A Solar System Oddity

It’s recently been asserted, with some evidence, that the Solar System may be an exception in certain ways. We have moved from the assumption of mediocrity, also known as the Copernican Principle, that there’s nothing remarkable about our solar system to the realisation that it may in fact be quite peculiar. Specifically, one of the weird things about it is that it consists of planets moving in roughly circular orbits with small rocky ones near the centre and gas giants further out. Also, the most common type of all the planets type is between the sizes of Neptune and Earth, and we don’t even seem to have one of those, although it’s possible that it’s orbiting too far out to have been detected so far, perhaps having been thrown out early on. Another common feature of solar systems, though probably an artifact of how exoplanets are detected, is the prevalence of “Hot Jupiters”: planets around the range of Jupiter’s size which are however very close to their suns and far hotter than any of the planets orbiting ours, with atmospheres of vaporised metal and clouds of what would be minerals on Earth. It’s been hypothesised that Mercury is a leftover of such a planet, although if it is, it’s surprising it didn’t disrupt the Solar System so severely that it destroyed or flung out most of the other planets.

What I have in mind today, though, is a bit different. It’s about the relative sizes and masses of the planets. It was noted in the mid-twentieth century CE that the planets had a trend of increasing size up to Jupiter and then decreasing to Pluto, when Pluto was considered a planet, the exception being Mars. This led to the Tidal Hypothesis, now discarded, that they formed when another star approached the Sun and pulled out an enormous filament which resembled a cigar or spindle, in that it was thin at one end, much much thicker in the middle and thin again at the other end, just like Anne Elk’s theory of the Brontosaurus which was hers.

This theory was replaced by the Nebular Hypothesis, originally devised by Immanuel Kant in the eighteenth century, which came back into vogue. Incidentally, Anne Elk’s theory of the Brontosaurus does actually count as a genuine theory, not just an hypothesis. It could be refuted by the discovery of a “Brontosaurus” (that name is deprecated) with a short neck or a “Manx” Brontosaurus without a tail, although it would have to be demonstrated that the tail, for example, was absent rather than missing due to such factors as predation or geology. Incidentally, Brontosaurus is now once again considered to be a valid genus, after going through a long period of doubt, so there is hope for Pluto yet.

Another notable aspect of the Solar System is the spacing of the planets, which also appear to obey a law. Taking the numbers 0, 3, 6, 12 and so forth and adding four to each accurately predicts the relative distances of most of the planets from the Sun. However, this could be coincidence because some of this is kludged. Neptune doesn’t fit into the sequence, Mercury corresponds to 0+4 and not really in the series either, Pluto does fit in but is no longer officially a planet and the approximate position of the asteroid belt, and more specifically Ceres, is correctly predicted but again the asteroids are not major planets. Hence there are up to four exceptions out of nine, considering Pluto as a planet but not Ceres, which makes the “law” a bit shaky.

However, what I want to concentrate on today is the oddity that both Uranus and Neptune and Venus and Earth are “twins”. I’ve mentioned the Uranus/Neptune issue already, though in a different setting. They are both quite similar in size and mass, and they also look quite similar, Neptune being bluer than Uranus and Uranus being hazier and blander-looking than Neptune. Neptune is 18% more massive than Uranus, which is less than it sounds because mass is somewhat related to volume, but is also considerably denser at 1.77 times water compared to Uranus’s 1.25, and in terms of diameter Neptune is five percent smaller. Turning to Earth and Venus, we are 22% more massive and five percent larger in diameter. Taking these four planets out of the picture, the two most similar planets in this respect seem to be Mercury and Mars, whose surface gravity is almost identical, but Saturn and Jupiter are not that similar, Saturn being quite serene and calm-looking (although I’m sure it isn’t) and Jupiter quite manic and boily. Uranus and Neptune are more similar to each other than Earth and Venus in terms of conditions, with similar colours, atmospheres and to some extent temperatures, although Neptune’s day is much shorter. Probably coincidentally, both Uranus and Venus spin in the opposite direction to all other planets, are the further planet in and are slightly less massive, although all of these are likely to be coincidental. Uranus is unusual in orbiting on its “side”, the axis being almost parallel to the plane of the orbit, and is technically retrograde but only just.

Two questions occur to me here. One is whether these two sets of twins are just coincidence or more significant, and the other is how common twin planets are in the Universe. I don’t fully know how to answer either of these questions although I kind of played with the idea in the post linked above. One thing which is notable is that both sets of twins are one and two orbits away from Jupiter, which would work well with the Tidal Hypothesis although that’s now been rejected. It might, however, reflect either a tendency for the solar nebula to bulge at a mid-distance and taper off closer to and further away from the Sun, or a tendency, which may be the same thing, for Jupiter to pull matter toward itself. However, the spacing of the outer Solar System is much wider than the inner.

Earth is obviously the object of more scrutiny than the others, and a couple of things should be noted about us. One is that we used to be more massive and bigger than we are now, since our planet collided with Theia, a Mars-sized body (and I can’t help wondering if it actually was Mars but I expect this has been considered and rejected) and chipped off an eighty-first of the mass in the form of our natural satellite, which is anomalous in size. Just adding the volumes together gives the original Earth a diameter of around 12 841 kilometres, makes it slightly less dense and slightly reduces the surface gravity. It’s very salient to the question of life elsewhere to consider how Earth would’ve turned out had this event not taken place, but right now I only want to talk about the likelihood of twins in a star system. Earth also has a year 11.86 times shorter than Jupiter’s, suggesting that the matter this planet is made of was pulled away from a zone either side of a dozenth of Jupiter’s year by continual tugging when the planet made its closest approach. Doing the same calculations with Uranus and Neptune, the former has just over seven times the period of Jupiter, closer in fact than Earth’s to an integer fraction, and the latter is around twice Uranus’s. Venus is not close to either Earth’s sidereal period (year) but is close to a third of that of Mars. It would be interesting if it turned out that Venus was able to win the gravitational battle with Jupiter to cause Mars to form, but not to the extent that Jupiter was able to disrupt any planet which would otherwise have formed from the asteroids plus a very large amount of extra mass which would’ve been necessary for a planet to form in what became the asteroid belt. However, although it’s feasible to do the maths for all these planets, the point comes at which mere coincidence would appear to stand out, particularly when one considers that all sorts of resonance ratios need to be considered.

It’s very easy to speculate and not very scientific to do so. Nevertheless, the patterns here seem to be that both pairs of twin planets are next to each other, one of each has close to a multiple of Jupiter’s orbital year and the other hasn’t and both are some way between the apparently most massive region of the solar nebula and the thin edge. There could be another reason why the biggest planet is in that location. Perhaps it’s simply that collisions between particles are more likely either to propel them towards the halfway point (which it isn’t any more, incidentally) or less likely to leave the solar system entirely, so there’s a build-up but not due to a thicker ring of material as such. Another, very important, factor, is that lighter elements, or those with lower boiling points, are likely to be driven off the centre of the disc and be retained the further out they are, which goes some way towards explaining the distribution of small and large planets but fails to account for Uranus and Neptune, as by this token they should be the largest if that’s the only or a major factor.

I’m very much in the dark here. I don’t think this has often been remarked upon. Venus and Earth have often been compared and contrasted, as have Uranus and Neptune, but the fact that this happens twice in this star system alone seems remarkable. All the planets involved are of intermediate mass, although Earth is the largest and most massive inner planet. There is a somewhat similar case with the star system TRAPPIST-1, with eight detected planets all between the masses of Mars and slightly more than Earth, and all in roughly circular orbits and closer to the star than Venus is to the Sun. This is somewhat extreme and unusual, but due to the small size of the star it might make sense to think of it as rather like a planet and its moons, similar to Jupiter and Saturn, more than a solar system like this one. Considering the moons of the outer planets, although the largest of Jupiter’s have somewhat similar size in terms of order of magnitude rather than being quadruplets, Saturn and Neptune each have one larger moon and many smaller ones and Uranus has two sets of twins, Titania and Oberon, and Ariel and Umbriel, although they are next to each other in that order outward. Saturn’s mid-size moons are all quite distinctive but often similar in size to others, so they can’t really be thought of as twins in the sense that Uranus and Neptune can, although Venus and Earth are substantially unlike each other apart from size and internal composition as well. Therefore, perhaps there are two trends, again reflected in our own system, of similar and dissimilar twins, and stretching the point somewhat, might this mean that there are similar and dissimilar twin planets elsewhere? That this is characteristic?

In particular, might there be twin mid-size planets in inner solar systems? The type of planet which isn’t in evidence in our own Solar System which is intermediate in mass between Neptune and Earth, somewhat dissimilar to each other owing to their closeness to the star seems highly plausible. Probably the cause of the differences between Venus and Earth by contrast with the rather similar Uranus and Neptune is that, being closer to the Sun, the temperature and radiation gradient is greater and their environments are therefore more different, leading to them being less similar.

Suppose, then, the following hypothetical situation. A planetary system has a super-Jupiter situated where our asteroid belt is relative to its own sun, making it the fifth planet, 2.8 times Earth’s distance from the Sun. I’m assuming it has to be larger in order for mini-Neptunes to form in the inner Solar System. These would then both be between the orbits of Venus and Mercury, and therefore both rather hot, though not as hot as Mercury, at least at the cloud tops. They would therefore have lost much of their light gases and shrunk in size, but would still be around 50% larger than Earth and Venus in diameter. However, being watery, both would probably still have runaway greenhouse effects. I’m not going to try to come up with a scenario where life could emerge, because this is a very common skew in how planets tend to be discussed. This is more to do with trying to illustrate the diversity of planets in the Universe.

Another possibility is a system where a Jupiter-sized planet formed at the distance of Saturn from the Sun, and incidentally like the previous example I’m trying to keep the model simple here by presuming the star has the same characteristics as ours. This could place two roughly Earth-sized planets where our asteroid belt and Mars are. The outer twin here is of a type absent from our system once again, possibly with liquid ammonia oceans and an atmosphere with some hydrogen. Water ice would never melt on this planet. There might also be formaldehyde mixed with ammonia in the oceans, making this planet hostile to life but very suitable for preserving biological specimens! The closer planet would occupy the orbit of Mars and be a “snowball Earth”, with conditions over most of the surface like those of Antarctica. In this case, life is possible around volcanic vents at the bottom of frozen over lakes of water, but the atmosphere would be largely nitrogen with dry ice on the surface. This assumes, of course, that the planet is unaffected by any filter, such as phosphorus availability, which would rule life out.

A final scenario to consider is the possibility of twin planets formed through the influence of a Hot Jupiter, further out from the star. A Hot Jupiter a tenth of Earth’s distance from the Sun could end up causing two medium-sized planets to form. It would itself have an eleven day year with frequent transits visible from those planets, which could be situated at about the distance of Mercury and about halfway to Venus. If they were about Earth-sized, the outer one would probably just be Venus-like, but the inner one might well have practically no atmosphere and therefore be heavily cratered, but otherwise Earth-like in size. This is again a planet unlike anything in our system.

All of this is highly speculative of course, but the main point is to illustrate that there might be many “twin worlds” out there about which we know practically nothing, all very different from anything in our own solar system. But as a concession to the fixation on Earth-like planets, it’s also possible to envisage a pair of worlds whose mean distance from their Sun is the same as Earth’s. The inner twin could be like the classic, golden age sci-fi version of Venus, a steamy, hot jungle planet permanently swathed in water vapour clouds with heavy rainfall, and the outer could be a chilly version of Earth, with Arctic and Antarctica conditions but maybe conditions in the tropics comparable to Scandinavia. This could well be a star system with two habitable worlds, and perhaps two worlds with Earth-type life on them.

There is another way of getting twin worlds, which might be called “conjoined twin worlds”. Earth was split into two bodies by the Mars-sized Theia. A larger planet-sized miscreant might have split our planet into two roughly equal-sized planets orbiting each other. The difficult thing to manage here would be the distance between the worlds, as if they were at the same distance as our own double planet system, their rotation period would last several weeks and temperatures would fluctuate between conditions which would boil the oceans and conditions which would freeze them solid, so this would be a nasty pair. However, if they were quite close, but not close enough to tear each other apart, they would form two smaller, more arid and mountainous worlds with less water but deeper oceans. These would then be desert worlds, perhaps with deep lakes rather than oceans, and mountains reaching high above the cloud tops, which would in any case be lower than on Earth, perhaps with whole plateaux above them where it neither rains or snows. However, the mean temperature at a given latitude could still be comparable to ours. But there could equally well be double Veneres or Martes, and in the latter case it would likely be a pair of cold Mercuries.

To conclude then, I think if we get to adequately explore the Galaxy, evidence from this star system strongly suggests that there would be plenty of twin planet situations, and as far as I know this has never been explored theoretically by astronomers. Nor, so far as I know, has the fact of there being a pair of twins here been investigated. I’ve used a fairly naïve model to imagine the planets here, but even if I’m wrong, and I probably am, I still think that there are likely to be many twins in the Universe, and I look forward to some being discovered.

Nine Planets Again?

Schlegel, Finkbeiner and Davis (1998)

Removed on request

In 2006 CE, the International Astronomical Union declared a new definition of “planet” which excluded Pluto because it didn’t satisfy the new criteria. These were:

  1. It had to orbit the Sun (or presumably another star or it’s very silly).
  2. It had to be almost round (so no doughnut-shaped planets?).
  3. It had to have cleared the neighbourhood around its orbit.

They did this because a number of large new objects had recently been discovered which were round and two, I think, were more massive than Pluto, but they didn’t want to call them planets because it would’ve led to a very large number of bodies ending up being called that. They also introduced a new category of “dwarf planet”, which included Ceres, previously regarded as an asteroid, and also Pluto and others. It does make sense to do this, although I don’t understand why they didn’t just carry on with the term “minor planet”, referring mainly to asteroids, or perhaps “planetoid”, which they’d also used a lot.

The least clear of these three criteria is “clearing the neighbourhood”. This means that a body has no other bodies of comparable size other than its moons or other bodies under its gravitational influence such as Trojan asteroids. These are asteroids which orbit 60° ahead of or behind a planet in the same orbit which are pulled there by the gravity of the Sun and the planet concerned, examples being Achilles and Hector with Jupiter. Arguably this criterion either makes Cynthia a planet or Earth not a planet, and whereas I’m fine with the former I don’t think the latter is sensible.

The word “planet” has been applied differently during different times in the history of astronomy. When the large Galilean moons of Jupiter were discovered in the early seventeenth century, they were referred to as planets, and this also happened when Ceres was discovered in 1801. A similar process to the one leading to Pluto’s demotion then ensued, with lots more “planets” being discovered until it was decided to call them minor planets or asteroids.

It’s actually quite nice to think of Cynthia as a planet because it increases the number of known planets in our Solar System to nine again, and also means the Apollo astronauts landed on another planet rather than just a moon, and it also bolsters the idea that it should have its own name. It’s the largest body within the asteroid belt which isn’t considered a planet. Leaving that aside though, one issue with Pluto not being a planet is that most people have grown up with the idea that it is one, and it’s hard to let go of apparent certainties arrived at in childhood. Its demotion is akin to the youth of today liking different music or something. To quote Abe Simpson, “I used to be with ‘it’, but then they changed what ‘it’ was. Now what I’m with isn’t ‘it’ anymore and what’s ‘it’ seems weird and scary. It’ll happen to you!”. And it did. It happens to all of us.

I exploited this idea in my Caroline Era alternate history with the discovery of Persephone and subsequent visit by Voyager III. This body is in fact either Eris or Sedna, I can’t remember which. There is also an eleventh planet according to the Caroline Era astronomers, which is whichever one this isn’t, and this could’ve happened. It isn’t an alteration to the solar system, just to what we call things, and the name Persephone has been hanging around waiting to be attached to a new outer planet for a very long time now.

When Neptune was discovered, its mass and position explained some of the vagaries of the Uranian orbit but not all. Neptune also takes more than a gross years to orbit the Sun, so it was too slow-moving to plot its orbit accurately for quite some time after its discovery. Therefore, it was conjectured that a further planet must exist beyond the orbit of Neptune. Two planets were proposed, one by the well-known Percival Lowell who elaborated the Martian canals. He proposed a planet seven and a half times Earth’s mass with a mean distance of around 6 500 million kilometres from the Sun and a period of 299 years. It would have had a diameter of around 25 600 kilometres. Those figures, which turned out to be very wrong for Pluto, are worth remembering because they suggest something else, but I’ll be coming back to this. The other proposal was from Edward Charles Pickering. He suggested a planet with a mean distance of 8 200 million kilometres from the Sun and a period of 409 years. Obviously it couldn’t be both. Incidentally, this is where “Planet X” comes from. It was Lowell’s name for this planet while it was still undiscovered. Then, after a lot of searching using photographic plates to detect the movement of the body against the background of the stars, Clyde Tombaugh detected something moving in approximately the right position. After a competition, the eleven year old Venetia Burney decided it should be named Pluto, because it was far out, dark and gloomy and therefore appropriately named after the god of the underworld, which also happened to begin with Percival Lowell’s initials.

Both astronomers had predicted a highly elliptical orbit in comparison to the other planets, and in fact its orbit is indeed considerably more elliptical than any of them apart from Mercury, and was still quite a bit more eccentric even than that. For a long time, Pluto’s satellite Charon remained undiscovered due to being very close to Pluto in both distance and size, and consequently there was no easy way to calculate its mass, so it seemed that in order to yank Uranus around sufficiently from that distance it had to be practically a solid ball of iron, probably the densest element found in large enough quantities to make up an entire planet. If Charon had been found earlier, its orbital period would’ve indicated that Pluto was in fact not very dense at all and mainly made of ices, so when it was discovered in 1978, or more likely somewhat later when its month became known, it was realised that Pluto was not nearly massive enough to account for it. Its density is only 1.88 grammes per cm3 rather than more than four times greater as it had had to be assumed. So it looks like Pluto was actually just discovered by chance and has nothing to do with perturbing Uranus. Astronomers just happened to be looking really hard at the patch of sky it was by chance crossing at the time. It was in fact fainter than expected too, because they thought it would be larger, and the size of Pluto was also overestimated for a while for the same reason as its mass. In fact, to fulfil requirements it would actually have had to be more than twice as dense as the densest atomic materials in existence. Note that that doesn’t mean “known”. The densest elements are already known because the strength of the nuclear strong force compared to the other forces in atomic nuclei allows the heaviest stable elements to be determined, and they’ve already been discovered in the form of osmium and iridium.

Pickering believed that his planet and Lowell’s were not the same, and that both existed. To return to his “Planet P” as he called it, it’s of a type which is nowadays referred to as a “Super-Earth” or “Mini-Neptune”, and these are notable by their apparent absence from our Solar System. Of all the planets discovered in the Galaxy by the current rather flawed method, the most common of all are of this type: considerably larger than Earth and considerably smaller than Neptune and Uranus. It is in fact an unresolved problem in astronomy that the apparently most common type of planet also seems to be completely absent from our own system. Some have suggested that at some point a Super-Earth did indeed orbit with us but was slung out of the system entirely, or way too far out to be easily detected, æons ago, which is why we seem so atypical.

Before I go on to the next bit, I want to talk about Uranus and Neptune, both of which were “precovered”, i.e. noted before it was realised they were planets. William Herschel published his ‘Account Of A Comet’ in 1781, where he thought he’d found a comet but it turned out to be Uranus. This planet is actually just about visible to the naked eye and could easily be mistaken for a star. Neptune is too faint for this to happen, although I wonder if nocturnal animals can see it as well as Uranus, so the idea of it being discovered when it was may be preceded by perhaps 200 million years or more, although that would only be an early mammal happening to notice a light in the sky rather than a genuine discovery. It is, though, possible that Neptune was recorded as a star by various astronomers before it was actually found to be a planet.

And this brings us up to date, because as you probably know, a ninth (tenth‽) planet may have been discovered through old telescope photographs. The IRAS project, from a satellite launched in 1983, was an infrared sky survey operating for nine months. As seen highlighted in the image at the top of this post, it may have found a new solar planet. The object in question is in roughly the right place for Planet 9 but may not be a planet at all because it’s close to the galactic plane, where there’s a lot of dust and stars, making observations rather difficult. If it is a planet, it’s about 225 AU from the Sun (33 750 million kilometres or one light day and seven light hours from it) and has a mass at least five times Earth’s. If that difference is average it would take more than three millennia to orbit the Sun and the last time it was in the position it was in 1983 would’ve been in the late Bronze Age. It may well not be a planet at all.

The reason Planet 9 might exist is that the Pluto-like bodies orbiting between 150 and 300 AU out – those are average distances by the way and the orbits are far from circular – seem to be clustered on one side of the Sun but are too far out to have their movement disturbed significantly by the gas giants we know about, so the idea is that there is a planet even further out which influences their motion. Although I’m in the Dunning-Kruger zone with this, I have my doubts because it seems to me that the bodies we know about are all currently near their closest approach to the Sun because otherwise they’d be too dim and slow to be detectable, and it could be an artifact of a small sample size. I may well be wrong about this. If it exists, the planet in question would be about five times Earth’s mass, as stated above, but also 400 to 800 times further out than us as opposed to 225. However, Pluto was discovered because of looking in the right place accidentally, so although the hypothesised planet is too close, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Presumably it could mean there’s yet another one further out. Some people are uncomfortable calling it “Planet 9” because they see it as insulting to Clive Tombaugh. I feel a strong urge to call it Persephone. It isn’t the hypothetical Tyche, because that would be larger than Jupiter and has been ruled out by observation at any distance closer than 10 000 AU. Tyche would actually be fairly warm incidentally, because it would be large enough to heat itself – it would be only slightly cooler than Saturn.

A super-Earth at that distance, though, would be very cold. I’m not sure how cold exactly, but it would be between -270°C and -195°C. Planets of this type are either water worlds or “gas dwarfs”. At that distance it seems unlikely it would have oceans because they’d be frozen solid, but one depiction of a gas dwarf is that it would be like this:

By Pablo Carlos Budassi – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=112487881

It could also have moons, which I find interesting because they could be warmed by tidal forces and if not, might have neon-rich atmospheres if they’re large enough.

The subject of Super-Earths and/or Mini-Neptunes is worth holding over for a post in itself, so I won’t go into more detail here, and I really think this is going to turn out to be nothing, but it’d be nice to discover another planet in our Solar System and perhaps resolve the problem of why we don’t seem to have one of this type. Alternatively, maybe a planet at that distance is far enough out to have been a rogue planet wandering between the stars or to have belonged to another solar system entirely which passed too close to the Sun and had one of its planets captured, which is exciting as well because it means we’d be able to study a planet from another star at relatively close range. It’s still over a thousand times closer than the nearest star though.

So to conclude, because good science always goes for the most boring option, I don’t think this is Persephone, but it’d be nice if it was.