Tag: black holes

The supernova and the quasar: the hungriest guy in the universe followed the ultimate toaster

Keith S. Taber

Communicating astronomical extremes

I was recently listening to a podcast of an episode of a science magazine programme which included two items of astronomy news, one about a supernovae, the next about a quasar. I often find little snippets in such programmes that I think work making a note of (quite a few of the analogies, metaphors and similes – and anthropomorphisms – reported on this site come from such sources). Here, I went back and listened to the items again, and decided the discussions were rich enough in interesting points to be worth taking time to transcribe them in full. The science itself was fascinating, but I also thought the discourse was interesting from the perspective of communicating abstract science. 1

I have appended my transcriptions below for anyone who is interested – or you can go and listen to the podcast (episode 'Largest ever COVID safety study' of the BBC World Service's Science in Action).

Space, as Douglas Adams famously noted, is big. And it is not easy for humans to fully appreciate the scales involved – even of say, the distance to the moon, or the mass of Jupiter, let alone beyond 'our' solar system, and even 'our' galaxy. Perhaps that is why public communication of space science is often so rich with metaphor and other comparisons?

When is a star no longer a star (or, does it become a different star?)

One of the issues raised by both items is what we mean by a star. When we see the night sky there are myriad visible sources of light, and these were traditionally all called stars. Telescopes revealed a good many more, and radio telescopes other sources that could not detected visually. We usually think of the planets as being something other than stars, but even that is somewhat arbitrary – the planets have also been seen as a subset of the stars – the planetary or wandering stars, as opposed to the 'fixed' stars.

At one time it was commonly thought the fixed stars were actually fixed into some kind of crystalline sphere. We now know they are not fixed at all, as the whole universe is populated with objects influenced by gravity and in motion. But on the scale of a human lifetime, the fixed stars tend to appear pretty stationary in relation to one another, because of the vast distances involved – even if they are actually moving rather fast in human terms.

Wikipedia (a generally, but not always, reliable source) suggests "a star is a luminous spheroid of plasma held together by self-gravity" – so by that definition the planets no longer count as stars. What about Supernova 1987A (SN 1987A) or quasar J0529-4351?

"This image, taken with Hubble's Wide Field and Planetary Camera 2in 1995, shows the orange-red rings surrounding Supernova 1987A in the Large Magellanic Cloud. The glowing debris of the supernova explosion, which occurred in February 1987, is at the centre of the inner ring. The small white square indicates the location of the STIS aperture used for the new far-ultraviolet observation. [George Sonneborn (Goddard Space Flight Center), Jason Pun (NOAO), the STIS Instrument Definition Team, and NASA/ESA]" [Perhaps the supernova explosion did not actually occur in February 1987]

Supernova 1987A is so-called because it was the first supernova detected in 1987 (and I am old enough to remember the news of this at the time). Stars remain in a more-or-less stable state (that is, their size, temperature, mass are changing, but, in proportional terms, only very, very slowly2) for many millions of years because of a balance of forces – the extremely high pressures at the centre work against the tendency of gravity to bring all the matter closer together. (Imagine a football supported by a constant jet of water fired vertically upwards.) The high pressures inside a star relate to a very high temperature, and that temperature is maintained despite the hot star radiating (infra-red, visible, ultraviolet…) into space 3 because of the heating effect of the nuclear reactions. There can be a sequence of nuclear fusion reactions that occur under different conditions, but the starting point and longest-lasting phase involves hydrogen being fused into helium.

The key point is that when the reactants ('fuel') for one process have all (or nearly all) been reacted, then a subsequent reaction (fusing the product of a previous phase) becomes more dominant. Each specific reaction releases a particular amount of energy at a particular rate (just as with different exothermic chemical reactions), so the star's equilibrium has to shift as the rate of energy production changes the conditions near the centre. Just as you cannot run a petrol engine on diesel without making some adjustments, the characteristics of the star change with shifts along the sequence of nuclear reactions at its core.

These changes can be quite dramatic. It is thought that in the future the Earth's Sun will expand to be as large as the Earth's orbit – but that is in the distant future: not for billions of years yet.

Going nova

Massive stars can reach a point when the rate of energy conversion drops so suddenly (on a stellar scale) that there is a kind of collapse, followed by a kind of explosive recoil, that ejects much material out into space, whilst leaving a core of condensed nuclear matter – a neutron star. For even more massive stars, not even nuclear material is stable, as there is sufficient gravity to even collapse nuclear matter, and a black hole forms.

It was such an explosion that was bright enough to be seen as a 'nova' (new star) from Earth. Astronomers have since been waiting to find evidence of what was left behind at the location of the explosion – a neutron star, or a black hole. But of course, although we use the term 'nova', it was not actually a new star, just a star that was so far away, indeed in another galaxy, that it was not noticeable – until it exploded.

Dr. Olivia Jones (from the UK Astronomy Technology Centre at The Royal Observatory, Edinburgh) explained that neutron stars form from

"…really massive stars like Supernova 1987A or what it was beforehand, about 20 times the mass of a Sun…

So, what was SN 1987A before it went supernova? It was already a star – moreover, astronomers observing the Supernova were studying

…how it evolves in real time, which in astronomy terms is extremely rare, just tracing the evolution of the death of a star…

So, it was a star; and it died, or is dying. (This is a kind of metaphor, but one that has become adopted into common usage – this way of astronomers talking of stars as having births, lives, careers, deaths, has been discussed here before: 'The passing of stars: Birth, death, and afterlife in the universe.') What once was the star, is now (i) a core located where the star was – and (ii) a vast amount of ejected material now "about 20 light years across" – so spread over a much larger volume than our entire solar system. The core is now a "neutron star [which] will start to cool down, gradually and gradually and fade away".

So, SN 1987A was less a star, than an event: the collapse of a star and its immediate aftermath. The neutron star at is core is only part of what is left from that event (perhaps like a skeleton left by a deceased animal?) Moreover, if we accept Wikipedia's definition then the neutron star is not actually a star at all, as instead of being plasma (ionised gas – 'a phase of matter produced when material is too hot to exist as, what to us seems, 'normal' gas) it comprises of material that is so condensed that it does not even contain normal atoms, just in effect a vast number of atomic nuclei fused into one single object – a star-scale atomic nucleus. So, one could say that SN 1987A was no so much a star, as the trace evidence of a star that no longer existed.

And SN 1987A is not alone in presenting identity problems to astronomers. J0529-4351 is now recognised as being possibly the brightest object in the sky (that is, if we viewed them all from the same distance to give a fair comparison) but until recently it was considered a fairly unimpressive star. As doctoral researcher Samuel Lai (Research School of Astronomy and Astrophysics, Australian National University) pointed out,

this one was mis-characterised as a star, I mean it just looks like one fairly insignificant point, just like all the other ones, right, and so we never picked it up as quasar before

But now it is recognised to only appear insignificant because it is so far away – and it is not just another star. It has been 'promoted' to quasar status. That does not mean the star has changed – only our understanding of it.

But is it a star at all? The term quasar means 'quasi–stellar object', that is something that appears much like a star. But, if J0529-435 is a quasar, then it consists of a black hole, into which material is being attracted by gravity in a process that is so energetic that the material being accreted is heated and radiates an enormous amount of energy before it slips from view over the black hole's event horizon. That material is not a luminous spheroid of plasma held together by self-gravity either.

This video from the European Southern Observatory (ESO) gives an impression of just how far away (and so how difficult to detect) the brightest object in the galaxy actually is.

These 'ontological' questions (how we classify objects of different kinds) interest me, but for those who think this kind of issue is a bit esoteric, there was a great deal more to think about in these item.

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away"

For one thing, it was not, as presenter Roland Pease suggested, strictly the 37th anniversary of the SN 1987A – at least not in the sense that the precursor star went supernovae 37 years ago. SN 1987A is about 170 000 light years away. The event, the explosion, actually occurred something like 170 000 years before it could be detected here. So, saying it is the 37th anniversary (rather than, perhaps, the 170 037th anniversary 4) is a very anthropocentric, or, at least, geocentric take on things.

Then again, listeners are told that the supernova was in "the Large Magellanic Cloud just outside the Milky Way galaxy" – this is a reasonable description for someone taking an overview of the galaxies, but there is probably something like 90,000 light-years between what can be considered the edges of our Milky Way galaxy and this 'close by' one. So, this is a bit like suggesting Birmingham is 'just outside' London – an evaluation which might make more sense to someone travelling from Wallaroo rather than someone from Wolverhampton.

It is all a matter of scale. Given that the light from J0529-4351 takes about twelve billion years to reach us, ninety thousand light years is indeed, by comparison, just outside our own galaxy.

But the numbers here are simply staggering. Imagine something the size of a neutron star (whether we think it really is a star or not) that listeners were informed is "rotating…around 700 times a second". I do not think we can actually imagine that (rather than conceptualise it) even for an object the size of a pin – because our senses have not evolved to engage with something spinning that fast. Similarly, material moving around a black hole at tens of thousands of kilometres per second is also beyond what is ready visualisation. Again, we may understand, conceptually, that "the neutron star is over a million degrees Celsius" but this is just another very big number way that is outside any direct human experience.

Comparisons of scale

Thus the use of analogies and other comparisons to get across something of the immense magnitudes involved:

  • "If you think of our Sun as a tennis ball in size, the star that formed [SN] 87A was about as big as the London Eye."
  • "A teaspoon of this material, of a neutron star, weighs about as much as Everest"
  • the black home at the centre of the quasar acquires an entire Sun worth of mass every single day
  • the black hole at the centre of the quasar acquires the equivalent of about four earths, every single second
  • the quasar is about five hundred trillion times brighter than the Sun, or equivalent to about five hundred trillion suns

Often in explaining science, everyday objects (fridges, buses – see 'Quotidian comparisons') are used for comparisons of size or mass – but here we have to shift up to a mountain. The references to 'every single day' and 'every single second' include redundancy: that is, no meaning is lost by just saying 'every day' and 'every second' but the inclusion of 'single' acts a kind of rhetorical decoration giving greater emphasis.

Figurative language

Formal scientific reports are expected to be technical, and the figurative language common in most everyday discourse is, generally, avoided – but communication of science in teaching and to the public in journalism often uses devices such as metaphor and simile to make description and explanations seem more familiar, and encourage engagement.

Of course, it is sometimes a matter of opinion whether a term is being used figuratively (as we each have our own personal nuances for the meanings of words). Would we really expect to see a 'signature' of a pulsar? Not if we mean the term literally, a sign made by had to confirm identify, but like 'fingerprint' the term is something of a dead metaphor in that we now readily expect to find so-called 'signatures' and 'fingerprints' in spectra and D.N.A. samples and many other contexts that have no direct hand involvement.

Perhaps, more tellingly, language may seem so fitting that it is not perceived as figurative. To describe a supernova as an 'evolving fireball' seems very apt, although I would pedantically argue that this is strictly a metaphor as there is no fire in the usual chemical sense. Here are some other examples I noticed:

  • "we have been searching for that Holy Grail: has a neutron star formed or has a black hole been left behind"
  • "the quasar is not located in some kind of galactic desert"
  • there is a "storm, round the black hole"
  • "the galaxies are funnelling their material into their supermassive black hole"
  • "extraordinarily hot nuclear ember"
  • "a dense dead spinning cinder"
  • "the ultimate toaster"

Clearly no astronomer expects to find the Holy Grail in a distant galaxy in another part of the Universe (and, indeed, I recently read it is in a Museum in Ireland), but clearly this is a common idiom to mean something being widely and enthusiastically sought.5

A quasar does exist in a galactic desert, at least if we take 'desert' literately as it is clearly much too hot for any rain to fall there, but the figurative meaning is clear enough. The gravitational field of the black hole causes material to fall into it – so although the location, at the centre of a galaxy (not a coincidence, of course), means there is much material around, I was not sure how the galaxy was actively 'funnelling' material. This seems a bit light suggesting spilt tea is being actively thrown to the floor by the cup.

A hot ember or cinder may be left by a fire that has burned out, and one at over a million degrees Celsius might indeed 'toast' anything that was in its vicinity. So, J0529-4351 may indeed be the ultimate toaster, but not in the sense that it is a desirable addition to elite wedding lists.

Anthropomorphism

Anthropomorphism is a particular kind of metaphor that describes non-human entities as if they had the motivations, experiences, drives, etc., of people. The references to dying stars at least suggest animism (that the stars are in some sense alive – something that was once commonly believed 6), but there are other examples (that something is 'lurking' in the supernova remnant) that seem to discuss stellar entities as if they are deliberate agents like us. In particular, a black hole acquiring matter (purely due to its intense gravitational field) was described as feeding:

  • quasars are basically supermassive black holes just swallowing up all the stars and rubbish around
  • a quasar is feeding from the accretion disc
  • a monstrous black hole gobbling up anything within reach
  • just sat [sic] there, gobbling up everything around it
  • it has to have been feeding for a very, very long time
  • it will eat about four of those earths, every single second
  • in a particularly nutritious galaxy
  • a quasar that has been declared the hungriest object in the universe

There is clearly some kind of extended metaphor being used here.

Feeding frenzy?

The notion of a black hole feeding on surrounding material seems apt (perhaps, again, because the metaphor is widely used, and so familiar). But there seems a lot more 'negative analogy' than 'positive analogy: that is the ways in which (i) a black hole acquires matter, and (ii) an organism feeds, surely have more points of difference than similarity?

  • For advanced animals like mammals, birds, fish, snails and the like, feeding is a complex behaviour that usually involves active searching for suitable food, whereas the black hole does not need to go anywhere.
  • The animal has specialist mouth-parts and a digestive system that allows it to break apart foodstuff. The black-hole just tears all materials apart indiscriminately:"it's just getting chopped up, heated up, shredded".
  • The organism processes the foodstuff to release specific materials (catabolism) and then processes these is very specific ways to support is highly complex structure and functioning, including the building up of more complex materials (anabolism). The black hole is just a sink for stuff.
  • The organism takes in foodstuffs to maintain equilibrium, and sometimes to grow in very specific, highly organised ways. The black hole just gets more massive.

A black hole surely has more in keeping with an avalanche or the collapse a tall building than feeding?

One person's garbage…?

Another feature of the discourse that I found intriguing was the relative values implicitly assigned to different material found in distant space. There is a sense with SN 1987A that, after the explosion, the neutron star in some sense deserves to be considered the real remnant of the star, whilst the other material has somehow lost status by being ejected and dispersed. Perhaps that makes sense given that the neutron star remains a coherent body, and is presumably (if the explosion was symmetrical) located much where the former star was.

But I wonder if calling the ejected material – which is what comprises the basis of "an absolutely stunning supernova [which is] beautiful" – as 'debris' and 'outer debris"? Why is this material seen as the rubbish – could we not instead see the neutron star as the debris being the inert residue left behind when the rest of the star explored in a magnificent display? (I am not suggesting either should be considered 'debris', just playing Devil's advocate.)

Perhaps the reference to being able to "isolate the core where the explosion was from the rest of the debris" suggests all that is left is debris of a star, which seems fairer; but the whole history of the universe, as we understand it, involves sequences of matter changing forms quite drastically, and why should we value one or some of these successive phases as being the real product of cosmic evolution (stars?) and other phases as just rubbish? This is certainly suggested by the reference to "supermassive black holes in the middle of a galaxy … swallowing up all the stars and rubbish".

Let's hear it for the little guys

Roland Pease's analogy to "the muck at the bottom of your sink going down into the blender" might also suggest a tendency to view some astronomical structures and phenomenon as intrinsically higher status (the blender/black hole) than others (clouds of dust, or gas or plasma – the muck). Of course, I am sympathetic to the quest to better understand "these guys" (intense quasars already formed early in the universe), but as objectively minded scientists we should be looking out for the little guys (and gals) as well.

Appendix A: "the star hidden in the heart of [the] only supernova visible from Earth"

"If you are listening to this live on Thursday, then you're listening to the 37th anniversary of the supernova 1987A, the best view astronomers have had of an exploding star in centuries, certainly during the modern telescope era. So much astrophysics to be learned.

All the indications were, back then, that amidst all the flash and glory, the dying star should have given birth to a neutron star, a dense dead spinning cinder, that would be emitting radio pulses. So, we waited, and waited…and waited, and still there's no pulsing radio signal.

But images collected by the James Webb telescope in its first weeks of operation, peering deep into the ejecta thrown out by the explosion suggest there is something powerful lurking beneath.
Olivia Jones is a James Webb Space Telescope Fellow at Edinburgh University and she helped in the analysis."

"87A is an absolutely stunning supernova , it's beautiful, and the fact that you could see it when it first exploded with the naked eye is unprecedented for such an object in another galaxy like this.

We have been able to see how it evolves in real time, which in astronomy terms is extremely rare, just tracing the evolution of the death of a star. It's very exciting."

"I mean the main point is the bit which we see when the star initially explodes , we see all the hot stuff which is being thrown out into space, and then you've got this sort of evolving fireball which has been easiest to see so far."

"Yes, what see initially is the actual explosion of the star itself right in the centre. What happens now is then we had a period of ten years when you couldn't actually see very much in the centre. You needed these new telescopes like Webb and JWST to see the mechanics of the explosion and then, key to this is what was left behind, and we have been searching for that Holy Grail: has a neutron star formed or has a black hole been left behind at the centre of this explosion. And we've not seen anything for a very long time."

"And this neutron star, so this is the bit where the middle of the original star which at the ends of its life is mostly made of iron, just gets sort of crushed under it's own weight and under the force of the explosion to turn itself entirely into this sort of ball of neutron matter."

"Yeah, it's the very, very core of the star. So the star like the Sun, right in the centre is a very dense core, but really massive stars like Supernova 1987A or what it was beforehand, about 20 times the mass of a Sun.

If you think of our Sun as a tennis ball in size, the star that formed 87A was about as big as the London Eye. So it's a very massive star. The pressure and density right in the centre of that star is phenomenal. So, it creates this really, really, compact core. A teaspoon of this material, of a neutron star, weighs about as much as Everest. So, it's a very, a very dense, very heavy, core that is left behind."

"These were the things which were first detected in the 1960s, because they have magnetic fields and they rotate, they spin very fast and they cause radio pulsations and they're called pulsars. so When the supernova first went off I know lots of radio astronomers were hoping to see those radio pulsations from the middle of this supernova remnant."

"Yes. So, we know really massive stars will form a black hole in the centre, 30, 40, 50 solar masses will form a black hole when it dies. Something around 20 solar masses you'd expect to form a neutron star, and so you'd expect to see these signatures, like you said, in the radiowaves or in optical light of this really fastly rotating – by fastly rotating it can be around 700 times a second – but you would expect to see that signature or some detection of that. But even with all these telescopes – with the radio telescopes, X-ray observatories, Hubble – we've not seen that signature, before and so we are wondering, has a black hole been formed? We've seen neutrinos, so we thought the neutron star had formed, but we've not had that evidence before now."

"So, as I understand it, what your research is doing is showing that there's some unexplained source of heat in the middle of the debris that's been thrown out, and that's what your associating which what ought to be a neutron star in the middle, is that roughly speaking the idea?"

"So, the wonderful thing thing about the Webb telescope, you can see at high resolution both the ring, the outer debris of the star, and right at the very centre where the explosion was, but it's not just images we take, so it's not just taking a photograph, we also have this fantastic instrument or two instruments, called spectrographs, which can break down light into their individual elements, so very small wavelengths of light, it's like if you want to see the blue wavelength or the red wavelength, but in very narrow bands."

"And people may have done this at school when they threw some salt into a Bunsen burner and saw the colours, it's that kind of analysis?"

"Yes. And so what we see where the star was and where it exploded was argon and sulphur, and we know that these needed an awful lot of energy, to create these, and I mean a lot, of energy. And the only thing that can be doings this, we compared to many different kinds of scenarios, is a neutron star."

"So this is basically an extraordinarily hot nuclear ember, that's sort of sitting in the middle."

"Yes, right in the middle and you can see this, cause Supernova 1987A is about 20 light years across, in total, and we can isolate the core where the explosion was from the rest of the debris in this nearby galaxy, which I think is fantastic."

"Do you know how hot the surface of this star is and is it just sort of the intense heat, X-ray heat I imagine, that's coming off, that's causing all this radiation that you're seeing."

"I hope you are ready for a very big number."

"Go on."

"The neutron star is over a million degrees Celsius."

"And so, that's just radiating heat, is it, from, I mean this is like the ultimate toaster?"

"Yes, so what eventually will happen over the lifetime of the universe is this neutron star will start to cool down, gradually and gradually and fade away. But that'll be many, many billions of years from now.

What we currently have now is one of the hottest things you can imagine, in a very small location, heating up all its surroundings. I would not want to be anywhere nearby there."

Roland Pease interviewing Dr. Olivia Jones (Edinburgh University)
Appendix B: "possibly the brightest object in our universe"

"Now 1987A was, briefly, very bright. Southern hemisphere astronomy enthusiasts could easily spot it in the Large Magellanic Cloud just outside [sic] the Milky Way galaxy. But it was nothing like as bright as JO529-4351 [J0529-4351], try memorising that, its a quasar twelve or so billion light years away that has been declared the brightest object in the universe and the hungriest. At first sight, it's an anonymous, unremarkable spot of light of trillions on [sic] an astronomical photo. But, if you are an astronomer who knows how to interpret the light, as Samual Lai does, you will find this is a monstrous black hole gobbling up anything within reach. Close to the edge of all that we can see."

"So this quasar is a record breaking ultra-luminous object, in fact it is the most luminous object that we know of in the universe. Its light has travelled twelve billion years to reach us, so it's incredibly far object, but it's so intrinsically luminous that it appears bright in the sky."

"And as I understand it, you identified this as being a very distant and bright object pretty recently though you have gone back through the catalogues and its was this insignificant speck for quite a long time."

"Yes, indeed. In fact we were working on a survey of bright quasars, so we looked at about 80% of the sky using large data sets from space satellites. Throughout our large data sets, this one was mis-characterised as a star, I mean it just looks like one fairly insignificant point, just like all the other ones, right, and so we never picked it up as quasar before. Nowadays we are in the era of extremely astronomical, pardon the pun, data sets where in order to really filter thorough them we have these classification algorithms that we use. So, we have the computer, look at the data set, and try to learn what we are looking at, and pick out between stars and quasars."

"Now, is it also interesting, they were discovered about sixty years ago, the first quasars. These are basically supermassive black holes in the middle of a galaxy that's just swallowing up all the stars and rubbish just around it, and that's the bit that for you is quite interesting in this instance?"

"Yes, exactly, and the quasar owes its luminosity to the rate at which it is feeding from this accretion disc, this material that's swirling around, like a storm, with the black hole being the eye of the storm."

"I mean, I think of it as being a bit like the muck at the bottom of your sink going down into the blender at the bottom, it's just getting chopped up, heated up, shredded, and, I mean what sort of temperatures are you talking about? What, You know, what kind of energy are you talking about being produced in this system?"

"Yes ,so the temperatures in the accretion disc easily go up to tens of thousands of degrees, but talking about brightness, the other way that we like to measure this is in terms of the luminosity of the Sun, which gives you are sense of scale. So, this quasar is about five hundred trillion times brighter than the Sun, or equivalent to about five hundred trillion suns."

"And it's been doing this sort of constantly, or for really for a long time, I mean it's just sat there, gobbling up everything around it?"

"Yeah, I mean the mass of the quasar is about 17 billion solar masses, so in order to reach that mass it has to have been feeding for a very, very long time. We work it out to be about one solar mass per day, so that's an entire Sun worth of mass every single day. Or if you like to translate that to more human terms, if you take the Earth and everybody that's on it, and you add up all of that mass together, it will eat about four of those earths, every single second."

"I suppose what I find gob-smacking about this is (a) the forces, the gravitational forces presumably involved in sweeping up that amount of material, but (b) it must be an incredibly busy place – it can't be doing this in some kind of galactic desert."

"Yes, indeed, I mean these quasars, these super-massive black holes are parts of their galaxies, right, they're always in the nuclear regions of their host galaxies, and in some way the galaxies are funnelling their material into their supermassive black hole."

"But this one must be presumably a particularly, I don't know, nutritious galaxy, I guess. It is so far away, you can't make out those kinds of details."

"We can however make out that some of that material moving around, inside the storm, round the black hole, their dynamics are such that their velocities reach up to tens of thousands of kilometres per second."

"Why are you looking for then? Is it because you just want to break records – I'm sure it's not. Or is it, that you can see these things a long way away? Is it, it tells you about the history of galaxies?"

"I mean we can learn a lot about the universe's evolution by looking at the light from the quasars. And in fact, the quasar light it tells you a lot about not just the environment that the quasar resides in, but also in anything the quasar light passes through. So, you can think of this, lights from the quasar, as a very distant beacon that illuminates information about everything and anything in between us and the quasar."

"I mean the thing that I find striking is, if I've read the numbers right, this thing is so far away that the universe was about a billion years old. I mean I suppose what I'm wondering is how did a black hole becomes so massive so early in the universe?"

"Ah see, I love this question because you are reaching to the frontier of our current understanding, this is science going as we speak. We are running into an issue now that some of these black holes are so massive that there's not enough time in the universe, at the time that we observe them to be at, in order for them to have grown to such masses as they are seen to be. We have various hypotheses for how these things have formed, but at the moment we observe it in its current state, and we have to work backwards and look into the even older universe to try to figure out how these guys came to be."

Roland Pease interviewing Dr. Samuel Lai (Australian National University)

Notes

1 Having been a science teacher, I find myself listening to, or reading, science items in the media at two levels

  • I am interested in the science itself (of course)
  • I am also intrigued by how the science is presented for the audience

So, I find myself paying attention to simplifications, and metaphors, and other features of the way the science is communicated.

Teachers will be familiar with this. Curriculum selects some parts of science and omits other parts (and there is always a debate to be had about wither the right choices are made about what to include, and what to omit). However, it is rare for the selected science itself to be presented in 'raw' form in education. The primary science literature is written by specialists for other specialists, and to a large extent by researchers for other researchers in the same field – and is generally totally unsuitable for a general audience.

Curriculum science is therefore an especially designed representation of the science intended to be accessible to learners at a particular stage in their education. Acids for twelve years olds or natural selection for fifteen year olds cannot be as complex, nuanced and subtle as the current state of the topic as presented in the primary literature. (And not just because of the level f presentation suitable for learners, but also because in any live field, the work at the cutting edge will by definition be inconsistent across studies as this is just where the experts are still trying to make the best sense of the available evidence.)

The teacher then designs presentations and sequences of learning activities to engage particular classes of learners, for often teaching models and analogies and the like are needed as stepping stones, or temporary supports, even to master the simplified curriculum models set out as target knowledge. Class teaching is challenging as every learner arrives with a unique nexus of background knowledge, alternative conceptions, relevant experiences, interests, vocabulary, and so forth. Every class is a mixed ability class – to some extent. The teacher has to differentiate within a basic class plan to try and support everyone.

I often think about this when I listen to or read science journalism or popular science books. At least the teacher usually knows that all the students are roughly the same age, and have followed more-or-less the same curriculum up to that point. Science communicators working with the public know very little about their audience. Presumably they are interested enough in the topic or science more generally to be engaging with the work: but likely of a very diverse age, educational level, background knowledge: the keen ten year old to the post-doctoral researcher; the retired engineer to the autistic child with an intense fascination in every detail of dinosaurs…

I often find myself questioning some of the simplifications and comparisons used on science reports in the media – but I do not underestimate the challenge of reporting on the latest findings in some specialist area of science in an 'academically honest' way (to borrow a term from Jerome Bruner) in a three minute radio slot or 500 words in a magazine. So, in that spirit, I was fascinated by the way in which the latest research into Supernova 1987A and J0529-4351 was communicated, at least as much as the science itself.

2 That is, the flux of material emitted by our Sun, for example, is quite significant in human terms, but is minute compared to its total mass. Our sun has cooled considerably in the past few billions of years, but that's long time for it to change! (The Earth's atmosphere has also changed over the same time scale, which has compensated.)

3 Some very basic physics (Isaac Newton's law of cooling) tells us that objects radiate energy at a rate according to their temperature. Stars are (very large and) very hot so radiate energy at a high rate. An object will also be absorbing radiation – but the 'bath' of radiation it experiences depends on the temperature of its surroundings. A hot cup of coffee will cool as it is radiating faster than it is absorbing energy, because it is hotter than its surroundings. Eventually it will be as cool as the surroundings and will reach a dynamic equilibrium where it radiates and absorbs at the same rate. (Take the cooled cup of coffee into the sauna and it will actually get warmer. But do check health and safety rules first to see if this is allowed.)

The reference to how

"what eventually will happen over the lifetime of the universe is this neutron star will start to cool down, gradually and gradually and fade away. But that'll be many, many billions of years from now"

should be understood to mean that the cooling process STARTED as soon as there was no internal source of heating (form nuclear reactions or gravitational collapse) to maintain the high temperature; although the process will CONTINUE over a long period.

4 That weak attempt at humour is a variant on the story of the museum visitors who asked the attendant how old some ancient artefacts were. Surprised at the precision of the reply of "20 012 " years, they asked how the artefacts could be dated so precisely. "Well", the attended explained, "I was told they were twenty thousand years old when I started, and I've worked here for twelve years."

Many physics teachers will not find this funny at all, as it is not at all unusual for parallel mistakes to be made by students. (And not just students: a popular science book suggested that material in meteors can be heated in the atmosphere to temperatures of up to – a rather precise – 36 032 degrees! (See 'conceptions of precision').

5 The Holy Grail being the cup that Jesus is supposed to have used at the last supper to share wine with his disciples before he was arrested and crucified. Legend suggests it was also used to collect some of his blood after his execution – and that it was later brought to England (of all places) by  Joseph of Arimathea, and taken to Glastonbury. The Knights of King Arthur's Round Table quested to find the Grail. It was seen as a kind of ultimate Holy Relic.

6 Greek and Roman cultures associated the planets (which for them included the Sun and Moon) with specific Gods. Many constellations were said to be living beings that have been placed in the heavens after time on earth. Personification of these bodies by referring to them in gendered ways ('he', 'she') still sometimes occurs.

Read about personification

In his cosmogony, Plato had the stars given a kind of soul. Whereas Aristlotle's notion of soul can be understood as being something that emerges from the complexity of organisation (in organisms), Plato did imply something more supernatural.

The passing of stars

Birth, death, and afterlife in the universe

Keith S. Taber

stars are born, start young, live, sometimes living alone but sometimes not, sometimes have complicated lives, have lifetimes, reach the end of their lives, and die, so, becoming dead, eventually long dead; and, indeed, there are generations of stars with life cycles

One of the themes I keep coming back to here is the challenge of communicating abstract scientific ideas. Presenting science in formal technical language will fail to engage most general audiences, and will not support developing understanding if the listener/reader cannot make good sense of the presentation. But, if we oversimplify, or rely on figures of speech (such as metaphors) in place of formal treatments of concepts, then – even if the audience does engage and make sense of the presentation – audience members will be left with a deficient account.

Does that matter? Well, often a level of understanding that provides some insight into the science is far better than the impression that science is so far detached from everyday experience that it is not for most people.

And the context matters.

Public engagement with science versus science education

In the case of a scientist asked to give a public talk, or being interviewed for news media, there seems a sensible compromise. If people come away from the presentation thinking they have heard about something interesting, that seems in some way relevant to them, and that they understood the scientist's key messages, then this is a win – even if it is only a shift to an over-simplified account, or an understanding in terms of a loose analogy. (Perhaps some people will want to learn more – but, even if not, surely this meets some useful success criterion?)

In this regard science teachers have a more difficult job to do. 1 The teacher is not usually considered successful just because the learners think they have understood teaching, but rather only when the learners can demonstrate that what they have learnt matches a specified account set out as target knowledge in the curriculum. This certainly does not mean a teacher cannot (or should not) use simplification and figures of speech and so forth – this is often essential – but rather that such such moves can usually only be seen as starting points in moving learners onto temporary 'stepping stones' towards creditable knowledge that will eventually lead to test responses that will be marked correct.

An episode of 'In Our Time' on 'The Death of Stars'
"The image above is of the supernova remnant Cassiopeia A, approximately 10,000 light years away, from a once massive star that died in a supernova explosion that was first seen from Earth in 1690"

The Death of Stars

With this in mind, I was fascinated by an episode of the BBC's radio show, 'In Our Time' which took as its theme the death of stars. Clearly, this falls in the category of scientists presenting to a general public audience, not formal teaching, and that needs to be borne in mind as I discuss (and perhaps even gently 'deconstruct') some aspects of the presentation from the perspective of a science educator.

The show was broadcast some months ago, but I made a note to revisit it because I felt it was so rich in material for discussion, and I've just re-listened. I thought this was a fascinating programme, and I think it is well worth a listen, as the programme description suggests:

"Melvyn Bragg and guests discuss the abrupt transformation of stars after shining brightly for millions or billions of years, once they lack the fuel to counter the force of gravity. Those like our own star, the Sun, become red giants, expanding outwards and consuming nearby planets, only to collapse into dense white dwarves. The massive stars, up to fifty times the mass of the Sun, burst into supernovas, visible from Earth in daytime, and become incredibly dense neutron stars or black holes. In these moments of collapse, the intense heat and pressure can create all the known elements to form gases and dust which may eventually combine to form new stars, new planets and, as on Earth, new life."

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m0018128

I was especially impressed by the Astronomer Royal, Professor Martin Rees (and not just because he is a Cambridge colleague) who at several points emphasised that what was being presented was current understanding, based on our present theories, with the implication that this was open to being revisited in the light (sic) of new evidence. This made a refreshing contrast to the common tendency in some popular science programmes to present science as 'proven' and so 'certain' knowledge. That tendency is an easy simplification that distorts both the nature and excitement of science.

Read about scientific certainty in the media

Presenter Melvyn Bragg's other guests were Carolin Crawford (Emeritus Member of the Institute of Astronomy, and Emeritus Fellow of Emmanuel College, University of Cambridge) and Mark Sullivan (Professor of Astrophysics at the University of Southampton).

Public science communication as making the unfamiliar familiar

Science communicators, whether professional journalists or scientists popularising their work, face similar challenges to science teachers in getting across often complex and abstract ideas; and, like them, need to make the unfamiliar familiar. Science teachers are taught about how they need to connect new material with the learners' prior knowledge and experiences if it is to make sense to the students. But successful broadcasters and popularisers also know they need to do this, using such tactics as simplification, modelling, metaphor and simile, analogy, teleology, anthropomorphism and narrative.

There were quite a few examples of the speakers seeking to make abstract ideas accessible to listeners in such ways in this programme. However, perhaps the most common trope was one set up by the episode title, and one which could very easily slip under radar (so to speak). In this piece I examine the seemingly ubiquitous metaphor (if, indeed, it is to be considered a metaphor!) of stars being alive; in a sequel I discuss some of the wide range of other figures of speech adopted in this one science programme.

Science: making the familiar, unfamiliar?

If when working as a teacher I saw a major part of my work as making the unfamiliar familiar to learners, in my research there was a sense in which I needed to make the familiar unfamiliar. Often, the researcher needs to focus afresh on the commonly 'taken-for-granted' and to start to enquire into it as if one does not already know about it. That is, one needs to problematise the common-place. (This reflects a process sometimes referred to as 'bracketing'.)

To give one obvious example. Why do some students do well in science tests and others less well? Obviously, because some learners are better science students than others! (Clearly in some sense this is true – but is it just a tautology? 2) But one clearly needs to dig into this truism in more detail to uncover any insights that would actually be useful in supporting students and improving teaching!

The same approach applies in science. We do not settle for tautologies such as fire burns because fire is the process of burning, or acids are corrosive because acids are the category of substances which corrode; nor what are in effect indirect disguised tautologies such as heavy objects fall because they are largely composed of the element earth, where earth is the element whose natural place is at the centre of the world. (If that seems a silly example, it was the widely accepted wisdom for many centuries. Of course, today, we do not recognise 'earth' as a chemical element.)

I mention this, because I would like to invite readers to share with me in making the familiar unfamiliar here – otherwise you could easily miss my point.

"so much in the Universe, and much of our understanding of it, depends on changes in stars as they die after millions or billions of stable years"

Tag line for 'the Death of Stars'

The lives of stars

The episode opens with

"Hello. Across the universe, stars have been dying for millions of years…

Melvyn Bragg introducing the episode

The programme was about the death of stars – which directly implies stars die, and, so, also suggests that – before dying – they live. And there were plenty of references in the programme to reinforce this notion. Carolin Crawford suggested,

"So, essentially, a star's life, it can exist as a star, for as long as it has enough fuel at the right temperature at the right density in the core of the star to stall the gravitational collapse. And it is when it runs out of its fuel at the core, that's when you reach the end of its lifetime and we start going through the death processes."

Prof. Carolin Crawford talking on 'In Our Time'

Not only only do stars have lives, but some have much longer lives than others,

"…more massive stars can … build quite heavy elements at their cores through their lifetimes. And … they actually have shorter lifetimes – it is counter-intuitive, but they have to chomp through their fuel supply so furiously that they exhaust it more rapidly. So, the mass of the star dictates what happens in the core, what you create in the core, and it also determines the lifetime of the star."

"The mass of the star…determines the lifetime of the star….
our sun…we reckon it is about halfway through its lifetime, so stars like the sun have lifetimes of 10 billions years or so…"


Prof. Carolin Crawford talking on 'In Our Time'

This was not some idiosyncratic way that Professor Crawford had of discussing stars, as Melvyn's other guests also used this language. Here are some examples I noted:

  • "this is a dead, dense star" (Martin Rees)
  • "the lifetime of a stable star, we can infer the … life cycles of stars" (Martin Rees)
  • "stars which lived and died before our solar system formed…stars which have more complicated lives" (Martin Rees)
  • "those old stars" (Martin Rees)
  • "earlier generations of massive stars which had lived and died …those long dead stars" (Martin Rees)
  • "it is an old dead star" (Mark Sullivan)
  • "our sun…lives by itself in space. But most stars in the universe don't live by themselves…" (Mark Sullivan)
  • "two stars orbiting each other…are probably born with different masses" (Mark Sullivan)
  • "when [stars] die" (Mark Sullivan)
  • "when [galaxies] were very young" (Martin Rees)
  • "stars that reach the end point of their lives" (Carolin Crawford )
  • "a star that's younger" (Martin Rees)

So, in the language of astronomy, stars are born, start young, live; sometimes living alone but sometimes not, sometimes have complicated lives; have lifetimes, reach the end of their lives, and die, so, becoming dead, eventually long dead; and, indeed, there are generations of stars with life cycles.

The processes that support a star's luminosity come to an end: but does the star therefore die?

(Cover art for the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra's recording of David Bedford's composition Star's End. Photographer: Monique Froese)

Are stars really alive?

Presumably, the use of such terms in this context must have originally been metaphorical. Life (and so death) has a complex but well-established and much-discussed meaning in science. Living organisms have certain necessary characteristics – nutrition, (inherent) movement, irritability/sensitivity, growth, reproduction, respiration, and excretion, or some variation on such a list. Stars do not meet this criterion. 3 Living organisms maintain a level of complex organisation by making use of energy stores that allow them to decrease entropy internally at the cost of entropy increase elsewhere.

Animals and decomposers (such as fungi) take in material that can be processed to support their metabolism and then the 'lower quality' products are eliminated. Photosynthetic organisms such as green plants have similar metabolic processes, but preface these by using the energy 'in' sunlight to first facilitate endothermic reactions that allow them to build up the material used later for their mortal imperative of working against the tendencies of entropy. Put simply, plants synthesise sugar (from carbon dioxide and water) that they can distribute to all their cells to support the rest of the metabolism (a complication that is a common source of alternative conceptions {misconceptions} to learners 4).

By contrast, generally speaking, during their 'lifetimes', stars only gain and lose marginal amounts of material (compared with a 70 kg human being that might well consume a tonne of food each year) – and do not have any quality control mechanism that would lead to them taking in what is more useful and expelling what is not.

As far as life on earth is concerned, virtually all of that complex organisation of living things depends upon the sun as a source of energy, and relies on the process by which the sun increases the universe's entropy by radiating energy from a relatively compact source into the diffuse vastness of space. 4 In other words, if anything, a star like our sun better reflects a dead being such as a felled tree or a zebra hunted down by a lion, providing a source of concentrated energy for other organisms feeding on its mortal remains!

Are the lives and deaths of stars simply pedagogical devices?

So, are stars really alive? Or is this just one example of the kind of rhetorical device I referred to above being adopted to help make the abstract unfamiliar becomes familiar? Is it the use of a familiar trope employed simply to aid in the communication of difficult ideas? Is this just a metaphor? That is,

  • Do stars actually die, or…
  • are they only figuratively alive and, so, only suffer (sic) a metaphorical death?

I do not think the examples I quote above represent a concerted targeted strategy by Professors Crawford, Rees and Sullivan to work with a common teaching metaphor for the sake of Melvyn and his listeners: but rather the actual language commonly used in the field. That is, the life cycles and lifetimes of stars have entered into the technical lexicon of the the science. If so, then stars do actually live and die, at least in terms of what those words now mean in the discipline of astronomy.

Gustav Strömberg referred to "the whole lifetime of a star" in a paper in the The Astrophysical Journal as long ago as 1927. He did not feel the need to explain the term so presumably it was already in use – or considered obvious. Kip Thorne published a paper in 1965 about 'Gravitational Collapse and the Death of a Star". In the first paragraph he pointed out that

"The time required for a star to consume its nuclear fuel is so long (many billions of years in most cases) that only a few stars die in our galaxy per century; and the evolution of a star from the end point of thermonuclear burning to its final dead state is so rapid that its death throes are observable for only a few years."

Thorne, 1965, p.1671

Again, the terminology die/death/dead is used without introduction or explanation.

He went on to refer to

  • deaths of stars
  • different types of death
  • final resting states

before shifting to what a layperson would recognise as a more specialist, technical, lexicon (zero point kinetic energy; Compton wavelength of an electron; neutron-rich nuclei; photodistintegration; gravitational potential energy; degenerate Fermi gas; lambda hyperons; the general relativity equation of hydrostatic equilibrium; etc.), before reiterating that he had been offering

"the story of the death of a star as predicted by a combination of nuclear theory, elementary particle theory, and general relativity"

Thorne, 1965, p.1678

So, this was a narrative, but one intended to be fit for a professional scientific audience. It seems the lives and deaths of stars have been part of the technical vocabulary of astronomers for a long time now.

When did scientists imbue stars with life?

Modern astronomy is quite distinct from astrology, but like other sciences astronomy developed from earlier traditions and at one time astronomy and astrology were not so discrete (an astronomical 'star' such as Johannes Kepler was happy to prepare horoscopes for paying customers) and mythological and religious aspects of thinking about the 'heavens' were not so well compartmentalised from what we would today consider as properly the realm of the scientific.

In Egyptian religion, Ra was both a creative force and identified with the sun. Mythology is full of origin stories explaining how the stars had been cast there after various misadventures on earth (the Greek myths but also in other traditions such as those of the indigenous North American and Australian peoples 5) and we still refer to examples such as the seven sisters and Orion with the sword hanging in his belt. The planets were associated with different gods – Venus (goddess of love), Mars (the god of war), Mercury (the messenger of the gods), and so on.6 It was traditional to refer to some heavenly bodies as gendered: Luna is she, Sol is he, Venus is she, and so on. This usage is sometimes found in scientific writing on astronomy.

Read about examples of personification in scientific writing

Yet this type of poetic license seems unlikely to explain the language of the life cycles of stars, even if there are parallels between scientific and poetic or spiritual accounts,

Stars are celestial objects having their own life cycles. Stars are born, grow up, mature and eventually die. …The author employs inductive and deductive analysis of the verses of the Quran and the Hadith texts related with the life and death of stars. The results show that the life and death of the stars from Islamic and Modern astronomy has some similarities and differences.

Wahab, 2015

After all, the heavenly host of mythology comprised of immortals, if sometimes starting out as mortals subsequently given a kind of immorality by the Gods when being made into stars. Indeed the classical tradition supported by interpretation of Christian orthodoxy was that unlike the mundane things of earth, the heavens were not subject to change and decay – anything from the moon outwards was perfect and unchanging. (This notion was held onto by some long after it was established that comets with their varying paths were not atmospheric phenomena – indeed well into the twentieth century some young earth creationists were still insisting in the perfect, unchanging nature of the heavens. 7)

So, presumably, we need to look elsewhere to find how science adopted life cycles for stars.

A natural metaphor?

Earlier in this piece I asked readers to bear with me, and to join with me in making the familiar unfamiliar, to 'bracket' the familiar notion that we say starts are born, live and later die, and to problematise it. In one scientific sense stars cannot die – as they were never alive. Yet, I accept this seems a pretty natural metaphor to use. Or, at least, it seems a natural metaphor to those who are used to hearing and reading it. A science teacher may be familiar with the trope of stars being born, living, and dying – but how might a young learner, new to astronomical ideas, make sense of what was meant?

Now, there is a candidate project for anyone looking for a topic for a student research assignment: how would people who have never previously been exposed to this metaphor respond to the kinds of references I've discussed above? I would genuinely like to know what 'naive' people would make of this 8 – would they just 'get' the references immediately (appreciate in what sense stars are born, live, and die); or, would it seem a bizarre way of talking about stars? Given how readily people accept and take up anthropomorphic references to molecules and viruses and electrons and so forth, I find the question intriguing.

Read about anthropomorphism in science

What makes a star alive or dead?

Even if for the disciplinary experts the language of living stars and their life cycles has become a 'dead metaphor 'and is now taken (i.e., taken for granted) as technical terminology – the novice learner, or lay member of the public listening to a radio show, still has to make sense of what it means to say a star is born, or is alive, or is nearing the end of its life, or is dead.

The critical feature discussed by Professors Crawford, Rees and Sullivan concerns an equilibrium that allow a star to exist in a balance between the gravitational attraction of its component matter and the pressure generated through its nuclear reactions.

A star forms when material comes together under its mutual gravitational attraction – and as the material becomes denser it gets hotter. Eventually a sufficient density and temperature is reached such that there is 'ignition' – not in the sense of chemical combustion, but self-sustaining nuclear processes occur, generating heat. This point of ignition is the 'birth' of the star.

Fusion processes continue as long as there is sufficient fissionable material, the 'fuel' that 'feeds' the nuclear 'furnace' (initially hydrogen, but depending on the mass of the star there can be a series of reactions with products from one stage undergoing further fusion to form even heavier elements). The life time of the star is the length of time that such processes continue.

Eventually there will not be sufficient 'fuel' to maintain the level of 'burning' that is needed to allow the ball of material to avoid ('resist') gravitational collapse. There are various specific scenarios, but this is the 'death' of the star. It may be a supernova offering very visible 'death throes'.

The core that is left after this collapse is a 'dead' star, even if it is hot enough to continue being detectable for some time (just as it takes time for the body of a homeothermic animal that dies to cool to the ambient temperature).

It seems then that there is a kind of analogy at work here.

Organisms are alive as long as they continue to metabolise sufficiently in order to maintain their organisation in the face of the entropic tendency towards disintegration and dispersal.Stars are alive as long as they exhibit sufficient fusion processes to maintain them as balls of material that have much greater volumes, and lower densities than the gravitational forces on their component particles would otherwise lead to.

It is clearly an imperfect analogy.

Organisms base metabolism on a through-put of material to process (and in a sense 'harvest' energy sources).Stars do acquire new materials and eject some, but this is largely incidental and it is essentially the mass of fissionable material that originally comes together to initiate fusion which is 'harvested' as the energy source.
Organisms may die if they cannot access external food sources, but some die of built-in senescence and others (those that reproduce by dividing) are effectively immortal.

We (humans) die because the amazing self-constructing and self-repairing abilities of our bodies are not perfect, and somatic cells cannot divide indefinitely to replace no longer viable cells.		Stars 'die' because they run out of their inherent 'fuel'.

Stars die when the hydrogen that came together to form them has substantially been processed.

Read about analogy in science

One person's dead star is another person's living metaphor

So, do stars die? Yes, because astronomers (the experts on stars) say they do, and it seems they are not simply talking down to the rest of us. The birth and death of stars seems to be based on an analogy: an analogy which is implicit in some of the detailed discussion of star life cycles. However, through the habitual use of this analogy, terms such as the birth, lifetimes, and death of stars have been adopted into mainstream astronomical discourse as unmarked (taken-for-granted) language such that to the uninitiated they are experienced as metaphors.

And these perspectival metaphors 9 become extended to describe stars that are considered young, old, dying, long dead, and so forth. These terms are used so readily, and so often without a perceived need for qualification or explanation, that we might consider them 'dead' metaphors within astronomical discourse – terms of metaphorical origin but now so habitually used that they have come to be literal (stars are born, they do have lifetimes, they do die). Yet for the uninitiated they are still 'living' metaphors, in the sense that the non-expert needs to work out what it means when a star is said to live or die.

There is a well recognised distinction between live and dead metaphors. But here we have dead-to-the-specialists metaphors that would surely seem to be non-literal to the uninitiated. These terms are not explained by experts as they are taken by them as literal, but they cannot be understood literally by the novice, for whom they are still metaphors requiring interpretation. That is, they are perspectival metaphors – zombie words that may seem alive or dead (as figures of speech) according to audience, and so may be treated as dead in professional discourse, but may need to be made undead when used in communicating to the public.

Other aspects of the In Our Time discussion of 'The death of stars' are explored as The complicated social lives of stars: stealing, escaping, and blowing-off in space

Sources cited:
  • Strömberg, G. (1927). The Motions of Giant M Stars. The Astrophysical Journal, 65, 238.
  • Thorne, K. S. (1965). Gravitational Collapse and the Death of a Star. Science, 150(3704), 1671-1679. http://www.jstor.org.ezp.lib.cam.ac.uk/stable/1717408
  • Wahab, R. A. (2015). Life and death of stars: an analysis from Islamic and modern astronomy perspectives. International Proceedings of Economics Development and Research, 83, 89.

Notes

1 In this regard, but not in all regards. As I have suggested here before, the teacher usually has two advantages:

a) generally, a class has a limited spread in terms of the audience background: even a mixed ability class is usually from a single school year (grade level) whereas the public presentation may be addressing a mixed audience of all ages and levels of education.

b) usually a teacher knows the class, and so knows something about their starting points, and their interests

2 Some students do well in science tests and others less well.

If we say this is because

  • some learners are better science students than others
  • and settle for defining better science students as those who achieve good results in formal science tests (that is tests as currently administered, based on the present curriculum, taught in our usual way)

then we are simply 'explaining' the explicandum (i.e., some students do better on science tests that others) by a rephrasing of what is to be explained (some students are better science students: that is, they perform well in science tests!)

Read about tautology

3 Criterion (singular) as a living organism has to satisfy the entries in the list collectively. Each entry is of itself a necessary, but not sufficient, condition.

4 A simple misunderstanding is that animals respire but plants photosynthesise.

In a plant in a steady state, the rates of build-up and break down of sugars would be balanced. However, plants must photosynthesise more than they respire overall in order to to grow and ultimately to allow consumers to make use of them as food. (This needs to be seen at a system level – the plant is clearly not in any inherent sense photosynthesising to provide food for other organisms, but has evolved to be a suitable nutrition source as it transpires [no pun intended] that increases the fitness of plants within the wider ecosystem.)

A more subtle alternative conception is that plants photosynthesise during the day when they are illuminated by sunlight (fair enough) and then use the sugar produced to respire at night when the sun is not available as a source of energy. See, for example, 'Plants mainly respire at night because they are photosynthesising during the day'.

Actually cellular processes require continuous respiration (as even in the daytime sunlight cannot directly power cellular metabolism, only facilitate photosynthesis to produce the glucose that that can be oxidised in respiration).

Schematic reflection of the balance between how photosynthesis generates resources to allow respiration – typically a plant produces tissues that feed other organisms.
The area above the line represents energy from sunlight doing work in synthesising more complex substances. The area below the lines represents work done when the oxidation of those more complex substances provides the energy source for building and maintaining an organism's complex organisation of structure and processes (homoestasis).

5 Museum Victoria offers a pdf that can be downloaded and copied by teachers to teach about how "How the southern night sky is seen by the Boorong clan from north-west Victoria":

'Stories in the Stars – the night sky of the Boorong people' shows the constellations as recognised by this group, the names they were given, and the stories of the people and creatures represented.

(This is largely based on the nineteenth century reports made by William Edward Stanbridge of information given by Boorong informants – see 'Was the stellar burp really a sneeze?')

The illustration shown here is of 'Kulkunbulla' – a constellation that is considered in the U.K. to be only part of the constellation known here as Orion. (Constellations are not actual star groupings, but only what observers have perceived as stars seeming to be grouped together in the sky – the Boorong's mooting of constellations is no more right or wrong than that suggested in any other culture.)

6 The tradition was continued into modern times with the discovery of the planets that came to be named Neptune and Uranus after the Gods of the sea and sky respectively.

7 Creationism, per se, is simply the perspective or belief that the world (i.e., Universe) was created by some creator (God) and so creationism as such is not necessarily in conflict with scientific accounts. The theory of the big bang posits that time, space and matter had a beginning with an uncertain cause which could be seen as God (although some theorists such as Professor Roger Penrose develop theories which posit a sequence of universes that each give rise to the next and that could have infinite extent).

Read about science and religion

Young earth creationists, however, not only believe in a creator God (i.e., they are creationists), but one who created the World no more than about 10 thousand years ago (the earth is young!), rather than over 13 billion years ago. This is clearly highly inconsistent with a wide range of scientific findings and thinking. If the Young Earth Creationists are right, then either

  • a lot of very strongly evidenced science is very, very wrong
  • some natural laws (e.g. radioactive decay rates) that now seem fixed must have changed very substantially since the creation
  • the creator God went to a lot of trouble to set up the natural world to present a highly misleading account of its past history

8 I am not using the term naive here in a discourteous or demeaning way, but in a technical sense of someone who is meeting something for the first time.

9 That is, terms that will appear as metaphors from the perspective of the uninitiated, but now seem literal terms from the perspective of the specialist. We cannot simply say they are or are not metaphors, without asking 'for whom?'

Should we trust an experiment that suggests a stone can eat iron?

Is it poor scientific practice to explain away results we would not expect?

Keith S. Taber

how convinced would be be by a student who found an increase in mass after burning some magnesium and argued that this showed that combustion was a process of a substance consuming oxygen as a kind of food

I came across an interesting account of an experiment which seemed to support a hypothesis, but where the results were then explained away to reject the hypothesis.

An experiment to test whether a lodestone buried in iron filings will get heavier
Experimental results always need interpretation

That might seem somewhat dubious scientific practice, but one of the things that becomes clear when science is studied in any depth is that individual experiments seldom directly decide scientific questions. Not only is the common notion that a positive result proves a hypothesis correct over-simplistic, but it is also seldom the case that a single negative result can be assumed to be sufficient to reject a hypothesis. 1

Given that, the reason I thought this report was interesting is that it was published some time ago, indeed in 1600. It also put me in mind of a practical commonly undertaken in school science to demonstrate that combustion involves a substance combining with oxygen. In that practical activity (commonly mislabelled as an 'experiment' 2), magnesium metal (for example) is heated inside a ceramic crucible until it has reacted, and by careful weighing it is found (or perhaps I should say, it should be found, as it can be a challenging practical for the inexperienced) that the material after combustion weighs more than before – as the magnesium has reacted with a substance from the air (oxygen).3 This is said to give support to the oxygen theory of combustion, and to be contrary to the earlier phlogiston theory which considered flammable materials to contain a substance called phlogiston which was released during combustion (such that what remains is of less mass than before).

Testing whether lodestones eat iron

The historical experiment that put me in mind of this involved burying a type of stone known as a lodestone in iron filings. The stone and filings were carefully weighed before burial and then again some months later after being separated. The hypothesis being tested was that the weight of the lodestone would increase, and there would be a corresponding decrease in the mass of the weight of the iron filings. Apparently at the end of the experiment the measurements, strictly at least, suggested that this was what had occurred. Yet, despite this, the author presenting the account dismissed the result – arguing that it was more likely the finding was an artifact of the experimental procedure either not being sensitive enough, or not having been carried out carefully enough.

Explaining away results – in science and in school laboratories

That might seem somewhat against the spirit of science – I wonder if readers of this posting feel that is a valid move to make: to dismiss the results, as if scientists should be fee to pick and chose which results they wish to to take notice of?

But I imagine the parallel situation has occurred any number of times in science classrooms, for example where the teacher responds to students' practical demonstrations that what is left after burning magnesium has less mass than the magnesium had before. Rather than seeing this as a refutation of the oxygen hypothesis (actually now, of course, canonical theory) – and possible support for the notion that phlogiston had been released – the teacher likely explains this away as either a measurement error or, more likely, a failure to retain all of the magnesia [magnesium oxide] in the crucible for the 'after' measurement.

Hungry magnets

The historical example is discussed in William Gilbert's book about magnetism, usually known in English as 'On the magnet'. 4 This is sometimes considered the first science book, and consists of both a kind of 'literature review' of the topic, as well as a detailed report of a great many observations and demonstrations that (Gilbert claims) were original and made by Gilbert himself. There were no professional scientists in 1600, and Gilbert was a physician, a medical practitioner, but he produced a detailed and thoughtful account of his research into magnets and magnetism.

Gilbert's book is fascinating to a modern reader for its mixture of detailed accounts that stand today (and many of which the reader could quite easily repeat) alongside some quite bizarre ideas; and as an early example of science writing that mixes technical accounts with language that sometimes seems quite unscientific by today's norms – including (as well as a good deal of personification and anthropomorphism) some very unprofessional remarks about some other scholars he considers mistaken. Gilbert certainly has little time for philosophers ('philosophizers') who set out theories about natural phenomena without ever undertaking any observations or tests for themselves.

Lodestones

Magnetism has been known since antiquity. In particular, some samples of rock (usually samples of magnetite, now recognised as Fe3O4) were found to attract both each other and samples of iron, and could be used as a compass as they aligned, more or less, North-South when suspended, or when floated in water (in a makeshift 'boat'). Samples of this material, these naturally occurring magnets, were known as lodestones.

Yet the nature of magnetism, seemingly an occult power that allowed a stone to attract an iron nail, or the earth to turn a compass needle, without touching it, remained a mystery. Some of the ideas that had been suggested may seem a little odd today.

Keepers as nutrients?

So, for example, it is common practice to store magnets with 'keepers'. A horseshoe magnet usually has a steel rod placed across its ends, and bar magnets are usually stored in pairs with steel bars making a 'circuit' by connecting between the N of one magnet with the S of the other. But why?

One idea, that Gilbert dismisses is that the magnet (lodestone) in effect needs a food source to keep up its strength,

"The loadstone is laid up in iron filings, not that iron is its food; as though loadstone were alive and needed feeding, as Cardan philosophizes; nor yet that so it is delivered from the inclemency of the weather (for which cause it as well as iron is laid up in bran by Scaliger; mistakenly, however, for they are not preserved well in this way, and keep for years their own fixed forms): nor yet, since they remain perfect by the mutual action of their powders, do their extremities waste away, but are cherished & preserved, like by like."

Gilbert, 1600 – Book 1, Chapter 16.

Girolamo Cardano was an Italian who had written about the difference between amber (which can attract small objects due to static electrical charges) and lodestones, something that Gilbert built upon. However, Gilbert was happy to point out when he thought 'Cardan' was mistaken.

An experiment to see if iron filings will feed a magnet

Gilbert reports an experiment carried out by Giambattista della Porta. Porta's own account is that:

"Alexander Aphrodiseus in the beginning of his Problems, enquires wherefore the Loadstone onely draws Iron, and is fed or helped by the fillings of Iron; and the more it is fed, the better it will be: and therefore it is confirmed by Iron. But when I would try that, I took a Loadstone of a certain weight, and I buried it in a heap of Iron-filings, that I knew what they weighed; and when I had left it there many months, I found my stone to be heavier, and the Iron-filings lighter: but the difference was so small, that in one pound I could finde no sensible declination; the stone being great, and the filings many: so that I am doubtful of the truth."

Porta, 1658: Book 7, Chapter 50

Gilbert reports Porta's experiment in his own treatise, but adds potential explanations of why the iron filings had slightly lost weight (it is very easy to lose some of the material during handling), and why the magnet might be slightly heavier (it could have become coated in some material during its time buried),

"Whatever things, whether animals or plants, are endowed with life need some sort of nourishment, by which their strength not only persists but grows firmer and more vigorous. But iron is not, as it seemed to Cardan and to Alexander Aphrodiseus, attracted by the loadstone in order that it may feed on shreds of it, nor does the loadstone take up vigour from iron filings as if by a repast on victuals [i.e., a meal of food]. Since Porta had doubts on this and resolved to test it, he took a loadstone of ascertained weight, and buried it in iron filings of not unknown weight; and when he had left it there for many months, he found the stone of greater weight, the filings of less. But the difference was so slender that he was even then doubtful as to the truth. What was done by him does not convict the stone of voracity [greediness, great hunger], nor does it show any nutrition; for minute portions of the filings are easily scattered in handling. So also a very fine dust is insensibly born on a loadstone in some very slight quantity, by which something might have been added to the weight of the loadstone but which is only a surface accretion and might even be wiped off with no great difficulty."

Gilbert, 1600 – Book 2, Chapter 25.
Animistic thinking

To a modern reader, the idea that a lodestone might keep up its strength by eating iron filings seems very fanciful – and hardly scientific. To refer to the stone feeding, taking food, or being hungry, is animistic – treating the stone as though it is a living creature. We might wonder if this language is just being used metaphorically, as it seems unlikely that intelligent scholars of the 16th Century could actually suspect a stone might be alive. Yet, as Gilbert points out, there was a long tradition of considering that the lodestone, being able to bring about movement, had a soul, and Gilbert himself seemed to feel this was not so 'absurd'.

A reasonable interpretation?

We should always be aware of the magnitude of likely errors in our measurements, and not too easily accept results at the margins of what can be measured. Gilbert's suggestions for why the test of whether mass would be transferred from the iron to the magnet might have given flawed positive results seem convincing. It would be easy to lose some of the filings in the experiment: especially if the "heap of Iron-filings" was left for several months without any containment! And the lodestone could indeed easily acquire some extraneous material that needed to be cleaned off to ensure a valid weighing. As the lodestone attracts iron, all of the filings would need to be carefully cleaned from it (and returned to the 'heap' before the re-weighing).

But, I could not help but wonder if, in part at least, I found Gilbert's explaining away of the results as reasonable, simply because I found the premise of the iron acting as a kind of food as ridiculous. We should bear in mind that although the predicted change in mass was motivated by a notion of the magnet needing nutrition, that might not be the only scenario which might give rise to the same prediction. 1 After all, how convinced would be be by a student who

  • suggested combustion was a process of a substance consuming oxygen as a kind of food, and
  • therefore predicted that magnesium would be found to have got heavier after a good meal, and
  • subsequently found an increase in mass after burning some magnesium, and
  • argued that this gave strong support for the oxygen-as-food principle?

Coda

It is rather difficult for us today to really judge how language was used centuries ago. Do these natural philosophers talking of magnets eating iron mean this literally, or is it just figurative – intended as a metaphor that readers would understand suggested that there was a process somewhat akin to when a living being eats? 5 Some of them seemed quite serious about assigning souls to entities we today would conspire obviously inanimate. But we should be careful of assuming apparently incredible language was meant, or understood, literally.

In the same week as I was drafting this posting I read an article in Chemistry World about how the heavier elements are produced, which quoted Professor Brian Metzer, physicist at Columbia University,

"What makes the gamma-ray burst in both of these cases [merging neutron stars and the collapse of large rapidly rotating stars] is feeding a newly-formed black hole matter at an extremely high rate…The process that gives rise to the production of this neutron-rich material is actually outflows from the disc that's feeding the black hole."

Brian Metzer quoted in Wogan, 2022

If we would be confident that Professor Metzer meant 'feeding a black hole' to be understood figuratively, we should be careful to reserve judgement on how the feeding of lodestones was understood when Porta and Gilbert were writing.

Sources cited:
Notes:

1 Strictly scientific tests never 'prove' or 'disprove' anything.

The notion of 'proof' is fine in the context of purely theoretical disciplines such as in mathematics or logic, but not in science which tests ideas empirically. Experimental results always underdetermine theories (that is, it is always possible to think up other theories which also fit the results, so a result never 'proves' anything). Apparently negative results do not refute ('disprove') a theory either, as any experimental test of a hypothesis also depends upon other factors (Has the researcher been sloppy? Is the measuring instrument valid – and correctly calibrated? Are any simplifying assumptions reasonable in the context…). So experimental results offer support for, or bring into question, specific theoretical ideas, without ever being definitive.

2 An experiment is undertaken to test a hypothesis. Commonly in school practical work 'experiments' are carried out to demonstrate an accepted principle, such that it is already determined what the outcome 'should' be – students may have already been told the expected outcome, it appears i n their textbooks, and the title of the activity may be suggestive ('to show that mass increases on combustion'). Only if there is a genuine uncertainty about the outcome should the activity be labelled an experiment – e.g., it has been suggested that combustion is like the fuel eating oxygen, in which case things should be heavier after burning – so let's weigh some magnesium, burn it, and then re-weight what we have left (dephlogisticated metal?; compound of metal with oxygen?; well-fed metal?)

3 Mass and weight are not the same thing. However, in practice, measurements of weight made in the laboratory can be assumed as proxy measurements for mass.

4 As was the norm in European scholarship at that time, Gilbert wrote his treatise in Latin – allowing scholars in different countries to read and understand each other's work. The quotations given here are from the 1900 translation into English by S.P. Thompson.

5 Such metaphors can act as communication tools in 'making the unfamiliar familiar' and as thinking tools to help someone pose questions (hypotheses?) for enquiry. There is always a danger, however, that once such figures of speech are introduced they can channel thinking, and by providing a way of talking about and thinking about some phenomena they can act as obstacles to delving deeper in their nature (Taber & Watts, 1996).

Balding black holes – a shaggy dog story

Resurrecting an analogy from a dead metaphor?

Keith S. Taber

Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky…(Image by Garik Barseghyan from Pixabay)

I was intrigued by an analogy in a tweet

Like a shaggy dog in springtime, some black holes have to shed their "hair."

The link led me to an item at a webpage at 'Science News' entitled 'Black holes born with magnetic fields quickly shed them' written by Emily Conover. This, in turn, referred to an article in Physical Review Letters.

Now Physical Review Letters is a high status, peer-reviewed, journal.

(Read about peer review)

As part of the primary scientific literature, it publishes articles written by specialist scientists in a technical language intended to be understood by other specialists. Dense scientific terminology is not used to deliberately exclude general readers (as sometimes suggested), but is necessary for scientists to make a convincing case for new knowledge claims that seem persuasive to other specialists. This requires being precise, using unambiguous technical language."The thingamajig kind of, er, attaches to the erm, floppy bit, sort of" would not do the job.

(Read about research writing)

Science News however is news media – it publishes journalism (indeed, 'since 1921' the site reports – although that's the publication and not its website of course.) While science journalism is not essential to the internal processes of science (which rely on researchers engaging with each other's work though  scholarly critique and dialogue) it is very important for the public's engagement with science, and for the accountability of researchers to the wider community.

Science journalists have a job similar to science teachers – to communicate abstract ideas in a way that makes sense to their audience. So, they need to interpret research and explain it in ways that non-specialists can understand.

The news article told me

"Like a shaggy dog in springtime, some black holes have to shed…
Unlike dogs with their varied fur coats, isolated black holes are mostly identical. They are characterized by only their mass, spin and electric charge. According to a rule known as the no-hair theorem, any other distinguishing characteristics, or "hair," are quickly cast off. That includes magnetic fields."

Conover, 2013

Here there is clearly the use of an analogy – as a black hole is not the kind of thing that has actual hair. This would seem to be an example of a journalist creating an analogy (just as a science teacher would) to help 'make the unfamiliar familiar' to her readers:

just as

dogs with lots of hair need to shed some ready for the warmer weather (a reference to a familiar everyday situation)

so, too, do

black holes (no so familiar to most people) need to lose their hair…

(Read about making the unfamiliar familiar)

But hair?

Surely a better analogy would be along the lines that just as dogs with lots of hair need to shed some ready for the warmer weather, so to do black holes need to lose their magnetic fields…

An analogy is used to show a novel conceptual structure (here, relating to magnetic fields around black holes) maps onto a more familiar, or more readily appreciated, one (here, that a shaggy dog will shed some of its fur). A teaching analogy may not reflect a deep parallel between two systems, as its function may be just to introduce an abstract principle.

(Read about science analogies)

Why talk of black holes having 'hair'?

Conover did not invent the 'hair' reference for her ScienceNews piece – rather she built her analogy on  a term used by the scientists themselves. Indeed, the title of the cited research journal article was "Magnetic Hair and Reconnection in Black Hole Magnetospheres", and it was a study exploring the consequences of the "no-hair theorem" – as the authors explained in their abstract:

"The no-hair theorem of general relativity states that isolated black holes are characterized [completely described] by three parameters: mass, spin, and charge."

Bransgrove, Ripperda & Philippov, 2021

However, some black holes "are born with magnetic fields" or may "acquire magnetic flux later in life", in which case the fields will vary between black holes (giving an additional parameter for distinguishing them). The theory suggests that these black holes should somehow lose any such field: that is, "The fate of the magnetic flux (hair) on the event horizon should be in accordance with the no-hair theorem of general relativity" (Bransgrove, Ripperda & Philippov, 2021: 1). There would have to be a mechanism by which this occurs (as energy will be conserved, even when dealing with black holes).

So, the study was designed to explore whether such black holes would indeed lose their 'hair'.  Despite the use of this accessible comparison (magnetic flux as 'hair'), the text of the paper is pretty heavy going for someone not familiar with that area of science:

"stationary, asymptotically flat BH spacetimes…multipole component l of a magnetic field…self-regulated plasma…electron-positron discharges…nonzero stress-energy tensor…instability…plasmoids…reconnection layer…relativistic velocities…highly magnetized collisionless plasma…Lundquist number regime…Kerr-schild coordinates…dimensionless BH spin…ergosphere volume…spatial hypersurfaces…[…and so it continues]"

(Bransgrove, Ripperda & Philippov, 2021: 1).

"Come on Harry, you know full well that 'the characteristic minimum plasma density required to support the rotating magnetosphere is the Goldreich-Julian number density' [Bransgrove, Ripperda & Philippov, 2021: 2], so hand me that hyperspanner."
Image from Star Trek: Voyager (Paramount Pictures)

Spoiler alert

I do not think I will spoil anything by revealing that Bransgrove and colleague conclude from their work that "the no-hair theorem holds": that there is a 'balding process' – the magnetic field decays ("all components of the stress-energy tensor decay exponentially in time"). If any one reading this is wondering how they did this work, given that  most laboratory stores do not keep black holes in stock to issue to researchers on request, it is worth noting the study was based on a computer simulation.

That may seem to be rather underwhelming as the researchers are just reporting what happens in a computer model, but a lot of cutting-edge science is done that way. Moreover, their simulations produced predictions of how the collapsing magnetic fields of real black holes might actually be detected in terms of the kinds of radiation that should be produced.

As the news item explained matters:

Magnetic reconnection in balding black holes could spew X-rays that astronomers could detect. So scientists may one day glimpse a black hole losing its hair.

Conover, 2013

So, we have hairy black holes that go through a balding process when they lose their hair – which can be tested in principle because they will be spewing radiation.

Balding is to hair, as…

Here we have an example of an analogy for a scientific concept. Analogies compare one phenomenon or concept to another which is considered to have some structural similarity (as in the figure above). When used in teaching and science communication such analogies offer one way to make the unfamiliar familiar, by showing how the unfamiliar system maps in some sense onto a more familiar one.

hair = magnetic field

balding = shedding the magnetic field

Black holes are expected to be, or at least to become, 'hairless' – so without having magnetic fields detectable from outside the event horizon (the 'surface' connecting points beyond which everything, even light, is unable to 'escape' the gravitational field and leave the black hole). If black holes are formed with, or acquire, such magnetic fields, then there is expected to be a 'balding' process. This study explored how this might work in certain types of (simulated) black holes – as magnetic field lines (that initially cross the event horizon) break apart and reconnect. (Note that in this description the magnetic field lines – imaginary lines invented by Michael Faraday as a mental tool to think about and visualise magnetic fields – are treated as though they are real objects!)

Some such comparisons are deliberately intended to help scientists explain their ideas to the public – but scientists also use such tactics to communicate to each other (sometimes in frivolous or humorous ways) and in these cases such expressions may do useful work as short-hand expressions.

So, in this context hair denotes anything that can be detected and measured from outside a black hole apart form its mass, spin, and charge (see, it is much easier to say 'hair')- such as magnetic flux density if there is a magnetic field emerging from the black hole.

A dead metaphor?

In the research paper, Bransgrove, Ripperda and Philippov do not use the 'hair' comparison as an analogy to explain ideas about black holes. Rather they take the already well-established no-hair theorem as given background to their study ("The original no-hair conjecture states that…"), and simply explain their work in relation to it  ("The fate of the magnetic flux (hair) on the event horizon should be in accordance with the no-hair theorem of general relativity.")

Whereas an analogy uses an explicit comparison (this is like that because…), a comparison that is not explained is best seen as a metaphor. A metaphor has 'hidden meaning'. Unlike in an analogy, the meaning is only implied.

  • "The no-hair theorem of general relativity states that isolated black holes are characterized by three parameters: mass, spin, and charge";
  • "The original no-hair conjecture states that all stationary, asymptotically flat BH [black hole] spacetimes should be completely described by the mass, angular momentum, and electric charge"

(Read adbout science metaphors)

Bransgrove and colleagues do not need to explain why they use the term 'hair' in their research report as in their community it has become an accepted expression where researchers already know what it is intended to mean. We might consider it a dead metaphor, an expression which was originally used to imply meaning through some kind of comparison, but which through habitual use has taken on literal meaning.

Science has lots of these dead metaphors – terms like electrical charge and electron spin have with repeated use over time earned their meanings without now needing recourse to their origins as metaphors. This can cause confusion as, for example, a learner may  develop alternative conceptions about electron spin if they do not appreciate its origin as a metaphor, and assumes an electron spins in the same sense as as spinning top or the earth in space. Then there is an associative learning impediment as the learner assumes an electron is spinning on its axis because of the learner's (perfectly reasonable) associations for the word 'spin'.

The journalist or 'science writer' (such as Emily Conover), however, is writing for a non-specialist readership, so does need to explain the 'hair' reference.  So, I would characterise the same use of the terms hair/no-hair and balding as comprising a science analogy in the news item, but a dead metaphor in the context of the research paper. The meaning of language, after all, is in the mind of the reader.

Work cited: