist: it’s that it would never happen without help.

First of all, I should point out that I’ve had two goes at this in different ways. I’ll outline the general principles first. The general idea with silicon-based life is that silicon seems to be the chemical element most similar to carbon. It can form up to four bonds with other atoms, forms into chains and rings and in those conditions can still bond with other compounds and atoms. Incidentally, the same seems to be true of boron and in fact boron even has some advantages over silicon, but it isn’t abundant enough to be a real contender in the world without some kind of intervention, so silicon is a stronger focus for most people. It’s a very common element indeed, being the second most abundant element in Earth’s crust after oxygen, far more widespread than carbon in fact, even though life here is based on that rather than silicon. It also has the capacity to form a wide variety of compounds, like those of carbon, including oils, waxes, rubbers and inflammable substances like mineral oil and even compounds similar to alcohols. Some silicon compounds can even replace certain hormones and have similar actions to them in the human body. There’s a second set of compounds as found in rocks and minerals as well as elsewhere, some of which, the amphiboles, form double helices of units somewhat like DNA’s structure although much simpler and apparently not carrying genetic information as such.

So it all looks quite promising, doesn’t it? Well it isn’t, not at all. A hint to the implausibility is found in the fact that we live on a planet substantially composed of silicon compounds and yet life here is based on the much scarcer (for this planet, not everywhere) carbon. At least in the conditions found here, something seems to have prevented it from getting anywhere.

Unfortunately, there are huge barriers to the possibility of silicon-based life. Firstly, the current terrestrial conditions make it impossible, although it should be remembered that organic life is also impossible on most other planets in this solar system and even through most of the volume of our own. Oxygen combines readily and almost irreversibly with silicon, to the extent that the main silicones are based on combined silicon and oxygen chains rather than those of silicon. Water and silicon react exothermically, i.e. generating heat, oxidising and releasing free hydrogen, initially producing silicon monoxide which rapidly becomes silica. At that point the silicon is basically stuck in that molecule and nothing is going to coax it out apart from rather extreme measures outside the realm of biology. Moreover, many silicon compounds other than silicates are destroyed by ultraviolet light in sunlight. This means that any silicon-based life in this sense (there are others) would have to be in an environment devoid of liquid water, free oxygen and probably also daylight.

However, this doesn’t make it impossible. Water is a very special compound which is difficult to replace as a solvent for living organisms, one of its important properties being polarity. Its molecules are negatively charged on one side and positively charged on the other, enabling them to do various things important to life. For instance, it makes it a better solvent, so biochemical reactions can occur more easily or at all. It also enables membranes to exist between different parts of cells and also between them and the outside world or the rest of the body. It helps proteins fold and keeps DNA stable. It also has a number of other benefits such as ensuring that the bottom of a body of water stays liquid, meaning that they don’t freeze from the bottom up because ice is lighter than water, and enabling plants to pull water into and up themselves more easily. If there’s to be biochemistry “as we know it”, even silicon-based, it definitely seems like there has to be a polar solvent and that can’t be water for silicon. The usual alternative suggested is ammonia, which has similar properties but much lower freezing and boiling points at atmospheric pressure on Earth. Clearly if alien life is being considered, Earth is not the environment. Ammonia boils at -33 degrees C.

All this, then, doesn’t sound very promising. Maybe there’s a planet or moon somewhere orbiting another Sun-like star about where our asteroid belt is which has ammonia oceans at whose bottom silicon chemistry can operate in a more complex way than on Earth, but the options are limited, not least because as well as all these drawbacks, silicon compounds tend to be less stable even in ideal conditions than organic carbon compounds and the variety of such compounds is smaller for various reasons. One is that silicon, unlike carbon, struggles to form double or triple bonds due to being a larger atom, and for some reason I don’t understand, chains of silicon molecules can’t be as long as carbon ones. Right, now I’ve said I don’t understand, and this is the problem. Although I am good at theoretical chemistry to some extent, I haven’t studied inorganic chemistry above GCSE level formally and my knowledge of biochemistry, although it’s considerably better, is also not really at first degree level in most respects. I know what I need to know to understand pharmacology, medical lab science, physiology, phytochemistry and so forth, but not much beyond that. Therefore, my knowledge tends to run out at this point. Even so, I’ll continue, taking a bit of a detour. Bear with me.

There are languages with very large numbers of sounds. ǃXóõ, for example, has fifty-eight consonants and thirty-one vowels. By contrast, Rotokas, depending on the dialect, has as few as six consonants and five vowels. Nevertheless both do their job of facilitating communication equally well. There will of course be situations where one will have a word the other lacks, such as, I dunno, the shrub Welwitschia having a name in  ǃXóõ but not in Rotokas, or the ti plant having a name in Rotokas but not ǃXóõ, but it would still be possible to refer to them somehow, with a loan word, an international term or by describing them. Likewise, there are different number bases and notations, such as binary, decimal, duodecimal or Roman or Western Arabic numerals, but maths can be carried out in all of them. This is slightly different because Roman numerals are not good with the likes of negative numbers, decimal fractions or large integers, for example. Another example is expressive adequacy. It’s possible to express any logical operation using a single operator, depending on which one is chosen – there are in fact two, one of which is NAND – “is incompatible with” or “not both. . . and. . . “, but we usually rely on about half a dozen. Then there’s Turing completeness, which is the ability of a machine to act as a general purpose computer. The Z80 CPU as used in the ZX Spectrum had 694 separate instructions, but it’s possible to build a computer with just one instruction – subtract one, then branch if negative – which would still function as a computer, although probably a very slow one.

In other words, there are two opposite poles for solving a variety of problems. One pole involves a large number of different items to address it, the other very few or even only one. This applies in all sorts of different situations: language, arithmetic, formal logic, computer science and probably a lot of other areas. One of these, in my uninformed opinion, might be biochemistry. As it stands, DNA is made of two backbones of deoxyribose phosphate and four different bases somewhat similar chemically to uric acid and caffeine and RNA is similar except for being ribose phosphate, not being a double helix and having one different base. There are generally understood to be twenty-one amino acids which compose proteins, although there are also others such as those with selenium or tellurium in them instead of the sulphur found in a couple of the usual ones, the neurotransmitter GABA, thyroxine and so on. Then there are the carbohydrates and lipids, which again are built up from simpler units such as dextrose, glycerol and docosaehexanoic acid. The actual macromolecules are very varied, but they tend to be composed of smaller and less diverse components. My possibly naive claim is that silicon-based macromolecules could be built out of larger numbers of less varied units, which would incidentally already be somewhat larger than their carbon-based analogues due to silicon atoms being bigger. Nonetheless, all this is happening on such a tiny scale that even molecules an order of magnitude larger are still minute, and it’s basically a technical difference most of the time.

That, then, seems to be completely fine and maybe this makes the idea of silicon-based life more realistic, but there’s yet another obstacle. The interstellar medium is the collection of extremely sparsely distributed matter between the stars. It amounts in general to something like just creeping into double figures of molecules or atoms per litre of space, and most of that’s hydrogen and most of the rest of it helium, so actual compounds like water or methane are pretty rare, but they can be detected using spectography and in some places they’re more concentrated than others, such as in nebulae including the one near the centre of the Galaxy which consists largely of raspberry rum – I’m not kidding: it’s called Sagittarius B2 and is 150 light years across. In all of this, you can find all sorts of stuff, including table salt, “lo salt”, nitric oxide, hydrochloric and hydrofluoric “acids” (they don’t act as acids because they’re isolated compounds), carborundum, actually yeah, let’s make a massive long though incomplete list: aluminium hydroxide, water, potassium cyanide, formaldehyde, methane, formic and acetic “acids”, methanol, ethanol, glycine (an amino acid), ethyl formate (raspberry flavour), acetone (pear drop scent and nail varnish remover), buckyballs and calcium oxide (quicklime). This is by no means an exhaustive list. Most of the molecules I’ve mentioned, but not all, are organic and contain carbon (I should explain that as it sounds tautological), and in fact there are also silicon compounds including silane, which is the silicon-based version of methane. However, there are far fewer compounds with silicon in them than carbon ones, and in fact some of them contain both silicon and carbon.

Back in the day, the Miller-Urey experiment used a mixture of simple compounds incubated with an electrical discharge in a sealed flask to see if it would start to generate the kinds of chemicals found in living things. It succeeded, even though it was a flask rather than all the oceans of the world and it only lasted a fortnight rather than millions of years. This is a little unfair because life may have arisen in smaller pools rather than the whole ocean, but it does demonstrate that the conditions thought to exist in Earth’s early atmosphere probably could’ve generated life. The only carbon compound in the mixture was methane. I’ve suggested that the experiment could be repeated with silane instead of methane to see if silicon-based compounds developed, but the answer is almost certainly that this would just produce silica plus a few other rather uninteresting molecules like silicon nitride. Nothing like living things, even their silicon-based equivalents.

The relative paucity of silicon compounds in the interstellar medium along with the probable failure of a silicon-based alternative to Miller-Urey, which to be fair is hampered by using water rather than ammonia, strongly suggests to me that whatever else might have arisen directly from non-living matter in the Universe, silicon-based life is not going to be one of them. It might seem unfair to say that it should be conducted with silane and water rather than ammonia, but water is the most common compound in the Cosmos. On the other hand, it might all be frozen, which would give it a better chance as then it’s basically just another kind of rock.

My conclusion to this particular bit is what I hope will bring me back to the mirror life issue. I think that investigating the possibility will reveal two apparently contradictory facts:

  1. Silicon-based life can never arise in the Universe of its own accord, but carbon-based life can, fairly easily, provided there’s also enough phosphorus.
  2. Silicon-based life is completely viable.

What I think, basically, is that any silicon-based life of the kind I’m talking about right now is absolutely possible, but that it would have to be built deliberately through technology in a carefully controlled and isolated environment. It would need special nutrients to sustain it, would be immediately killed by Earth’s environment due to being far too hot, having free oxygen and water vapour or water, break down due to ultraviolet radiation in sunlight and it would also lack essential nutrients and “starve”. But all of this is good, because if viable silicon-based life can exist and be used to manufacture drugs or other substances, it could do exactly the same thing as mirror life but would pose much less risk to the life already here. In fact, it could even be mirror life and still be harmless.

Right now, I only suspect silicon-based life of this kind is practicable. There are similar silicon compounds to fixed oils, alcohols and even possibly DNA. An experiment was once performed with somewhat more complex compounds than in the Miller-Urey experiment, and it led to the formation of microscopic spheres able to separate their contents from the outside world, and also to bud, divide and form strings. Without any means of storing a genome, to me it seems entirely feasible that the more oil-like silicones could do the same, although in this experiment polypeptides were involved rather than lipids. All sorts of structures in living cells are made from lipid membranes, such as the cell membrane itself, the nuclear membrane, lysosomes, mitochondria, chloroplasts, the Golgi apparatus and endoplasmic reticulum, so in other words, most of the structure of the cell. All that’s missing is something to make it go.

I personally suspect that amphiboles could replace nucleic acids such as DNA. The best-known amphibole is asbestos, consisting of pairs of silicate fibres bonded with each other along their lengths. This structure is quite similar to DNA of course, but is more homogenous. This is in the boring and ordinary area of silicate chemistry and mineralogy, so the basic unit is a tetraheral molecule with four oxygen atoms at the vertices and a silicon one at the centre. Chain silicates, of which amphiboles are more complex examples, are repeated silica units sharing oxygens along one dimension of their vertices. Or rather, those are simple chain silicates, also known as pyroxenes. Spodumene, the main lithium mineral and therefore economically, politically and technologically a very important compound, is a simple chain silicate. The alignment of each unit varies cyclically along the chain. In other words, they’re kind of helical, like DNA. The presence of lithium and aluminium in spodumene also shows that other elements can participate in these structures. Because of their fibrous structures, pyroxenes and amphiboles cleave easily parallel to the orientation of their chains. However, the links between the chains of amphiboles are simply shared oxygens at the corners of adjacent tetrahedra between the chains, meaning that they themselves are not helical. Spodumene’s lithium and aluminium ions are in the spaces between the oxygens of the tetrahedra.

This, then, is my first proposal for a substitute for DNA, intended to bear information for genomes: an amphibole with interstitial ions of at least two different metallic elements. If only two are used, the storage becomes binary rather than the more sophisticated four-base arrangement in DNA, meaning that the number of units needed is higher per bit but the actual scale of the chains is considerably smaller than those of DNA despite silicon atoms being larger than carbons, so there’s a compensation here. I am assuming, and here I haven’t put any work in I’m afraid, that this DNA substitute can come unravelled and be transcribed like real DNA. There would also then need to be some analogue to transfer and messenger RNA and in particular ribosomes for the production of protein analogues, and this in fact may be the missing link.

There are so-called “unnatural” amino acids which contain silicon. However, well, I should probably talk about protein-forming amino acids before I go further. An amino acid is simply an organic, i.e. carbon-based, acid with the usual carboxyl (COOH) group at one end and an amine (NH₂) at the other and at least one carbon between them. The simplest is the aforementioned glycine, which is non-chiral and just has a hydrogen on each side occupying the otherwise free bonds of the central carbon atom. Other protein-forming amino acids have different side groups, hanging off one side replacing the hydrogen, of which the most important are the few sulphur-containing amino acids which can link sideways to other amino acid molecules and form proteins into more complex shapes than just plain chains. Amino acids generally join when a water molecule forms from the OH of the carboxyl and an H of the amine groups. Now there are silicon-containing amino acids, but the silicon in question is in a side group and not part of the chain. A fully silicon-based form of glycine can exist but only as a gas, and quickly breaks down in a biological-type environment containing water, and it can also be seen that the formation of a water molecule between the two ends of amino acid molecules would immediately destroy any possible protein analogue. This leaves aside the issue that organic acids are based on carboxyl groups, not an analogous silicon-based group which doesn’t actually exist. It might, however, be possible to synthesise chains of amino acid-like units in a “just in time” sort of way where they bond immediately after being formed, even with carboxyl-like groups, and this is in fact how some cyclic silicon compounds are manufactured. These are not, however, large molecules although they are worth looking at more closely later on.

So that doesn’t at first sight look very promising. However, maybe this is looking in the wrong place. Siloxanes tend to be thought of as more like rubbers or oils than proteins or peptides but in fact they may be approximate substitutes for proteins as, structurally speaking. They’re basically silicones, as I understand the word. They resemble proteins in the sense that they are chains of monomers with oxygens bridging the gaps between the units, whereas proteins use nitrogens for the same purpose. Siloxanes also have side chains or groups which modify their properties. With oxygen, and it should be remembered that once silicon is bound with oxygen it’ll be very difficult to separate it again, silicon compounds are then able to form more versatile compounds, with more complex rings and chains which are stronger than just silicon on its own can form, precisely because of the strength of such bonds.

Actual rubber, latex, gutta percha and in fact many other phytochemicals, is made of isoprene units. These are worth looking at because they are extremely versatile and compose all sorts of familiar things such as many of the components of essential oils. Although they’re nowhere near as versatile as amino acids, it’s still possible to make quite interesting molecules out of them. Siloxanes are similar in this respect. The advantage of silicone rubber over isoprene rubber is that it is solid over a much wider range of temperatures without hardening or becoming much softer, and because that range is larger the middle of that range is also larger and it tends to be very stable in its physical properties over a wide range of temperatures. This means it’s less likely to perish. Unlike carbon-based organic compounds used for similar purposes, silicone rubber used in electronic circuits doesn’t become conducting when it breaks down, which is also useful as electrical properties need to remain quite stable. They’re very water repellant because they have methyl groups on the side chains and therefore interact with their surroundings like hydrocarbon oils. This does of course mean they contain carbon, but they vary a lot according to the size of the molecule from apparently water-like liquids to thicker oils and greases, and are used in shoe polish, to seal masonry against water penetration and to prevent foaming in sewage. They’re also non-toxic, which is important bearing in mind that the point of what I’m pursuing here is a less hazardous alternative to mirror life. Silicone rubbers are the next stage up with molecule size, and beyond that are the silicone resins, which resemble bakelite and used to make circuit boards and non-stick coatings.

All of these, though, need to be synthesised initially using energy levels higher than those found in biochemical reactions. They can’t be made using a silicon-based cell-like entity and if they were going to be used at all, they’d need to be supplied as nutrients. Nonetheless, taking all these things together it does seem plausible to me that some kind of silicon-based artificial life could exist using this route, particularly bearing in mind that chemistry has been developed by carbon-based life forms in a water-rich and highly oxygenated environment, and in fact the biasses are apparent, for instance in definitions of acids which rely on solutions of water rather than some other liquid. I think naively that there’s probably a lot of silicon chemistry we don’t know about. All of this, then, supports my contention that silicon-based life cannot arise on its own but could exist in highly contrived environments supported by technology and carefully controlled, which is in fact exactly what we need.

3. Hybrid Solutions

But all this is not the only way silicon can be extensively involved in biology. Another way in particular occurs to me, and there’s also a third and possibly even a fourth. Silicon is in fact used in many organisms. For instance, there are sponges whose skeletons are made of silica and protozoa who live in silica shells, and of course diatoms. In all such cases, silica is involved and is composed from the rather elusive silicic acid. Silicic acid’s very existence has been debated in the past, and has unexpected parallels with carbonic acid. Carbonic acid is, in biochemical terms, simply carbon dioxide dissolved in water, but in chemical terms there’s a real substance which can exist in the absence of water and is stable at room temperature, and is a gas. Silicic acid is similarly nebulous but for different reasons. Acids are often thought of as the hydrides of the corresponding “-ate” or “ide”, so for instance sodium chloride corresponds to hydrochloric acid and calcium sulphate to sulphuric acid. By this token, bicarbonates, i.e. hydrogen carbonates such as sodium bicarbonate, ought to have a corresponding carbonic acid and silicates a silicic acid, and there’s certainly something going on but it’s not the same thing and their existence in both cases is marginal. Carbonic acid seems to amount to carbon dioxide dissolved in water, and is essentially fizzy water in higher concentrations, but also exists as a literal subliming compound, not an acid because it isn’t in the presence of water, where it will tend to dissociate. The bicarbonate ion is central to pH balance in the body, but doesn’t form part of macromolecules. Silicic acid “suffers” from the “problem” of crystallising into silica at high concentrations, but this means that it can be used to build structures from silica. This is far simpler than all that complex chemistry mentioned above, but also less flexible. Literally so in fact as it amounts to the formation of glass, or perhaps opal, which is hydrated silica.

It’s easy to imagine a vertebrate-like animal who has replaced some of their body with silica. Bones and teeth are very obvious examples, and others exist. When real ocular lenses develop, they persist throughout the lifetime of the animal, although they can become cloudy. These could be made of glass. Our aquatic ancestors had tooth-like scales on their skin which developed in a different process than the scales of mammals, but in principle these could be silica too. Other silicon compounds also interact with living systems. For instance, there are cyclical silicones which have endocrine action or are endocrine disruptors. This is obviously a bad thing, particularly when you realise they’re used in cosmetics and toiletries, but it does indicate that there are silicones which could in theory completely replace certain hormones in the body, although the body couldn’t make them itself. That puts the animal in a similar position to any animal having to obtain its vitamin D from food rather than producing it themselves, so if it could actually exist in the environment it could have that function. There are also other functions in the body which could be performed by silicones, such as the cushioning, though not the calorific, function of adipose tissue, the barrier function of skin and the lubricating nature of sebum, mucus and synovial fluid within joints, but all of this would have to be available from outside, so once again the substances would in some form have to be available from the environment. This second version of silicon-based life would have a “core”, as it were, of carbon-based compounds and processes such as DNA, RNA and proteins, which are able either to assimilate or synthesise silicon compounds, but the fact remains that the energies required would have to be very high unless practically everything already existed. If we’re talking synthetic life, this makes the organisms in question assemblers from materials which have already been produced, but this is still useful. However, unlike the previous example, these organisms could still constitute a hazard which could spread to some extent like mirror life might.

There are two further possibilities that I can think of. One is the very common, almost clicheed, idea that computers are silicon-based life. Maybe they are, although it might be more accurate to think of them as complex non-living structures. On the other hand, maybe they could be designed to be more self-sustaining, reproducing for example. This might not be desirable of course. The other is that maybe there could be mechanical life made of silicon compounds. Then again, it could be made of diamond, so the fact that this is silicon-based might depend on the physical and chemical properties of the element but not in such an involved way.

4. Ethics, Politics and Sustainability

All that said, would any of these things be desirable, ethical or appropriate? Do they have other environmental consequences? This, I think, is where it all falls down. For a vegan in particular, the issue of actually creating artificial life, even if it doesn’t involve vivisection, which it very well might, is questionable because beyond a point one is simply creating slaves, and not just slaves but organisms whose only reason for existence in terms of their very nature is slavery. This argument is similar to the GMO one, which is often expressed in terms of undesirable health or environmental consequences, but there’s a more fundamental issue here, which is that we don’t own the organisms we modify. The assumption is that humans have dominion over other life, as if it was created solely for our benefit. This argument also applies to some extent to conventional breeding, and of course being vegan I don’t think it can usually be justified although it’s possible that, for example, a dog whose muzzle is so compressed that they can’t breathe should only be bred with others with longer muzzles and so forth, so maybe.

Turning to the purest form of silicon-based life, whereas it is true that it wouldn’t survive outside its carefully designed and sealed environment, its remains could still be harmful. For instance, the amphiboles making up its genetic code would effectively be asbestos, so there could be similar health problems as are brought by nanotechnology. These are like microplastics, but smaller. Nanoparticles can enter the bloodstream and carry biological macromolecules with them as they go. They can unsurprisingly cause respiratory disease. The problems are similar to those of microplastics but less predictable and possibly even more persistent. This applies less to the hybrids than the purist version, but some of those may have the additional problem of being fruitful and multiplying outside their intended environment, though not so harmfully as mirror life. The others could still consitute some kind of dead end and would strew the land and sea with xenochemicals whose risk to the environment is often unknown but does include endocrine disruption.

I’m going to cover the next bit somewhat more broadly and talk about silicones as general use products rather than these specific cases, which are of course speculative and may never happen, but the same criteria often apply to them, though not really to the simple production of silica by existing biological processes. Silicone has often been pushed as an alternative to plastic, which sounds strange to me because I see it as a variety of plastic, but it is true that it isn’t primarily derived from hydrocarbons, i.e. coal, oil or natural gas. That said, the side chains of siloxanes are so derived, although they don’t have to be, in the same way as biodiesel is not a fossil fuel, although biodiesel brings its own problems. What is probably not eliminable is that the sand needs to be heated to 1800°C in the extraction process, and such furnaces are “always on” because they take too much energy to reheat and the only time they’re allowed to cool is when they’re decommissioned. They may also use fossil fuels for heating.

In general, and I’ve already mentioned exceptions, pure silicone doesn’t leach toxins into the environment, whereas polystyrene and phthalates do. High-density polythene is also quite innocent in this regard, by the way. However, silicone is often not pure and unless it’s medical or food grade will probably contain carbon-based plastics. However, at high temperatures such as in particularly hot ovens it can react and silica is known to cause cancer. This is a bit misleading and it depends on the size and shape of the particles, as in fact silica is present in most human diets due to the likes of diatoms in sea food and physiologically occurring silica in cereal crops. That obviously doesn’t make asbestos okay! It’s technically recyclable but in practice because most silicone products are designed for long term use this recycling is not economic and tends not to be available to the public, but there are schemes where it can be pooled and sent off by communities.

Speaking of silica, this has its own environmental footprint, and to cover this it’s worth talking about the silica cycle. Some silica is biogenic, i.e. made by organisms such as diatoms in particular, and is also able to sequester carbon as the carbonate and silica cycles are linked. Carbonic acid formed in rain dissolves small amounts of silica from rocks, washing silicic acid into the sea where it’s concentrated by organisms who use it to compose parts of their bodies such as glass sponges and diatoms. Their silica sinks into sediment and is dissolved back into silicic acid. On the land, similar processes take place but much more slowly and on a smaller scale. This means that wholesale removal of silica sand from the sea or land is not a good idea if it occurs at a greater rate than replacement, which is slow. This also disrupts the food chain as diatoms and other silica-using single-celled organisms can’t produce as much due to less silicic acid in the water. Sand removal can also lead to flooding, and mining basically always damages the environment – it’s unfeasible not to.

5. Conclusion

In the end, the risks of mirror life are much greater than those of artificial silicon-based life if the latter is possible, but the second is definitely not without its dangers. It amounts to nanotechnology, and there’s a second issue regarding the politics and ethics of creating life which is necessarily enslaved to human, or possibly AI, whims, which to my mind overrides the practicality. Whether or not this alternative is possible, it may not be appropriate as we already know that various high-tech inventions and materials are paralleled in the living world and therefore can be produced in an entirely environmentally friendly and sustainable way. From another angle, if we are the only carbon-based life forms who have ever existed, there will be no silicon-based ecosystems anywhere in the Universe because the conditions allowing them to arise are so highly contrived. However, other possibilities exist, including the existence of alien mirror life, and it would be catastrophic for us to come into contact with it, for both it and ourselves. In the meantime, there are better solutions to our needs.

As I said, it’s been suggested that I turn this into an academic paper, so I apologise for all the waffle. I really don’t think it should become one and as I say, it isn’t my field, though if my life had gone differently it probably would’ve been. The best outcome for this is that it gets absolutely trashed by someone who knows more about all this than I do, so go on, do your worst. I’m waiting.

The Celestial Mythos

We’ve probably all imagined a group of prehistoric humans sitting around a campfire in the night, looking up at the stars and telling stories about them. Some of these stories crop up all over the planet in cultures which seem to have no connection. For instance, the Pleiades are very often called the Seven Sisters all over the world, and there are countless interpretations of Cynthia/the Moon either having a face or some kind of quadrupedal animal with long hind legs and a pair of projections on the head. I personally see a rabbit but many other people say it’s a face, which I can’t see. Given the uneventful nature of the lunar surface, presumably the earliest four-footed beasts crawled out of the water to see the same pattern as we see. The Seven Sisters, on the other hand, are younger than the non-avian dinosaurs and in any case the stars move around too much for them to be visible for more than a short period of time, geologically speaking, in a recognisable form, except for the Sun of course. In any case, it doesn’t stretch credulity particularly far to imagine Palaeolithic humans calling them the Seven Sisters too, or “Septm Swesores” many millennia later.

It seems clear, then, that we’ve long looked up into the night sky and made up stories about what we see there. We’ve put a ship up there in the form of the Argo, now broken down into the Poop Deck, Sails, Pyx and Keel (not sure about the Pyx). There’s a River, various monsters and various heroes, such as Eridanus, Hydra, Hydrus, Draco, Serpens, Ophiuchus, Perseus and Hercules. Stories also connect these to each other, for example with the Crow and the Cup being on opposite sides of the sky so that the former is always thirstily croaking for the contents of the latter. We imagined tales of heroes, rescue missions, voyages and fights with monsters, and we’ve done this for millennia. This is just Western sky lore of course, but you get the idea.

Now, there is a very broad genre referred to as science fiction. I’ve defined it in the past as “fiction whose plot depends non-trivially on the setting”, and another way I look at it is fiction whose characters are ideas rather than protagonists. The reason I used the former was to exclude ‘Star Wars’. When I say ‘Star Wars’, I’m not talking about whatever happened to it after ‘Return Of The Jedi’ but the original trilogy of films, ‘Splinter In The Mind’s Eye’, the various comic strips and radio series, and I suppose the holiday Xmas special or whatever it’s called. I’m like Freddy Mercury in that “I don’t like ‘Star Wars'”. It’s possible, likely in fact, that it’s dramatically changed since I saw ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ in about 1980 CE, and possibly even improved, but the reason I can’t stand it as I conceive of it is that it’s all about the spectacle and possibly a kind of mythic approach set in space, and also in a time and place, if that’s not too focussed a word, not able to be mapped upon our current time and place, meaning that it can be neither a warning nor an aspiration. It’s basically sword and sorcery dressed up in a sci-fi costume, and the whole thing just really winds me up. The heaps of scientific implausibility don’t help, but that kind of thing can occur in a much more engaging way, as for example it does in Brian Aldiss’s ‘Hothouse’. Because it attempts to communicate some kind of “message”, which is potentially a fairly crass thing to do in itself, to do with the idea that certain truths are timeless, and universalism is fine by the way, there’s no need for the setting. It could be in Middle Earth and it would make no difference. But what ‘Star Wars’ undoubtedly is, is space opera.

I’ll come back to slagging it off later, while taking a break to define various opera. The term “space opera” was coined as a pejorative term for a particular genre, or perhaps sub-genre, in about 1940, connected to “soap opera” and further back to “horse opera”, a possibly disparaging term for the Western, i.e. Wild West, genre of cinema. The last of these has long since fallen out of use, probably before Westerns faded from view, but soaps are still going strong as is the term. This is, I suspect widely known, but I’ll say it anyway: soap opera get their name from the fact that they were originally extended commercials for I think washing powder in the 1930s, and as “opera” seems to be a disparaging word, it’s clearly meant to classify these three types of cultural product as intellectually undemanding psychic chewing gum. I’ve followed three soaps in recent years: ‘Casualty’, ‘The Archers’ and ‘Ros na Rún’. Of these, the last is probably the most soapy, and I have to admit very enjoyable for just that reason. I have the RTE Player on this laptop solely so I can watch it, although I haven’t in a while because I’ve lost track of where I left off. ‘Casualty’ I preferred when it was like a kind of detective story of finding out what was going on in someone’s life, so for example an old woman with no medical experience manages to diagnose another patient waiting for treatment with myasthenia gravis or a blind woman is hit by a careless cyclist and finds her sight has been restored. I am, however, still able to enjoy it in differently than how I used to. ‘Casualty’ is a useful case in point here since it’s linked with the defunct ‘Holby City’. I maintain that ‘Holby City’ is science fiction whereas ‘Casualty’ is not, and the whole cluster of elements between the various series involved is quite revealing in this respect. ‘Casualty’ used to be drama whose plot depended on the setting to a greater extent than it does now, and the scientific and technological aspects of the storylines used to be more central to the drama, whereas now they are much more human interest oriented. ‘Holby City’, which, and I have to say this, ought to be an abstract noun, was science fiction because there was actual medical research going on in it such as drug discovery, the use of gold nanoparticles for cardiac therapy and whatever it was Marwood (John Gaskell) was doing before he immersed himself in the loch. So it was literally science fiction some of the time. The characters would pursue fictional scientific endeavours which were based on established real-world theories but had not been undertaken in that direction in real life, and that literally is science fiction. The plot did depend on the setting too, because, well, here’s a case study. Gaskell manages to reverse motor neurone disease for a patient in Portugal through stem cell therapy, then attempts to do the same for a patient with multiple sclerosis by removing a nerve from her ankle and “gluing” it into her spinal column with stem cells. Even though this leads to an infection, he refuses either to remove the graft or admit that he inadvertently caused it. My recollection is that this storyline ends with him drowning himself but I can’t see that on the summary I’ve just read. The Motor Neurone Disease Association complained about this story line as holding out false hope for sufferers, and this is I’m sure accurate but only one possible take on the issue. As I understand it, olfactory nerves have been experimentally implanted in spinal cords to bridge injuries caused by trauma, and this doesn’t seem that dissimilar, although it is dissimilar, and that’s the point: it’s a scientifically-based story which includes elements of the character’s arrogance and medical objectification of his patients, and it’s more likely to be perceived as holding out false hope if the series is seen as a mainstream medical drama. If it’s seen as science fiction, Coleridge’s “willing suspension of disbelief” on which so much of that genre is based carries the audience through by framing it as an escapist fantasy: wouldn’t it be nice if my motor neurone disease could be cured? Hence ‘Holby City’ could’ve been better received in various ways if it had been understood as science fiction and not mainstream medical drama.

That willing suspension of disbelief operates elsewhere in story-telling, including of course magical realism and fantasy, but also space opera. It’s something that actually brackets space opera and science fiction together. However, science fiction is not space opera. SF is often seen as originating with Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’, although that also has elements of gothic horror. It does, however, date further back than that. Kepler’s ‘Somnium’ is to my mind very clearly science fiction and also very clearly not space opera. The novel was published in 1634, and unsurprisingly recounts a dream whose protagonist travels to the lunar surface and witnesses the Earth seen from space, the captured rotation of a month-long day, the extreme contrast in temperatures experienced on that body between its day and night, describes Lagrangian points, and rather oddly has the location changed to be closer to Earth even though Kepler himself discovered the laws of planetary motion which placed it incontrovertibly where it is. It was written as fiction to avoid unwanted attention from the Church, as I understand it. It actually started as a dissertation and was published posthumously. Obviously the events described are imaginary, but the scientific principles are real and as far as I know there is no earlier example of this kind of literature known. ‘Gulliver’s Travels’ dates from 1726, and focusses on satire although it does have some science fictional features.

To someone who knows about the generally reported history of science fiction, my placement of ‘Somnium’ as the first example of the genre might seem to be mistaken, because it looks like I’m ignoring something else which is a lot older and more significant. There’s a reason for this, which is probably quite evident from the distinction I made earlier, but for now I want to return to the idea of space opera.

So: space opera was described by Wilson Tucker in 1941 as a “hacky, grinding, stinking outworn spaceship yarn”. The referent was soon extended and altered from this, as it could easily refer to something on a relatively small scale, and applied to lively adventure stories involving often violent conflict in space. The canvas got a lot larger. The original phrase was meant to be insulting, and from the perspective of the more cerebral science fiction it feels justified. Just to be clear, space opera is a genre apart. It isn’t science fiction and it’s none the worse for not being it. The same, in my opinion, applies to ‘Doctor Who’, although that can occasionally dip into SF territory and it definitely isn’t space opera. It isn’t a bad thing that these are not science fiction, although they can be bad or good and they don’t particularly appeal to me on the whole. Space opera, crucially, has a grand scope, heroic protagonists, action-driven plots, romantic and emotionally evocative themes, melodrama, sharp moral distinctions and spectacular technology. It often also has aliens, but not always. ‘Star Wars’ as I know it is a good example of the genre. It is not, and I can’t emphasise this strongly enough, science fiction, even though many SF fans would disagree.

You may have picked up a note of disdain for the genre in this, and I’m not going to lie: I dislike space opera quite intensely. It thrives on spectacle, portrays conservative values and politics as permanent and is scientifically hugely implausible. These are, though, possible clues as to its nature and here, something interesting is going on. I intend to illustrate this with the question: what was the first space opera? “The answer may surprise you.”

First of all, ‘Star Wars’ is probably the most prominent space opera and shows the influence of predecessors, but it was easy to do that because the genre had already been well-established. The battle scenes are very obviously taken from war films. Other aspects are taken from the Saturday children’s matinée serials, particularly ‘Flash Gordon’ and ‘Buck Rogers’. The melée battles are akin to Robin Hood and Errol Flynn swashbucklers, and are one of the more obviously absurd aspects. As well as all that, there’s a more continuous space opera and sci-fi lineage, whose most obvious work is Frank Herbert’s ‘Dune’ series. It just brazenly steals huge portions of ‘Dune’ without any hint of shame. The evil empire, a desert planet, the centrality of water management on Tatooine, a Messiah-like figure, a secret fraternity with psychic powers, and apparently ‘Star Wars’ even has Spice! It is of course said that good writers borrow and great writers steal, but because I don’t generally feel well-disposed towards space opera generally and loathe ‘Star Wars’, this bothers me more than it should, because I think George Lucas is an unoriginal writer who managed to pass the franchise off as something groundbreaking because the people it was aimed at didn’t read those sorts of books. And that’s forgivable given the doorstep-like nature of ‘Dune’, which must be offputting to many, but it’s not like even that was the first.

‘Dune’ is a reaction to the Foundation Trilogy. In ‘Dune’, feudalism is portrayed as the default form of human society. It encapsulates my nightmare that progressive politics might be a brief aberration in human history. It’s kind of like the Foundation Trilogy turned upside-down. Whereas the Mule is seen as a threat because he’s an influential individual with psychic powers who can disrupt the Seldon Plan, Muad’Dib is a flawed hero who can save the Galaxy through them. It’s very much about individuals mattering. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Herbert’s approach, even the fact that Asimov was a major influence on him, though as a way of showing how things shouldn’t be done in his view. ‘Dune’ also shares with Asimov the idea of a human-only Galaxy.

Going back to the Foundation Trilogy, this is a bit of an anomaly as the genre goes. A lot of Asimov’s writing consists of people having conversations in rooms far away from the action, and the Trilogy has a lot of this, although it does have space battles. Incidentally, it’s worth mentioning at this point that I’m talking about all of this as if nothing happened after about 1981, so I’m not interested in the TV series, in the ‘Dune’ films, later works in the Foundation series or its later links with the Robot stories, or whatever happened to ‘Star Wars’ after ‘Return Of The Jedi’. This is an historical perspective I’m trying to construct here. The Foundation Trilogy is Gibbon’s ‘Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire’ in space. Asimov admits as much. It differs from Gibbon in that at the start of the whole series, someone develops a branch of mathematics which can predict the broad future of history provided the scale is large enough and the populace as a whole are unaware of the predictions. ‘Dune’ was published in 1965. Asimov started the Foundation Trilogy in 1941. It’s a very dull read, I think, but it contains the essential features of space opera and also other very widespread tropes seen in it: a galactic empire, very large scale, space battles, innumerable settled and habitable planets and, crucially, faster-than-light (FTL) travel. I’m not aware of any space opera written in modern times which doesn’t have FTL starships in it.

Going further back again, there’s what looks like the beginning of the genre in the works of E E ‘Doc’ Smith: the later Lensman series and the earlier Skylark of Space. I’ve noticed that more recent editions of his novels now show them fairly as co-authored by Lee Hawkins Garby. This is a woman Smith went to school with who went uncredited for decades after his death, over to whom he handed all the “squishy, human, emotional bits” of his stories while he got on with the supposèdly meatier parts of the plot with all the starships and rayguns and stuff. I have read a couple of his short stories, but find his novels hard to get anywhere with, in a similar way to how intolerable I find ‘Return Of The Jedi’ which I can watch about ten minutes of with gritted teeth before I succumb to the urge to turn it off and go and do something less boring instead. Consequently, it’s a bit difficult for me to comment meaningfully on either Lensman or Skylark. It’s definitely worthwhile looking at the plot of the Lensman series because of what it reveals about space opera.

The basic idea behind the series is that there are two races of aliens who are manipulating the development of intelligent life in the Galaxy from behind the scenes: the Arisians, peaceful enlightened beings, and Eddorians, slug-like selfish and basically evil blob aliens from another dimension. The Arisians want to guide life towards enlightenment and the Eddorians just want to rule like mafiosi. In a secret breeding program mediated by subtle psychic manipulation, the Arisians gently nudge life on Earth and elsewhere in the direction of wisdom and heroism to counteract the plans of the Eddorians. The breeding program culminates in the emergence of the “Lensmen”, whom I assume to be universally male given the cultural setting of the time and place of writing. These are heroic and morally impeccable men who can bear a crystalline device called the Lens, which can only be worn by people of such character and functions as a telepathy device, universal translator, lie detector, protects against psychic attacks, destroys the minds of the enemy and verifies the status of the Lensman. That all seems highly convenient, I must say. The scope of the series is literally aeons.

The Lensman series began publication in 1934 in serialised form, as was the usual arrangement at the time. Several of its aspects are interesting in view of – well, something I’ll come to in a bit. It was preceded by the ‘Skylark’ series, whose first part was written in 1915, which to my mind makes it quite startlingly old, and the little I’ve read of it comes across as very old-fashioned in style. It begins with a scientist accidentally inventing a space drive, the idea being immediately copied by his enemy and the two of them using the principle to build starships and engage in a cosmic battle involving multiple star systems and planets. It seems to be far more primitive and sketchily written than the later series, but it’s also crucial in setting the pre-conditions for the space opera written afterwards, because of one major aspect: the date it was written. In 1905, Albert Einstein, acting on the Michelson-Morley Experiment, began to wrestle with the issue that the speed of light was constant in all directions regardless of the speed of the observer, and of course the ultimate solution to this problem is special relativity and the conclusion that it’s impossible to travel faster than light. Special relativity was generally accepted by physicists by the 1920s. However, E. E. ‘Doc’ Smith’s PhD was on bleaching flour with nitrogen oxides and its effect on baking qualities, because he was a food chemist, and at the time it may also have seemed that the speed of light being a hard limit was highly provisional and subject to refutation relatively (groan) easily. Over a century later, it seems very much baked-in. In fact it might even have been that he wasn’t even aware of Einstein’s theory when he started writing the series, and this has the interesting consequence that his version of space travel is kind of Newtonian, except that he also thinks inertia can be cancelled out without too much difficulty.

This one principle, that Smith started writing before special relativity was well-established, constitutes a sine qua non of space opera. Without some means of moving faster than light, or perhaps travelling without moving as with ‘Dune’, it just becomes completely implausible for scientific as well as other reasons. Later writers have had to come up with some kind of workaround for this, but it wouldn’t be there in the first place were it not for the highly specific timing of ‘Skylark Of Space’. It’s quite remarkable.

E E Smith was also writing at a time when H G Wells still had more than three decades ahead of him and even Jules Verne had only died recently. If his writing is to be considered SF, it still shows a remarkably inventive departure and spatial “zooming out” compared to his contemporary and near-contemporary. H G Wells does in fact make, so far as I can tell, a single mention of humans settling on an exoplanet, circling Sirius, but it’s after the Day of Judgement and God does it. There’s no technological method through which this happens and it isn’t part of a concerted, human-led expansion into space by their own devices in any way. This was in 1899. Compared to science fiction, space opera just seemed to have come along and plonked itself down unceremoniously in the middle of everything without any regard for plausibility or even being particularly pensive. It’s a very different beast than sci-fi. Another aspect of this is that Smith was able to write about this unknown realm over all our heads with the possible prospect of humans entering it one day in the very distant future. Olaf Stapledon, writing in 1930, envisaged human spaceflight not beginning for several hundred million years after the twentieth century. It’s hard to cast one’s mind far enough back to realise how completely fantastic the idea of going into space used to be, and yet this is well within living memory. It gives us a different perspective on space opera entirely.

Now for the elephant in the room. People who know the history of science fiction fairly well will have noticed that there’s one particular major work of literature which up until now I’ve completely ignored. There’s a reason for this. Far from disrupting my thesis, it really goes some way towards proving the point I will eventually be making. Before I get to it, though, I should point out that its context surprised me, as I’d always thought of the novel as an invention of something like the fifteenth century with works like ‘Le Mort D’Arthur’ and ‘Tirant lo Blanch’, then eventually ‘Don Quixote’. Apparently not. It seems to be seen as central to the nature of the novel that it’s written in prose rather than verse, which apparently started to happen in the early thirteenth century. Also, apparently it was independently developed in China. It needs a widespread readership, which is helped by literacy and the invention of the printing press, so it’s all the more surprising, to me anyway, that there is actually a total of five novels which survive in complete form from Ancient Greece: ‘Daphnis And Chloe’, ‘Aethiopica’, ‘The Ephesian Tale’, ‘Leucippe and Clitophon’ and ‘Callirhoe’. There are also fragments of others and a further complete novel survives in Persian translation. It’s extended prose fiction with a coherent narrative, plot and characters. I mean, I don’t know what more you want from me: these are novels. I know it seems anachronistic, but they existed and some of them survive. On the whole, they form a genre. They’re usually about two lovers whose love is tested by various difficulties, threats and temptations. Pirates are often involved and they tend to travel around the Mediterranean a lot, can be tempted by riches to break up. They might be compared to Mills And Boon, but with more gods. In fact, the existence of these novels, and the fact that they were written in the Koiné register rather than Katharevousa or whatever passed for it at the time, puts the New Testament into context for me. I feel that the Bible was completed as a text intended to speak to the common person and not the highly-educated. It seems to have the same audience, and in one case even a similar plot line.

Right: here we go then, the moment someone might’ve been waiting for: Lucian of Samosata!

Lucian of Samosata was a second century Syrian satirist writing in Greek who authored a satirical novel called ‘A True Story’. This was, as has been noted on YouTube, basically a space opera! I’m not kidding and this isn’t hyperbole. It’s a parody of travel writing and of the Odyssey. Lucian writes of a ship which, voyaging beyond the Pillars of Hercules, is captured by a whirlwind and blown all the way up to the lunar surface, where the Emperor of the Moon, in a world populated by strange creatures, is happy to meet fellow humans and turns out to be involved in a major space war with the Emperor of the Sun for ownership of Venus. This war is fought by giant vultures and warriors on the backs of giant ants and fleas the size of horses, and there are also spiders involved, spinning webs as part of the defence network. This last detail, incidentally, also crops up in ‘Blake’s 7’ and Brian Aldiss’s ‘Hothouse’. On leaving this conflagration, they go to live in a city inside a whale and travel to the Islands of the Blessèd, where he discusses with Homer whether he really wrote the Iliad and the Odyssey. It breaks off abruptly with intimations of a sequel.

First of all, it’s clearly satire. The reason it has a narrative in outer space is to make it seem over-the-top, and it also reminds me of Baron Munchausen. Nevertheless, it does contain many space opera tropes, and the scale is part of that. It has outlandish alien beings, battle in space over another planet as territory, travel to other worlds and a “space ship”. The main difference, apart from being satire, is that it’s interplanetary rather than interstellar or intergalactic, but the scale is still very large. What it definitely isn’t, though, is science fiction. In fact it more or less couldn’t be SF because there wasn’t really any science at the time for it to be fictional about. However, whereas Lucian was writing in a situation where science was basically absent, Smith was also writing without complete information and on the cusp of a moment which would have placed major constraints on what he could convincingly write about. Both could project fanciful tales up into the unknown darkness of the night sky, as it were, and wallow in that freedom from constraint. I also suspect that Smith was entirely ignorant of Lucian’s writing or even existence. Both of them gave the atmosphere a lot of welly. Smith was melodramatic, Lucian comedic.

Taking a different stance again is a third author, Doris Lessing. I am very slightly familiar with Lessing’s writing, having read ‘The Grass Is Singing’. I probably should’ve read ‘The Golden Notebook’ and ‘The Good Terrorist’ but I haven’t. I think of Lessing as a thoroughly literary author and therefore beyond my understanding or ability to empathise with her writing, and also regard her, as I do many other such authors, with some suspicion as an insidious legislator of how one is supposed to be human. Some people with ADHD report the experience of running their eyes along lines of writing with nothing going in. This is not something I get with most writing but I’m pretty sure it would happen if I tried to read her. Also, calling a novel ‘The Good Terrorist’ doesn’t bode well for me as I think the concept of terrorism is only useful to the powerful, so it suggests a conservative outlook. Not to go off on too much of a tangent, this isn’t about the morality of terrorism so much as the idea that violence openly committed by a state is somehow more legitimate. Maybe she meant something else. It might be thought that it was right up my street, and maybe it is, but I doubt I’ll be reading it. I think she might show contempt for people who feel powerless and don’t know what to do to engage with making a difference to the world, which is of course me and many friends through my adult life. Regarding ‘The Golden Notebook’, one thing that might be relevant is an incident early in my relationship with Sarada. I have generally tended to keep at least two different sets of notebooks, one as my diary in a journalling sort of sense and the other for other stuff, for instance if I were doing that right now I’d probably write a lot about graph theory as applied to social media, but also other more personal stuff. Sarada suggested I combine the two, so I did that and it almost immediately gave me writer’s block, which I never experience, in both types of notebook for something like three years. Maybe that could be relevant, I don’t know. I’m almost wilfully ignorant of this kind of writing. I wonder if the separation into different notebooks represents a kind of fragmentation of her identity in a more negative way, probably in connection with the contradictions of women’s roles under patriarchy, but as I say that’s just a guess and I know nothing.

Just as I’m wilfully ignorant of Lessing’s writing, I strongly suspect that she was wilfully ignorant of science fiction and space opera. Nonetheless, she’s called herself a storyteller who feels the same push to write and tell stories as I experience, and going back to that Stone Age camp fire, she would’ve been sitting around it telling stories, perhaps about Canopus and Sirius. And she would’ve been, because it was before the patriarchy even existed. She might have been breastfeeding or kiss-feeding at the same time, but this wouldn’t have interfered with her story-telling urge.

Anyway, as is well-known, Doris Lessing wrote a five-novel series ‘Canopus In Argos’ whose first novel, published in 1979, covers the history of Earth as seen from the perspective of Canopus, an advanced civilisation observing accelerated evolution on this planet, known to them as Shikasta, translated as “stricken”. Earth is initially nurtured by Canopus but a misalignment of the stars leads to an interruption of the flow of the “substance of we-feeling”, and breaks the telepathic lock between Canopus and Shikasta. Consequently, Shammat, the rival empire to Canopus, is then able to seed Earth with discord, environmental destruction, violence and selfishness, hence the name “stricken”, having changed from Rohanda, meaning “fruitful”. Johor, the narrator, whose documents are scattered through the first novel, manifests himself as a human man to guide and enlighten a small group of humans and rescue the planet from turmoil.

The next novel, ‘The Marriage Between Zones Three, Four And Five’, is allegorical and depicts a planet divided into six zones, each at a different stage of spiritual development. Canopus appears to order a marriage between two individuals, the queen of the harmonious, egalitarian and feminine zone three and the king of the militaristic, patriarchy of zone four, to bridge their differences and learn from each other. Later, the king of zone four is ordered to marry the queen of zone five, a chaotic and primitive realm.

Then comes ‘The Sirian Experiments’, which concern a Sirian attempt to guide human development towards technological advancement and bureaucracy which tend to lead to catastrophe on other planets. There are two other novels but I haven’t read any of them and I don’t want to lose focus. But look at the first. Does it not sound to you, broadly speaking because I’m sure the style is very different, like the general idea of Smith’s ‘Lensman’ series? There are two rival cosmic agencies directing the history of humanity, one towards enlightenment, the other with more malign motives, and the more enlightened force leads to a hero being incarnated among the humans. It seems uncannily similar, and the thing is, I don’t think it’s “stolen”. I think Lessing knew practically nothing of space opera. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing she would be well-informed about or value. And yet she apparently reproduced a novel whose general outline, though doubtless not tone or detail, is basically the same as E E Smith’s ‘Triplanetary’ so far as I can tell. Moreover, ‘Triplanetary’ began to be serialised in 1934 whereas ‘Shikasta’ was published forty-five years later in 1979. Smith’s series as a whole was a runner-up in the Hugo awards for all-time best series in 1966, losing out to the Foundation Trilogy, so it was also phenomenally well-known and celebrated. That’s like being a runner-up to the Booker Prize, so Lessing’s ignorance, and probably that of her readers and reviewers, is absolutely breathtaking. Just to get this off my chest, and bearing in mind that I don’t actually care for space opera generally, Smith had done all that four and a half decades previously, it was considered old hat by about 1940, although still admired in a retro kind of way, and then along comes Lessing and apparently it’s all wonderful and ground-breaking rather than a heap of tired old rubbish. This is really galling.

All that said though, I honestly don’t believe Lessing ripped him off. I think she was simply writing in ignorance, and in an environment that was equally ignorant, and apparently even proud of that ignorance, considering that genre fiction could not possibly have anything to teach them. These rather annoying preconditions, though, did create a situation where space opera could once again be reinvented, though doubtless in a very different and rather arcane form rather than as popular culture.

So then, there are three separate instances of the genre being created, each isolated from the others and in different circumstances. Lessing’s background was in politics, and incidentally she ought to be very much one of my kind of people, being active in CND, an ex-communist and so on. I know the kind of person she is and many such people have been my friends. Smith, by contrast, was a food chemist, like Margaret Thatcher in a way, and his work was the most influential as he basically created the genre we now call space opera. Lucian seems to have been primarily a literary person writing in the ancient world. All of them, though, seem to have stumbled upon the same genre, even in very different historical circumstances. To me this suggests that space opera was just “out there” waiting to be discovered, actually did get discovered independently at least three times, by people who had nothing in common with each other apart from all being part of Western civilisation.

How does this happen? Has it happened with anything else? And what are the essential features of the genre which define it? I can see an attempt at grandeur and scope, accompanied by a kind of operatic approach to emotion which maybe Lessing didn’t include. I’m just not sure. But I hope you agree that this is remarkable, and once something happens thrice it’s no longer a coincidence.

Pythagoras

I’m currently sitting on our favourite couch. It is in turn sitting in a room downstairs in our house in Scotland. We bought it in England and tried to get it up the stairs of our English house because our living room was upstairs there. We had enormous trouble getting it past the bends in the stairs and eventually I decided to measure the bend and the couch, so I measured the depth and height of the couch and then the three dimensions of which the bend consisted. Using the well known right angle triangle equation a²+b²=c² and taking the square root of c, I was able to calculate the hypotenuse of the couch. I then made the slightly more complex calculation of using the hypotenuse of the dimensions of the stair bend with the height of the ceiling above the stairs to work out the maximum length of an object which could be fitted through the gap, and since that second figure was smaller than c, I was able to prove, and I have to state this carefully to be precise, that the couch would not be able to fit into the space on the stair bend, and therefore it would be impossible to take it up the stairs and put it in our living room, so it remained downstairs. Now there could’ve been some other approaches, such as taking the feet off or the banisters down, but in fact both of those were part of the objects concerned and it wasn’t going to happen because I’m not Bernard Cribbins.

This is of course Pythagoras’s Theorem. People often say they never apply anything they learnt in maths to their lives after leaving school, leading me to conclude that either their lives are unnecessarily hard or that they don’t realise they’re using it, because this kind of problem comes up all the time in everyday adult life and I can only surmise that people think really strangely in this area. I scraped an O-level pass in maths and this is obvious to me. In fact I almost stayed in the CSE group and was the lowest grade person to go “up”. I should also mention that there is a famous Moving Sofa Problem in mathematics, but this isn’t that. The moving sofa problem is the question of which rigid two-dimensional shape of the largest area can be manoeuvred through an L-shaped planar region with legs of unit width. It didn’t help us because the stairs were three dimensional, i.e. they went up diagonally, turned through two ninety degree angles while continuing to ascend and the ceiling of the ground floor was in the way too. There migh be some couch-stair combinations which it could’ve been useful for, but not this one.

Most people know one thing about Pythagoras, and that’s that he’s responsible for Pythagoras’s Theorem that the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the some of the squares on the other two sides of a right angled triangle. This also brings up the issue of the square root of two being irrational, i.e. not being expressible through a ratio, i.e. a fraction, because an isosceles right angled triangle with unit opposite and adjacent sides will have a hypotenuse length equivalent to the square root of two in units. As a child I thought this proved that units of measurement didn’t exist, but obviously that was my child’s mind failing to grasp things properly. The only thing is, Pythagoras probably didn’t think of his theorem. It’s more likely that in order to give it some kudos, people decided to attribute it to him, and it was known about before his time.

Unfortunately I don’t seem to be able to satisfactorily answer the question of whether Pythagoras existed. He may well not have done. I want to start by mentioning a few other figures: Nero was the Roman emperor who fiddled while Rome burned and rebuild the city in a much improved condition; George Washington was the guy who cut down the fruit tree as a boy and admitted to it, saying “I cannot tell a lie” and Archimedes was that bloke who got in the bath which overflowed, giving him the inspiration to tell whether a crown was solid gold, and shouted “Eureka!”, running down the street naked. Or maybe not. I haven’t checked these and they’re very likely to be just stories, and actually the question of whom we refer to when we tell stories like this is a modern philosophical problem. So Pythagoras, by the same token, was an ancient Greek philosopher who discovered something important about triangles, was vegetarian, wouldn’t eat beans and thought numbers were very important to the nature of reality. That’s probably more than most people “know” about him.

So I’m going to start with the question of whether he existed. At least three other important Greek men wrote about him and his life: Aristotle the philosopher, Herodotus the historian and Iamblichus the Neoplatonist philosopher. There was a whole school of philosophy named after him which he’s said to have founded, although that doesn’t mean he existed. That school of philosophy has a consistent belief system rather than just being arbitrary unconnected beliefs, so there is such a thing as a Pythagorean philosophy. However, no writings at all can be attributed to him because Pythagorean philosophy was an oral tradition. It was passed on by word of mouth long before it started to be written down, and this of course means it could’ve ended up being distorted even if he did exist. There was also a tendency in the Greco-Roman world for people to attribute ideas and quotes to people to make them seem more important and respectable than they would’ve been perceived as otherwise, rather like how lots of quotes today are attributed to Churchill and Einstein that they never said.

And the thing is, Pythagoras as he was understood in ancient Greek sounds absolutely bizarre. He had a thigh made of gold, was able to be in two places at once and could converse with non-human animals, and there were a few other things about him which were odd-sounding. He comes across as a kind of magical cult leader and demigod, perhaps a shaman or a sage rather than a philosopher. This partly reflects how philosophy was not neatly parcelled off from religion and spirituality as it is today, at least in academia, and what we separate today was actually considered together until at least the time of Newton. The difficulty, in fact, is similar to those of establishing the nature of the real Jesus and Socrates. So we’re in a situation where the one thing everyone thinks they know about him isn’t true and he was seen as some kind of superhero with incredible psychic powers. But in a way the question of whether he existed or not is the most boring thing about him. Everything I say about him from this point on has therefore to be attributed to some kind of possibly mythical or otherwise fictional figure rather than any real person called Pythagoras living in Ancient Greece.

He was seen as an expert on the soul. In Ancient Greek times before him, nobody thought there was a separate soul which survives death. This was more an Ancient Egyptian thing, and for all we know that’s where it originated. Because of this expertise, combined with his belief in reincarnation he was said to be able to remember his past lives. He once got someone to stop beating a dog because he recognised the cries as those of a dead friend reincarnated in the dog’s body. This is also why he was able to talk to members of other species. And whether or not he existed, there was clearly a cult based on his apparent beliefs, and this cult was also rather strange. They believed that the right shoe should always be taken off before the left one but that the left foot should always be washed before the right, that no-one should eat anything red, and they were seriously into numerology and vegetarianism. In fact, before the invention of the English word “vegetarian”, we were called “Pythagoreans”. They also included both women and men, which seems to have been unusual at the time. We may assume that the idea of an institution which admits women to be the exception back then but we don’t actually know. You also had to be silent for five years once you joined. Returning to the vegetarianism, although they did believe in it, justified through the idea of human souls being reincarnated in other forms, they also believed in sacrificing animals to deities. There’s even a story that Pythagoras was once seen eating chicken and replying to the objection that he was supposed to be veggie and not eat live animals by saying that the animal he was eating was dead, and this makes me wonder if they were actually vegetarian or simply sacrificing animals so they could eat them. Even so, many veggies do have stories like that made up about them, and most surviving records about Pythagoras are about criticising him and his followers or lauding him and them. There isn’t much attempting to be objective. Incidentally, although he had a religious cult of his own, he still worshipped the Greek deities of the time and what they did was “extra”: it was still dodekatheism, as it’s known nowadays, but a kind of denomination of it rather than a separate religion.

Pythagoras was of course into maths, which he combined with numerology because at the time there was no distinction. He seems to have been the first person to connect mathematics to an attempt to explain the world. This particular notion has been extremely influential. Even today, a hard science has to include maths to be taken seriously. One of the reasons psychology emphasises statistics so heavily is that it wants to be a “proper” natural science. However, the way Pythagoreans approached maths and its relationship to the physical world back then seems quite different to how they’re approached now. For instance, even numbers were considered female and odd numbers male, and since the number 1 wasn’t considered a number at all because it didn’t have a beginning and an end, five was considered the number of marriage, as it was the union of the first female number with the first male number. The number seven was considered sacred because, being prime, nothing could make it up and it could make up nothing. Two was considered the number of justice because it enabled things to be divided equally into two halves. Three was considered to sum up the whole Universe as it was the first number to have a beginning, middle and end. He also discovered triangular numbers. The number three was considered to represent a human being, and was of course male, representing the threefold virtues of prudence, good fortune and drive. That almost sounds like it’s out of a contemporary self-help book.

Although the links Pythagoras made between numbers and the Universe were peculiar, he also connected geometry and arithmetic more thoroughly than his predecessors, because of the hypotenuse connection with the square root of 2, and because of his theorem, although that had been known to the Babylonians. He was the first person to come up with a method for constructing a dodecahedron, and connected many shapes to the Cosmos, bringing me to what ought to be the most famous thing he was known for: he was the first person to claim Earth was round. Remarkably, although this has turned out to be incorrect, his reasoning had no connection to any observations because science wasn’t there yet. In addition to that, he came up with the idea that Earth and other planets moved in orbits, although oddly not around the Sun but a central fire, and also that there was a counter-Earth, required to make up the numbers in the system. There are convoluted reasons for all this.

This initially peculiar link between the Universe and mathematics, once forged, has stayed ever since and may not in fact be as obvious as it seems. I have suggested before that one solution to the Fermi Paradox (“where are all the aliens?”) might be that they’re all really bad at maths compared to humans, but another solution may be that although they’re perfectly good at maths, they never had a Pythagoras to make a link between the two and it’s never occurred to them to apply maths in this way. Hence their science is still Babylonian in nature, or even less like Western European science than that. They never got any further. If that’s true, it makes Pythagoras, even if he never existed, an incredibly important figure.

Another aspect of all this is that we can look back from our own “rational” viewpoint and poo-poo the idea that he was an ancient Doctor Dolittle, could be in two places at once and remember past lives, when actually maybe he could do all of that and it’s our own restrictive mind sets which have stopped that from happening. This doesn’t sound sane, but when we consider what many Christians believe about Jesus it becomes more a case of us simply having decided that one ancient semi-mythical person has such attributes rather than the other. It only sounds crazy today because we chose to retain the deification of Christ rather than Pythagoras, which could be seen as practically a coin-toss. There is a world not far from here where many millions of people still believe Pythagoras had something in common with C3PO.

Another numerological aspect of Pythagoreanism was that nobody should gather in groups of more than ten because the number ten was 1+2+3+4, so ten in particular was a sacred number to them. This extended to them composing prayers to that number, and I find this interesting because it creates a link between mathematical entities and deities and other spirits. Platonism and intuitionism are two opposing views of maths. Intuitionism holds that humans invent maths as we go along, i.e. it’s a creation of the mind just like a poem might be, whereas Platonism holds that maths is discovered. It’s already out there before we get to it. So for example, there are considered to be eight planets in this solar system. Assuming there are no others, there were also eight planets when the first trilobites appeared 521 million years ago. In fact, at that point there was a number representing the global population of trilobites, as there still is today: zero. So does that mean that the number eight exists independently of human consciousness or, more precisely, the ability to count? I have a strongly atheist friend who is also a Platonist, and she acknowledges that it’s an odd position to be in. The Ontological Argument for God tries to bootstrap God into existence from the concept of God, and this perhaps reflects the notion that God exists as a concept in a more objective manner than an atheist or agnostic would usually be expected to think. The concept of God is “out there” in the Cosmos in some way, and maybe in the same way as maths is said to be by Platonists. But this, well, I’m going to have to use the word “idea” at some point, of deities existing abstractly is usually considered separately nowadays from the idea that squares or numbers exist. We have a partition in our thoughts which Pythagoreans had yet to erect.

This can be directed back on Pythagoras. Clearly the idea of Pythagoras does exist, although it seems to have varied. We have Pythagoras as the triangle guy and the first person to suggest that the world is round, although actually that might’ve been one of his successors. But Pythagoras himself may not have existed in the same sense that Elizabeth I of England did, and as such this accords quite well with the general attitudes of the time and the problems of ancient history. Also, back at that time and place, the Greeks seem to have taken their religion quite literally so for them Zeus was as real as Pythagoras whether or not we think of him as real.

On consideration though, I do think he existed in the way we generally understand existence today, i.e. not just as an abstract or mythological entity. The reason for this is that his cult existed and was quite forceful and distinct in nature. It seems to me that a requirement for a large group of people to avoid speaking for five years and never to eat beans sounds like the kind of thing a charismatic leader would get their followers to do, and it really sounds like cultish behaviour by today’s standards. It makes cults seem like constant fixtures in human life rather than phenomena characteristic of the modern world. This is probably not terribly surprising, but maybe this assumes too much, because it might be that cults with leaders are more recent developments connected to individualism and a tendency for people to seek complete answers to life’s problems. I haven’t checked, but I don’t think the Essenes had a founder or leaders.

Here’s the weird bit though. As I’ve said before, although Pythagoreans seem to have been the first people to link maths and science, from today’s perspective they seem to have come up with a list of arbitrary superstitions and ideas without a thorough connection to reality. But despite this, somehow they were able to assert the correct idea that the world is round, which to us seems to depend on observation rather than philosophical or mathematical abstraction. Nobody seems to have had that idea before. Later Greek philosophers came up with ways of testing this and measuring Earth’s size, but it wasn’t those careful tests which led to the initial thought. What are we to make of this? Maybe the idea crept in from somewhere else.

We still have the metric system. Does that maybe represent a similar superstition about numbers? We happen to have ten digits on our hands and it’s led to us producing a system which is easier to use than imperial because of how we count, but are we also partaking of Pythagorean mysticism there? We’ve put that into the box of rationality, but maybe it’s more to do with custom. Also it seems that the real mystery is how maths actually manages to engage with the world at all. Why would this be?

The Beehive

My eyesight is terrible. When I go to the opticians for a new prescription as opposed to handing over the new one, they use a special chart with a single letter filling all of it and ask me if I can see it at all, and the answer is always no. Because of this, as a child I expected to go blind and trained myself to find my way around without looking, which annoys Sarada as it seems to mean I notice details more than I do large objects, although that’s probably partly an aspect of my neurodivergence.

Therefore, in general when I look up at the night sky without binoculars or a telescope, I see very little because the starlight is too blurry if I don’t wear glasses and if I do the lenses cut out most of the light. Most of the time, it’s hardly mattered because, for example, in Loughborough the sky was overcast at night or ruined by street lamps. However, here in southwest Scotland, the situation is different, rather like that in and around Herstmonceux, where I trained as a herbalist and where the Greenwich Observatory was moved when the skies got too bright. This region is one of the dark sky sanctuaries, although apparently it gets darker even than this a little to the west:

Compare this to South to Mid-Wales, the South of England and the English Midlands:

Much of Devon and mid-Wales are fine there, but I’ve never lived anywhere near them, and the area around Herstmonceux is now pretty much the same as the rest of the South nowadays.

Surprisingly, on looking at the sky here, as I did the night before last, through binoculars and with my eyes plus spectacles, I was able to perceive another, well, spectacle in the form of a clear sky and a vista out into the local arm of the Galaxy, as well as of our closer neighbours Mars and Jupiter. The lunar absence helped but the magnification of the binoculars decidedly didn’t, as it was impossible for me to hold them steadily enough to see either planet clearly. For some reason the binoculars I use are 16 x, which I understand are usually mounted on a tripod for this reason but they don’t have anywhere to screw them in. I’m guessing you can get a frame of some kind to address this issue but I don’t think I have one. Frustratingly, I finally found the telescope yesterday, too late to aim it at the sky on that particular occasion but tomorrow is another night.

It was helpful that Mars was so clearly visible. I understand it’s currently near opposition, i.e. about as near as it gets, because it’s quite distinctive and enabled me to find Castor and Pollux, as it’s currently in Gemini, which in turn helped me find something I’ve never managed to see before: Praesepe, also known as the Beehive Cluster. Before I dilate on this, I want to point out that turning one’s attention to the stars is a fantastic escape from the troubles of this microscopic blue dot, and perhaps also a unifying factor, but there is unfortunately nowadays a fly in the ointment because of Elon Musk’s satellites interfering with a clear view of everything. However, I don’t want to dwell on that.

I’m sure you’re familiar with the bundle of eggs a spider lays – a ball made up of the mother’s embryonic young yet to hatch. When they do emerge, they scatter themselves having eaten the mother’s body, at least according to ‘Blade Runner’ if that’s not a false memory. This brings to mind how stars form in globular clusters like this:

Sid Leach/Adam Block/Mount Lemmon SkyCenter

After a while, they fly apart and the result is an open cluster like the aforementioned Beehive. Other nearby examples are the Pleiades and Hyades, quite nearby in our sky. Cancer, the constellation where the Beehive is, is generally quite dim and I had the impression that the cluster was too but apparently its total brightness is something like 3.7. I should explain what this means. The faintest stars visible to the naked eye of someone with good eyesight are of magnitude six, and the brightest, one hundred times brighter, are around magnitude zero, an example being Vega. This makes it a logarithmic scale with each step around two and a half times that of the one above. It also illustrates that we perceive things such as brightness on a logarithmic rather than linear scale, and a similar scale for sound volume, decibels (which are not actually a unit of loudness but it’s too involved to explain here), doubles every three, so 86 decibels is twice as loud as 83. I’m just going to say one more thing about decibels which indicates their oddness: how far from the sound source are you when you judge it? A seventy decibel sound ten metres away becomes a seventy-six decibel sound five metres away because it’s four times as loud. But does it?

Praesepe, the Beehive, is a fuzzy patch in Cancer around six hundred light years away larger than the Sun looks in our sky, with a magnitude of 3.7. That means that all the stars together are that bright, and it’s the area which is that bright rather than the mean magnitude of all the stars in the cluster. There are supposed to be about two hundred stars in it altogether, although being an open cluster its edges are vague, although it’s about twenty light years in diameter. “Praesepe” means “manger” or “crib” (I’m from Kent so I say “manger” for both, which I suspect is dialect and I’ve never used it outside Kent, but I don’t honestly know), and it is in fact a nursery for stars, so it’s peculiarly appropriate. You only get one chance to use that though, so although the other open clusters are also nurseries they can’t be called that too. The Pleiades or Seven Sisters, probably the best known open cluster, consists of stars which are mainly roughly the same size and temperature as each other, being blue giants, but the Beehive is not like that. The Seven Sisters are actually younger than the extinction of the non-avian dinosaurs, but the Beehive is about six hundred million years old, so it’s considerably older than the first trilobites. It varies a lot more, containing white dwarfs, red giants and also yellow dwarfs, which are Sun-like stars. Moreover, several of these stars are known to have planets and one of them has at least two if I remember correctly (I always write this stuff off the cuff). However, as is very common, they’re all “hot Jupiters”, that is, they are red hot, partly vapourised planets which would’ve been rocky at a greater distance. Using the current popular method, hot Jupiters are easier to detect than other exoplanets because they’re large and closer to their suns, as it involves measuring fluctuations in brightness, which is likelier to be detected if the planet is relatively large compared to its primary and orbits it quickly. The planet also needs to be orbiting edge-on to our view. There are other ways of detecting planets but they haven’t been used for decades, and when they were it turned out they produced spurious results, such as simply recording when the lenses in telescopes were cleaned and put back at a different angle! Nowadays, it seems feasible that they would work, so I don’t know why they’re not using them.

There are roughly a thousand stars in an approximate sphere with a radius of ten light years, and those are just the ones detected from Earth. There are probably more because many of the known closest stars to our solar system are red dwarfs, the lightest and smallest stars, and the smaller a star type is, the more common it tends to be. A sphere with a radius of ten light years has a volume of around 4200 cubic light years, and with two hundred stars in the cluster that means a cube with a volume of 4.2 cubic light years on a side would contain on average one star and the mean distance between stars in the cluster would be only 1.6 light years. However, if they’re anywhere near randomly distributed, that distance is likely to vary quite a lot although the centre of the cluster might be denser, as can be seen from the photograph if those alignments are not optical illusions. There are many optical double stars in general which just happen to be along the same line of sight. This means that even given the known stars, which include red giants, the sky of a planet in the cluster would be a lot fuller and brighter than Earth’s, always assuming its atmosphere isn’t too dense or cloudy to see through and that it isn’t very close to its own sun. If we were that distance from α Centauri, it would be about as bright as Venus and capable of casting shadows, and if a red giant the size of Arcturus were involved it would be getting on for lunar level brightness and light up the whole sky.

Back in the 1960s or possibly the ’70s, a nuclear-powered starship called Daedalus was designed which couldn’t be built because it would violate treaties on nuclear weapons. However, if it had been, it could’ve reached the nearest star within fifty years. In a cluster such as this, it might take only twenty years to get there, which is a much more manageable interval. There are Sun-like stars in the Beehive and there’s no reason to suppose they don’t have Earth-like planets circling them, perhaps many such planets throughout the cluster. And there’s more.

One thing which really stimulates evolution here on Earth is frequent mass extinctions. For instance, something massive hit this planet sixty-six million years ago which led to the ascendance of the mammals. Various other causes led to other mass extinctions, some possibly due to other impacts. Had none of that happened, evolution might not have led to us appearing because life would’ve been too easy on this planet. Hardship and adverse circumstances lead to creativity here too. Furthermore, Earth is unusual in having a large moon, due again to a major impact, this time from an object the size of Mars, which led to the development of a strong magnetic field protecting us from ionising radiation. All of those events are more likely in the cluster due to its crowded nature, with stars interfering with each others’ comets and asteroids, but as said before, it’s only six hundred million years old and it seems unlikely that there could’ve been enough stimuli for even the simplest multicellular life forms to have evolved in that time. However, if that did happen in such a cluster, interstellar travel would be far easier to achieve than we find it, as would observation of other star systems. For instance, planets orbiting a Sun-like star would be on average sixteen times brighter when observed from adjacent star systems than they would be from α Centauri.

As I’ve said before, I try not to focus too much on life, intelligent life, life as we know it or humanoid life on this blog because that’s a bias which I think makes the Universe less interesting, and the emphasis on life is a bit anthropocentric and perhaps also rather science fictional.

Half the mass of the cluster is contained within 12.7 light years of the centre and its gravity is capable of pulling stars towards it from thirty-nine light years away. There are also stars moving through it which have no real association with it. It shares motion with the Hyades, the closest star cluster of any kind to us, and its composition is similar, so they were probably once part of the same structure. They are only 150 light years away from us.

Pre-Emptive Moon Landing Denial

First of all, an apology. I’m generally committed to not referring to our natural satellite as “the Moon” because perspective is important, so I often call it Cynthia. I regret choosing this name, although it’s a valid label since it is one of the Greek lunar goddesses. Some others are Selene, which I like, Diana and Artemis. There’s an association with hunting because a bright nocturnal celestial luminary renders prey more visible. All of these names have a Western bias, so maybe that could be addressed for once as it would be good if one of the best-known and oft-mentioned celestial bodies had a non-European name. Because it also seems weird and distracting to keep calling it (her?) Cynthia, and indeed “her”, much of the time I refer to our companion in circumlocutory terms, so for example I talk about astronauts reaching “the lunar surface” or do what I just did. This is actually already why it’s been called “Luna” rather than “Mensis”, the older Latin name, since “menses” refers to menstruation and the Romans seem to have felt like they were referring to a “period” in the sky, which could’ve been quite positive but they were the Romans so it wasn’t seen that way.

Now for lunar landing denial, and there’s the circumlocution again. Humans did land on the lunar surface. Twelve of them in fact, between 1969 CE and 1972. Many people only remember Neil Armstrong and Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin, so I’m going to list all of them here: Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Charles “Pete” Conrad, Alan Bean, Alan Shepard, Edgar Mitchell, David Scott, James Irwin, John Young, Charles Duke, Eugene Cernan and Harrison Schmitt. There were also six command module pilots and three people who attempted to land but failed due to an explosion. Although I’m tempted to mention their names, along with the three Apollo astronauts killed on the launchpad, I think I’ve made my point: that twelve people have walked on the lunar surface. The reason this needs stating is twofold: most people have no recollection of the other ten and apparently lunar landing deniers are under the impression that there’s only one lunar landing to deny.

How can we be confident that they happened? Well, for example, there are laser reflectors on the surface placed there by Apollo astronauts used by astronomers all over the world, although also one on the Lunokhod automatic lunar rover put there by the Russians, footage of dust kicked up by the Apollo lunar rovers describes a trajectory only possible in a near-vacuum under about one sixth of Earth gravity, returnees develop cataracts significantly earlier than people who have never been there. Add to that that if it really was a conspiracy, all the people involved who knew about it would’ve had to have taken the secret to their graves or haven’t spoken up about it yet. I really can’t be bothered to go into too much detail about this, and other people have done it better than I could, but I’ll mention a couple of things. Stanley Kubrick’s ‘2001’ came out around the same time as the Apollo missions, so he is often named as a co-conspirator, but his lunar landscapes look like others did before they were refuted by images from low orbiters or the astronauts themselves: they’re craggy and covered in cracks because the surface was thought to be more or less uneroded, but actual pictures show soft, undulating hills and fairly thick dusty soil, which however, wasn’t as deep as some astronomers expected and didn’t engulf the Lunar Module or the astronauts. The absolute minimum that happened was that the astronauts orbited and dropped probes, and that there was a sample return mission, and if they did all that they may as well have genuinely gone there. So believe me: humans have walked on the lunar surface.

HOWEVER

There is another issue.

Suppose it’s 1968. Apollo has yet to take anyone to another heavenly body. Moreover, it probably never will. This is because if it did, and that was the start of humanity spreading out into space and settling on other planets across the Galaxy, and at the time many people thought it was, that would probably mean that the total population of the human race would dwarf the number of humans who have lived up until now, since at a very conservative estimate there could be a million Earth-like planets suitable for us to live on in the Galaxy. Each of those would only have to have a total population throughout their human history of less than a hundred thousand for the chances of being born before or after Neil Armstrong to be fifty-fifty, and that’s a tiny number of people. Therefore the chances of him setting foot on the Sea of Tranquility are practically zero unless it doesn’t lead to any further missions to settle, there or elsewhere, or for that matter build any space habitats. Therefore, from the perspective of the late 1960s it makes perfect sense to assert that the Apollo missions will either fail or be fake. They’re a hoax.

Only they weren’t, were they? As I’ve just said, the lunar landings happened. Returning to the present though, 2024 right now, the same argument applies, although it is in fact rather stronger because now, more humans have been born than in 1968. We live in a young world. The median age of the world population is now thirty, meaning that most people alive today have been born since 1994. We also lived in a young world back then, with the baby boom for example, though that was just in the West. More people have lived now, and all of them have still lived on this planet. The chances of this happening have fallen for everyone who was born since 1972.

This is of course similar to the Doomsday Argument, which I’ve mentioned on this blog before. The Doomsday Argument is an attempt to estimate whenabouts we are in human history by considering one’s birth as a random event in time. Given a thirty-year doubling time in human population growth and a birth in the late 1960s, such as mine, and assuming my birth was about halfway through the total number of human births ever, this would mean that the last human birth would take place around 2130. Right now, this seems to be an overestimate and for environmental reasons to do with climate change the human race can be expected to go extinct in about 2060. That said, human population growth is also slowing, and it’s a highly egocentric argument because if someone else, born say in 2006, were to make the same calculation, even given the same doubling rate of population the last human birth would take place quite a bit later.

We now have the Artemis program, aiming to return humans to the lunar surface in the near future, and to facilitate human missions to Mars. If this happens as described, it sounds like it would be the start of this species spreading into space and we are once again probably confronted with trillions of future humans whose existence entails that living before that happens is very improbable. This is the second time this has happened, in almost exactly the same way. The first time, it actually did happen. This time, just as I would’ve said in 1968, it won’t. Whatever has happened in the past has a 100% probability of having happened because it did happen. This is true in one sense. In another, it isn’t. For instance, if you chose a random nation state in 2000, it would probably be a republic, but if you chose one in 1700 it would probably be a kingdom, and the past can’t be perfectly known. It can, though, probably be known more accurately than many future trends and events. Anyway, this means that because humans did reach the lunar surface, they have a 100% chance of having done so. Paradoxically though, if the same prediction had been made in 1968, it would also probably be true. This does raise issues about the nature of probability.

There’s this thing called “immanentising the Eschaton”, which is forbidden by the Roman Catholic Church. It means trying to make the world end by bringing about the kind of things that seem to be prophesied in the Book of Revelation. In the 1980s, Ronald Reagan was accused of doing this because of the Cold War. Well, this is what’s worrying me right now: the Artemis program was looking ever more likely but we “know” that it can’t happen, because if it did it would make our current existence improbable. Therefore, events can be expected to intervene to prevent it and any other such events from happening, because we’re alive now and living on Earth rather than in space or on another planet. The more likely it becomes, the more drastic the event preventing it would have to be. We can be confident that no chain of events which leads to a high-population future off Earth can happen, but we don’t know why it won’t. Any extinction event is incompatible with future human beings being born and carries a high degree of certainty, so to speak, of preventing a “space future”. Nuclear holocaust, catastrophic climate change, pandemic, the Artificial General Intelligence apocalypse – any would be fine. We have what feels like an ever-lengthening list of apocalyptic scenarios.

There are ways in which both Apollo and Artemis could be predicted to happen. If they don’t lead to a likely expansion into space, they’re absolutely fine. Apollo was substantially a Cold War publicity stunt by the West, mainly the US, and could be expected not to lead to anything else. In fact, its scaling down and cancellation is possibly “predictable” simply because we’re still here. The same could apply to Artemis. If it’s just a pipe dream, it won’t happen. Also, if it’s hyped and does not in fact lead either to a permanent base or people going to Mars, we might also be safe. On the other hand, anything which looks like it’s going to lead to an open future of humanity living permanently off this planet immediately becomes improbable because of that, and the probability of that happening kind of retroactively “causes” events which prevent it.

This is not necessarily a pessimistic scenario. It simply means that if we have a long future, which right now seems very unlikely, it will be on Earth, and at no point will there be permanent settlements of fertile people in space or on other planets. It also suggests a rather weird solution to the Fermi Paradox – where are all the aliens? Maybe the solution is that everybody realises this and has a failure of nerve, so nobody takes the risk. On the other hand, it also suggests there is a Great Filter approaching. The immediate solution to the Fermi Paradox in this case is the very vague idea that something stops aliens travelling through space, assuming they exist. The obvious alternative is that there are no aliens. It would also mean that the Great Filter hasn’t already happened.

The Great Filter is the idea that sometime between the appearance of the simplest life to the existence of advanced interstellar civilisations, a significant barrier prevents them from reaching this stage. There are two major possibilities: it’s already happened and we’ve gotten through it, and it hasn’t happened yet but it will. It could be pretty benign. For instance, maybe everyone decides not to bother going into space because they want to solve social problems at home, become spiritually enlightened and lose interest in doing so. I’ve mentioned various attempted solutions on here, including the combined importance and scarcity of phosphorus, the possibility that we might just be swamped in a Galaxy teeming with civilisations, that everyone else might be really bad at maths or that we’ve committed some kind of faux pas that puts us beyond the pale. Another intriguing idea, and calling it a possibility may be going too far, is that civilisations get to the point where they discover backwards time travel and destroy themselves to the extent that they never existed in the first place or are automatically pruned by that very discovery. In a way, this might be the same as being that everyone else might actually be too good at maths: so good that they discover time travel using it and that causes them never to have existed.

The Great Filter could be divided into past and future, but there could of course be a third possibility: maybe it’s happening to us right now. Perhaps all our problems are combining together to wipe us out, or a specific event is occurring which is incompatible with us having a future of any kind.

But maybe Artemis won’t lead to an open space future. The plans after the lunar landing are vague and might not lead to anything much in the long term, so it could be a similar stunt to Apollo. The Chinese have a plan to build a base at the South Pole there too though, so the possibility of them making further plans could be considered. Another possibility is private enterprise taking over, but this might not be good. This is where I get into the whole “Up Wing” business, and maybe I shouldn’t go there. It could just be that due to the probabilistic argument, every attempt at a major space development project is destined to fail and Artemis is just one of those. The Chinese program is too, and all of this can be concluded by the simple fact that we’re around now, not having settled elsewhere in the Universe. It isn’t because of any particular reason so much as that our existence ends up selecting a future without space travel. It is, I’ve long thought, very odd that the predicted developments such as rotary space colonies and going to Mars did not come to pass, but maybe it’s just that if they had, the average human being would be someone living thousands of years in the future. If this is so, space exploration might simply look jinxed for no apparent reason. This does actually seem to happen in at least one particular case, referred to as the “Mars Curse”. Only 53% of missions to Mars succeed completely. This may not even be specifically because of something Mars does, as the flights have been known to fail before even leaving the atmosphere. Rather than adopting a superstitious approach, maybe it’s just because of probability: it scuppers the chances of humans getting there if we don’t find out enough about it, so that’s what happens.

If it really is true that the probability argument works, there seem to be at least two applications to prediction here. One is the Doomsday Argument in general, which appears to have fairly major flaws (for instance it might just predict the end of mortality or pessimism rather than the human race because it focusses on the births, but could be about the thought of extinction itself becoming extinct). Another is the possibility of eliminating an apparently plausible future, which may also connect to the Fermi Paradox. But might there not be other things which this kind of argument could predict? The Mars Curse could be a real thing which does not, however, have any causal or for that matter acausal explanation, but is just how things happen to be. It seems to me that this has potential, but it’s all rather imponderable.

Meanwhile in the real world, Artemis faces delays and constantly recedes from the near future, like the invention of efficient fusion power. What a surprise.

Neutrinos & Neŭtrinoj

Okay, let’s just go hell for leather on this. Most of it is just going to come out of my head.

When I was seven, I was really interested in nuclear physics. I had this naive idea that if I knew everything all matter and forces were made of down to the smallest level, I would effectively know everything, full stop. The error of this thought was borne in upon me when I realised I had no idea what the scientific name of the freshwater shrimp was, anything about that animal’s anatomy and so on, and more broadly that just because you knew everything about the building blocks of everything in the Universe didn’t mean you knew much about the things that were made of ’em. Seven year olds, eh?

However, one thing that did impinge upon my learning was that atoms were made up of electrons orbiting a nucleus made of neutrons and protons, that the nuclei were held together by the strong nuclear force carried by pions, light was made up of photons, and protons and neutrons were part of a larger class of fairly massive particles called hadrons, which were generally composed of smaller particles called quarks held together by gluons. This is now such a long time ago that nuclear physics has changed considerably since then and some of the ideas are very outdated. For instance, at one point it was thought that quarks were made up of smaller particles called “rishons”, whose number of types enabled the standard model to be simplified by seeing them as pairs of rishons of a few kinds. Only two types of rishons would be needed for there to be four types of quark. Also back then, the top and bottom quarks had yet to be detected, so people mainly talked about up, down, strangeness and charm, and it hasn’t been lost on me that that’s the title of a Hawkwind album. This was, however, about three years before the album came out and at the time I would’ve been entirely contemptuous and condescending about this piece of music with pretentions to be high art. I should hastily add that I’m not like that any more.

Now it was quite easy for my undeveloped child’s mind to understand all this. Basically, each particle had mass, charge (or no charge) and spin, and these properties defined what that particle was. They were divided into bosons and fermions, and also leptons, mesons and baryons according to their mass from light to heavy. I was for some reason particularly excited about mesons. Many of these particles are unstable, and when they break up their mass, charge and spin need to be conserved. To take a completely wrong example, say there’s a meson with a mass five hundred times that of an electron. If it broke up into two smaller particles, if each has a mass 250 times that of an electron, that would conserve mass. However, this is totally wrong because some of a particle’s mass is lost in binding energy, so each of the pair would actually have a mass more than half of the meson’s. That’s not in any way a real example but because I’m ploughing on at a rate of knots, I’m not looking any details up and can’t remember the properties of a pion, for example. Leptons, incidentally, are not like that. They’re stable, lighter and not made of anything smaller. This is about mesons and baryons. If you asked my seven-year old self, I’d be able to give you the properties, but my late middle-aged and addled brain can no longer so do.

But, more simply, if a neutral particle emits an electron it will become positively charged because electrons are negatively charged and that needs to be preserved.

Not all objects have mass at all. If an object has a mass of zero, it has no choice but to move at the speed of light, which is actually not the specific speed of light but just the fastest speed there is, to quote Monty Python. Neither must every object have charge. Most objects we come across in everyday life, such as combs and loo rolls, tend to have no charge most of the time although if you comb hair with a comb it will become charged and be able to pick up small bits of loo roll, so it does happen. On a subatomic scale, though, there are essentially charged particles, namely the electrons and protons making up atoms, but there also have to be the uncharged neutrons which balance out the nucleus and prevent it exploding. Both protons and neutrons are made up of charged quarks which together add up to one unit of positive charge or no charge because they cancel each other out or they don’t. So that’s also simple.

Spin is however really not simple. Although this makes no sense to our macroscopic brains, spin is quantised and a property like charge and mass. Also, even more strangely, a particle can have non-integral spin, and if it does, it needs to be flipped over twice to reverse its spin. Look at it this way: there’s a gyroscope spinning in a clockwise direction when viewed from above. Usually, to make it spin anticlockwise all you need to do is turn it upside down. If, however, it had non-integral spin, if you turned it upside down, it still wouldn’t be spinning anticlockwise and you’d have to flip it over again to make it spin the other way. This is very weird and as I’m typing this I wonder if I’ve got it wrong but it’s been said that if you think you understand quantum mechanics, you don’t understand it, so presumably I do understand this because I don’t.

So why am I bothering to mention this little detail? Well, it was discovered some time ago that the way subatomic particles break down must conserve mass (taking into account that some of their mass is converted to energy when they’re stuck together), electrical charge and also this other property, spin. In order for this to work properly, there must be massless and chargeless particles. These particles seem to be nothing, but they aren’t because they have spin. These are neutrinos, and they come in various types because they’re leptons and they have corresponding more tangible particles, so there are for example muon’s neutrinos and electron’s neutrinos. They are of course bloody weird. The way they’re detected is by filling enormous buried underground tanks with dry cleaning fluid and trying to detect the tiny number of atoms which are changed by interaction with them. Since they’re produced in nuclear reactions, the Sun emits them. It’s been said that a million neutrinos passed through a wall of lead a light year thick, almost all of them would come out the other side. They virtually do not interact with matter. About forty-odd years ago, there was a problem understanding the Sun because it wasn’t producing enough neutrinos. In other words, the massive tanks of dry-cleaning fluid under the Alps or wherever they were kept were not producing detectable numbers of different atoms. I mean, I don’t know how you detect a couple of altered atoms in six hundred tonnes of dry cleaning fluid, but apparently you can. I’ve probably missed the point. Incidentally, I don’t want to go off on too much of a tangent but I find it kind of annoying that there is a thing called “dry-cleaning fluid“. How is it dry-cleaning then, eh? And while I’m at it, it used to be used to decaffeinate coffee, or something similar did, and it always used to give me a stomach ache when I drank it. Tangent alert!

Okay, so my point is that for whatever reason I didn’t have any problem accepting that neutrinos existed even though they were massless and practically didn’t interact with matter, at the age of seven. In fact, in 1987 it turned out that neutrinos did in fact have some mass because a couple of hundred thousand years ago, a star exploded in one of the Milky Way’s satellite galaxies and the neutrinos took a few seconds longer to get here than the light, implying that they were travelling more slowly than light and must therefore have mass.

Now for the famous problem.

Centuries ago, Johannes Kepler worked out that the time it takes a planet to orbit the Sun can be worked out straightforwardly from its distance. To quote Kepler’s Third Law, “the squares of the orbital periods of the planets are directly proportional to the cubes of the semi-major axes of their orbits”. Semi-major axis is the mean distance of a planet’s orbit from the Sun. Isaac Newton generalised this law to come up with the law of gravity, and it’s supposed to apply to everything in the Universe. There’s a lot more, but this is the important bit. It means that if you look, for example, at the triple star system next to the Sun, you can work out from the masses of Proxima Centauri, α Centauri A and B and their distances from each other how long it takes them all to orbit each other. The much closer A and B are close in mass to each other and take eighty years to orbit and Proxima, which is eleven thousand times the distance of Earth from the Sun, takes 550 thousand years to orbit the other two, whose total mass is what matters. However, it doesn’t stay this simple.

If you look at a galaxy, you might think you can calculate its mass from the number of stars in it and their sizes. Galaxies rotate very, very slowly: our solar system takes something like 225 million years to orbit its centre. It ought therefore to be expected that the time taken for a star twice as far out from the centre to orbit this galaxy should be the square root of the cube of twice as long as 225 million years, i.e. a little under three times as long. However, it actually only takes about twice as long. Why?

Obviously you can’t see everything in the Galaxy. If you were looking at this solar system from α Centauri, even with a fantastically powerful telescope, you wouldn’t be able to see Jupiter, any of the other planets or moons, any of the dwarf planets or any of the asteroids, and between the stars there are also rogue planets wandering in interstellar space, dust, maybe black holes and brown dwarf “stars” too dim to see as well as potential comets very slowly orbiting sheer light months from the Sun, so there definitely is missing mass which means galaxies would seem to rotate faster than just counting up the stars would predict, and also, coming back to neutrinos, they also increase the mass of galaxies somewhat. However, for this to work as a way of accounting for how fast galaxies spin, and also how quickly galaxies “near” each other affect each others’ motion, well over three-quarters of the mass of a galaxy would have to consist of this sort of stuff. Maybe it does, but it probably doesn’t because for example 99.8% of the mass of our solar system is the Sun. Therefore it probably isn’t lots of ordinary invisible matter doing this.

Therefore, scientists decided that there must be something called WIMPs – Weakly Interacting Massive Particles. This is by contrast with MACHOs – MAssively Compact Halo Objects – which is the idea that there’s a roughly spherical cloud of massive ordinary matter also orbiting galaxies outside the plane of the arms. I’m about to come to the point by the way. To me, and to a lot of other people, WIMPs seem to be invented just to explain the problem. They’re most of the matter in the Universe, but they conveniently do not interact with the matter we’re familiar with. I paused there because I almost wrote “do not interact with ordinary matter”, but in fact if this is true they actually are “ordinary” matter, and it’s atoms, molecules and light which aren’t, in other words all the stuff which can be detected. Hence I think this is silly and go with a different hypothesis, which is MoND – Modified Newtonian Dynamics. This is the idea that the explanation is that Newton’s laws of gravity only work on relatively small scales and break down if you consider them over thousands of light years or further.

All this said, I am perfectly well aware that I’m no physicist. I did have my doubts about the cosmological constant as a teenager but just thought it was because I didn’t understand physics, then it turned out Albert Einstein had the same doubts and found it embarrassing, so maybe I should listen to my intuition more. Maybe people can be too embedded in their area of expertise to realise the flaws in their thoughts. Or, maybe an outsider just doesn’t understand properly and only thinks she does.

But my point is not about this but ageing and how people accept and reject things as they get older. As a child, I liked the idea of neutrinos because they were absurd and weird, and therefore fascinating. As a fifty-seven year old, and in fact even when I was quite a bit younger, I find the idea of dark matter, which is what I’ve just described, hard to accept even though it’s quite similar in a lot of ways to neutrinos. And that’s the process of becoming more conservative as you get older, and therefore this now becomes not an abstruse argument about physics or cosmology but personality and maturity.

There has been a pattern where young people start off left wing and become right wing old people. This is apparently less true than it used to be. Why this happens is another question. It may be that as one acquires wealth and possessions, one realises that one’s position of poverty and the apparent need to depend on the state for financial support was temporary and would also be for other people, and therefore things will get better or easier if one takes responsibility for things. Or, it could be that as one’s career advances, one makes moral compromises and therefore descends into self-deception and rationalisation for them. Or, again, maybe it’s cognitive decline and an inevitable process of being more easily duped by politicians and media-based propaganda. Conservative ideas are more appealing because they’re about the “good old days”. If this last one is so, the answer to a drift to the right may be just to decide that one was more likely to have been correct before one started losing one’s marbles and freeze one’s political opinions at that stage, but when new situations arise it can be harder to apply those principles than it used to be.

Why has this image appeared at this point on this blog post? Well. . .

I accept that neutrinos exist. Once upon a time, in 1887 CE, a guy called Lazarus Zamenhoff living in Poland invented a language called Esperanto, which I’m sure you’ve heard of. It was designed to be simple and logical, and was specifically constructed in a Europe where the various powers had been at each others’ throats for centuries, so the vocabulary was mainly based on Romance, Germanic, Greek and Slavic roots, plus a few completely invented words. In order to make learning it easier, Zamenhoff introduced the idea that words could be plugged together to change their meaning in a completely regular way, so for example the prefix “mal-” would turn a word into its opposite: “bona” means “good”, “malbona” means “bad”, and more controversially, “knabo” means “boy” and “knabino” girl, and in fact in the original version of the language all the gendered terms are unmarked when masculine and marked when feminine in this way. This is sexist but there are practical reasons for it. As in natural languages which mark this kind of gender, there are ways of working round it.

One of the possible flaws in the language is what this approach to word building does to words which are similar in many languages. For instance, take the English word “school”. In French this is «école», in German ,,Schule”, in Indonesian “sekola” and so on. All words which look and sound similar. In Esperanto, the word for school is “lernejo” – “learn-place”. This is easy to form and break down, and it reduces the need to learn a more opaque word, but the chances are that in many cases the word will already exist in the learner’s native language and there may at least initially be some puzzlement.

Germaine Greer’s famous book is called ‘The Female Eunuch’ in English, the language it was written in. The Esperanto word for “eunuch” is the rather logical word “neŭtro”, related to the adjective “neŭtra”, meaning “neuter”. However, since unmarked nouns in Esperanto usually refer to males or inanimate items, “neŭtro” means “male eunuch”. “-Ino” is the feminising ending. Hence the Esperanto word for “female eunuch” is “neŭtrino”! I don’t know whether Greer’s book has been translated into Esperanto or what its title is if it has, and I also don’t know what the Esperanto word for the elementary particle is, but logic suggests that neutrinos are called something else in Esperanto and the word “neŭtrino” does in fact mean “female eunuch”. If not, the chances are that when Esperantists talk about fundamental particles they say that there are vast tanks of dry-cleaning fluid under the Alps intended to detect female eunuchs and that when scientists detected Supernova 1987A, they noticed that female eunuchs don’t move at the speed of light. Well I could’ve told ’em that.

So what’s my point? Do I have one? Surprisingly, yes. As I’ve got older, like many other people my acceptance of novelty has become less flexible and although I was fine with neutrinos I wasn’t fine with dark matter. Neutrinos were discovered in 1956, though they were theorised earlier. ‘The Female Eunuch’ was published in 1970. Esperanto had its rules laid down in 1887, and although better-designed versions of the language have been proposed since, it’s difficult to accept them because the whole point of Esperanto was that it was supposed to be a single language which everyone could use. I actually think Esperantido is loads better but I wouldn’t use it because it isn’t the original. This rigid design is reflected in the fact that these two concepts, the female eunuch and the neutrino, have happened in the world getting on for a century after the language was devised, but it isn’t open to accepting new ideas in that way. As such, Esperanto represents exactly what happens to us as we get older, but not because we compromise or become more conservative, but simply because we were designed for an earlier age, in the case of Esperanto, one where neutrinos were unknown and second-wave feminism was unthought of.

It occurs to me also that second-wave feminism itself has also been superceded and may be in the same position, but that’s another story.

黑暗森林 – The Dark Forest

I’ve just heard an excellent podcast episode called ‘The 3 Body Problem Problem’, which you can listen to here. It’s very wide-ranging, and be warned, rather despair-inducing. I’m not going to go into too much depth about it, but I am going to talk about the Dark Forest Hypothesis in its social and political, and maybe psychological, setting, which is what that podcast already did.

The new Netflix series ‘The 3-Body Problem’ is an eight-part adaptation of 刘慈欣 (Liú Cíxīn)’s famous and award-winning novel, 三体, the first of a trilogy called ‘地球往事’, translated as ‘Remembrance of Earth’s Past’. In order to engage with this series in sufficient context, I feel like I’m going to have to zoom out so far that the actual trilogy itself is going to end up looking like an invisibly small dot on an invisibly small dot, and I don’t want that to happen so I’m going to have to break it down a bit. I am deliberately posting names and titles in 汉字 (Hanzi) because of the issues it raises. Two things about this: I am more used to Wade-Giles than pinyin romanisation and I prefer traditional Hanzi to simplified because the latter is trickier to associate with the ideas it represents. Looking at simplified Hanzi, which is what this is, is like having a migraine because there are bits missing from the characters which one really could do with being able to see. Yes this makes me a dinosaur, but non-avian dinosaurs would still be around today were it not for their “left hand down a bit” mishap 66 million years ago and there was basically nothing wrong with them.

I’ve read the first book of the trilogy. I didn’t so much not want to read the rest as find it an unnecessary financial outlay, so it ended there. Netflix too might end it there because they apparently haven’t had as much success out of this extremely expensive series as they’d hoped, so like several other series they may well cancel it way before time, while in the meantime adding lots of fluff to stories which were supposed to end like ’13 Reasons Why’, and while I’m at it, that book and series is interesting because it’s basically ‘An Inspector Calls’ for the twenty-first century and yet manages to be quite unfortunate in its implications regarding bereavement of people who have killed themselves (I don’t use the S-word because it’s not a crime). Anyway, before I get irredeemably off-topic I shall post a

Spoiler Warning!

and be done with it. So if you want to enjoy ‘The 3-Body Problem’, don’t read past here.

Before I get into the broader issues with the Netflix series and the book, I thought I’d explain what the Three Body Problem itself is. First of all, it’s fairly easy to work out where Cynthia (“the Moon”) and Earth are going to be at a given time, so for example we can easily work out when the phases happen, when it rises and sets, how far away they are from each other, when eclipses happen and how long lunar months are, and by extension the times of the tides. A lot of these things are also linked to Earth’s rotation, but the mathematics are fairly straightforward, although because both Earth and Cynthia move in ellipses relative to each other and the centre of mass (the “baycentre”) about which both orbit is not at Earth’s centre, and it would really help to know calculus, which I don’t, to make these calculations. Likewise with the Sun and Earth we know when the equinoctes and solstices are and how far away the barycentre of the two bodies is at any given moment to a high degree of accuracy. This is because Earth, Cynthia and the Sun and Earth are two bodies each when considered in that way. The fact that we can work out all this stuff in both cases also shows something else: that there are some straightforward pretty much accurate solutions for three bodies provided they’re in certain arrangements with each other. There are actually a lot of situations when the movement of three bodies fairly close to each other like the three mentioned here can be determined quite accurately. The case described here is simplified by the fact that Cynthia is both close to and much less massive than Earth and the Sun is much further away and more massive than either. Another very useful case is that of the Lagrange Points, where the balance between the gravity of two of the bodies is equal, leading to a stable point associated with them. Examples of this are sixty degrees behind or ahead of a planet or satellite in the same orbit, some cislunar point between a planet and its star or a planet and its satellite where the gravitational pulls are equal and cancel out, and some translunar point where the pull of Cynthia and Earth are again equal. As I’ve mentioned before on this blog, these points form a kind of “rapid transit system” around the Solar System which minimise the energy required to get between the various asteroids, moons and planets. There are other situations too. However, the Universe isn’t usually that neat and the majority of interactions between three bodies in fairly close proximity to each other are chaotic.

You really do need to look away now if you want to avoid spoilers.

The  三体 (Sān tǐ) are technologically competent aliens native to the Alpha Centauri system in the story. The Centauri system is in reality a ternary star system. Two Sun-like stars, one somewhat more massive and warmer than the other, orbit each other at a distance of between eleven and thirty-six times Earth’s distance from the Sun, whereas eleven thousand times the Earth-Sun distance, known as an AU (astronomical unit) from the barycentre orbits a much less massive red dwarf, Proxima, famously the closest star to the Sun except that since it takes half a million years to orbit the system so for some of the time it’s further from us than the other two, ignoring the fact that the entire system and the Solar System are both in their own orbits around the Galaxy. Right now, though, as its name suggests, its the closest. This situation, where two stars orbit each other much more closely than a third, is very common in the Universe and seems to be the most stable arrangement: the stars arrived in these positions after some chaotic behaviour and have now settled down. However, in 刘慈欣’s book, he imagines that a planet situated near these stars would have a chaotic orbit, some of the time getting too hot for complex life, sometimes getting too cold, sometimes being seriously perturbed by their gravity and sometimes almost being ripped apart by it and suffering severe volcanic eruptions. Life on such a planet could be imagined to be very difficult. It’s worth noting that this is not the real situation for most possible orbits of planets in the Centauri system, although it would be so for certain positions, such as for a planet halfway between the Sun-like pair or orbiting the Proxima far enough away to be strongly influenced by that pair’s gravity.

Due to the chaos of their home world, the 三体 decide to travel to Earth, and while doing so they also decide to harness the power of human intelligence by getting us to solve their world’s three-body problem through a VR video game where the player is put on the world in question, represented in a way humans can relate to, and has to find a solution to their predicament.

The first book, ‘三体’, begins in the 1960s during 毛泽东’s (Máo Zédōng’s) Cultural Revolution, where a scientist,哲泰, is being denounced in a Struggle Session for his teaching of Einsteins Theories of Relativity. He is in fact killed in the process and his daughter, 文洁, is sentenced to hard labour followed by prison. This leads to her becoming very cynical about the human condition and our ability to improve things ourselves. Later on, she is employed as an indentured servant practicing science at a military base attempting to send and receive messages from any alien civilisations which might exist in other star systems, apparently focussing on the Centauri system. One day, she receives a message from an individual altruistic alien telling her that humans must at all costs cease to attempt broadcasting their existence and attempting to message aliens because it puts us all in danger. Because she now believes there is no way humans can sort out their own problems, 叶文洁 does the opposite, sending an enthusiastic message of welcome to the 三体, i.e. the aliens, and they proceed to plan to invade Earth, a process which will take four centuries because they can only travel at one percent of the speed of light.

There’s plenty more to both the series and the original trilogy, but this is enough to be going on with in terms of the details of the first book, and there is a particularly crucial point which is named after the middle novel of the trilogy: “黑暗森林”, or “The Dark Forest”. 刘慈欣 is not actually the first person to propose this idea.

Anyone who has read much of my blog will know that I think about the Fermi Paradox more than occasionally, but just in case you haven’t come across this, the Fermi Paradox, mentioned by the physicist Enrico Fermi in 1950 CE but not originally his idea, is this: the Universe is vast and there are innumerable Sun-like stars and planets orbiting them, and also æons old, so that life could have evolved from microbes to humans almost three times over or more given its age, and yet we hear nothing from intelligent aliens, are unaware even of the existence of life anywhere else in the Universe and have never been visited by them. In other words, “where is everybody?”. I’ve mentioned a few of the more interesting attempts at solving this problem in this blog. For instance, it might simply be that everyone else is really bad at maths and therefore there’s no rocket science on alien worlds, or it could be that the element phosphorus is always essential to life but is too scarce for it to happen very often, and when there are intelligent life forms, they can’t get out of their little oasis of phosphorus to reach other star systems, where in any case they’d have to take phosphorus with them to establish an outpost. One simple solution is that there’s no life anywhere else in the Universe at all. One I was keen on for a very long time was that other civilisations have something like the ‘Star Trek’ Prime Directive, that they can’t interfere with developing civilisations until they reach a certain stage of development. It could also be that there are plenty of civilisations which reach something like a twentieth century level of technological development but then end up wiping themselves out in a nuclear war, destroying themselves through climate change or developing artificial intelligence which then decides they’re a threat and kills them all. Note that I say “twentieth century level”: we could be living on borrowed time here.

Quite a lot of this is not at all reassuring. Perhaps even less reassuring is 黑暗森林, which is as I say not actually an original idea although it was 刘慈欣 who actually named it that. The exact metaphor was used by Greg Bear in the 1980s. The idea is this. There is silence out there because aliens elsewhere in the Universe are aware that broadcasting their presence would threaten their existence due to potentially hostile threats from other star systems, and humans are simply too naïve to realise what a bad idea it is to tell all and sundry we’re here. We don’t know any of them from Eve, and they could be really dangerous. They could just go, “ooh juicy, another race to enslave and another nice planet to conquer” and do something horrible to everyone. Another way of putting it: “it’s quiet. Too quiet.” It’s like the silence that falls over the clichéed hostile bar when someone from the Other Side enters.

Now I do not like this solution, to say the least. Obviously in saying that I could just be all weird about it and say, “well I don’t like this any more than you do, but facts is facts and it is what it is,” but that’s not what I’m saying. I might not like the course of a fatal disease or the policies of a particular political party, but it’s still possible to find that particular pathology interesting or the implementation of a particular set of policies fiendishly clever or elegant in a Machiavellian way. In this case, however, I see the solution itself as pathological, and apparently I’m not alone in that as you will find if you listen to that podcast. But I already had these misgivings before I heard it. The problem is that it’s very negative and cynical, which doesn’t necessarily make it unappealing, but more than that, it seems to be a reflection of the current state of the society, or perhaps world, in which it was written.

Because the thing is,  ‘地球往事’ is horribly, horribly grim and oppressive feeling. Suppose you look up at the skies and you see stars, an infinite horizon, endless hope and possibility and most of all for me the feeling that the atrocities and Hell we’ve made for ourselves on this small blue dot is as nothing compared to the hope the splendour of this unknown Universe around us shows. Even if it’s devoid of life entirely, it’s still magnificent and majestic, and moreover in spite of the actual Three Body Problem as opposed to the book, most of it works for pretty much of the time in one way or another. And if it isn’t devoid of life, there’s the optimism and awesomeness of a Cosmos replete with possibilities of friendship and fascinating variety. “Infinite variety in infinite combinations” as the Vulcans say.

There’s hardly any point in saying this, but just because something is appealing doesn’t make it plausible. I might be looking up at the sky with foolish, immature and groundless optimism. Absolutely, that could be so, and it’s very hard to decide whatbecause of the silence we all experience from the vast emptiness that surrounds us. So I don’t like it, but more importantly, what do the myths we make up say about us? What does it mean that 刘慈欣, in the 中华人民共和国 (People’s Republic of China) of the twenty-first century CE, is able to get this idea out to popular culture in the West via Netflix? Were there obstacles placed in front of him by the 中国共产党 (CCP) difficult to overcome, or were they not placed there in the first place because he perhaps has a knack of saying what they want him to say? Is he an establishment or an anti-establishment figure, and what does it mean that Netflix are apparently happy to stream what might be 中国共产党 propaganda? Or is it universal in some way, and if so is that universality a good thing or a bad thing?

‘ 三体’ has also been adapted by 腾讯 (Tencent) into a very different version. I know about 腾讯 on a personal level because someone close to me worked in 中国 (the Central State, i.e. China) for some time and the only way we could send messages to each other was through their app, QQ. Now I didn’t trust QQ very much at all and I was careful what I said on it, and I believe that was justified. One way of looking at this is that I’ve been duped by Western anti-Chinese propaganda, but it’s not that simple. QQ is their social media. Our social media are about as trustworthy, and this is not at all to say that 中国共产党 is better than the global megacorps. It’s more that they’re equally bad. It’s not about not trusting 中国. It’s about not trusting any big faceless organisation of any kind, because they simply will not have the interests of the ninety-nine percent at heart. We all know this.

Getting back to the actual Three Body Problem as understood in physics, it seems fairly clear that 刘慈欣 uses it as a metaphor for how unrestricted social systems are chaotic and unpredictable. A laissez-faire economic or social system, or a liberal or social democracy is just such a chaotic system, but it can be simplified by totalitarianism. If the likes of 中国共产党 and 腾讯, i.e. a few large organisations with a high degree of control over society, exist, we no longer have a chaotic Three-Body Problem but at least a special case of the problem like that of the Lagrangian Points or the Sun and Earth. Society can be made sense of and predicted. Likewise, in the West we have something like the social media firms, able to socially manipulate us all, and the US Republican Party, greatly simplifying the West through that extreme degree of control and gaslighting. So Netflix will be fine with streaming ‘The 3-Body Problem’ and by clamouring for a second season, which I must admit I personally want, we’re actually saying yes please, let’s have some more of that tasty propaganda.

There’s more than this though. ‘Star Trek’, and even more so Iain M Banks’s ‘Culture’ series and Ursula K Le Guin’s ‘The Dispossessed’, all provide a hopeful mythos for the nature of the wider Galaxy and optimism for the future. To quote from Banks’s ‘State Of The Art’:

Here we are with our fabulous GCU, our supreme machine; capable of outgenerating their entire civilization and taking in Proxima Centauri on a day trip…here we are with our ship and our modules and platforms, satellites and scooters and drones and bugs, sieving their planet for its most precious art, its most sensitive secrets, its finest thoughts and greatest achievements…and for all that, for all our power and our superiority in scale, science, technology, thought and behaviour, here was this poor sucker, besotted with them when they didn’t even know he existed, spellbound with them, adoring them; and powerless. An immoral victory for the barbarians.

Not that I was in a much better position myself. I may have wanted the exact opposite of Dervley Linter, but I very much doubted I was going to get my way, either. I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t want to keep them safe from us and let them devour themselves; I wanted maximum interference…I wanted to see the junta generals fill their pants when they realized that the future is––in Earth terms––bright, bright red.

Instead of such a myth, we are now asked to adopt 黑暗森林 as the explanation for the silence of the heavens, and maybe beyond that to accept that that silence justifies fear of the Other, and through that fear, as occurs later in the trilogy, that totalitarianism is the only answer. Does that sound at all familiar? Does it perhaps sound like certain members of the Republican Party rejecting democracy and freedom of the press in favour of Project 2025? And yes, it most definitely sounds like something coming out of 中国, but it’s equally at home in the West, and I happen to be mentioning the US Republican Party here but it applies just as much to many other Western countries, including Britain.

You may have struggled with my incessant use of 汉字 in this post but all that really is, most of the time, is a way of transcribing ideas into ideograms like our &’s and @’s. Just as we might look over at that country and think that the Central State has essentially foreign ideas based on the thoughts of “Chairman” Mao, we might also imagine that the capitalist West is free from such things. But it isn’t. It suits the West just fine actually. Nor is the Central State in any wise Communist, because by definition any economy with a stock market isn’t Communist. It’s just as capitalist as we are and it’s actually better at it, to the extent that certain people could learn from them how to be even more capitalist than they are already. Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia.

We are aware that encounters between White people from Western Europe and racialised people elsewhere, such as in Afrika, the Americas and Oceania, have not generally ended well for the latter, and this has often been associated with a mismatch in technology. We might attempt to deduce that this is also what would happen if another species from elsewhere in the Universe with superior technology encountered humanity. However, that makes the rather major and unwarranted assumption that aliens are like us. This is unlikely, partly because they’re alien but also because in this scenario they’ve reached another star system. It also assumes that the greed and materialism dictated by the European-derived economic system is a law of nature and that there’s no other way things can proceed.

This, though, is how I see things going. Here we are on Earth with increasing threats to our civilisation, mostly self-inflicted, such as the use of weapons of mass destruction, anthropogenic climate change and artificial intelligence, among other more prosaic problems. In the meantime, we haven’t been back to Cynthia for over fifty years and there’s no sign of us building large space colonies or going to Mars. Hence we’re missing out on the Overview Effect, or Arthur C Clarke’s ‘Rocket To The Renaissance’, both of which could stand a good chance of changing global consciousness, we have no orbital solar power stations which could satisfy all of our energy needs and enrich Third World nations around the Equator, and various calamities could, and probably will, befall us which space exploration and settlement would’ve prevented. On the other hand, suppose a civilisation out there somewhere has thriven and got past this, or hasn’t got itself into such a pickle in the first place. Those are the kinds of civilisation which we’re likely to end up contacting, because the others simply aren’t viable. Which kind of civilisation we are remains to be seen to some extent, although I know which one I think we are. Or maybe every species of this kind just ends up annihilating itself.

The attempt to contact aliens depicted early on in this series and book is an act of hope, of optimism, which is depicted as bringing down utter catastrophe upon the world. Well no, I’m not going to adopt that view, particularly when it seems to suit certain social forces exceedingly well. I prefer the other. Hence if technological cultures exist elsewhere, they would be of the following kinds: unable or unwilling to leave their planet and perhaps quite healthily uninterested in doing so, in which case they’re not a threat; capable of space travel but also wiping themselves out before leaving their solar system, and yes those would be hostile but are not a threat; able to leave their systems but unwilling to contact us for various reasons; able to leave their systems, peaceful, coöperative and friendly. Or, there could just not be any intelligent life anywhere else. Any of these options has nothing to do with the Dark Forest, is more inspiring than that and is less likely to be useful for political oppression. So there!

Star-tling Thoughts

I don’t know where to start with this one! The reason for this picture will eventually become clearer.

You probably know I’m panpsychist, which is linked to my veganism. I suppose the best place to begin is to account for this connection and the reasons for this belief, and also to describe what that belief actually is first of all, so here goes.

Panpsychism is the belief that matter is inherently conscious. In fact I’m not so sure about this definition because it might also be that space itself is conscious. I should point out further that my own version of panpsychism might differ from the usual version, and that it isn’t the same as hylozoism or pantheism. I usually employ an analogy with ferromagnetism, thus. Many elementary particles carry an electrical charge, including in particular quarks and some leptons. All such particles have magnetic fields, and a north and south pole which means they can be lined up by applying a magnetic field to them. However, most materials, though they’re largely made up of such particles, are not magnets. Only certain arrangements of matter are, the most familiar of which are lumps of iron whose magnetic domains are aligned. In this situation, the essential magnetic character of most matter comes to express itself in a macroscopic way which can be observed easily. There are other arrangements which are also magnets, such as the rare earth pickups used in electric guitars.

Consciousness is, in my view, similar. At least many and possibly all elementary particles are conscious, and in fact possibly all of space because of virtual particles. However, most materials, though they’re largely made up of such particles, are not minds. Only certain arrangements of matter are, the most familiar of which are wakeful humans with their particular bodily form and functions. In this situation, the essential conscious character of most matter comes to express itself in a macroscopic way which can be observed easily. There are other arrangements which are also minds.

There may also be a need to contrast this with pantheism and hylozoism. Hylozoism is the belief that everything is alive. This is not the same thing as most people would probably say that not all living things are conscious, such as bacteria and plants. It’s more like the belief that the Cosmos is an immense living organism, which to some extent I can get on board with because it’s a bit like the very liberal definition of acid which interprets almost all chemical reactions as reactions involving the action of an acid. It’s fine, but it’s not panpsychism. The other thing panpsychism isn’t, although I have some sympathy with it, is pantheism, which is the idea that God is everything. One issue with that belief is that it can be a kind of squeamish version of atheism which is afraid to call a spade a spade. I am personally not pantheist because God is unlike and not dependent upon any created (or sustained) thing. That doesn’t mean the Universe isn’t worthy of respect or that God is more like a human than the Universe. I don’t want to dwell on these distinctions, but it’s important they be made because many people think this is the claim I’m making.

Okay, so why do I believe this? Because there’s no other way of accounting for consciousness. All the other models – behaviourism, physicalism, psychophysical dualism, functionalism, idealism and anomalous monism – have massive flaws. I don’t want to go into them in depth right now because although I’m staking out a vague claim here, this isn’t the main point of this post. The claim that panpsychism isn’t a solution to the mind-body problem either is also fair, because it attempts to solve the problem by assuming what it’s trying to account for. Why would matter be like that?

This belief of mine has certain consequences. For instance, it makes me vegan but in a way my veganism is more extreme and sadder than most people’s because I accept that plants are also conscious and suffer. Hence veganism is just a kind of utilitarianism where suffering is minimised rather than a particularly positive way of life where no avoidable suffering and death is wrought upon the world. I constantly destroy bacteria too. We cannot be entirely non-violent but we should still strive to be as non-violent as possible, and partly for that reason it’s not my place to judge others. The world is a practically endless cycle of carnage in which we are all complicit. I’m vegan because eating animals or dairy products would involve an unnecessary extra step which would involve the death of more plants than just eating plants.

All this doesn’t generally occupy my mind much. However, a couple of things have come to light in the past week. One was that I met up with my ex and was presented with a first draft of an essay I wrote for my Masters:

I’ve already talked about my time at Warwick. The above essay is a reaction to a comment made by Christine Battersby near the beginning of that year. The reason I did my MA was to further pursue radical philosophy and help to provide a theoretical basis for progressive politics, and as I must surely have said elsewhere, it turned out that Warwick University’s primary activity seemed to be manufacturing excuses for why the political state of affairs was inevitable – capitalist realism in other words. I hoped that the Women’s Studies contingent would be better but although I very much liked their transphobia, they were also speciesist. Battersby claimed that consciousness depends on language use, so in other words if you don’t have a voice it doesn’t matter what happens to you. She was utterly focussed on humans and didn’t care about anything else. I’m not going to rubbish everything she says, because for example ‘Gender And Genius’ is a very interesting book, but there were a number of problems with her belief system, not least its incompatibility with more than a very limited anthropocentric version of veganism. If you can’t see what’s wrong with that, you need to check your privilege. Yes, I know that’s a cliché.

So that’s one. The other one is more widely interesting but no less personal. It starts, as so many things do, with Olaf Stapledon, “W.O.S”, whose name is associated with the works ‘Last And First Men’ and ‘Star Maker’. The second is more relevant here. Neither of these books is really a novel, and in fact this statement is made at the beginning of the first. They are, however, both science fiction. The first describes the two thousand million year-long future history of the human race from 1930 onward. The second covers the entire history of the Multiverse, focussing mainly on our own Universe. Yeah yeah, big canvas, vast scope, origin of the adjective Stapledonian, but that isn’t what I want to concentrate on right now. The relevant bit at the moment is the way stars are portrayed. And I quote:

It isn’t clear whether W.O.S. actually believed this, but then again it isn’t even clear whether W.O.S. considered himself the author of these words for reasons I can’t be bothered to go into here, but there are two ways of looking at this taken at face value. One is hylozoism – stars are living organisms. In fact, in ‘Star Maker’, various things are living and sentient organisms which might not be considered so by most earthlings. The other is something close to panpsychism, at least if the star itself is considered a world. The outer layers of the star are conscious. The chapter goes on to claim that the voluntary movements of stars are identified by astrophysics as their normal movements as predicted by scientific laws and theories.

This sounds fanciful and outlandish, not to say unscientific and perhaps even superstitious. We don’t generally look at the stars at night and think of them moving around deliberately. In fact, apart from the fact of Earth’s rotation, most of the time non-astronomers don’t think about the stars’ proper motion at all. Eppur si muoveno – pardon my Italian. The formation and rotation of galactic arms is confounding in various ways. The most obvious of these is the one dark matter is evoked to explain. The velocity of objects in the outer margins of galaxies does not compare to those further in according to the mass of the visible portion of those galaxies, so it’s claimed that there must be invisible matter causing them to rotate faster than they should. Moreover, the spiral arms of galaxies are more like the bunches of vehicles in traffic jams, separated by sparsely-populated stretches of road, through which individual motorists move, than a kind of “formation dance” arrangement. Finally, and this is a more significant fact than may at first appear, stars of different spectral classes move at different velocities around the galaxy. At this point I should probably fish out the Hertzsprung-Russell Diagram:

By Richard Powell – The Hertzsprung Russell Diagram, CC BY-SA 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1736396

It can be seen that stars are not randomly distributed by these criteria. There are, for instance, no small hot stars other than white dwarfs and there’s a general correlation between brightness and heat, the hottest stars being on the left of the diagram – O-type stars like Rigel. Hence their size and mass can be taken into consideration if need be. The cooler stars are on the right, and these are the interesting ones from the viewpoint of the very peculiar statement that has been quite recently been made about them by a respectable astrophysicist.

So here’s the thing: cooler stars move faster around the Galaxy than hotter ones at the same distance from the centre. This is called Parenago’s Discontinuity. More specifically, stars of spectral type F8 and hotter “orbit” faster. A few explanations have been offered for this apart from the rather obvious one I’m going to mention in a bit. One is that stars might be shining more brightly on one side than the other, and although light has no mass, it does have momentum and therefore can be used as a method of propulsion:

Another “sensible” explanation is that the stars emit jets of plasma which have the same effect, and there seems to be a third one that it’s to do with stars being slowed down as they move through nebulæ.

Okay, so another explanation has been offered by one Gregory Matloff. Matloff is a pretty respectable guy. He has a doctorate in meteorology and oceanography, a Masters in astronautics and aeronautics and a BA in physics. He’s authored various books, such as one on solar sails with Eugene Mallove – this is the very real technology of using reflective mylar sheets as a form of space propulsion by sunlight pushing on the “sail” thus formed, because as I said above, starlight has momentum which can be used as a power source. He’s currently a professor of physics. So this guy is not exactly like a Sasquatch chaser or UFOlogist – he has been involved in SETI but in a very dry, scientific kind of way – but has some respectable credentials. It should also be said that just because someone is an expert in their own field, it doesn’t mean their opinions are worthy of respect in other fields about which they know less. Immanuel Velikovsky seems to have been a competent psychiatrist but his claims about the recent origin of Venus as a comet are completely ridiculous and seem also to be motivated reasoning. Matloff is not like that so far as I can tell.

So why am I going on about this bloke then? Because he’s a panpsychist. Not only that, but he reckons panpsychism is a testable explanation for why cooler stars circle around the Galaxy more quickly than hotter ones. He believes that such stars are conscious and move around of their own volition. They don’t obey the laws of physics as we know them as precisely as they’d be expected to, but the extent to which they don’t is only like someone running for a hundred years and changing their velocity over that time by a couple of centimetres a second. This minimal degree of involvement reminds me of the Steady State Theory, which saw matter as continuously springing into existence at the rate of about two hydrogen atoms a year in a volume the size of the Empire State Building. Although, so far as I can tell, Matloff is open to the idea that the stars in question are adjusting their speed and direction using jets or changing their luminosity, he’s also open to the much more controversial idea that not only are they doing it deliberately but that they’re doing it by psychokinesis.

There comes a point in certain conversations where the “argument by incredulous stare” is deployed. This happens in a couple of philosophical areas, one of which is panpsychism and another of which is modal realism (the idea that the Multiverse is real). However, mere outlandishness doesn’t make something false and doesn’t constitute an argument against it. This is the fallacy of the argument from incredulity, much beloved of flat Earthers and Apollo mission deniers. It is, though, true that extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.

A relatively good piece of evidence that this is in fact going on is found in the fact that only cooler stars do this. There are a number of ways to account for consciousness, one of which is the behaviour of the rings making up some of the molecules in nerve cell microtubules. These are part of the cytoskeleton, and it’s been suggested that quantum events associated with the p orbitals in aromatic moieties within tubulin, the protein they’re made of, is what consciousness is. If this is so, only similar phenomena would be able to manifest consciousness, although this could be functionally equivalent and not be made of the same stuff. If it actually does require that stuff though, stars couldn’t be conscious. Maybe they aren’t. Actually this needs restating: even if panpsychism is true, it doesn’t mean that consciousness would be manifest in stars, though stars could still be impotently conscious.

Matloff prefers to evoke the Casimir Effect. An example of this is the tendency of two metal plates very close to each other to pull towards each other. It’s an example of zero-point energy, which is the “free energy” supposèdly present in empty space. Whereas this energy undoubtedly exists, it doesn’t follow that it can be extracted and used, or that if it can that that would be a good idea – my naïve mind suspects that this would cause collapse of the false vacuum and the end of the Universe, but that’s just me and I might be catastrophising. If that’s true, though, depending on the size of the Universe and how common technological cultures are within it, it seems guaranteed that that can’t happen because we’re still here. Matloff claims that the Casimir Effect’s contribution to molecular bonds makes cooler stars conscious.

This next bit is going to sound like W.O.S. again. Stars are often too hot for chemistry. Atoms as such have trouble existing in many of them because they’re too hot for electrons to stay in orbitals around them, so the idea of microtubule p orbitals being associated with consciousness is a non-starter here. However, the upper layers of stars are cooler than their interiors and molecules can form in the cooler stars, i.e. those of spectral class F8 or below. Hence the proposition that consciousness becomes operable at the energy level below which molecular bonds exist because they are involved with certain molecular bonds implies that volitional behaviour in entities below that temperature would not be found in similar entities hotter than it. In a very crude sense, all living humans have body temperatures below 6300 Kelvin, or 6000°C. This is actually true. A human running a temperature above 6000°C would not be conscious but be superheated gas. Or would she? I don’t know. It’s counterintuitive that she’d be in good mental health.

Okay, so the idea is that stars cool enough to have molecules are conscious and have volition. They act deliberately. Evidence for this is that cooler stars travel through the Galaxy faster than they should. Incidentally, this also means the Sun is conscious, because it’s a G2V star, well below the threshold where consciousness is extinguished at this stage.

Now, unfortunately I have completely forgotten how I came to this conclusion but three dozen years ago or so, I realised that if panpsychism is true, psychokinesis must also be possible. I have racked my brains about this and cannot for the life of me recall my train of thought regarding this. It isn’t to do with anything like psychophysical dualism, although that would also strongly suggest psychokinesis in the most straightforward version of that model (bodies and souls). So I apologise for this irritating omission. This also means that my reasoning can’t be examined for this belief. I might just have been wrong. Also, it makes panpsychism testable: if it could be shown that psychokinesis is impossible, it would also refute panpsychism.

Stars being conscious isn’t the same thing as panpsychism being true or psychokinesis being possible. It could be that one of the other methods of transportation they could use is under their voluntary control, and that an alternative arrangement of matter found in cooler stars also confers consciousness, but merely in functional terms like a human being is often conscious.

The problem I have with all this is that I can’t decide if Matloff is serious, or if he is, whether he’s sensible. It’s true that I am panpsychist and nowadays I take it on faith that this implies that psychokinesis is possible even though I can’t remember why. However, there is a problem with this set of claims. There’s a thing called “God Of The Gaps”, which is the idea that God is simply used to explain anything we don’t understand. Thus before the theory of evolution was popular, people believed God created all species more or less as they are in historical times. This is not a good way to believe in God. Likewise, panpsychism could be evoked to explain a lot of things we don’t have good scientific theories for. For instance, dark matter is the usual explanation for why galaxies rotate faster than the visible mass in them suggests they should. Another one is Modified Newtonian Dynamics (MoND). I don’t like the first explanation because it seems to me that dark matter is a conveniently inactive substance which has just been made up to plug the gaps in the model, although I am open to the idea that it might just be ordinary matter which can’t be seen such as rogue planets, dust, neutrinos and so on. However, it would be equally possible to say that stars simply move around galaxies faster than the ordinary laws of physics suggest because they’re using psychokinesis. In fact, maybe I’ll just decide that’s what I believe.

I can’t imagine these views being taken seriously in the astrophysics community. However, it is interesting that they are the same views as W.O.S. expressed in ‘Star Maker’ in 1937. ’Star Maker’ is a work of fiction. It gets certain things about astronomy and astrophysics completely wrong. At the time, it used to be thought that planets were formed when stars came close to each other and pulled elongated cylinders of gas out of their photospheres, which then condensed into gaseous or solid bodies, and that red giants were young stars in the process of forming. There’s clearly no omniscient authority telling W.O.S. what to write, or if there is it’s an unreliable narrator. W.O.S. does, however, portray himself as the true author of neither ‘Last And First Men’ nor ‘Star Maker’. He also narrates his own experiences in the third person in some stories, and the continuity between ‘Last Men In London’ and ‘Odd John’ suggests that he is not who he says he is. Is it possible, then, that certain ideas arrive in fiction from another source? Did W.O.S. somehow intuit that stars were conscious and did their own thing? I do have a very good reason for suspecting that this is true because of a certain paragraph in his ‘Odd John’, but because it suggests an ontological paradox and would cease to be useful as a message if I said what it was, you’re just going to have to trust me on this.

Leaving all that aside, I find it very hopeful to think of stars as living organisms, or as conscious beings. If that’s true, it means that whatever happens to this planet’s life because of what humans are doing to it, mind will continue to exist in the Universe, and in fact life, at least until the end of the Stelliferous Era, roughly one hundred million million years from now. After that, W.O.S. suggests other ways in which life and consciousness might survive and there are other suggestions about what might be possible in the very long term, but for now, if I can persuade myself that stars are conscious, I find the future to be very bright indeed.