The Big One

All moons are special of course. That is, you can probably dredge something interesting up about most of the large ones. All that said, of all the moons in the system, all the planets in fact, Titan must be near the start of any list ranked by interest. Writing this post is in fact quite daunting because I want to do it justice, and having written a couple of thousand words even on somewhere like Rhea, which let’s face it doesn’t strike me as one of the more intriguing places, I now feel obliged to do this amazing world justice, and I can do that, but I may go on and on, which I do a lot.

I live in Loughborough, and consider it a very boring town. To be fair, even when I lived in Canterbury I considered it boring even though it had that big pointy building in the middle. A more positive approach would lead to one casting around for sources of pride regarding the place, and in the case of Loughborough there are a few things. There’s the Great Central Railway, which is Britain’s only main line double track heritage railway. There’s the Bell Foundry, which produces a large proportion of church bells in Britain. Ladybird Books were based here. There’s also a university, which actually I found quite unimpressive, and it’s next to the National Forest. The Carillon is also quite special. Some people also say Loughborough is where the North starts. As you become familiar with a place, you get to realise what makes it individual and special. Consequently I can imagine people living on Rhea, perhaps working for the Rhean Tourist Board, and coming up with bits and pieces which might attract sightseers such as the possible ring system, but there would probably be a lot of time and work spent on trying to promote the moon. Rhea is in a sense the Loughborough of Saturn’s system. Titan, by contrast, sells itself. It’s the London or NYC of the system. You don’t need to push it because it’s amazing.

The illustration at the top of this post, perhaps surprisingly, is in the public domain. It’s by Chesley Bonestell, whose matte painting for ‘2001 – A Space Odyssey’ I used on this blog yesterday. Bonestell was a prominent mid-century space artist who also worked on films. He also designed a number of prominent buildings and used his skill in cinematography to create masterful depictions of space-related scenes. He was influenced by the frontier style of art, where beautiful and almost deserted landscapes in North America would have small figures, horses and wagons depicting the European pioneers travelling across the continent to settle and raise food, so many of his pictures show astronauts, spacecraft and bases on the surface of various bodies throughout the Solar System and in space itself. They also serve as a record of the state of knowledge and expectations at the time. For instance, before the Apollo program it was expected that a non-staged rocket ship would land on the lunar surface and return in one piece. The staging concept is so familiar to us nowadays that we find it quaint to imagine anything else, but there was a time when a much more straightforward vision saw a finned and streamlined craft perhaps a hundred metres high setting out from Earth and coming to rest somewhere like the Sea of Tranquility. This is what Bonestell depicts.

In the case of views from the different moons of the Solar System, artists at the time had very little to go on. They had the angles of the orbits, the distances from the planets and a rough estimate of the sizes of the moons in question. There was a lot that could be concluded from the data available but on the whole this was quite tentative. Bonestell produced a series of paintings from the major moons of Saturn, which might be expected to be quite spectacular given the planet’s rings, but in fact like most satellite systems, most of the moons orbit close to the equatorial plane, particularly the closer ones, which has the unfortunate result that either Saturn is big in the sky but has hardly visible rings because they’re seen from edge-on or does show the rings from a suitable angle but is so far away that they’re not that impressive. Moreover, although he was, I’m sure, assiduous in collecting as much information as possible about all of his subjects, he didn’t have much to go on apart from those few facts. Therefore it’s not surprising that all these paintings focus on the appearance of Saturn in these moons’ skies.

As I say, I was very surprised that his view of Titan is in the public domain. It seems to me that this is one of his most iconic and famous paintings, and just being able to post it like that, though presumably in a lower resolution than is available online for a price, is quite amazing. Incidentally, this picture occupies a significant position on the wall of a NASA office in the film version of ‘The Martian’. I don’t know if it’s on the wall anywhere in the real offices but it is quite inspiring and classic, so I wouldn’t be surprised.

All that said, it is of course inaccurate. In particular, Titan is much cloudier than that and it’s unlikely that Saturn is ever visible from the surface. Moreover, this is a daytime picture and stars are visible in the sky. In reality they wouldn’t be because not only is there copious smog in the atmosphere, in a good way, but even if there wasn’t the atmosphere has several times the density of our own air at sea level, so there’s no chance, even above the cloud deck, that stars would be visible during the day. Moreover, Bonestell has a tendency to depict ice as it would appear in terrestrial conditions rather than how they are actually likely to be on the bodies concerned. By the time you get out to Titan, the temperatures involved are so far below freezing that water ice is basically just another rocky mineral. The average surface temperature on Titan is around -182°C. This is ninety-one degrees above absolute zero, and freezing point is three times that temperature. In proportion, Earth’s mean temperature is 22°C, and three times that is 612°C, and certain common terrestrial minerals have a melting point around that, such as quartz and mica. Water ice is not just frozen water, even on Titan’s surface. The shiny, snowy look is interesting but speculative, and turns out to be wrong. I feel bad criticising his art in this way, and I want to stress that I still think his paintings are amazing and wonderful.

The landscape is also craggy in a similar way to Bonestell’s representation of the lunar surface. This is also inaccurate. Not only did it turn out to be wrong in the case of Cynthia, substantially because of moondust and micrometeoroid impacts, but it’s even less accurate for Titan because in the latter world’s case there is liquid-based erosion there. Here’s the famous image from the Huygens lander:

These are basically pebbles, at least in the foreground, and this is because of the rôle of liquid in their erosion. This, of course, is part of what makes Titan so fascinating. It’s in some ways the most Earth-like world in the whole Solar System.

This statement, though it has a lot of truth to it, can also be quite misleading. Yes, Titan is quite Earth-like but also has important differences. In the novel ‘Imperial Earth’, Arthur C Clarke illustrated the difference between the two with a burning plume of flame. On Titan, it was an oxygen spout burning in a methane atmosphere but on Earth it could be a methane spout burning in oxygen. Nowadays we realise that the rôle of methane in the Titanean atmosphere is not as a main gaseous constituent, but it still works as a good metaphor. The same kinds of phenomena often exist – rivers, lakes, seas, rain – but not in the same way. These pebbles are eroded into rounded shapes just as they would be in a stream or on a beach on Earth, but they’re likely not made enitirely of silicates but ice and the liquid eroding them is methane, gaseous on our home world. It is possible that they’re mixtures of ice and stone, so we might think of them as lumps of frozen mud or clay, but that’s considering them in terrestrial terms. In Titanean terms this planet is a furnace covered in oceans of molten rock with clouds of the same in the sky raining liquid as hot as fire, at least as far as the surface is concerned.

Titan is the second largest moon in the Solar System after Ganymede. Unlike Ganymede, and uniquely among moons, not only does it have an atmosphere, but said atmosphere is somewhat denser than Earth’s and the surface pressure is almost twice as high as ours. It is in fact the only moon in the system with a proper, collisional atmosphere like our own. This raises the question of how come Ganymede has no real atmosphere and yet the slightly smaller Titan has such a thick one. I imagine the answer is twofold. Firstly, Titan’s a lot colder than Ganymede, and secondly it’s less exposed to the solar wind because it’s twice as far from the Sun, making it only a quarter of the strength. The molecules would be moving much more slowly in the vicinity of Titan than Ganymede’s, and consequently don’t escape its gravitational pull.

Although it used to be thought to have a methane atmosphere, and a considerably more tenuous one to boot, it turned out that the main constituent of the atmosphere is the same as ours: nitrogen. This presumably means there are plenty of worlds in the Universe with a mainly nitrogen atmosphere like our own. Methane, being liquid, performs the same kind of antics as water does on Earth, making Titan the only other world in the system with liquid bodies of water and also land on its surface. There are several planets with liquid on their surfaces, but none with both liquid and solid. The fact that there is liquid flowing over a solid surface presumably means the latter is shaped, as Earth’s is, into river valleys, oxbow lakes, potholes, caverns, perhaps fjords and so forth. However, there are other factors which make it quite different.

Titan’s surface gravity is about the same as Cynthia’s, though somewhat lower at a little under a seventh of Earth’s to Cynthia’s sixth. Although it’s larger than Mercury, that planet is joint densest with Earth so Titan, with a density less than twice water’s at 1.88, has considerably less pulling power. This is due to its higher volatile content, such as water and ammonia. This also means that if Cynthia were a moon of Saturn, it too would have an atmosphere, actually a denser one even than Titan’s, and like Titan, liquids on its surface. Due to the lower gravity, the appearance of Titan’s lakes and rivers is somewhat different to Earth’s. For instance, the lakes seem to be more “spidery” in appearance, as if they have fjords. Liquid methane also appears to be more viscous than water, which combined with the much lower gravity would lead to more slowly moving rivers and less response to winds. The waves would also be different. The most important difference between methane and water, and in fact between most other liquids and water, is that the latter expands and therefore floats when it freezes whereas the former doesn’t. This means that freezing lakes on Titan would solidify from the bottom upward, making them less liable to melting or insulation from ice. Water is also slightly blue, but methane is almost perfectly colourless, so even without the distinctly orange lighting of the surface there would not be the usual bluish vista of the sea on this moon, but it is very slightly green. It’s also got a slightly lower refractive index than water, which would have some influence on the apparent distance to the horizon in humid air. However, that’s pure methane and the seas of Titan are not pure.

On Earth, we have two kinds of water. Most of our water is salty because it’s dissolved minerals from the sea bed and elsewhere, but when it first lands on the surface as snow, rain, hail, dew or frost it’s fresh. A similar division exists on Titan. The large standing bodies of water have had time to dissolve ethane and are in fact solutions of ethane in methane. They are also blackened by other hydrocarbn impurities dissolved from the crust into them. I’m guessing that this means there are “tar flats” there like Earth’s salt flats, and also the equivalent of hypersaline lakes but with ethane instead of salt.

Titan’s appearance from space is vivid orange because of the photochemical smog, similar to the reddish tholins found on many small objects far from the Sun, and they are in fact tholins themselves. In the case of the moon, it’s actually possible to image the horizon and the changing colours of the atmosphere from orbit like it is with Earth:

This is actually an ultraviolet image but has been colourised to resemble what would be seen by the human eye. Leaving its air’s composition and density aside for a bit, Titan is an important model for how an atmosphere behaves on a cold, fairly uniformly heated and slowly rotating spheroidal body. This came up recently in discussions I had with flat Earthers, because they attempt to explain the movement of Earth’s atmosphere based on the assumption that it doesn’t rotate and try to find another model which doesn’t use the Coriolis Effect. Titan and Venus provide such a model, and theoretical simulation of this moon’s atmosphere doesn’t rely on its actual existence. Like many moons, Titan has captured rotation and always shows the same face to Saturn during its sixteen day orbit, giving it a sixteen-day rotation. On a world much closer to the Sun, such a slow day would lead to winds in the atmosphere being dominated by the temperature differential between the night side and the subsolar point, leading to an “eyeball planet” to some extent, although unlike a genuine such planet it would still be rotating a little. There would be winds blowing from the tropics on the day side towards all parts of the night side, radially arranged. Above Titan, the atmosphere develops similar bands to what’s found on Jupiter, although they’re not visually apparent due to the relative homogeneity of the atmosphere. There are basically longitudinally-oriented rings around the planet with convection currents circulating between higher and lower altitudes and preventing mixing between latitudes. This is very indirect evidence that Earth is round, because if our planet wasn’t spinning this is how our atmosphere would behave, ignoring heat sources, and it doesn’t. In fact I wonder if that also causes the distinctive layers in this image. Perhaps there are multiple rotating “tubes” of air which don’t interact with each other.

The atmosphere is not horizontally homogenous. There is a “polar hood”. Titan’s orbit adds about twenty minutes to Saturn’s axial tilt of 27°, meaning that both have seasons, but in Titan’s case there is little or no significant internal heat influencing the weather, so Titan would exhibit seasons around seven years long each. The polar hood is a dark zone around the pole extending quite some way towards the equator, 70°, which appears in the local winter. It appears over both poles at different times of the “year”, i.e. the thirty-year period of Saturn’s and therefore Titan’s trip around the Sun. It seems to be caused by down-welling, which is the tendency for haze to build up in the winter at high altitudes which is then transported to the other hemisphere during spring.

Due to the lower gravity, the atmosphere is much deeper (or higher) than ours. Our “scale height”, the altitude over which density decreases by a factor of ε, or roughly 2.718. . . , is around eight and a half kilometres. The Titanean scale height is from fifteen to fifty kilometres. Now might be a good time to talk about scale height in more detail. It’s common knowledge that the further up you go on Earth, the thinner the air is. Most people cannot breathe at the top of Mount Everest without help although one can acclimatise oneself, and the air pressure inside an airliner is noticeably lower than at sea level, although it is also somewhat pressurised. The Kármán Line is the official boundary between Earth’s atmosphere and space, but is no more “real” than the borders between countries. It’s a hundred kilometres above sea level. However, the atmosphere doesn’t just suddenly cut off at that height, but gradually fades out. However, it doesn’t do that in a linear fashion. The air pressure 8.5 kilometres up is around 370 millibars, and at seventeen kilometres it’s 135 millibars, i.e. 2.718 times lower. At the Kármán line it’s about eight microbars. This actually means that were it not for the low temperature and lack of oxygen, it would be possible to survive at a much greater altitude above Titan than above Earth. The Armstrong Limit is the height at which the boiling point of water is equivalent to human body temperature, and the pressure is 62 millibars. This is about eighteen or nineteen kilometres above sea level. On Titan, taking the higher sea level (!) pressure of the atmosphere into consideration, this occurs at a minimum altitude of almost fifty kilometres up, which on Earth is the maximum height a balloon can rise to before pressure within it is equivalent to pressure around it, giving it neutral buoyancy. This also means that said balloons, airships etc, could operate at a much greater height above Titan than on Earth, at about a hundred and thirty kilometres, which on Earth would be well into space.

Methane rising into Titan’s upper atmosphere is broken down by radiation into hydrogen and ethane, which is effectively a dimer of methane with a hydrogen atom missing (in other words two methyl groups). Although it might be expected that this hydrogen would leave the atmosphere entirely, and I’m sure a lot does, what mainly happens is that the hydrogen expands and occupies a greater range of heights than it starts off at, and this leads to it moving down into the lower atmosphere. It would usually then be expected to rise back up again and leave, or perhaps react with something else, but in fact it seems to disappear. It’s been suggested that this hydrogen is being used by living organisms lower in the atmosphere. Once again, this series of posts is not supposed to be about life, but it would be weird to ignore it at this point so I think I have to say something about hydrogenosomes.

Cells with nuclei usually contain a number of bodies referred to as plastids. These include chloroplasts and mitochondria. Both of these evolved from independent microörganisms and provide their host cells with functions they would otherwise have to evolve or do themselves. Chloroplasts are of course former blue-green algæ and responsible for the kind of photosynthesis which produces oxygen as a waste product. Mitochondria use this oxygen to release energy from glucose in a controlled manner known as the Krebs Cycle. Hydrogenosomes are similar to mitochondria, are thought to have evolved from them, and do a similar job, but are found in anærobic environments, which is of course what Titan and almost everywhere else in the Universe is. They release energy by converting protons to molecular hydrogen. This is the opposite of what organisms on Titan would be doing with it, but it suggests that there is a potential source of energy there and it would explain why the hydrogen seems to vanish. Chloroplasts and mitochondria effectively have opposite functions, so maybe these are the opposite to hydrogenosomes.

Titan’s surface has now been completely mapped:

Perhaps surprisingly, in spite of the dense atmosphere and liquid and gaseous erosion, there are a number of craters on the surface, although they’re very sparse. These are the red patches on the map, all in the same hemidemisphere. The blue patches are lakes, and it’s notable that they’re within the polar circle, mainly the “Arctic”. Near the equator are dune fields, the purple bits. The green areas, plainly the largest, are in fact plains. Finally, the orange bits are described as “hummocky”. This is a cylindrical projection albedo map:

The impression one gets when looking at Titan is of a planet rather than a mere moon. It doesn’t feel like a mere adjunct to Saturn. This is clearly partly due to its size and mass, but it’s also the presence of a proper atmosphere. With the other moons, some of which technically have atmospheres which consist of sparse atoms and molecules bouncing around and perhaps orbiting, the surfaces are open to space and there’s less sense of “special space” with them. Titan’s not like that, and nor is Earth. Earth’s surface, ocean and atmosphere count to some extent as a “special space”. I will probably explain that in more depth at some point, but the gist is that there are some regions which count as special spaces for us, such as the Holy of Holies, an operating theatre, backstage or the parts of shops customers have no access to. Although they’re continuous with the rest of the Universe, there’s also a sense in which they’re kind of “roped off”, and I get that impression from Titan, but not any other moon. Conceptually it may be linked to liminal spaces and in a contemporary sense the “backrooms”. In a way, the whole of Titan’s surface is a huge “backroom”, since we’re trans its atmosphere and Titan is cis to it. It’s an arduous endeavour to reach sea level here, and it’s also kind of doing its own thing. For instance, it actually does have a sea level, or perhaps a mean sea level, since there seem to be at least two separate systems of liquid bodies. Tides will inevitably occur in these lakes, raised by Saturn and the other moons to some extent, and will be higher than is obvious due to the lower gravity. In a way, Titan is also a “desert world”, since although it does have bodies of methane on its surface they don’t form an extensive ocean. Perhaps somewhere out there are moons or planets with proper continents and oceans.

The presence of nitrogen in both Titan’s and Earth’s atmospheres suggests something further. Maybe there are planets and moons out there with oceans of liquid nitrogen.

Titan’s surface area is over eighty-three million square kilometres. This is far larger than any country or continent and getting on for the total land surface area of Earth. Next to it, even Rhea is small. It’s larger than Mercury and about the same size as Ganymede. Due to the lakes, its own land surface area is a little under that, and the greatest distance between two points on its surface is just over eight thousand kilometres, which is about the same as London to Los Angeles. This is not just some trivial moon you can give the brush-off to. It’s a massive great hulking world in space, getting on for the size of Mars, but far more distant. Similar colours too. Unlike Mars, however, Titan is constantly active and busy, with probable volcanic eruptions, though not to the extent on Io, but with water instead of lava, mixed with ammonia. It has gullies, branching streams and rivers with tributaries and evidence of tectonic activity. Basically the same stuff happens on Titan as on Earth, geologically, but with different materials involved. That said, although the surface is constantly being remodelled, it does seem that the occasional impact crater can persist. I have to say I don’t understand how.

There is more organic material and more complex organic chemistry going on there than on any other body apart from Earth. I’ve said before that tholins are like organic life’s cousin. It’s like the original complex mess of organic compounds which exist on or in a solid body have two alternatives as to how to develop, one being life and the other tholins. In Titan’s case, tholins have gone further than in any other known situation. the atmosphere is a case in point. On Earth, most of the complex chemistry going on in our atmosphere is in some way linked to life. Apart from that, there’s oxidation, almost completely inert nitrogen and completely inert argon. Lightning can cause nitrogenous compounds to form and ozone forms in the upper atmosphere, but most of what goes on here is physical. The organic chemistry is highly complex but mainly goes on inside organisms. This is not so on Titan, and may well not have been so when Earth was young and less organic material was locked up inside the biosphere, so although it’s much colder and therefore less reactive, Titan may be a passable model for what used to happen here before life evolved.

Broadly, what’s going on in the Titanean atmosphere, which remember is very deep compared to ours and therefore has a lot of stuff in it to react with each other in any case, is similar to what happens over a major polluted city in a hollow on a warm sunny day, one difference being that there’s no industry to inject the stuff into the air. Æons ago, all of the sludge we’ve dredged up with oil rigs and put into the atmosphere and water cycle wasn’t yet incorporated into the bodies of organisms, and may have been in a similar form, so we’re kind of returning our planet to the state it used to be in before life appeared on it, hence the resemblance to Titan. On Earth, vehicle exhausts form nitric oxide, which combines with organic compounds from the likes of paint, glue, weedkiller and other industrial and domestic chemicals along with the secondary pollutant peroxyacetyl nitrate formed from vehicle exhaust and fossil fuel power stations to form nitrogen oxides and ozone at a low level due to the action of sunlight on the chemicals. This turns out to be harmful to air-breathing organisms living in that environment.

The big difference with Titan is that there’s no free oxygen at all, although there is some locked up in compounds, so the process is rather different. It’s said to be possible to explain every detected compound in the atmosphere from the action of sunlight on a mixture of nitrogen and methane, although I don’t understand how because some compounds contain oxygen. Titan’s atmosphere is 94% nitrogen, six percent helium (which does nothing and therefore makes no contribution to the chemistry), 0.01% methane, and also acetylene, ethane, propane, diacetylene, methylacetylene, hydrogen cyanide, cyanoacetylene, cyanogen, carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide. In particular, there are several cyanide-based gases and the similar carbon monoxide, though in small amounts. Cyanogen is quite an interesting gas because it can behave as if it’s a halogen like chlorine or bromine. Several constituents also have nitrile groups, which also exist in superglue and an artificial rubber – I have a box full of nitrile gloves upstairs for the purpose of dealing with certain other organic materials. Although nitriles basically are cyanides, but properly organic as opposed to happening to include a couple of carbon atoms which might as well be any other lightish element, they tend to be a lot less toxic, possibly because the molecules are larger. Hydrogen cyanide in particular is a key intermediate in the synthesis of amino acids. As the chemical reactions proceed, I imagine the compounds get heavier and precipitate out of the sky onto the surface, so there will be substances vaguely resembling synthetic rubbers and glues, among other chemicals, on the ground and in the lakes and rivers, not at pollutants but as part of the uninterfered-with environment. All of this stuff will be in an unholy mess, all being mixed together, and it’s also hard to work out how it will behave at such a low temperature, but once again this is how Titan is the reverse of Earth. On Earth, all the plastic and other stuff is pollution. On Titan it’s a pristine part of the cycle: “natural”, to use that useless word. Deconstructing that word, though, maybe our seas being full of plastic and our air full of extra greenhouse gases is just as natural and it just took a convoluted path between a Titan-like original situation, a few thousand million years of evolution, the emergence of a technological species and a rapid return to Titaneanism.

Life, therefore, rears its head at this juncture. Titan has not one but two chances of being a life-bearing world because of its interior and its surface. There’s a whole load of stuff going on in its atmosphere and seas of course. Complex organic chemistry is a fact of (non-)life on Titan, but there is a problem: there is only rarely liquid water on the surface. It probably does happen, during volcanic eruptions, but the water emerging from these will freeze quickly. I suppose it’s possible that there would be microbes flitting around from site to site in these situations, waiting to take advantage of the brief periods that tiny area of the moon is above freezing, and in a way the combination of salty water and complex organic molecules almost seems to guarantee that life will find a way, but at this point we don’t know if life always happens when it can or if it’s a quadrillion-to-one chance that we exist on this planet, lost in the depths of a lifeless cosmos. But maybe water isn’t necessary to life anyway. Isaac Asimov, who was officially a biochemist, suggested that methane could replace water if instead of protein biochemistry used lipids. The crucial thing about water is its polarity. Water molecules are negatively charged on one side and positively charged on the other, which enables water to be a good solvent and to form cages around enzymes and extend their actions, among other things. This kind of life on Titan would use up molecular hydrogen by combining it with hydrocarbons, which would explain why there’s less hydrogen than expected in the lower atmosphere. And life gets a second bite of the cherry in Titan’s case, because as well as having an active and chemically complex surface, Titan is like many other outer moons in apparently having a hypersaline ocean underneath its icy crust, meaning that organisms could exist there too, with more familiar biochemistry. The mantle is a eutectic mix of water and ammonia, with some carbon dioxide, and is liquid. Immediately above it is a soup or sticky blend of complex organic molecules and the surface is tectonically active, meaning that these chemicals could be pushed into that ocean by movements of the crust and possible plates, if it goes that far. In the meantime, Titan appears to have many partially-assembled substances industries and chemists on Earth have expended considerable efforts in synthesising, such as the aforementioned artificial rubber monomers and components of superglue, as well as immense amounts of the same kind of hydrocarbons we use to power our entire civilisation, and I wonder whether it would be economically viable to fetch them from the moon and bring them back. It wouldn’t be a good thing though, due to the need for a low-carbon economy, but the presence of such compounds and their accessibility could ultimately lead to cheaper “fossil” fuels. Just as an example, the atmosphere contains twenty parts per million of propane. That’s more than seventeen millard tonnes. It’s notable that Russia is this planet’s largest supplier of natural gas. Even so, Titan is a long way away at one and a half light hours on average.

About an eighth of the surface is covered in dunes, which is about the size of the Sahara. This, again, is only possible on a world with a substantial atmosphere and some solid surface because they’re formed by winds. Mars has dunes but I’m not sure about Venus. They’re most similar to those in Namibia, which is where Earth’s highest dunes are, average a hundred metres high and can be hundreds of kilometres long. They give a good indication of the wind direction and are probably large in scale due to the low gravity and it also suggests that there are effectively desert conditions in those regions, emphasising the confusing fact that although Titan has seas, it’s actually a desert world. The dunes are around the tropics and cross the equator, although there are some other patches such as near the northern seas. It was initially speculated that these dark regions, which have a kind of fluid outline, were actually a surface ocean of methane and ethane, and they do flow around higher ground, but it’s actually some kind of organic “sand” being pushed around by the wind. The actual dues themselves are fairly widely separated and also quite steep and narrow themselves, like the dunes in the Namib Desert. It could even be that these grains are effectively plastic granules like those hoisted into hoppers and extruded, and personally I think this would make them suitable building materials.

Also mainly in the tropics is the “hummocky” terrain. Hummocks are small knolls or mounds which on Earth are formed by landslides or in permafrost-rich areas. These cover a further seventh of the world and are made of ice, which is like bedrock on Titan. They’re likely to have formed soon after the body itself and represent wrinkles in a solidifying surface due to contraction through cooling. Again, the hummocks turn up away from the tropics as well and are found in particular in the southern hemisphere.

There are also small regions of “labyrinth terrain”. These are maze-like structures (back to the backrooms?) cut by methane rivers, either through dissolving the surface or physically eroding it, and occur in areas of greater rainfall, often near high ground. On Earth, the Indonesian region of Gunungkidul is similar, consisting of limestone hills riddled with horizontal and vertical caves. The fact that this region on Earth is limestone suggests to me that methane rain may be dissolving the solid surface rather than just eroding it, but I’m no geologist.

The majority of the surface is covered by plains.

The illumination of Titan’s surface during the day is only 1% of Earth’s. This sounds very dim, but in fact it isn’t. Being around ten times Earth’s distance from the Sun, Titan already receives only a hundredth of the sunlight we get per unit area. Nine-tenths even of this is filtered out by the smog. The photo from ground level taken by the Huygens lander gives a fair impression of the murkiness as it would be seen by someone coming out of the kind of sunlight we experience on Earth, but it should also be remembered that the Sun is around sixty thousand times brighter than Cynthia at maximum brightness, so this is like a world with sixty “full moons” in its sky, and nobody could call that dim. The chances are you wouldn’t even notice after a while, although it would be overcast.

There may be clathrate hydrates in the makeup of the crust. These are also present at the bottom of the sea on Earth, and consist of ice which has “imprisoned” methane molecules in its own molecular cages. On Earth, these present a potential major risk of climate change because methane is such a powerful greenhouse gas that it could raise global temperatures catastrophically. On Titan, this is not an issue due to the low temperature.

The crust is around 150 kilometres thick, which makes the kind of missions suggested to Europa’s or Enceladus’s internal oceans less feasible in Titan’s case. Beneath the ocean, the same kind of process may be occurring as is apparent in the depths of Ganymede, with unusual (for us) allotropes of ice such as the cubic form. On the ocean bed there is probably hydroxide “mud” on top of a large rocky globe.

I feel this is such a huge and involved subject that although there’s still a lot I haven’t covered, some of which is very important, I’m going to stop here. Just be aware that Titan is in some ways as sophisticated and complex as Earth and is far more than just another moon.

Next time, the very different and much smaller Hyperion.

The Cosmic Lychee

Spelling the fruit that way makes me twitchy, but apparently that’s how it’s spelt, rather than “litchi”. Of course, ultimately it’s spelt “荔枝”. I could go all herbal on you here but instead I’ll just sum up my issue with it. Lychees are ultimately disappointing and hard work. They have massive stones in the middle and fiddly peel on the outside plus a really thin layer of pulp. The stone is poisonous, causing encephalopathy, so you don’t get any benefit from that and there’s just rather annoying in the end.

If a particular planet was a fruit, what fruit would it be? I suppose, and it may surprise you that I haven’t thought much about this, that the rocky inner planets would mostly be like nuts, being hard and woody, and the gas giants more like succulent fruits with maybe a small stone in the middle. There is a memory palace including planetary associations with herbs and sometimes fruit, so for example orange is a solar fruit and bananas, being crescent-shaped, are lunar, but this is not quite what I mean. The Chinese names for the planets use the five element system, so they too have a kind of taxonomy. In this system, Venus is “金星”, which literally means “gold star” or “metal star”, metal being one of the elements. Jupiter is “木星”, meaning “wood star”, making it sound more like a nut, so my view of lychees is not backed up by traditional Chinese cosmology. Oh dear.

On the whole, the major solar planets are presented as falling into two main types: terrestrial and gas giants. Terrestrial planets are mainly rocky and occupy the inner system. They’re denser, smaller and warmer than the other local planets, known as gas giants. Gas giants are mainly gas, although further inside this may be compressed to liquid or metallic form, and are much larger, colder and less dense. A further subdivision is sometimes made distinguishing Uranus and Neptune, the “ice giants”, from the two “gas giants” Jupiter and Saturn. The two classes are separated by an asteroid belt. The markèd division therebetwixt may be somewhat blurred in other star systems, since the most widespread type of planet in the Galaxy seems to be one which is almost halfway between the size of Earth and Neptune, which seems to have no analogue orbiting the Sun, so the separation may be artificial and based on local experience rather than them being natural kinds (if natural kinds exist).

For most of the inner planets, this division works fairly well. Mercury, Cynthia (I’m not going to keep explaining) and Mars are all solid planets made largely of rock with thin or almost non-existent atmospheres. Earth is a slight deviation from this pattern. It’s a dense rocky planet with a fairly dense atmosphere and is unique among such planets in having large persistent bodies of water and exposed solid surfaces.

Then there’s Venus. This is usually understood as a rocky planet with a very dense atmosphere, and a hellishly hot solid surface. That’s fine in terms of what it can be described as, but in context this may be slightly different. Back in the day, it used to be thought that the gas giants all had very large rocky cores, and they do have rocky cores, but they were seen as essentially solid planets with deep atmospheres shrouded in cloud. This is a rather “Gaiacentric” way of looking at them. Even back then it was considered a tall order to send any kind of lander onto the purported rocky surface of the “real” Jupiter or whitherever, but nowadays that’s recognised as such a feat of engineering as to be basically impossible. Hence we do have planets in our solar system which are mainly gas and on which few people would contemplate actually landing. At the same time, even the terrestrial planets are very hot on the inside and we haven’t even succeeded in penetrating far into Earth’s surface. It might be dangerous to do so, creating a new active volcano at the site where the tunnel was dug. Jupiter is similar, only more so, with its internal temperature rising far above that of the Sun’s photosphere.

My contention is that we’ve got Venus all wrong. To an extent this is just playing with ideas, but there are sound reasons for thinking of the planet differently. The Soviet Union’s record for sending landers to the surface of Venus was impressive. However, were they really sending them to the surface? Jupiter’s “surface” is effectively the cloud tops. Another way of putting this is that the surface of a planet is where it becomes opaque from space. This is only provisional as it leaves Earth’s oceans in an ambiguous position. Considering Venus in those terms, its surface is the cloud tops and the landers are actually penetrating into the interior of the planet. Unsurprisingly, just as a probe sent into the magma under our crust would meet with a swift demise, so do the landers on Venus, just as Cassini undoubtedly did when it fell into Saturn’s atmosphere, also known as Saturn. Hence Venus is a lychee. It has a big stone in the middle and a thin pulp, by contrast with the thick pulps of the gas giants. I imagine the name has already been taken, but I think of Venus as a “gas dwarf”.

This is not mere tinkering with ideas. Considered as a planet with a gaseous surface, Venus immediately starts to look a lot nicer than the usual hellscape it’s portrayed as. It’s probably well-known that there’s a level in its atmosphere where temperature and pressure are both close to what they are at sea level on Earth. The clouds start seventy kilometres above the solid surface, although there’s a haze extending for another fifteen kilometres or so. Both Venus and Earth happen to be at the same temperature at that level, although the pressure on Venus there is similar to that on the surface of Mars. The layer in which all the weather happens is known as the troposphere on most worlds, and this level is thoroughly within its troposphere, unlike Earth’s which has a ceiling averaging at thirteen kilometres (like Earth itself, out troposphere is squashed at the poles and protrudes at the equator, so the height varies). The altitude where it matches Earth’s surface is towards the base of the clouds at fifty kilometres up. There is then another haze layer down to thirty kilometres, meaning that the clouds in the Venusian atmosphere actually start above the level of our own cloud tops, with a few anomalous exceptions. The pressure of the atmosphere at the mean solid surface level is about the same as the water pressure a kilometre down in Earth’s oceans. Here again is the theme of the bottom of the ocean, like the bottom of Venus’s atmosphere, being more akin to the interior of the planet than its surface.

The atmosphere of Venus is almost all carbon dioxide, which is why it has such an extreme greenhouse effect, having the hottest solid surface in the inner system, including Mercury. Various processes could have contributed to this outcome, although it serves as an awful warning to us of what could go wrong. There was probably a time in the past when Venus had liquid water on its surface. It would have been below boiling point at that time, but there still would’ve been a lot of evaporation, and water vapour is a powerful greenhouse gas, far more so than carbon dioxide. Another cause may have been the exposure of carbonate rocks to long periods of sunlight, which baked the carbon dioxide out of them into the atmosphere. All of this was triggered by the gradually climbing heat of the Sun in the early history of the planet, and the presence of water on a planet which at that time was very similar indeed to Earth at the same time suggests that life may have been present. However, I’m resisting the urge to turn everything here into stuff about the likelihood of life in various ways, so I won’t be discussing that. Although Brian Cox’s ‘The Planets’ was fun, one of the irritating things about it was that he tended to focus very much on the issue of liquid water and the possibility of life emerging throughout the Solar System, and I’m not going to do that. It gets a bit repetitive. Therefore, with respect to Venus I’m just going to say: carbonyl sulphide, clouds absorbing ultraviolet life, phosphine. There, all done.

Venus has three times our atmospheric nitrogen. If much of Earth’s nitrogen wasn’t fixed and/or in living things, we would also have two or three times the amount we have, except that if it wasn’t there wouldn’t be a “we”, so “we” probably started out with about the same amounts. The other gases in its atmosphere are carbon monoxide, hydrogen chloride and hydrogen fluoride, although in quite small amounts in the last two cases. Nonetheless it might make a quite good toilet cleaner. There’s a fair bit of water vapour, at about one percent, bearing in mind that that’s one percent of an atmosphere ninety times thicker than ours, so it’s more like the equivalent of the whole of our atmosphere in just water, which is about a gigatonne.

The clouds in the Venusian atmosphere rotate around the planet about once every four days. Since its day is supposed to last 243 days, once again this raises the issue of which bit is the surface, and again it makes a lot more sense to have a planet rotating every four days than nearly nine months. This makes the atmosphere the fastest rotating compared to its planet in the Solar System.

The solid surface of the planet is worth comparing to Earth’s. Our own surface is a series of plateaux with fold mountain ranges, is shaped by water erosion and plate tectonics, and is largely abyssal plains with central ridges and trenches near the continents. Venus is not entirely similar, but it does have plateaux which could be thought of as continents. This is a map of how its terrain would look like with water:

A decision must be made in such maps regarding where to put sea level. This seems to be Venus with the same areal water cover as Earth, but that’s neither necessarily the same as all the actual water vapour in its atmosphere condensing out or the scaled amount of surface water on Earth, because the topography of Venus is very different from ours. It’s also Venus with water but no water erosion, and the colour scheme indicates the likes of mountains with snow, vegetation and more barren ground, which presumes to know the climatic profile of the planet. It’s also difficult to be objective about this, in that it may or may not be a typical Earth-like world. My impression is that it has many more islands than Earth would have, although the part of our planet which constitutes a single large plate, the Pacific, is also studded with islands in a somewhat similar way.

Without water, i.e. as it actually is, the solid surface of Venus looks like this:

Thinking in terrestrial terms, the two major continents are Ishtar and Aphrodite, with a smaller group arrayed north-south to the “west”. I should point out here that compass directions on Venus are a little confusing because the planet rotates backwards compared to all the other inner planets, and I have to confess I don’t actually know which way up this map is compared to Earth maps with North at the top. On that subject, Venus lacks a global magnetic field of its own, although it does have the bow shock and limited magnetosphere resulting from the solar wind. It isn’t known why Venus lacks a magnetic field, but it may be because its mantle doesn’t convect much, and unlike us, it lacks any companion to raise tides in its core. This is a striking difference between the two planets which doesn’t seem to be easily explained in the other ways.

Before the ’60s, Venus beneath the clouds was utterly unknown and people, including scientists, made all sorts of projections onto it. Carl Sagan once joked about proceeding from the premise of not being able to see the solid surface to the conclusion that it was covered in steamy jungles and dinosaurs, which was a fairly popular view. This is partly influenced by the idea that the closer planets are to the Sun, the younger they are, which is not in fact so. Various views have been taken regarding the nature of Venus historically, all of which are much more interesting than the reality. It was thought to be an ocean planet with soda water seas (I kid you not) at one point, prior to which it had been considered to be a more Earth-like ocean planet as with Asimov’s ‘The Oceans Of Venus’. People often talk about the shock to society which would ensue if life was incontrovertibly discovered elsewhere, particularly intelligent life but still just life, as in the smallest, simplest bacterium, but this could be overestimated because there was a time when life on Venus and Mars was practically assumed, and it had no major impact on humanity. Have we maybe changed in this respect?

Seventy percent of Venus’s solid surface is a low, rolling plain. There are a few basins but they’re quite rare, although depressions are common at about twenty percent. Ten percent are highlands, which can be thought of as continents although there is no continental drift on Venus. Height of topography is defined as deviation from mean radius, which is easier on Venus than Earth. Earth is squashed at the poles and bulges at the Equator, but Venus, uniquely among solar planets, is almost exactly spherical. This regular tendency is reflected in its orbit, which is also the most circular of the lot. In a way this can be considered appropriately beautiful.

Ishtar is about the same size as Australia and averages three kilometres above the mean radius. It’s a volcanic region. Aphrodite is Afrika-sized and has mountains at the eastern and western ends with a low-lying area between them. It lies along the equator. The third upland area is called Beta and has two large shield volcanoes, and finally there’s Alpha, which is somewhat similar to the Martian area Tharsis.

There is also a pair of rift valleys, Diana and Dalí. The former is up to 280 kilometres wide and somewhat like the Valles Marineris on Mars. I understand that structure to result from the crust fracturing due to the weight of the Tharsis shield volcanoes, because Mars has no continental drift, which leads to more and more lava building up and solidifying until it weighs the crust down. I don’t know if Venus also has this phenomenon.

Ishtar has a plateau referred to as the Maxwell Mountains. This has a mountain called Skadi which is 10.7 kilometres high, the highest point on Venusian land. This makes it higher than any terrestrial mountain although it should be borne in mind that those are measured from sea level and the difference between the bottom of the Marianas Trench and Mount Everest is over twenty kilometres. However, Diana is the lowest point on Venus and is only 2.9 kilometres below the mean, so Skadi can still be thought of as higher than any earthly peak, although the difference between the average depth of our ocean floors and the highest mountains is about the same. This suggests that the material from which our crusts are made is similar, as it will tend to collapse at about the same height, bearing in mind the slightly lower gravity on the inner planet.

At ground level, the temperature of Venus doesn’t vary with latitude or day and night because the atmosphere is so dense that it carries heat all over the planet equally. Polar regions are nothing other than that. There are no magnetic poles and the temperature is no lower than anywhere else. That said, the temperature of the atmosphere does vary and is very cold at the poles. It reaches -157°C and there are atmospheric waves. No, I don’t know what that means but apparently there are.

The Venusian clouds themselves are largely composed of sulphuric acid droplets. No mountains are able to reach anywhere near even the bottoms of the haze below the clouds. However, there is sulphide frost at the top of some of the mountains, namely sulphides of bismuth, lead and iron – bismuthinitem galena and fool’s gold. This can be detected by RADAR from Earth as it reflects like a metallic surface. There seems to be lightning, but it isn’t clear if it’s to do with volcanoes or clouds. The Soviet Venera 11 lander which landed on Christmas Day 1978 had something akin to a microphone on board and detected an eighty-two decibel noise after landing, which may have been thunder. The density of the atmosphere would have made the noise a lot louder than thunder on Earth. There’s also a phenomenon called “virga” – I don’t know how well-known this word is. This also happens on Earth, but on Venus it’s the only form of precipitation unless you count the frost. Virga is rain which evaporates before it reaches the ground, although on Venus it’s sulphuric acid rather than water. This happens because the temperatures get way past boiling point high above the ground. The sulphuric acid forms when ultraviolet light from the Sun separates carbon dioxide into carbon monoxide and monatomic oxygen, the latter whereof then combines with sulphur dioxide, to become sulphur trioxide, and water vapour.

There is said to be a glow on the night side, referred to as “ashen light”. It isn’t even known to exist, and was initially attributed to phosphorescent organisms in the ocean which was thought to cover the planet, and I think to aurora. Various suggestions have been made. Because Venus has no real magnetosphere, it could be solar radiation directly stimulating the atmosphere, since it’s able to reach cloud level at least. Alternatively, it might be lightning leaping between clouds. Although it’s been spotted since the seventeenth century by astronomers as eminent as Patrick Moore, it isn’t universally accepted to exist as no spacecraft have ever detected it despite some having instruments for that purpose. It used to be thought that the “black drop effect” seen when Venus crosses the Sun’s disc, where the planet starts off with a narrowing tail towards the limb of the star, was due to the presence of a substantial atmosphere, but it’s now been seen with Mercury too, so it seems to be some kind of optical illusion instead.

There are some relatively famous pictures of Venus taken in the ultraviolet. This one was taken by Mariner 10 in February 1974. Since ultraviolet can’t really be considered visible to people with normal vision (there are circumstances in which it is but let’s not split hairs), this is of necessity false colour, and making the more absorbent regions blue makes Venus look more like Earth. Nonetheless, someone who could see ultraviolet would probably see the two planets as more alike than most people can. In the visible range, Venus is the most reflective planet and can actually cast shadows of its own in some circumstances. In any event, the swirls of cloud seen in this image are typical of Venus in their general global distribution. There are cloud belts a little like Jupiter’s. The relatively homogenous nature of the terrain beneath them and their height means that there are neither chains of clouds as formed here by peaks and islands nor the variation due different conditions over sea and land. On Venus the most distinctive feature is probably the “sideways” V-shape with its point near the equator although the brightness of the poles is notable too. There is a C-shaped cloud centred on the north pole rising up to fifteen kilometres above the other cloud tops. A figure-of-eight-shaped pair of hurricanes was thought to be another permanent feature of the north pole but a similar one disappeared from the south pole, and since the planet is highly symmetrical this suggests the same could happen in the north.

There are east to west winds whose speed gradually increases with height. At ground level they’re at about one metre a second and at the cloud tops around a hundred times faster. This is tantamount to the planet’s atmosphere rotating much faster than the solid surface. The density of the atmosphere further down makes it less penetrable to sunlight than might be expected, as it’s about a tenth that of water and is almost a liquid in a sense. For instance, it’s very buoyant and has waves as well as winds.

Since it was discovered that Venus is as harsh as it is below the clouds, suggestions have been made as to how it might be made more clement for life as we know it. This process is known as terraforming. An early suggestion was to seed the clouds with algæ. Recent suspicions that there might be life in those clouds already raise a major ethical question, as this could, for all we know, be the only other life in the Universe, and clearly such algæ would have to be genetically modified. Another possibility is to place a shield over the Sun at the L1 point with the Sun, ultimately causing the atmosphere to freeze, but that would then require the removal of a prodigious amount of dry ice. The same suggestion has been made regarding Earth to counteract global warming, and I included it in my novel ‘1934’. A further possibility is to steer some of the countless icy asteroids and comets to crash into Venus, where they will melt and provide water for oceans. The lower estimate for how long it would take has been two centuries, although I got the impression that was creeping up.

Since I don’t believe we will ever do it, to me it’s an abstract ethical question, which first seems to have been considered by Olaf Stapledon in 1930. This, actually, is interesting because of his connections with C S Lewis. In the scenario he described, in ‘Last And First Men’, Earth was threatened, and ultimately rendered uninhabitable, by our satellite crashing into us, which he portrayed as connected to human spiritual enlightenment, possibly Humanity discovers Venus to be inhabited by intelligent life whose expectations, however, are limited due to the fact that their metabolism depends on radioactive isotopes whose supply is limited. Humankind ultimately decides that they are carrying the torch for sentience furthest in the solar system and make an apparently rational decision to terraform Venus, which wipes out the native life. The inner life of the Venerians is too alien for humans to empathise or understand, but they’re confronted with this problem, as he states it: “what right had man [sic] to interfere in a world already possessed by beings who were obviously intelligent, even though their mental life was incomprehensible to man?” As a result of their genocide, humanity ultimately falls from intellectual grace and becomes eclipsed for millions of years in total despair.

Here comes the interesting part! C S Lewis was persuaded, apparently by this passage, that Stapledon was basically evil and a “devil worshipper” (his words, not mine). In a letter to Arthur C Clarke, he said:

 a race devoted to the increase of it own forces & technology with complete indifference to either does seem to me a cancer in the universe.

This is in reference to ‘Star Maker’ but seems to me to be clearly influenced by the attitude he read Stapledon as taking towards the Venerians. He is also said to have based a major human antagonist in ‘That Hideous Strength’ on Stapledon. I have to confess that I didn’t get very far with ‘That Hideous Strength’. That said, Lewis also acknowledges Stapledon’s influence on the novel in a positive way, saying:

 Mr. Stapledon is so rich in invention that he can well afford to lend, and I admire his invention (though not his philosophy) so much that I should feel no shame to borrow.

I don’t want to turn this into a discussion of the relative merits of Stapledon’s and Lewis’s philosophies of life, but this does vivify the ethical question of the terraforming of Venus. It’s unlikely in the extreme that there is in fact intelligent life there, and arguable whether there’s life there at all. If there isn’t, there’s still the question of whether it would constitute a form of vandalism to do this to the planet. The motives are relevant here. For instance, is the idea to create some kind of utopia, and is that even doable? Would it be anarchistic, governmental or corporate-based, or perhaps something else we can’t currently envisage? Would the presence of a better world influence ours au Guin’s Anarres and Urras might impinge on each other? Do we perhaps even have the duty to do it given the way we treat our own planet in order to increase the chances that life will go on after us? As I said, though, the chances are it’ll never happen.

I’m aware that I haven’t mentioned ‘Perelandra’ here. Nor have I read it, so I think I’ll leave it at that.

Lichen

Photo by Magda Ehlers on Pexels.com

For a fairly mundane-seeming living crust on rocks, lichen occupies an oddly significant place in our speculation. Although they are just unusual as such, compared to other terrestrial life forms, they’ve cropped up in suggestions that they could be the only large organisms on Mars, although this is now an old-fashioned belief, and also in the John Wyndham novel ‘Trouble With Lichen’, where a species of said life form, if that’s the word, turns out to contain an anti-aging compound. In Alan Frank’s juvenile space horror ‘Galactic Aliens’, silicon-based lichen turn out to be the only intelligent life form on their planet, and are wiped out by starving astronauts when they’re stranded there and have to eat them. Meanwhile in the definitely real world, lichen is used for dye, to make litmus paper, manufacture vitamin D and judge air pollution.

It also grows amazingly slowly. In Dungeness, there are places where people’s footprints will be visible for decades simply because they walked on the lichen. A childhood memory tells me it grows at the rate of about a millimetre per decade, so it makes sense to think of it as something which survives where resources to keep things alive are scarce. They are, for example, the most widespread group of fungi or plants in Antarctica, with up to two and a half gross of species, as opposed to for instance flowering plants of which there are only two.

Lichens are organisms from two different kingdoms of life living in association. This raises immediate problems as to what they really are. They’re fungi living symbiotically with algæ or blue-green algæ. Four out of five have green algæ and the rest have yellow ones apart from the ones with blue-green algæ of course. Lichens are not always closely related to each other. The relationship between photosynthesisers and fungi has been reinvented a number of times in different branches of the fungal kingdom. The situation is that the photosynthesisers synthesise nutrients for the fungal component which then derives nutrition from them. The benefit to the algæ or blue-green algæ is that they get to live in a protected and less harsh environment than they otherwise would. Particularly in the case of blue-green algæ the evolution of lichen is a re-run of the evolutionary partnership between the ancestors of plants and blue-green algæ æons ago, when ancient representatives of the latter became incorporated in the cells of the former to provide sustenance via photosynthesis. Prior to that, the ancestors of algæ had not yet become plants. A similar process with other prokaryotic organisms (living things without separate nuclei) led to the incorporation of mitochondria in the cells of our and plants’ ancestors. Lichens have repeated this process, but extracellularly.

The fact that every lichen is in fact two sets of organisms living together in the same body might raise questions about how to classify them. In fact they’re considered fungi taxonomically, but the alga or blue-green alga is given its own Latin binominal and they’re sometimes also found living freely, as with Nostoc. The difference between blue-green algæ and algæ is that the former are bacteria-like organisms which can photosynthesise and the latter are simple, often unicellular, plants. Most lichens have algæ rather than blue-green algæ. Some fungi belong in groups which are primitively lichens, namely the lichinomycetes and lecanoromycetes, and a few of this last group are not symbionts. Of the eurotiomycetes, the veruccariales and pyrenulales are fairly evenly symbionts and non-symbionts. The dothideomycetes form a large class, a few of which are lichens, the candelariales are all lichens and all lichen are ascomycetes,which are fungi whose spores are produced in groups of eight and fired off at high speed into the distance. These contrast with the basidiomycetes, which include mushrooms and toadstools. Truffles, cup fungi, coral spot and King Alfred’s Cakes are all examples of ascomycetes.

Lichens have been sent into orbit and directly exposed to the conditions of outer space, and are unusual for complex organisms in being able to survive there, though they became dormant to do so. They survived for a fortnight with no apparent ill-effects, suggesting that they could at least reach Cynthia before being killed and possibly even Mars, without human intervention. However, it’s unlikely they could actively thrive there and they would probably die due to lack of oxygen after a while. The species involved were Xanthoria elegans and Rhizocarpon geographicum. This is the first:

By Jason Hollinger (original photograph), Papa Lima Whiskey (derivative edit) – This image is Image Number 97571 at Mushroom Observer, a source for mycological images., CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11148723

. . . and this is the latter:

By User:Tigerente – Self-photographed, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=215043

It’s tempting to read “alienness” into these but like all other known organisms on this planet, they originated here, as can be told from their genomes. The second is a conspicuous mountain lichen, called “geographic” because of the black lines forming on its surface which are said to resemble borders on a map.

Pleopsidium chlorophanum is an Antarctic extremophile lichen which lives in cold conditions at high altitudes. It’s unusual for a large organism to be extremophile, which means it prefers extreme conditions of various kinds such as acidity, high temperatures and so forth. A specimen of this species was placed in simulated Martian conditions and it was found to increase its metabolic rate, and survived for over a month, but it wasn’t clear if the reason for metabolising faster was that it was digesting the algæ as a survival measure. When it was tested again in “protected site” conditions, i.e. the kind of conditions which could exist in certain places on Mars but are less extreme, it was also found to be photosynthesising, so it seems that it would be able to survive in a non-dormant state for over a month. In Antarctica it tends to retreat to crevices and can extract water from ice down to -20°C. The trouble is, though, that although there are organisms which could tolerate extreme conditions on Mars or in the atmosphere of Venus, and probably further afield such as in the larger moons of Jupiter and Saturn, they didn’t evolve in those conditions and it might turn out to be impossible for life to appear there even if it can evolve to survive in such harsh circumstances having started off somewhere more hospitable. This does not, however, rule out the possibility of life arriving on other worlds in this solar system from Earth, particularly if said life reproduces by firing spores away from itself at speed, although it isn’t clear where the companion plants would come from if that happened.

I don’t want to turn this into yet another post which is primarily about the possibility of extraterrestrial life, but I will make one further observation in this vein. Crustose lichen, such as in the pictures so far in this post, often gives the impression of being an old, dried-up piece of chewing gum stuck to a rock or tree. Among other more biological compounds, chewing gum can be made of polyvinyl acetate, butadiene-styrene rubber, butyl rubber, polythene and paraffin wax. It has the air of a non-biochemical substance about it, perhaps suggesting silicone rubber. Lichens are able to tolerate desiccation down to ten percent water content, which converts their cytoplasm to a glassy state incompatible with metabolism, and then to recover, so the fact that they may be reminiscent of silica and other silicon compounds is not entirely far-fetched and does mean something.

By Jason Hollinger – This image is Image Number 240112 at Mushroom Observer, a source for mycological images., CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22772824

Experiments done on this lichen, Flavoparmelia caperata, attempted to discover what chemical reactions were actually occuring in this state, which seems to be incompatible with life. It was found that enzymes were still doing their thing when the lichen was “rubbery”, i.e. when it had a bit more water in it than the minimum, but not when it was “glassy”. Cytoplasmic vitrification is a process which allows living things to endure without dying in very dry conditions. They accumulate sugars and oligosaccharides (molecules composed of a few sugar molecules), ensuring that the former fluid inside their cells does not crystallise, produce damaging free radicals or the separation of mixtures of liquid substances into parts (like oil floating on water). The glassy state is like a liquid but doesn’t flow – the molecules are scattered haphazardly rather than in regimented layers and grids as in crystals. The process is similar, in fact, to that undergone by some organisms to survive the winter. Since we tend to associate vitrification with specific glasses, mainly sodium silicate, this state is reminiscent of silicon-based chemistry but isn’t confined to it. However, it’s easy to see how the association might be made with the idea of silicon-based lichenoid organisms.

Just a word on silicon-based life. Although it’s probably not feasible for silicon-based life to arise without intelligent intervention, life as we know it is capable of using silicon compounds in its structure and function to some extent. For instance, some protists and sponges use silicon-based glass as skeletons and some silicon-based compounds have hormonal activity. Others cause diseases through pathological processes, such as silicosis and asbestosis, meaning that they are interacting with biological systems, though in those cases in a dysfunctional way. I have proposed in the past that a biological system which is at core carbon-based and organic could use substantially silicon-based compounds to the extent that a small component directing the processes remains organic but the rest isn’t carbon-based. I should probably make a distinction here between “organic” and “carbon-based”. Although organic chemistry as practically applied and observed is indeed carbon-based, not all carbon chemistry is organic, and arguably not all organic chemistry is carbon-based. Carbon dioxide, urea, carbon monoxide, methane, formaldehyde and other substances are not organic compounds even though they contain carbon, because the carbon is not in rings or chains and is not part of that complex web of reactions which constitutes organic chemistry. Conversely, silicon has a limited capacity to form chains and rings and participate in that kind of chemistry, and could therefore be argued to have an organic chemistry, and the same may be true of some other elements such as boron and germanium. The other aspect of this is that organic carbon-based biochemistry addresses problems using a vast array of different substances which it tends to polymerise. Silicon-based biochemistry might have to rely on using its smaller set of possible compounds in more inventive ways, and the word “inventive” is significant here because although I don’t believe silicon-based life would arise of itself, I do believe that some kind of dedicated project on the part of intelligence could produce it, should the need or desire be there. Hence, once again referring to extraterrestrial life, although lichen-like organisms could exist, it’s also conceivable that these organisms would consist of cells with glassy housing and the like, perhaps to protect their biochemistry from a harsh environment, and therefore alien lichens could have substantial silicon chemistry.

Lichens are by no means the only organisms to symbiose with algæ. Other examples include tropical shallow water corals, flatworms and hydroids. Although the last two are in some way mobile, the corals are considerably more like lichens because they are stationary and sessile, although their polyps move. This isn’t hugely surprising because lichens themselves evolved several times independently in the fungal kingdom. Corals have various forms and I’m not aware of any which merely form a crust on rocks, although it does seem feasible that such animals exist. Other forms are more tree-like in nature, roughly spherical or fronded. Lichens also vary in this manner, and it took me a while to realise that the same lichen wasn’t manifesting itself in various ways depending on the severity of air pollution. One of the first things I learnt about lichens was their rôle in judging this. Basically, the scale is from complete absence of lichen in the worst situations, to crustose (“chewing gum” appearance) lichen, followed by foliose and finally dendritic forms, which I’ve only seen in the Highlands where the air is incredibly clean. This seems to be because lichen rely on the atmosphere for their nutrition, so the more complex their forms are, the more their relative surface area is. However, the actual reason for this doesn’t seem to be nutrition unless that’s taken to mean the ability to photosynthesise when covered in soot, but to do with their extreme sensitivity to sulphur dioxide, which may nowadays be a less common pollutant than previously. This is because their efficient absorption of atmospheric gases leads to the accumulation of sulphur in their systems, where it destroys chlorophyll and inhibits photosynthesis. Some lichens have become extinct in lowland Britain since the Industrial Revolution, such as beard moss, Usnea articulata:

Another factor has been acid rain, which has sometimes acidified tree bark, making it more difficult for lichen to recolonise it. However, some species have now evolved to be more tolerant of this issue, such as Bryoria:

By Jason Hollinger – Bryoria nadvornikiana, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=50602652

In 1970, the Hawksworth and Rose Scale was developed for assessing sulphur dioxide pollution using lichens:

ZoneModerately acid barkMean winter SO2 (µg/m3)
1Algae only, e.g. Desmococcus viridis, present but confined to base.>170
2Algae extends up the trunk; Lecanora conizaeoides present but confined to the bases.about 150
3Lecanora conizaeoides extends up the trunk; Lepraria incana becomes frequent on the bases.about 125
4Hypogymnia physodes and/or Parmelia saxatilis or P. sulcata appear on the bases but do not extend up the trunks. Hypocenomyce scalaris, Lecanora expallens and Chaenotheca ferruginea often present.about 70
5Hypogymnia physodes or Parmelia saxatilis extends up the trunk to 2.5m or more; Parmelia glabratula, P. subrudecta, Parmeliopsis ambigua and Lecanora chlarotera appear; Calicium viride, Chrysothrix candelaris and Pertusaria amara may occur; Ramalina farinacea and Evernia prunastrii present largely confined to the bases; Platismatia glauca may be present on horizontal branches.about 60
6Parmelia caperata present at least on the base; rich in species of Pertusaria (e.g. P.albescens, P. hymenea) and Parmelia (e.g. P. revoluta (except in NE), P. tiliacea, P. exasperatula (in N); Graphis elegans appearing; Pseudevernia furfuracea and Bryoria fuscescens present in upland areas.about 50
7Parmelia caperata, P. revoluta (except in NE), P. tiliacea, P. exasperatula (in N) extend up the trunk; Usnea subfloridana, Pertusaria hemisphaerica, Rinodina roboris (in S) and Arthonia impolita (in E) appear.about 40 
8Usnea ceratina, Parmelia perlata or P. reticulata (S and W) appear; Rinodina roboris extends up the trunk (in S); and Usnea rubiginea (in S) usually present.about 35
9Lobaria pulmonaria, L. amplissima, Pachyphiale cornea, Dimerella lutea, or Usnea florida present; if these are absent crustose flora well developed with often more than 25 species on larger well-lit trees.under 30
10Lobaria amplissima, L. scrobiculata, Sticta limbata, Pannaria sp, Usnea articulata, U. filipendula or Teloschistes flavicans present to locally abundant`pure`

The mention of Lobaria pulmonaria brings up the issue of medicinal uses of species of lichen. Lobaria pulmonaria is one of two species of plant, the other being related to comfrey, which is useful for respiratory complaints. Medicinal uses among the lichen are few, but this lichen provides one of them:

By Bernd Haynold – Self-photographed, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3320107

Just briefly speaking as a herbalist, the problem with using lichen medicinally is that they’re slow-growing, and thanks to pollution in this case, also quite rare, so I’ve never used this one. I have, however, used Cetraria islandica, reindeer moss:

This is again a respiratory herb, and again there’s another species, Cladonia rangiferina, also known as reindeer moss. Both are of course eaten by reindeer. Cetraria can also be soaked in water to remove the bitter taste and then boiled and eaten as a jelly, by humans. It has uses in common with Chondrus crispus, the seaweed, in cooking and use as a bulking agent, and in physical terms rather than taxonomically I tend to lump the two together. But this is not my herbal blog.

John Wyndham’s novel ‘Trouble With Lichen’ involves one of the characters observing that when a piece of a particular type of lichen falls into cow’s milk, it doesn’t go off, and she proceeds to use it as a beauty treatment. The male establishment attempt to place an embargo on it, but she uses it to start a feminist revolution. I’m afraid that’s all hearsay as I haven’t actually read it but I’ve been meaning to get round to it for the past three dozen years so it could be any day now. In reality, lichens do not age. Their fertility doesn’t drop off with the passage of time and the larger they grow, the less likely they are to die, so they kind of get healthier with age. This raises the question of whether there’s anything to learn from them which can be applied to human health, but very little is known about why lichen don’t age because hardly any research has been done into it. However, lungwort contains a substance called spermidine which is known to decline with age in other organisms and has a rôle in the degradation of waste protein and in cell survival. It also delays the onset of cancer and prevents cardiovascular disease by increasing left ventricular elasticity and optimising blood pressure. It’s an aliphatic polyamine, ironically produced by putrescine, which is one of the compounds generating the odour of rotting flesh. Nitric oxide synthesis in neurones is reduced. However, it is also found in various foods, so it isn’t something special about lichen.

It goes without saying that there are loads of useful physiologically active compounds in lichen, but since that’s true of many other fungi and plants, they’re not specifically of interest in them, and their slow-growing nature probably means they aren’t a good source. However, they are used as a source of vitamin D3 in food supplements. In general, they’re probably not worth exploiting as they would effectively be mined from the wild rather than farmed, which would be irresponsible.

Dyeing and herbalism, and even dyeing and purified pharmacology, are closely linked, so it should come as no surprise that lichen has been used for dyeing, and it’s particularly associated with tartan. Although I have used plant dyes a lot with cotton (I don’t use wool because I’m vegan), I’ve never used lichen for the same reasons as those I wouldn’t use them much medicinally or for food, so this is all from hearsay, but I can assert that if lichen dyeing is anything like plant dyeing, it generally works like this. There are adjectival and substantival dyes. Adjectival dyes need a mordant to allow them to “eat into” the fabric, which can be various different chemicals but is very often a chromium compound and quite toxic. Substantival dyes are usually acidic and this enables them to bind to the fabric on their own, without help. Tannins, i.e. so-called “tannic acid”, of which there are redder and bluer examples, do this. Bolder colours are often easy to achieve but they fade faster the more vivid they are. Dyes also take to protein-based fibres much better than cellulose-based ones, I think because they are able to bind to the amino acid residues more easily. The type of mordant used often has a strong influence on the colour.

Ochrolecia tartarea

Back to lichen dyes. Crottle is the collective name for dyeing lichens. They are prepared by steeping in stale urine, something I’ve also done with plant dyes. This is because of the reaction with ammonia, which increases as urine “goes off”. Ochrolechia tartarea, crab’s eye, produces a red, purple or brown dye. If it’s soaked in a sealed jar of urine, it will turn purple after a few days, which when one considers the cost of imperial purple is pretty good going. It should be steeped for several weeks. Because it changes according to pH (lichen is the basis of litmus paper), it can be used for different colours depending on what it’s combined with. Lichen dye manufacture was kept for Gàidhlig speakers alone in order to keep it secret from the rest of the world and protect “our” monopoly, insofar as I count as one of them (which is only in a very limited sense). Cudbear, the other main dye, was produced in Glasgow with as much as 250 tonnes a year and exported all over the world. It produced red or purple. Examples of Scottish English names for lichens include Sunburn, Rock Hair, Yellow Candles, Golden Pine Lichen, Little Clouds, Oak Moss, Crab’s-eye, Coral
Crust and Sea Ivory. One of them, Peltigera canina, was considered to be the cure for rabies, but if you’ve ever read Gerard you’ll know that practically every herb on the planet is anyway, so it’s probably nothing. It amazes me that Gerard was ever able to take that seriously, to be honest.

As I’ve mentioned already, lichen also forms the basis for the colour of litmus paper, although vegetable pigments also work. Litmus dye can be extracted from a wide variety of different species scattered throughout the globe. Litmus colour is caused by a chromophore called 7-hydroxyphenoxazone, whose structural formula goes like this:

At this point I have to confess I have enormous difficulty understanding colour chemistry, but apparently the reason 7-hydroxyphenoxazone changes colour is that it’s able to donate two protons per unit to water. A chromophore is the part of a molecule responsible for its colour, which consists of the wavelengths of light which are not absorbed by the chromophore, but left over to reflect into the eye. It becomes different colours because the pH of the solution it’s in change the shape of the molecule.

To conclude then, lichens are a remarkable combination of toughness and fragility. They can survive in outer space for more than a month and may even launch themselves into it, but even quite mild air pollution can kill them. They’re practically immortal barring accidents, but it would be irresponsible to use them too much because they grow too slowly to be replaced if taken on a large scale. They’re also convergent with plants in that they’ve re-run the history of plant evolution by including photosynthesisers with themselves. FInally, they might just have been the first living things to survive out of the water, in Pre-Cambrian times.

Super-Habitability

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Yesterday I mentioned in passing the concept of super-habitability. I’m happy to say that ‘Handbook For Space Pioneers‘ introduced this concept, although it may have passed unnoticed. In this book, which describes the eight habitable planets available for human settlement in 2376 CETC (Common Era Terrestrial Calendar), the final planet, Athena, 77.6 light years from Earth in the HR 7345 system, is actually more habitable than Earth. The book rates the different planets according to their habitability using the ‘Von Roenstadt Habitability Factor’, with the least habitable, Mammon, having one of 0.79. This is a largely desert planet with a thin atmosphere which was largely settled due to its rare earth metals, which are useful in matter-antimatter reactors. Earth has a factor of 1.0, and Athena one of 1.09. This is because Athena is not only similar to Earth but lacks a polar continent, meaning that more of its land is hospitable to human settlement. Therefore it was this book that came up with the idea. Ahead of its time.

The search for exoplanets tends to be biassed in various ways as I’ve previously mentioned. One of these is that the ideal planet to be detected would be a super-Jupiter orbiting very close to its rather dim star, orbiting parallel to the line of sight. This is indeed a very common type of planet to be found but not at all Earth-like. It also gets a bit depressing after a while because the planets concerned may make their systems unsuitable for more hospitable planets further out. This situation has been somewhat remedied more recently and many somewhat Earth-like planets have now been found.

However, it’s been suggested that we may be setting the bar too low here. I mentioned the Copernican principle yesterday, also known as the principle of mediocrity, that it’s often informative to look at the world with the assumption that there’s nothing special about us as a species, and perhaps more closely, apply the same principle to ourselves as individuals (e.g. “accidents always happen to someone else until they happen to you” – this is not some kind of exaggerated humility and self-effacement). When we look for Earth-like planets, we are in a sense only looking for worlds which are good enough, and also good enough for humans, as opposed to worlds which are fantastic. That is, Earth is all very well, and yes it is precious and rare and all the other stuff, but there could in principle be worlds which are even more hospitable to life than this one. Super-habitable planets, in other words.

I feel a sense of hesitancy here because it’s like insulting my own mother, but the fact is that this planet may be particularly suitable for humans, but it could have, and has been in the past, more comfortable for life than it was when we first evolved as anatomically modern humans. At that point, it was plagued by regular ice ages, had larger deserts and had little in the way of continental shelves, meaning that fishing, for example, would’ve been very difficult without boats in most places. Not that I care, as a vegan, but there is a theory that I accept that we went through an amphibious phase when we depended on sea food, which could be relevant to the development of the our brains and ability to speak. Even now there are issues with this planet regardless of the influence of humans on it. Looking beyond humanity confronts us with the fact that although this planet is really quite a nice place to live, it may not be ideal for other life. There are two aspects to this as well. One is “life as we know it”. That is, life which breathes oxygen, drinks water, uses sunlight to synthesise food, is carbon-based and depends on biochemistry, which may not be the only kind of life. We don’t know that there cannot be other forms of life which are very different, to which Earth would seem a very hostile place. For instance, it’s easy to imagine aliens detecting the high level of corrosive and hyper-reactive free oxygen in our atmosphere and concluding that this is not the best abode for life because they have simply never encountered body chemistry which actually requires that. They might feel the same way about this place as we would about a planet whose atmosphere was high in elemental fluorine or chlorine and had seas of aquæous hydrofluoric or hydrochloric acid. Or, if there were life forms based on plasma, and I strongly suspect this can happen, they might wish to avoid anywhere with even a trace of liquid water in its atmosphere or on its surface and only survive in the very driest deserts here. But the current popular conception of superhabitability is to be biocentric in the sense of looking for the ideal conditions for life to begin, develop and thrive on it. Perhaps surprisingly, Earth is not currently ideal for this, and it isn’t even entirely due to human technological development. Moreover, Earth has been more habitable in the past that it currently is.

Seventy-one percent of Earth’s surface is underwater, and of that most of it is so deeply so that no daylight ever reaches the ocean bed. This doesn’t rule life out at all of course – there is life in the deepest part of the ocean – but it does reduce the energy available and there is less diversity down there than elsewhere. It relies on food raining down from further up, sometimes including dead whales, which provide a huge amount of nutrition for quite some time. The water column above the beds is also rich in life, getting richer the closer to the surface it gets, and there are of course ecosystems around hot water vents at the bottom of the ocean. However, the euphotic zone, where there’s enough light for photosynthesis to take place, is only two hundred metres deep, and that’s where the ocean teems with life. Shallow seas are much richer in life and more diverse for that reason. Hence, withough being disrespectful of the ecosystems of the trenches, abysses and abyssal plains, more than half of the surface of this planet could be said to be “wasted”. Two ways in which things could be different here are for the seas to be shallower. The shallow sea biome is quite rare nowadays on Earth, but in the past has been much more extensive, and would mean that plants could grow on the bottom of the sea and support many other organisms. The same could apply to another possible situation, where the Sun was either brighter or we were closer to it, meaning that although there might still be extensive abyssal plains, the light would penetrate further down. Alternatively, photosynthesis, which currently operates using red light, could possibly be based on shorter wavelengths which penetrate further. A planet with a red photosynthetic pigment, for example, might have seaweed growing deeper. It’s possible that chlorophyll only appeared on this planet because a preceding purple pigment used by another taxon of organisms meant that only red light was available to plants, and if that second stage hadn’t happened, “plants” would now mainly be purple.

Stars are also different colours. From the viewpoint of photosynthesis, this could also have implications for the colour of the pigments. Habitable planets were long thought only to be possible for worlds associated with F-, G- or K-type stars but it’s now thought that red dwarfs may be more suitable (for a summary of spectral types, look here). K-type stars last longer on the Main Sequence and are orange, so I presume a planet orbiting one would be in a constant “rosy-fingered dawn” situation, though much brighter, but this gives life longer to evolve than it does here. Our own planet will be able to support microörganisms for up to 2 800 million years in the future, but these will to some extent resemble the æons when only microbes existed here. Large multicellular life is likely to become extinct only about 800 million years hence when there won’t be enough carbon dioxide in the atmosphere to support photosynthesis, which will happen due to the increasing brightness of the Sun. This is also driven by plate tectonics, as carbonate rocks are forced from the sea bed into the mantle where they react and release carbon dioxide while forming silicates. This means that a fainter, more long-lived star or more active continental drift would make this planet more hospitable to life for longer.

A larger planet would often have a number of advantages for life. Here I’m talking about rocky planets rather than gas giants. This is where the biocentric approach becomes more evident. The definition of a “superhabitable” planet here is to do with how suitable it would be for life of the kind we’re currently familiar with rather than humans, because large, dense planets would have higher gravity than Earth. LHS 1140b, for example, may be superhabitable, but not for us. It’s seven times the mass of Earth and 40% larger in diameter, giving it a surface gravity more than three times ours. This is beyond the capacity of human beings to survive unaided without some form of modification, but its dense atmosphere may provide it with a greenhouse effect which heats it to a temperature compatible with life as found here. Larger rocky planets will take longer to cool, meaning that there will be more active plate tectonics and more carbon dioxide recycling, although there may be a limit here because higher gravity would slow it beyond a certain point due to the weight of the continental plates. Larger planets, particularly fast-rotating ones, would have stronger magnetic fields and therefore be more easily able to hang on to their atmospheres and protect the surface from ionising radiation.

When Earth has been warmer, there has been more biodiversity, although just to comment on anthropogenic climate change that doesn’t work out now because it’s a rapid change and also unstable. Evolution might eventually fill in the gaps of course. This planet has a tendency to edge into colder conditions rather than hotter ones, for instance the current spate of ice ages and the Snowball Earth scenario in the late Cryptozoic Eon, but most of the time it’s been hotter on average than it is today. Consequently we’d’ve done better if we were somewhat closer to the Sun, although it’s not clear how much, at least to me. Another circumstance where there’s been more diodiversity and larger animals has been when oxygen was higher in the atmosphere, although this has a limit above which there would be devastating fires and other oxidative damage. The highest partial pressure of oxygen ever on this planet has been 350 millibars, amounting to 35% of the atmosphere, but in a denser atmosphere this proportion would be smaller because the absolute quantity of oxygen is what matters, not the proportion.

The final helpful criterion is a combination of about the same water cover combined with a larger number of landmasses. Earth currently has six continents, one of which is circumpolar. At other times it’s had as few as one. I’m not sure why this is considered advantageous but I can make a few guesses. It would mean that evolution would take place in isolation on each of the continents, as it has here with Australia, South America and the rest of the non-polar continents taken together, and that arid areas would tend to be smaller, although rain shadow deserts would still exist. Those, however, would be less common as well because there would be fewer mountain ranges due to fewer continents crashing together. There would also be more land near the coast than there currently is here, and more shallow sea areas on continental shelves. I’m reminded of Douglas Adams and his description of Ursa Minor Beta as consisting largely of beaches.

Some of these characteristics are impossible to detect with existing technology. For instance, although I think there is a way of finding continents and mapping them crudely by measuring fluctuations in brightness and colour, only a very few planets have even been imaged as points of light so far and they’re much larger than Earth. There’s probably a way of coördinating and processing telescope images taken in different parts of the Solar System to simulate the effect of an enormously magnifying lens, but I’m just guessing there. Nonetheless, there are certain known planets which do appear to satisfy some of these conditions. One is Kepler-442b. Incidentally, many of these planets have rather boring, monotonous names at present because they were all found by the same project. This planet, also known as KOI-4742.01 orbits its K-type sun at a distance of 61 200 000 kilometres once every 112.3 days, has a mass 2.3 times Earth’s and a diameter of around 17 100 kilometres. This gives it a surface gravity twenty-eight percent higher than ours, which is just about bearable. Without other factors being involved, its surface temperature would be about -40, but it could easily be warmer due to the Greenhouse Effect, low albedo and so forth. This last factor is of course the way in which it isn’t super-habitable, if it’s so.

It’s possible that there are more super-habitable planets than strictly Earth-like ones because there are more orange dwarfs than yellow dwarfs. Nine percent of stars in the Galaxy are of this kind as opposed to seven percent of the Sun’s spectral type, and several of the criteria simply follow from a planet being more massive than Earth. For instance, higher gravity could make the oceans shallower and give the planets more tectonic activity, and as a personal interjection continents on larger planets have more chance of being widely separated and having different evolutionary histories. A planet 1.4 times the diameter of the Earth whose surface is 29% covered in land, i.e. proportionately the same as Earth’s at the moment, has almost twice as much land, which if the average continent size were the same would be represented by a dozen continents. Likewise, we currently have five oceans here but there could be more there, although oceans are not well-defined and in a sense there is only one ocean. Planets with more than fifty percent land coverage could have landlocked oceans, and even worlds with less land due to quirks of geography, but this won’t apply to planets of this kind.

What might such a planet be like? Here I’m going to choose an example which satisfies all the criteria. There will be many others, if they exist at all that is. The average temperature would be somewhat higher than Earth’s and there would be no permanent ice caps at the poles, although snow-covered mountains and glaciers could easily exist. The climate would be warm and humid, with more cloud cover than Earth. Tropical rain forest vegetation would cover much of the land and there would be smaller desert areas. The oceans would be shallower and there would be copious vegetation on the sea beds. Atmospheric oxygen content would be higher in absolute terms but lower in terms of percentage than Earth’s. The denser atmosphere would mean stronger winds and more devastating rotary storms such as tornados and hurricanes. Also, these planets are likely to be more similar to each other than strictly Earth-like planets would be. The general picture is a little similar to the way Earth was at the climax of the age of dinosaurs or during the Carboniferous, although the higher gravity would limit the size of terrestrial megafauna.

These larger planets have a kind of momentum to them, which allows them to continue with fairly stable climatic conditions for many æons. By contrast, Earth-like planets run the risk of becoming permanently ice-covered, tipping into runaway Greenhouse effects and ending up like Venus, losing much of their atmospheres or relying more on large moons to maintain their magnetic fields, and therefore perhaps the ones that don’t have them or something else to raise internal tides only have thin atmospheres and no land life.

However, this does raise another question in my mind. As far as we know, we are the first technological civilisation to arise on this planet, although there’s tantalising evidence that there may have been advanced industrial processes here during the Eocene, maybe not from terrestrial species. If that’s so, it means that the periods of time during which Earth was more hospitable to life than it is today didn’t give rise to tool-using species. Therefore, is it possible that a more hospitable habitat is like the Swiss with their cuckoo clocks? Would stability end up providing little challenge to species and prevent it from evolving humanoid intelligence? Are these planets too comfortable? And there’s another question. Although these planets seem stable, they would be nearer a set of limits for biological habitability. Our planet has issues, but maybe that’s a sign of it being able to endure change. If something happened to one of these planets, like a large asteroid impact or a change in the luminosity of the sun, would this proce too much for life to handle? For instance, on this planet the life could be replenished by that surrounding undersea vents even if it died elsewhere, but I’m not sure whether there’d be many extremophiles – organisms who prefer hostile conditions – on such a world. Also, these planets are superhabitable by the needs of life as we know it in general, but not by human standards. We’d do okay, probably, on a planet which was somewhat larger and warmer than Earth although we’d have to be wary of the storms, but these super-habitable worlds wouldn’t be pleasant places to live for us. There’s a potential second set of hypothetical planets which are super-habitable for us, for instance with the Galactic Association example of Athena, a planet with no polar continent. Some of the characteristics would be similar, such as smaller but more numerous continents, but the set of criteria is not the same.

Taking this the other way is even more speculative because we’re only aware of one example of how life can arise and evolve, which is based on chemistry, organic matter, water and to a lesser extent oxygen for respiration. If there are other ways for life to exist, there could be whole other sets of “habitable” environments – I hesitate to say “planets” here because for all I know this would be happening on the surfaces of neutron stars, in nebulæ or the photospheres of “ordinary” stars. This is rather more difficult to discuss, but if life can exist in different ways it would seem to multiply the probability of life in the Universe, and also of the types of world which could support it. But I can only really leave this as a possibility thus far, or at least without making this post really long.

To conclude then, all this looks rather cheerful as regards the possibility of life as we know it in the Universe, but it also kind of pushes us Earthlings into a corner, as if all of this is true, we’re quite atypical of life in the Universe and our planet’s a bit weird. So who knows?