The complicated social lives of stars

Stealing, escaping, and blowing-off in space


Keith S. Taber


"After a lecture on cosmology and the structure of the solar system, James [William James] was accosted by a little old lady.

'Your theory that the sun is the centre of the solar system, and the earth is a ball which rotates around it has a very convincing ring to it, Mr. James, but it's wrong. I've got a better theory,' said the little old lady.

'And what is that, madam?' inquired James politely.

'That we live on a crust of earth which is on the back of a giant turtle.'

Not wishing to demolish this absurd little theory by bringing to bear the masses of scientific evidence he had at his command, James decided to gently dissuade his opponent by making her see some of the inadequacies of her position.

'If your theory is correct, madam,' he asked, 'what does this turtle stand on?'

'You're a very clever man, Mr. James, and that's a very good question,' replied the little old lady, 'but I have an answer to it. And it's this: The first turtle stands on the back of a second, far larger, turtle, who stands directly under him.'

'But what does this second turtle stand on?' persisted James patiently.

To this, the little old lady crowed triumphantly,

'It's no use, Mr. James – it's turtles all the way down.'

Ross, 1967, iv

"The Hindoos [sic] held the earth to be hemispherical, and to be supported like a boat turned upside down upon the heads of four elephants, which stood on the back of an immense tortoise. It is usually said that the tortoise rested on nothing, but the Hindoos maintained that it floated on the surface of the universal ocean. The learned Hindoos, however, say that these animals were merely symbolical, the four elephants meaning the four directions of the compass, and the tortoise meaning eternity." (The Popular Science Monthly, March, 1877; image via Wikipedia)

It's metaphors all the way down

A well-known paper in the journal 'Cognitive Science' is entitled 'The metaphorical structure of the human conceptual system' (Lakoff & Johnson, 1980). What the authors meant by this was that metaphor, or perhaps better analogy, was at the basis of much of our thinking, and so our language.

This links to the so-called 'constructivist' perspective on development and learning, and is of great significance in both the historical development of science and in science teaching and learning. Consider some of the concepts met in a science course (electron, evolution, magnetic flux, hysteresis, oxidation state, isomerism…the list is enormous) in comparison to the kind of teaching about the world that parents engage in with young children:

  • That is a dog
  • That is a tree
  • That is round
  • This is hot
  • This is aunty
  • etc.

Pointing out the names of objects is not a perfect technique – just as scientific theories are always underdetermined by the available data (it is always possible to devise another scheme that fits the data, even if such a scheme may have to be forced and convoluted), so the 'this' that is being pointed out as a tree could refer to the corpse of trees, or the nearest branch, or a leaf, or this particular species of plant, or even be the proper name of this tree, etc. 1


Pointing requires the other person to successfully identify what is being pointed at
(Images by Joe {background} and OpenClipart-Vectors {figures} from Pixabay)


But, still, the 'this' in such a case is usually more salient than the 'this' when we teach:

  • This is an electron
  • This is reduction
  • This is periodicity
  • This is electronegativity
  • This is a food web
  • This is a ᴨ-bond
  • This is a neurotransmitter
  • etc.

Most often in science teaching we are not holding up a physical object or passing it around, but offering a 'this' which is at best a model (e.g., of a generalised plant cell or a human torso) or a complex linguistic structure (a definition in terms of other abstract concepts) or an abstract representation ('this', pointing to a slope of an a graph, is acceleration; 'this', pointing to an image with an arrangement of a few letters and lines, is a transition state…).

So, how do we bridge between the likes of dogs and trees on one hand and electrons and the strong nuclear force on the other (so to speak!)? The answer is we build using analogy and we talk about those constructions using a great deal of metaphor.2 That is, we compare directly, or indirectly, with what we can experience. This refers to relationships as well as objects. We can experience being on top of, beneath, inside, outside, next to, in front of, behind, near to, a long way from (a building, say – although hopefully not beneath in that case), and we assign metaphorical relationships in a similar way to refer to abstract scenarios. (A chloroplast may be found in a cell, but is sodium found in (or on) the periodic table? Yes, metaphorically. And potassium is found beneath it!)


In a wall, the bricks on the top layer are supported by the bricks in the layer beneath – but those are in turn supported by those beneath them.

In building, we have to start at the foundations, and build up level by level. The highest levels are indirectly supported by the foundations.

(Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay)


In science, we initially form formal concepts based on direct experience of the world (including experience mediated by our interventions, i.e., experiments), and then we build more abstract concepts from those foundational concepts, and then we build even more abstract concepts by combining the abstract ones. In the early stages we refine 'common sense' or 'life-world' categories into formal concepts so we can more 'tightly' (and operationally, through standard procedures) define what count as referents for scientific terms (Taber, 2013). So, the everyday phenomenon of burning might be reconceptualised as combustion: a class of chemical reactions with oxygen.

This is not just substituting a technical term, but also a more rigid and theoretical (abstract) conceptualisation. So, in the 'life-world' we might admit the effects of too much sunshine or contact with a strong acid within the class of 'burning' by analogy with the effect of fire (it hurts and damages the skin); but the scientific categorisation is less concerned with direct perception, and more with explanation and mechanism. So, iron burning in chlorine (in the absence of any oxygen) is considered combustion, but an acid 'burn' is not.


Combustion without oxygen: A Royal Society of Chemistry video demonstrating the reactions of iron with the halogens.

This is what science has done over centuries, and is also what happens in science education. So, one important tool for the teacher is concept analysis, where we check which prerequisite concepts need to be part of a student's prior learning before we introduce some new concept that is built upon then (e.g., do not try to teach mass spectroscopy before teaching about atomic structure, and do not teach about atomic structure before introducing the notion of elements; do not try to teach about the photoelectric effect to someone who does not know a little about the structure of metals and the nature of electromagnetic radiation.)

This building up of abstract concepts, one on another, is reflected in the density of metaphor we find in our language. (That is a metaphorical 'building', metaphorically placed one upon another, with a metaphorical 'density' which is metaphorically 'inside' the language and which metaphorically 'reflects' the (metaphorical) building process! You can 'see' (a metaphor for understand) just how extensive (oops, another metaphorical reference to physical space) this is. Hopefully, the (metaphorical) 'point' is (metaphorically) 'made', and so I am going to stop now, before this gets silly. 3

A case study of using language in science communication: the death of stars

Rather, I am going to discuss some examples of the language used in a single science programme, a BBC radio programme/podcast in the long-running series 'In Our Time' that took as its theme 'The Death of Stars'. The programme was hosted by Melvyn Bragg, and The Lord Bragg's guests were Professors Carolin Crawford (University of Cambridge), the Astronomer Royal Martin Rees (University of Cambridge) and Mark Sullivan (University of Southampton). This was an really good listen (recommended to anyone with an interest in astronomy), so I have certainly not picked it out to be critical, but rather to analyse the nature of some of the language used from the perspective of how that language communicates technical ideas.


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"

A science teacher may be familiar with stars being born, living, and dying – but how might a young learner, new to astronomical ideas, make sense of what was meant?

The passing of stars: birth, death, and afterlife in the universe

The lives and deaths of stars

Now there is already a point of interest in the episode title. Are stars really the kind of entities that can die? Does this mean they are living beings prior to death?

There are a good many references in the talk of these three astronomers in the episode that suggests that, in astronomy at least, stars do indeed live and die. That is, this does not seem to be consciously used as a metaphor – even if the terminology may have initially been introduced that way a long time ago. The programme offered so much material on this theme, that I have separated it out for a post of its own:

"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 passing of stars: birth, death, and afterlife in the universe

In this post I am going to consider some of the other language used.

Making the unfamiliar familiar

Language is used in science communication to the public, as it is in teaching, to introduce abstract technical ideas in ways that a listener new to the subject can make reasonable sense of. The constructivist perspective on learning tells us that meaning is not automatically communicated from speaker (or author or teacher) to listener (or reader or student). Rather, a text (spoken or written, or even in some other form – a diagram, a graph, a dance!) has to be interpreted, and this relies on the interpretive resources available to the learner. 4 The learner has to relate the communication to something familiar, and the speaker can help by using ways to make the new idea seem like something already familiar.

Read about constructivism in education

This is why it it is so common in communicating science to simplify, to use analogies and similes, to gesture, to use anthropomorphism and other narrative devices. There was a good deal of this in the programme, and I expect I have missed some examples. I have divided my examples into

  • simplifications: where some details are omitted so not to overburden the listener;
  • anthropomorphism: where narratives are offered such that non human entities are treated as if sentient actors, with goals, that behave deliberately;
  • analogies where an explicit comparison is made to map a familiar concept onto the target concept being introduced; 5
  • similes and metaphors: that present the technical material as being similar to something familiar and everyday.

Simplification

Simplification means ignoring some of the details, and offering a gloss on things. The details may be important, but in order to get across some key idea it is introduced as a simplification. Progress in understanding would involve subsequently filling in some details to develop a more nuanced understanding later.

In teaching there are dangers in simplification, as if the simplified idea is readily latched onto (e.g., there are two types of chemical bonds: ionic and covalent) it may be difficult later to shift learners on in their thinking. This may mean that there is a subtle balance to be judged between

giving learners enough time to become comfortable with the novel idea as introduced in a simplified form,andseeking to develop it out into a more sophisticated account before it become dogma.

In a one-shot input, such as a public lecture or appearance in the media, the best a scientist may be able to do is to present an account which is simple enough to understand, but which offers a sense of the science.

Simplification: all elements/atoms are formed in stars

When introducing the 'In Our Time' episode, Lord Bragg suggested that

"…every element in our bodies, every planet, was made in one of those stars, either as they burned, or as they exploded".

Clearly Melvyn cannot be an expert on the very wide range of topics featured on 'In our time' but relies on briefing notes provided by his guests. Later, in the programme he asks Professor Rees (what would clearly be considered a leading question in a research context!) "Is the sun recycled from previous dead stars?"

"Yes it is because we believe that all pristine material in the universe was mainly just hydrogen and helium, and all the atoms we are made of were not there soon after the big bang. They were all made in stars which lived and died before our solar system formed. And this leads to the problem of trying to understand more massive stars which have more complicated lives and give rise to supernovae…

The cloud from which our solar system formed was already contaminated by the debris, from earlier generations of massive stars which had lived and died more than say five billion years ago so we're literally the ashes of those long dead stars or if you are less romantic we're the nuclear waste from the fuel that kept those old stars shining."

Prof. Martin Rees

There is a potential for confusion here.

"all the atoms we are made of were not there soon after the big bang. They were all made in stars which lived and died before our solar system formed"seems to be meant to convey something likenot all the atoms we are made of were there soon after the big bang.
[Some were, but the rest/others] were all made in stars which lived and died before our solar system formed

A different interpretation (i.e., that all atoms/elements are formed in stars) might well be taken, given Lord Bragg's introductory comments.

Professor Rees referred to how "…the idea that the elements, the atoms we are made of, were all synthesised in stars…" first entered scientific discourse in 1946, due to Fred Hoyle, and to

"this remarkable discovery that we are literally made of the ashes of long dead stars"

Prof. Martin Rees

Before the first star formation, the only elements present in the universe were hydrogen and helium (and some lithium) and the others have been produced in subsequent high energy nuclear processes. Nuclear fusion releases energy when heavier nuclei are formed from fusing together lighter ones, up to iron (element 56).

Forming even heavier elements requires an input of energy from another source. It was once considered that exploding stars, supernovae, gave rise to the conditions for this, but recently other mechanisms have been considered: and Prof. Sullivan described one of these:"we think these combining neutron stars are the main sites where heavy elements like strontium or plutonium, perhaps even gold or silver, these kinds of elements are made in the universe in these neutron stars combining with each other".

A human body includes many different elements, though most of these in relatively small amounts. Well represented are oxygen, carbon, calcium, and nitrogen. These elements exist because of the processes that occur in stars. However, hydrogen is also found in 'organic' substances such as the carbohydrates, proteins, and fats found in the human body. Typically the molecules of these substances contain more hydrogen atoms than atoms of carbon or any other element.


substanceformula
glucose (sugar)C6H12O6
leucine (amino aid)C6H13NO2
leukotriene B4 (inflammatory mediator)C20H32O4
thymine (nucleobase)C5H6N2O2
adreneline (hormone)C9H13NO3
insulin (hormone)C257H383N65O77S6
cholesterol (lipid)C27H46O
cobalamin (vitamin B12)C63H88CoN14O14P
formulae of some compounds found in human bodies

The body is also said to be about 60% water, and water has a triatomic molecule: two hydrogen atoms to one of oxygen (H2O). That is, surely MOST of "the atoms we are made of" are hydrogen, which were present in the universe before any stars were 'born'.

So, it seems here we have a simplification ("every element in our bodies…was made in one of those stars, either as they burned, or as they exploded"; "atoms we are made of … were all made in stars") which is contradicted later in the programme. (In teaching, it is likely the teacher would feel the need to draw the learner's attention to how the more detailed information was actually developing an earlier simplification, and not leave a learner to work this out for themselves.)

Simplification: mass is changed into energy

Explaining nuclear fusion, Prof. Crawford suggested that

"Nuclear fusion is when you combine nuclei of elements to form heavier elements, and when you do this there is a loss of mass, which is converted to energy which provides the thermal pressure and that is what counteracts the gravity and stalls the gravitational collapse."

Prof. Carolin Crawford

This seems to reflect a common alternative conception ('misconception') that, in nuclear processes, mass is converted to energy. This is often linked to Albert Einstein's famous equation E = mc2.

Actually, as discussed before here, this is contrary to the scientific account. The equation presents an equivalence between mass and energy, but does not suggest they can be inter-converted. In nuclear fusion, the masses of the new nuclei are very slightly less than the masses of the nuclei which react to form them (the difference is known as the mass defect), but this is because this omits some details of the full description of the process. If the complete process is considered then there is no loss of mass, just a reconfiguration of where the mass can be located.


The formation of helium from hydrogen in a star

(Image source: Wikamedia Commons)

Although the 4He formed has slightly less mass than four 1H; the positrons, neutrinos and gamma rays produced all have associated (energy and) mass, so that overall there is conservation of mass.


This is a bit like cooking some rice, and finding that when the rice is cooked the contents of the saucepan had slightly less weight than when we started – as some of the water we began with has evaporated and is no longer registering on our balance. In a similar way, if we consider everything that is produced in the nuclear process, then the mass overall is conserved.

As E = mc2 can be understood to tell us that mass follows the energy (or vice versa) we should expect mass changes (albeit very, very small ones) whenever work is done: when we climb the stairs, or make a cup of tea, or run down a mobile 'phone 'battery' (usually a cell?) – but mass is always conserved when we consider everything involved in any process (such as how the 'phone very, very slightly warms -and so very marginally increases the mass of – the environment).

Read 'How much damage can eight neutrons do?'

Despite the scientific principles of conservation of energy and conservation of mass always applying when we make sure we consider everything involved in a process, I have mentioned on this site another example of an astrophysicist suggesting mass can be converted into energy: "an electron and the positron, and you put them together, they would annihilate…they would annihilate into energy" (on a different episode of 'In Our Time': come on Melvyn…we always conserve mass).

Read 'The missing mass of the electron'

Perhaps this is an alternative conception shared by some professional scientists, but I wonder if it sometimes seems preferably to tell the "mass into energy" narrative because it is simpler than having to explain the full details of a process – which is inevitably a more complex story and so will be more difficult for a novice to take in. After all, the "mass into energy" story is likely to seem to fit with a listener's interpretive resources, as E=mc2 is such a famous equation that it can be assumed that it will be familiar to most listeners, even if only a minority will have a deep appreciation of how the equivalence works.

Anthropomorphic narratives

In science learning, anthropomorphism is (to borrow a much used metaphor) a double edged sword that can cut both ways. Teachers often find that using narratives that present inanimate entities which are foci of science lessons as if they are sentient beings with social lives and motivations engages learners and triggers mental images that a student can readily remember. So, students may recall learning about what happens at a junction in a circuit in terms of a story about an electron that had to make a decision about which way to go – perhaps she took one branch while her friend tried another? They recall that covalent bonds are the 'sharing' of electrons between atoms, and indeed that atoms want, perhaps even need, to fill their electron shells, and if they manage this they will be happy.

Read about anthropomorphism

The danger here is that for many students such narratives are not simply useful ways to get them thinking about the science concepts (weak anthropomorphism) but seem quite sufficient as the basis of explanations (strong anthropomorphism) – and so it may become difficult to shift them towards more canonical accounts. They will then write in tests that chemical reactions occur because the atoms want full shells, or that only one electron can be removed from a sodium atom because it then has a full shell. (That is, a force applied to an electron in an electric field is seen as irrelevant compared with the atom's desires. These are genuine examples reflecting what students have said.)

However, there is no doubt that framing scientific accounts within narratives which have elements of human experience as social agent does seem to help make these ideas engaging and accessible. Some such anthropomorphism is explicit, such as when gas molecules (are said to) like to move further apart, and some is more subtle by applying terms which would normally be used in relation to human experiences (not being bothered; chomping; escaping…).

What gravity did next

Consider this statement:

"All stars have the problem of supporting themselves against gravitational collapse, whether that is a star like our sun which is burning hydrogen into helium, and thus providing lots of thermal pressure to stop collapse, or whether it is a white dwarf star, but it does not have any hydrogen to burn, because it is an old dead star, fading away, so it has another method to stop itself collapsing and that is called degeneracy pressure. So, although a white dwarf is very dense, gravity is still trying to pull that white dwarf to be even denser and even denser."

Prof. Mark Sullivan

There is an explicit anthropomorphism here: from the scientific perspective gravity is not trying to pull the white dwarf to be even denser. Gravity does not try to do anything. Gravity is not a conscious agent with goals that it 'tries' to achieve.

However, there is also a more subtle narrative thread at work – that a star has the problem of supporting itself, and it seems that when its first approach to solving this problem fails, it has a fallback method "to stop itself collapsing". But the star is just a complex system where various forces act and so processes occur. A star is not the kind of entity that can have a problem or enact strategies to achieve goals. Yet, this kind of language seems to naturally communicate abstract ideas though embedding them within an accessible narrative.

Star as moral agents

In the same way, a star is not the type of entity which can carry out immoral acts, but

"A star like our sun will never grow in mass, because it lives by itself in space. But most stars in the universe don't live by themselves, they live in what are called binary systems where you have two stars orbiting each other, rather than just the single star that we have as the sun. They are probably born with different masses, and so they evolve at different speeds and one will become a white dwarf. Now the physics is a bit complicated, but what can happen, is that that white dwarf can steal material from its companion star."

Prof. Mark Sullivan

The meaning here seems very clear, but again there are elements of using an anthropomorphic narrative. For one star to steal material from another star, that material would have to first belong to that other star, and its binary 'partner' would have to deliberately misappropriate that material knowing it belongs to its 'neighbour' (indeed, "companion").

Such a narrative breaks down on analysis. If we were to accept that the matter initially belongs to the first star (leaving aside for the moment what kind of entities can be considered to own property) then given that the material in a star got to be there through mutual gravitational attraction, the only obvious basis for ownership is that that matter has become gravitationally bound as part of that star.

If we have no other justification than that (as in the common aphorism, possession is nine points of the law), then when the material is transferred to another star because its gravitational field gives rise to a net force causing the matter to become gravitationally bound to a different star, then we should simply consider ownership to have changed. There is no theft in a context where ownership simply depends on pulling with the greater force. Despite this, we readily accept an analogy from our more familiar human social context and understand that (in a metaphorical sense) one star has stolen from another!

Actually, theft can only be carried out by moral agents – those who have capacity to intend to deprive others of their property

"A person [sic] is guilty of theft if he dishonestly appropriates property belonging to another with the intention of permanently depriving the other of it; and "thief" and "steal" shall be construed accordingly"

U.K. Theft Act 1968

Generally, these days (though this was not always so), even non-human animals are seldom considered capable of being responsible for such crimes. Admittedly, the news agency Reuters reported that as recently as 2008 "A Macedonian court convicted a bear of theft and damage for stealing honey from a beekeeper", but this seems to have been less a judgement on the ability of the bear (convicted it its absence) to engage in ethical deliberation, and more a pragmatic move that allowed the bee-keeper to be awarded criminal damages for his losses.

But, according to astronomers, stars are not only involved in the petty larceny of illicitly acquiring gas, but observations of exoplanets suggests some stars may even commit more daring, large-scale, heists,

"fairly small rocky planets two or three times the mass of the earth, in quite tight orbits around their star and you can speculate that they were once giant planets like Jupiter that have had the outer gassy layers blasted off and you are left with the rocky core, or maybe those planets were stolen from another star that got too close"

Prof. Carolin Crawford
A ménage à trois?

And there were other suggestions of anthropomorphism. It is not only stars that "don't live by themselves" in this universe,

"Nickel-56 [56Ni] is what's called an iron peak element, so it lives with iron and cobalt on the periodic table…"

Prof. Mark Sullivan

And, it is not only gravity which seems to have preferences:

"And like Mark has described with electrons not wanting to be squeezed, you have neutron degeneracy pressure. Neutrons don't like to be compressed, at some point they resist it."

Prof. Carolin Crawford

Neither electrons nor neutrons actually have any preferences: but this is an anthropomorphic metaphor that efficiently communicates a sense of the natural phenomena. 'Resist' originally had an active sense as in taking a stand, but today would not necessarily be understood that way. Wanting and liking (or not wanting and not liking), however, strictly only refer to entities that can have desires and preferences.

Navigating photons

Professor Rees explained why some imploding stars are not seen as very bright stars that fade over years, but rather observed through extremely intense bursts of high energy radiation that fade quickly,

"The energy in the form of ordinary photons, ordinary light, that's arisen in the centre of a supernova, diffuses out and takes weeks to escape, okay, but if the star is spinning, then it will be an oblate spheroid, it will have a minor axis along the spin axis, and so the easy way out is for the radiation not to diffuse through but to find the shortest escape route, which is along the spin axis, and I mention this because gamma ray bursts are … when a supernova occurs but because the original star was sort of flattened there is an easy escape route and all the energy escapes in jets along the spin axis and so instead of it diffusing out over a period of weeks, as it does in a supernova, it comes out in a few seconds."

Prof. Martin Rees

Again, the language used is suggestive. Radiation is not just emitted by the star, but 'escapes' (surely a metaphor?). The phrasing "an easy way out" implies something not being difficult. Inanimate entities like photons do not actually (literally) find anything difficult or easy. Moreover, the radiation might "find the shortest escape route": language that does not reflect a playing out of physical forces but an active search – only a being able to seek can find. Yet, again, the language supports an engaging narrative, 'softening' the rather technical story by subtly reflecting a human quest.

Professor Rees also referred to how,

"when those big stars face a crisis they blow off their outer layers"

Prof. Martin Rees

again using phrasing which seems to present the stars as deliberate actors – they actively "blow off" material when they "face a crisis". A crisis is (or at least was originally) a point where a decision needs to be made. A star does not reach the critical point where it reluctantly decides it needs to shed some material – but rather is subject to changing net forces as the rate of heat generation from nuclear processes starts to decrease.

A sense of anthropomorphic narrative also attaches to Professor Crawford's explanation of how more massive stars process material faster,

"…more massive stars … actually have shorter lifetimesthey have to chomp through their fuel supply so furiously that they exhaust it more rapidly

Prof. Carolin Crawford

'Chomping', a term for vigorous eating (biting, chewing, munching), is here a metaphor, as a star does not eat – as pointed out in the companion piece, nutrition is a characteristics feature of living things, but does not map across to stars even if they are described as being born, living, dying and so forth. To be furious is a human emotional response: stars may process their remaining hydrogen quickly, but there is no fury involved. Again, though, the narrative, perhaps inviting associated mental imagery, communicates a sense of the science.

Laid-back gas

Another example of anthropomorphism was

"…if you have a gas cloud that's been sitting out in space for billions of years and has not bothered to contract because it's been too hot or it's too sparse…"

Prof. Carolin Crawford

This is an interesting example, as Prof. Crawford explicitly explains here that the gas cloud has not contracted because of the low density of material (so weak gravitational forces acting on the particles) and/or the high temperature (so the gas comprises of energetic, so fast moving, particles), so the suggestion that the material cannot be bothered (implication: that the 'cloud' operates as a single entity, and is sentient if perhaps a little lazy) does not stand in place of a scientific explanation, but rather simply seems to be intended to 'soften' (so to speak) the technical nature of the language used.

Analogy

An analogy goes beyond a simile or metaphor because there is some kind of structural mapping to make it explicit in what way or ways the analogue is considered to be like the target concept. 5 (Such as when explaining mass defect in relation to the material lost from the saucepan when cooking rice!)


A potential teaching analogy to avoid alternative conceptions about mass defect in nuclear processes

Read about science analogies

So, Prof. Rees suggests that scientists can test their theories about star 'life cycles' by observation, even though an individual star only moves through the process over billions of years, and uses an analogy to a more familiar everyday context:

"We can test our theories, not only because we understand the physics, but because we can look at lots of stars. It is rather like if you had never seen a tree before, and you wandered around in a forest for a day, you can infer the life cycles of trees, you'd see saplings and big trees, etcetera. And so even though our lifetime is minuscule compared to the lifetime of a stable star, we can infer the population and life cycles of stars observationally and the theory does corroborate that fairly well."

Prof. Martin Rees

This would seem to make the basis of a good teaching analogy that could be discussed with students and would likely link well with their own experiences.

The other explicit analogy introduced by Prof. Rees is one well-known to physics teachers (sometimes in an ice-skater variant),

"If a contracting cloud has even a tiny little bit of spin, if it is rotating a bit, then as it contracts, then just like the ballerina who pulls in her arms and spins faster, then the contracting cloud will start to spin faster…"

Prof. Martin Rees

Stellar similes

I take the difference between a simile and a metaphor as the presence of an explicit marker (such as '…as…',…like…') to tell the listener/reader that a comparison is being made – so 'the genome is the blueprint for the body' would be a metaphor, where 'the genome is like a blueprint for the body' would be a simile.

As if a black hole cuts itself off

So, when Professor Rees describes how a massive black hole forms, he uses simile (i.e., "…as if were…"),

"So, if a neutron star gets above that mass, then it will compress even further, and will become a black hole – it will go on contracting until it, as it were, cuts itself off from the rest of the universe, leaving a gravitational imprint frozen in the space that's left. It becomes a black hole that things can fall into but not come out."

Prof. Martin Rees

There is an element of anthropomorphic narrative (see above) again here, if we consider the choice of active, rather than passive, phrasing

  • …as it were, cuts itself off from the rest of the universe, compared with
  • …as it were, becomes cut off from the rest of the universe

This is presented as something the neutron star itself does ("it will compress…become a black hole – it will go on contracting until it, as it were, cuts itself off…") rather than a process occurring in/to the matter of which it is comprised.

As if galaxies drop over the horizon

Prof. Rees uses another simile, when talking of how the expansion of space means that in time most galaxies will disappear from view,

"All the more distant universe which astronomers like Mark [Sullivan] study, galaxies far away, they will all have expanded their distance from us and in effect disappeared over a sort of horizon and so we just wouldn't see them at all. They'd be too faint, rather like …an inside-out black hole as it were, but in this case they moved so far away that we can't see them any more …"

Prof. Martin Rees

The term horizon, originally referring to the extent of what is in sight as we look across the curved Earth, has become widely used in astronomical contexts where objects cease to be in sight (i.e., the event horizon of a black hole beyond which any light being emitted by an object will not be able to leave {'escape!'} the black hole because of the intense gravitation field), but here Prof. Rees clearly marks out for listeners ("…in effecta sort of…") that he is making a comparison with the familiar notion of a horizon that we experience here on Earth.

There is another simile here, the reference to the expansion of space leading to an effect "rather like…an inside-out black hole as it were" – but perhaps that comparison would be less useful to a listener new to the topic as it uses a scientific idea rather than an everyday phenomenon as the analogue.

Through a glass onion darkly?

Another simile used by Professor Rees was a references to a "sort of onion skin structure". Now 'onion skin' sometimes refers to the hard, dry, outer material (the 'tunic') usually discarded when preparing the onion for a dish. To a science teacher, however, this is more likely to mean the thin layer of epithelial tissue that can be peeled from the scales inside the bulb. These scales, which are potentially the bases of leaves that can grow if the bulb is planted, are layered in the bulb.

The skin is useful in science lessons as it is a single layer of cells, that is suitable for students to dissect from the onion, and mount for microscopic examination – allowing them to observe the individual cells. There is something at least superficially analogous to this in stars. Observations of the Sun show that convection processes gives rise to structures referred to as convection 'cells'.



Yet, when Professor Rees' simile is heard in context, it seems that this is not the focus of the comparison:

"…all the nuclear processes which would occur at different stages in the heavy stars…which have this sort of onion skin structure with the hotter inner layers"

Prof. Martin Rees

Very large stars that have processed much of their hydrogen into helium can be considered to have a layered structure where under different conditions a whole sequence of processes are occurring leading to the formation of successively heavier and heavier elements, and ultimately to a build-up of iron near the centre.


The onion model of the structure of a large star (original image by Taken from Pixabay)

When I heard the reference to the onion, this immediately suggested the layered nature of the onion bulb being like the structure of a star that was carrying out the sequence of processes where the products of one fusion reaction become the raw material for the next. Presumably, my familiarity with the layered model of a star led me to automatically make an association with onions which disregarded the reference to the skin. That is, I had existing 'interpretive resources' to understand why the onion reference was relevant, even though the explicit mention of the skin might make the comparison obscure to someone new to the science.

Metaphors – all the way back up?

Some metaphors can easily be spotted (if someone suggests mitochondria are the power stations of the cell, or a lion is King of the jungle), but if our conceptual systems, and our language, are built by layers of metaphor upon metaphor then actually most metaphors are dead metaphors.

That is, an original metaphor is a creative attempt to make a comparison with something familiar, but once the metaphor is widely taken up, and in time becomes common usage and so a part of standard language, it ceases to act as a metaphor and becomes a literal meaning.

This presumably is what has happened with the adoption of the idea that stars are born, live out their lives, and then die: originally it was a poetic use of language, but now among astronomers it reflects an expanded standard use of terms that were once more restricted (born, live, lifetime, die etc.).


"…Stars dived in blinding skies / Stars die / Blinding skies…"
Stars die, but only due to artistic license
(Artwork from 'Star's die' by Porcupine Tree, photographer: Chris Kissadjekian)

If you see a standard candle…

When Professor Sullivan refers to a "standard candle", this is now a widely used astronomical notion (in relation to how we estimate distances to distant stars and galaxies that are much too far away to triangulate from parallax as the earth changes its position in the solar system) – but at one time this was used as a figure of speech.

Some figures of speech are created in the moment, but never widely copied and adopted. The astronomical community adopted the 'standard candle' such that it is now an accepted term, even though most young people meeting astronomical ideas for the first time probably have very little direct experience of candles. What might once have seemed a blatantly obvious allusion may now need explaining to the novice.

When Sir Arthur Eddington (famous for collecting observations during an eclipse consistent with predictions from relativity theory about the gravitational 'bending' of starlight) gave a public lecture in 1932, he seems to have assumed that his audience would understand the analogy between an astronomer's 'standard candles' (Cepheid variables) and standard candles they might themselves use!

"If you see a standard candle anywhere and note how bright it appears to you, you can calculate how far off it is; in the same way an astronomer observes his [or her] 'standard candle' in the midst of a nebula, notes its apparent brightness or magnitude, and deduces the distance of the nebula"

Eddington, 1933/1987, pp.7-8

This ongoing development in language means that it may not always be entirely clear which terms are still engaged with as if metaphors and which have now become understood as literal. That is, in considering whether some phrase is a metaphor we can ask two questions:

  • did the author/speaker intend this as a comparison, or do they consider the term has direct literal meaning?
  • does the reader/listener understand the term to have a literal meaning, or is it experienced as some novel kind of comparison with another context which has to be related back to the focus?

In the latter case we might also think it is important to distinguish between cases where the audience member can decode the intention of the comparison 'automatically' as part of normal language processing – and cases where they would have to consciously deliberate on the meaning. (In the latter case, the interpretation is likely to disrupt the flow of reading, and when listening could perhaps even require the listener to disengage from the communication such that subsequent speech is missed.)

(Metaphorical?) hosts

So, when Prof. Crawford suggests that

"The supernovae, particularly, are of fundamental importance for the host galaxy…"

Prof. Carolin Crawford

her use of the term 'host' is surely metaphorical (at least for a listener – this term is widely used in the literature of academic astronomy 6). A host offers hospitality for a guest. That does not seem to obviously reflect the relationship between a supernova and the galaxy it is found in and is part of. It is not a guest: rather, in Prof. Sullivan's terms we might suggest that star has 'lived its entire life' in that galaxy – it is its galactic 'home'. Despite this comparison not standing up to much formal analysis, I suspect the metaphor can be automatically processed by anyone with strong familiarity with the concept of a host. Precise alignment may not be a strong criterion for effective metaphors.

Another meaning of host refers to a sacrificial victim (as in the host in the Christian Eucharist) which seems unlikely to be the derivation here, but perhaps fits rather well with Prof. Crawford's point. A supernova too close to earth could potentially destroy the biosphere – an unlikely but not impossible event.

(Metaphorical?) bubbles

Professor Crawford described some of the changes during a supernova,

"You have got your iron core, it collapses down under gravity in less than a second, that kind of leaves the outer layers of the star a little behind, they crash down, bounce on the surface of the core, and then there's a shockwave, that propels all this stellar debris, out into space. So, this is part of the supernova explosion we have been talking about, and it carves out a bubble within the interstellar medium."

Prof. Carolin Crawford

There are a number of places here where everyday terms are applied in an unfamiliar context such as 'core', 'bouncing', 'layers' and 'debris'. But the idea of carving a bubble certainly seems metaphorical, if only because a familiar bubble would have a physical surface, where surely, here, there is no strict interface between discrete regions of gases. But, again, the term offers an accessible image to communicate the process. (And anyone looking at the NASA image above of convection cells in the Sun might well feel that these can be perceived as if bubbles.)

(Metaphorical?) pepper

Similarly, the idea of heavy elements from exploding suns being added to the original hydrogen and helium in the interstellar medium as like adding pepper also offers a strong image,

"…this is the idea of enrichment, you start off with much more primordial hydrogen and helium gas that gets steadily peppered with all these heavy elements…"

Prof. Carolin Crawford

Perhaps 'peppered' is now a dead metaphor, as it is widely used in various contexts unrelated to flavouring food.

(Metaphorical?) imprints

When Professor Rees referred to a neutron star that has become a black hole leaving a "gravitational imprint frozen in the space that's left" this makes good sense as the black hole will not be visible, but its gravitational field will have effects well beyond its event horizon. Yet, one cannot actually make an imprint in space, one needs a suitable material substrate (snow, plater, mud…) to imprint into; and nor has anything been 'frozen' in a literal sense. Indeed, the gravitational field will change as the black hole acquires more material through gravitational capture (and in the very long term loses mass though evaporates Hawking radiation – which is said to cause the black hole to 'evaporate'). So, this is a kind of double metaphor.

(Metaphorical?) blasts and blows

I report above both the idea that rocky planet close to large stars might have derived from 'giant' planets "that have had the outer gassy layers blasted off" and how "big stars…blow off their outer layers". Can stars really blow, or is this based on a metaphor. Blasts usually imply explosions, sudden events, so perhaps these are metaphorical blasts? And it is not just larger stars that engage in blowing off,

"[The sun] will blow off its outer layers and become a red giant, expanding so it will engulf the inner planets, but then the core will settle down to what's called a white dwarf, this is a dead, dense star, about a million times denser than normal stuff…."

Prof. Martin Rees

Metaphors galore!

Perhaps those last examples are not especially convincing – but this reflects a point I made earlier. Language changes over time: it is (metaphorically-speaking) fluid. If language started from giving names to things we can directly point at, then anything we cannot directly point at needs to be labelled in terms of existing words. Most of the terms we use were metaphors at some point, but became literal as the language norms changed.

But society is not a completely homogeneous language community. The requirements of professional discourse in astronomy (or any other specialised field of human activity) drive language modifications in particular regards ahead of general language use. It is not just people in Britain and the United States who are divided by a common language – we all are to some extent. What has become literal meaning for for one person (perhaps a science teacher) may well only be a metaphor to another (a student, say).

After all, when I look up what it is to blow off, I find that the most common contemporary meaning relates to a failure to meet a social obligation or arrangement – I am pretty sure (from the context) that that is not what Professor Rees was suggesting ("…when those big stars face a crisis they [let down] their outer layers".) Once we start looking at texts closely, they seem to be 'loaded' with figures of speech. A planet is not materially constrained in space, yet we understand why an orbit might be considered 'tight'.

In the proceeding quote, the core of a star seems to need no explanation although it presumably derives by analogy with the core of an apple or similar fruit, which itself seems to derive metaphorically form an original meaning of the heart. Again, what is meant by engulf is clear enough although originally it referred to the context of water and the meaning has been metaphorically (or analogously) extended.

The terms red giant and white dwarf clearly derive from metaphor. (Sure, a red giant is gigantic, but then, on any normal scale of human experience, so is a white dwarf.) These terms might mystify someone meeting them for the first time so not already aware they are used to refer to classes of star. This might suggest the value of a completely objective language for discussing science where all terms are tightly (hm, too metaphorical…closely? rigidly? well-) defined, but that would be a project reminiscent of the logical positivist programme in early twentieth century that ultimately proved non-viable. We can only define words with more words, and there are limits to the precision possible with a usable, 'living', language.

Take the "discovery that we are literally made of the ashes of long dead stars". Perhaps, but the term ashes normally refers to the remains of burnt organic material, especially wood, so perhaps we are not literally, but only metaphorically made of the ashes of long dead stars. Just as when when Professor Sullivan noted,

"the white dwarf is made of carbon, it's made of oxygen, and the temperature and the pressure in the centre of that white dwarf star can become so extreme, that carbon detonation can occur in the centre of the white dwarf, and that is a runaway thermonuclear reaction – that carbon burns in astronomer speak into more massive elements…"

Prof. Mark Sullivan
Are we stardust, ashes or just waste?

Burning is usually seen in scientific terms as another word for combustion. So, the nuclear fusion, 'burning' "in astronomer speak" of its nuclear 'fuel' in a star represents an extension of the original meaning by analogy with combustion. 9 Material that is deliberately used to maintain a fire is fuel. A furnace is an artefact deliberately built to maintain a high temperature – the nuclear furnace in a star is not an artefact but a naturally occurring system (gravity holds the material in place), but is metaphorically a furnace. A runaway is a fugitive who has absconded – so to describe a thermonuclear reaction (which is not going anywhere in spatial terms) as 'runaway' adopts what was a metaphor. (Astronomers also use the term 'runaway' to label a class of star that seem to be moving especially fast compared with the interstellar medium – a somewhat more direct borrowing of the usual meaning of 'runaway'.)

To consider us to be made from 'nuclear waste' relies on seeing the star-as-nuclear-furnace as analogous to a nuclear pile in a power station. In nuclear power stations we deliberately process fissile material to allow us to generate electrical power: and material is produced as a by-product of this process (that is, it is a direct product of the natural nuclear processes, but a by-product of our purposeful scheme to generate electricity). To consider something waste means making a value judgement.

If the purpose of a star is to shine (a teleological claim) and the fusion of hydrogen is the means to achieve that end, then the material produced in that process which is no longer suitable as 'fuel' can be considered 'waste'. If the universe does not have any purpose(s) for stars then there is no more basis for seeing this material as waste than there is for seeing stars themselves as the waste products of a process that causes diffuse matter to come together into local clumps. That is, this is an anthropocentric perspective that values stars as of more value than either the primordial matter from which they formed, or the 'dead' matter they will evolve into when they no longer shine 'for us'. Nature may not have such favourites! If it has a purpose, then stars seem to only be intermediate steps towards its ultimate end.


What does support the turtle? Surely, it's metaphors all the way down.
(Source: Pintrest)


Sources cited:

Notes:

1 It may seem fanciful that we give a specific individual tree a proper name but should a child inherently appreciate that we commonly name individual hamsters (say, or ships, or roads), but not individual trees? 'Major Oak' is a particular named Oak tree in Sherwood Forest, so the idea is not ridiculous. (It is very large, but apparently the name derives from it being described by an author with the army rank of major. Of course, this term for a soldier leading others derives metaphorically from a Latin word meaning bigger, so…)


2 "So how do we bridge between dogs and trees on one hand and electrons and the strong nuclear force on the other (so to speak!)? The answer is we build using analogy and we talk about those constructions using a great deal of metaphor."

  • We understand what is meant by bridge here in relation to an actual bridge that physically links two places – such as locations on opposite sides of a river or railway line.
  • There is no actual building up of materials, but we understand how we can 'build' in the abstract by analogy.
  • These things are not actually at hand, but we make a metaphorical comparison in terms of distinguishing items held in 'opposite' hands. We understand what is meant by a great deal of something abstract by analogy with a great deal of something we can directly experience, e.g., sand, water, etcetera.

Justice personified, on the one hand weighing up the evidence and on the other imposing sanctions

(Image by Sang Hyun Cho from Pixabay)


We construct scientific concepts and models and theories by analogy with how we construct material buildings – we put down foundations then build up brick by brick so that the top of the structure is only very indirectly supported by the ground.

(Image by joffi from Pixabay)


3 A point is a hypothetical, infinitesimally small, location in space, which is not something a person could actually make. The 'point' of an argument is metaphorically like the point of a pencil or spear which is metaphorically an approximation to an actual point. Of course, we (adult members of the English language community) all know what is meant by the point of an argument – but people new to a language (such as young children) have to find this out, without someone holding up the point of an argument for them to learn to recognise.


4 In part, this means linguistic resources. Each individual person has a unique vocabulary, and even though sharing most words with others, often has somewhat unique ranges of application of those words. But it also refers to personal experiences that can be drawn upon (e.g., having cared for an ill relative, having owned a pet, having undertaken part-time work in a hospital pharmacy, having been taken to work by a parent…) and the cultural referents that are commonly discussed in discourse (cultural icons like the Mona Lisa or Beethoven's fifth symphony; familiarity with some popular television show or film; appreciating that Romeo and Juliet were tragic lovers, or that Gandhi is widely considered a moral role model, and so forth.)


"Penny, I'm a physicist. I have a working knowledge of the entire universe and everything it contains."

"Who's Radiohead?"

"I have a working knowledge of the important things in the universe."

Still from 'The Big Bang Theory' (Chuck Lorre Productions / Warner Bros. Television)


The interpretive resources are whatever mental resources are available to help make sense of communication.


5 I am using the term concept in an 'inclusive' sense (Taber, 2019), in that whenever a person can offer a discrimination about whether something is an example of some category, then they hold a concept (vague or detailed; simple or complex; canonical or alternative).

That is, if someone can (beyond straight guesswork) try to answer one of the questions "what is X? ", "is this an example of X?" or "can you suggests an example of X?", then they have a relevant concept – where X could be…

  • a beaker
  • a force
  • a bacterium
  • opaque
  • a transition metal
  • an isomer
  • distillation
  • neutralisation
  • a representation of the ideal gas law
  • and so forth

Read more about concepts


6 The earliest reference to 'host galaxies' I found in a quick search of the scientific literature was from 1972 in a paper which used the term 'host galaxy' 8 times, including,

"We estimated the distances [of observed supernovae]…by four different methods:

  • (1) Estimating the absolute luminosity of the host galaxy.
  • (2) Estimating the absolute luminosity of the supernova.
  • (3) Using the measured redshift of the host galaxy and assuming the Hubble constant H = 75 km (s Mpc)-1
  • (4) Identifying the host galaxy with a cluster of galaxies for which the distance from Earth had already been estimated.
Ulmer, Grace, Hudson & Schwartz, 1972, p.209

The term 'host galaxy' was not introduced or defined in the paper, suggesting that either it was already in common use as a scientific term (and so a dead metaphor within the astronomical community) in 1972 or Ulmer and colleagues assumed it was obvious enough not to need explanation.


7 It should be pointed out that 'In Our Time' is not presented as succession of mini-lectures, or as a tightly scripted programme, but as a conversation between Melvyn as his guests. Of course, there is some level of preparation by those involved, but in adopting a conversational style, avoiding the sense of prepared statements, it is inevitable that a guest's language will sometimes lack the precision of a drafted and much revised account.


8 A supernova may appear as a new star in the sky if it is so far away that the star was not previously detectable, or as a known star quick;y becoming very much brighter.


9 One should be careful in making such equivalences, as in that although we may equate burning with combustion, burning is an everyday ('life world') phenomenon, and combustion is a scientific concept: often our scientific concepts are more precisely defined than the related everyday terms. (Which is why melting has a broader meaning in everyday life {the sugar melts in the hot tea; the stranger melted away into the mist} than it does in science.) But although we might say, as suggested earlier in the text, we have been burned by exposure to the sun's ultraviolet rays, or by contact with a caustic substance, in those contexts we are unlikely to consider our skin as 'fuel' for the process.


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?'


How much damage can eight neutrons do?

Scientific literacy and desk accessories in science fiction

Keith S. Taber


Is the principle of conservation of mass that is taught in school science falsified all the time?


I am not really a serious sci-fi buff, but I liked Star Trek (perhaps in part because it was the first television programme I got to see in colour 1) and I did enjoy Blakes7 when it was broadcast by the BBC (from 1978-1981).



Blakes7 was made with the same kind of low budget production values of Dr Who of the time. Given that space scenes in early episodes involved what seemed to be a flat image of a spacecraft moving across a star field with no sense of depth or perspective (for later series someone had built a model), and in one early episode the crew were clearly given angle-poise lamps to control the craft, it was certainly not a case of 'no expense spared'. So, it was never quite clear if the BBC budget had also fallen short of a possessive apostrophe in the show title credits or Blakes7 was to be read in some other way.

After all, it was not made explicit who was part of Blake's 7 if that was what the title meant, and no one referred to "Blake's 7" in the script (perhaps reflecting how the doctor in Dr Who was not actually called Dr Who?).


The Blakes7 team on the flight desk of the Liberator – which was the most advanced spaceship in the galaxy (and was, for plot purposes, conveniently found drifting in space without a crew) – at least until they forgot to clean the hull once too often and it corroded away while they were on an away mission.

Blake's group was formed from a kind of prison break and so Blake was something of a 'rough-hero' – but not as much as his sometime unofficial lieutenant, sometime friend, sometime apparent rival, Avon, who seemed to be ruled by self-interest (at least until the script regularly required some act of selfless heroism from him). 'Rough-heroes' are fictional characters presented in the hero role but who have some traits that the audience are likely to find morally questionable if not repugnant.

As well as Blake (a rebel condemned as a traitor, having 'recovered' from brainwashing-supported rehabilitation to rebel again) and Avon (a hacker convicted of a massive computer fraud intended to make himself extremely rich) the rest of the original team were a smuggler, a murderer and a petty thief, to which was added a terrorist (or freedom fighter if you prefer) picked up on an early mission. That aside, they seemed an entirely reasonable and decent bunch, and they set out to rid the galaxy of 'The Federation's tyrannical oppression. At least, that was Blake's aspiration even if most of his companions seemed to see this as a stop-gap activity till they had decided on something with more of a long-term future.

At the end of one season, where the fight with the Federation was temporarily put aside to deal with an intergalactic incursion, Blake went AWOL (well, intergalactic wars can be very disruptive) and was assumed dead/injured/lost/captured/?… for much of the remaining run without affecting the nature of the stories too much.

Among its positive aspects for its time were strong (if not exactly model) roles for women. The main villain, Servalan, was a woman – Supreme Commander of the Federation security forces (and later Federation president).


As the ruthless Supreme Commander of the Federation security forces, Servalan got to wear whatever she liked (a Kid Creole, or Mel and Kim, look comes to mind here) and could insist her staff wore hats that would not upstage hers

In Blake's original team (i.e., 7?), his pilot is a woman. (Reflecting other SciFi series, the spacecraft used by Blakes7 require n crew members to operate effectively, where n is an integer that varies between 0 and 6 depending on the specific plot requirements of an episode.) In a later series, after Avon has taken over the role of 'ipso facto leader-among-equals', the group recruits a female advanced weapons designer/technologist and a female sharpshooter.


The Blakes7 team later in the run. (Presumably they are checking the monitor and having a quick recount.) Was Soolin (played by Glynis Barber, far right) styled as a subtle reference to the 'Seven Samurai'?

When I saw Blakes7 was getting a rerun recently I re-watched the series I had not seen since it was first aired. Despite very silly special effects, dodgy story-lines, and morally questionable choices (the series would make a great focus for a philosophy class) the interactions between the main characters made it an enjoyable watch.

But, it is not science

Of course, the problem with science fiction is that it is fiction, not science. Star Trek may have prided itself on seeking to at least make the science sound feasible, but that is something of an outlier in the genre.

Egrorian and his young assistant Pinder (unfortunately prematurely aged somewhat by a laboratory mishap) show Avon and Vila around their lab.

This is clear, for example, in an episode called 'Orbit' where Avon discuses the tachyon funnel, an 'ultimate weapon', with Egrorian, a renegade scientist. Tachyons are hypothetical particles that travel faster than the speed of light. The theory of special relatively suggests the speed of light is the theoretical maximum speed anything can have, but some other theories suggest tachyons may exist in some circumstances. As always in science, theories that are widely accepted as our current best understanding of some aspect of nature (e.g., relativity) are still open to modification or replacement if new evidence is found that suggests this is indicated.

In the Blakes7 universe, there seemed to be a surprisingly high frequency of genius scientists/engineers who had successfully absconded from the tyrannical and paranoid Federation with sufficient resources to build private research facilities on various obscure deserted planets. Although these bases are secret and hidden away, and the scientists concerned have normally been missing for years or even decades, it usually transpires that the Blakes7 crew and the Federation manage to locate any particular renegade scientist during the same episode.

This is part of the exchange between this particular flawed genius scientist and our flawed and reluctant 'rough hero', Kerr Avon:

Egrorian: You've heard of Hoffal's radiation?

Avon: No.

Ah… Hoffal had a unique mind. Over a century ago he predicted most of the properties that would be found in neutron material.

Neutron material?

Material from a neutron star. That is a… a giant sun which has collapsed and become so tightly compressed that its electrons and protons combine, making neutrons.

I don't need a lecture in astrophysics. [But presumably the scriptwriter felt the audience would need to be told this.]

When neutrons are subjected to intense magnetic force, they form Hoffal's radiation. Poor Pinder [Egrorian's lab. assistant] was subjected for less than a millionth of a second. He aged 50 years in as many seconds. …

So neutrons are part of the tachyon funnel.

Um, eight of them … form the core of the accelerator. 

From the script of 'Orbit' (c) 1981 by the British Broadcasting Corporation – made available 'for research purposes'

Now, for anyone with any kind of science background such dialogue stretches credibility. Chadwick discovered the neutron in everyday matter in 1932, so the neutron's properties could be explored without having to obtain samples from a neutron star – which would certainly be challenging. When bound in nuclei, neutrons (which are electrically neutral, thus the name, and so not usually affected by magnetic fields) are stable.

Thinking at the scale of a neutron

However, any suspension of disbelief (which fiction demands, of course) was stretched past breaking point at the end of this exchange. Not only were the generally inert neutrons the basis of a weapon that could destroy whole worlds – but the core of the accelerator was formed of, not a neutron star, nor a tonne of 'neutron matter', but eight neutrons (i.e., one for each member of Blake's 7 with just a few left over?)

That is, the intensely destructive beam of radiation that could destroy a planet from a distant solar system was generated by subjecting to a magnetic field: a core equivalent to (the arguably less interesting) half of a single oxygen atomic nucleus.


Warning – keep this away from strong magnetic fields if you value your planet! (Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay )

Now free neutrons (that is, outside of an atomic nuclei – or neutron star) are unstable, and decay on a timescale of around a quarter of an hour (that is, the half-life is of this order – following the exponential decay familiar with other kinds of radioactivity), to give a proton, an electron and a neutrino. The energy 'released' in this process is significant on the scale of a subatomic particle: 782 343 eV or nearly eight hundred thousand eV.

Eight hundred thousand seems a very large number, but the unit here is electron volt, a unit used for processes at this submicroscopic scale. (An eV is the amount of work that is done when one single electron is moved though a potential difference of 1v – this is about 1.6 x10-19 J). In the more familiar units of joules, this is about 1.25 x 10-13 J. That is,

0.000 000 000 000 125 J

To boil enough water at room temperature to make a single cup of tea would require about 67 200 J. 2 So, if the energy from decaying neutrons were used to boil the water, it would require the decay of about

538 000 000 000 000 000 neutrons.3

That is just to make one cup of tea, so imagine how many more neutrons would have to decay to provide the means to destroy a planet. Certainly, one would imagine,

more than 8.

E=mc2

Now since Einstein (special relativity, again), mass and energy have been considered to have an equivalence. It is commonly thought that mass can be converted to energy and the equation E=mc2 tells you how much of one would be converted to the other: how many J per kg or kg per J. (Spoiler alert – this is not quite right.)

In that way of thinking, the energy released by a free neutron when it decays is due to a tiny part of the neutrino's mass being converted to energy.

The neutron's mass defect

The mass (or so called 'rest mass') of a neutrino is about 1.67 x 10-27 kg. In the usual mode of decay the neutrino gives rise to a proton (which is nearly, but not quite, as heavy as a neutron), an electron (which is much lighter), and a neutrino (which is considered to have zero rest mass.)


Before decayRest mass / 10-31 kgAfter decayRest mass / 10-31 kg
neutron16 749.3proton16 726.2
electron9.1
neutrino
total16 749.316 735.3
[rest] mass defect in neutrino decay

So, it seems like some mass has disappeared. (And this is the mass sometimes said to have been converted into the released energy.) This might lead us to ask the question of whether Hoffal's discovery was a way to completely annihilate neutrons, so that instead of a tiny proportion of their mass being converted to energy as in neutron decay – all of it was.

Mass as latent energy?

However, when considered from the perspective of special relativity, it is not that mass is being converted to energy in processes such as neutron decay, but rather that mass and energy are considered as being different aspects of something more unified -'mass-energy' if you like. Energy in a sense carries mass, and mass in a sense is a manifestation of energy. The table above may mislead because it only refers to 'rest mass' and that does not tell us all we need to know.

When the neutron decays, the products move apart, so have kinetic energy. According to the principle of mass-energy equivalence there is always a mass equivalence of any energy. So, in relativity, a moving object has more mass than when it is at rest. That is, the 'mass defect' table shows what the mass would be if we compared a motionless neutron with motionless products, not the actual products.

The theory of special relativity boldly asserts that mass and energy are not the independent quantities they were once thought to be. Rather, they are two measures of a single quantity. Since that single quantity does not have its own name, it is called mass-energy, and the relationship between its two measures is known as mass-energy equivalence. We may regard c2 as a conversion factor that enables us to calculate one measurement from the other. Every mass has an energy-equivalent and every energy has a mass-equivalent. If a body emits energy to its surroundings it also emits a quantity of mass equivalent to that energy. The surroundings acquire both the energy and mass in the process.

Treptow, 2005, p.1636

So, rather than thinking mass has been converted to energy, it may be more appropriate to think that the mass of a neutron has a certain (latent) energy associated with it, and that, after decay, most of this energy is divided between products (according to their rest masses), but a small proportion has been converted to kinetic energy (which can be considered to have a mass equivalence).

So, whenever any process involves some kind of energy change, there is an associated change in the equivalent masses. Every time you boil the kettle, or go up in an elevator, there is a tiny increase of mass involved – the hot water is heavier than when it was cold; you are heavier than when you were at a lower level. When you lie down or burn some natural gas, there is a tiny reduction in mass (you weigh less lying down; the products of the chemical reaction weigh less than the reactants).

How much heavier is hot water?

Only in nuclear processes does the energy change involved become large enough for any change in mass to be considered significant. In other processes, the changes are so small, they are insignificant. The water we boiled earlier to make a cup of tea required 67 200J of energy, and at the end of the process the water would not just be hotter, but also heavier by about

0.000 000 000 000 747 kg

0r about 0.000 000 000 75 g. That is easy to calculate 4, but not so easy to notice.

Is mass conserved in chemical reactions?

On this basis, we might suggest that the principle of conservation of mass that is taught in school science is falsified all the time – or at least needs to be understood differently from how it is usually presented.


Type of reactionMass change
endothermicmass of products > mass of reactants
exothermicmass of products < mass of reactants
If we just consider the masses of the substances then mass is not conserved in chemical change

Yet, the discrepancies really are tiny – so tiny that in school examinations candidates are expected to pretend there is no difference. But, strictly, when (as an example) copper carbonate is heated in a crucible and decomposes to give copper oxide and carbon dioxide there is a mass decrease even if you could capture all the CO2. But it would not be measurable with our usual laboratory equipment – so, as far as chemistry is concerned, mass is conserved. 'To all intense and purposes' (even if not absolutely true) mass is always conserved in chemical reactions.

Mass is conserved overall

But actually, according to current scientific thinking, mass is always conserved (not just very nearly conserved), as long as we make sure we consider all relevant factors. The energy that allowed us to boil the kettle or be lifted in an elevator must have been provided from some source (which has lost mass by the same extent). In an exothermic chemical reaction there is an extremely slight difference of mass between the reactants and products, but the surroundings have been warmed and so have got (ever so slightly) heavier.


Type of reactionMass change
endothermicenergy (and equivalent mass) from the surroundings
exothermicenergy (and equivalent mass) to the surroundings
If we just consider the masses of the substances then mass does not seem to be conserved in chemical change


As Einstein himself expressed it,

"The inertial mass of a system of bodies can even be regarded as a measure of its energy. The law of the conservation of the mass of a system becomes identical with the law of the conservation of energy, and is only valid provided that the system neither takes up nor sends out energy."

Einstein, 1917/2015, p.59

Annihilate the neutrons!

So, if we read about how in particle accelerators, particles are accelerated to immense speeds, and collided, and so converted to pure energy we should be suspicious. The particles may well have been destroyed – but something else has now acquired the mass (and not just the rest mass of the annihilated particles, but also the mass associated with their high kinetic energy).

So, we cannot convert all of the mass of a neutron into energy – only reconfigure and redistribute its mass-energy. But we can still ask: what if all the mass of the neutron were to be converted into some kind of radiation that carried away all of its mass as high energy rays (perhaps Hoffal's radiation?)

Perhaps the genius scientist Hoffal, with his "unique mind", had found a way to do this (hm, with a magnetic field?) Even if that does not seem very feasible, it does give us a theoretical limit to the energy that could be produced by a process that converted a neutron into radiation.6 Each neutron has a rest mass of about

1.67 x 10-27 kg

now the conversion factor is c2 (where c is the speed of light, which is near enough 3 x 108 ms-1, so c2 =(3×108ms-1)2 , i.e., about 1017m2s-2), so that mass is equivalent to about 1.50 x 10-10 J 5 or,

0.000 000 000 150 J

Now that is a lot more energy than the 1.25 x 10-13 J released in the decay of a neutron,

0.000 000 000 150 000 J

>

0.000 000 000 000 125 J

and now we could in theory boil the water to make our cup of tea with many fewer neutrons. Indeed, we could do this by annihilating 'only' about 7

448 000 000 000 000 neutrons

This is a lot less neutrons than before, i.e.,

448 000 000 000 000 neutrons

< 538 000 000 000 000 000 neutrons

but it seems fair to say that it remains the case that the number of neutrons needed (now 'only' about 448 million million) is still a good deal more than 8.

448 000 000 000 000 neutrons

> 8 neutrons

So, if over 400 million million neutrons would need to be completely annihilated to make a single cup of tea, how much damage can 8 neutrons do to a distant planet?

A common learning difficulty

In any reasonable scenario we might imagine 8 neutrons would not be significant. This is worth emphasising as it reflates to a common learning difficulty. Quanticles such as atoms, atomic nuclei, neutrons and the like are tiny. Not tiny like specs of dust or grains of salt, but tiny on a scale where specs of dust and grains of salt themselves seem gigantic. The scales involved in considering electronic charge (i.e., 10-19C) or neutron mass (10-27 kg) can reasonably said to be unimaginatively small – no one can readily visualise the shift in scale going from the familiar scale of objects we normally think of as 'small', to the scale of individual molecules or subatomic particles.

Students therefore commonly form alternative conceptions of these types of entities (atoms, electrons, etc.) being too small to see, but yet not being so far beyond reach. And it is not just learners who struggle here. I have even heard someone on a national news programme put forward as an 'expert' make a very similar suggestion to Egrorian, in this case that a "couple of molecules" could be a serious threat to public health after the use of chemical nerve agent. This is a preposterous suggestion to a chemist, but was, I am sure, made in good faith by the international chemical weapons expert.

It is this type of conceptual difficulty which allows scriptwriters to refer to 8 neutrons as being of some significance without expecting the audience to simply laugh at the suggestion (even if some of us do).

It also explains how science fiction writers get away with such plot devices given that many in their audiences will readily accept that a few especially malicious molecules or naughty neutrons is a genuine threat to life.8 But that still does not justify using angle-poise lamps as futuristic spacecraft joysticks.


Jenna pilots the most advanced spacecraft in the galaxy

Works cited:
  • Einstein, A. (1917/2015). Relativity. The special and the general theory. (100th Anniversary ed.). Princeton: Princeton Univerity Press.
  • Treptow, R. S. (2005). E = mc2 for the Chemist: When Is Mass Conserved? Journal of Chemical Education, 82(11), 1636. doi:10.1021/ed082p1636

Notes:

1 To explain: For younger readers, television was first broadcast in monochrome (black and white – in effect shades of grey). My family first got a television after I started primary school – the justification for this luxury was that the teachers sometimes suggested programmes we might watch.

Colour television did not arrive in the UK till 1967, and initially it was only used for selected broadcasts. The first colour sets were too expensive for many families, so most people initially stayed with monochrome. This led to the infamous 'helpful' statement offered by the commentator of the weekly half-hour snooker coverage: "And for those of you who are watching in black and white, the pink [ball] is next to the green". (While this is well known as a famous example of misspeaking, a commentator's blooper, those of a more suspicious mind might bear in mind the BBC chose snooker for broadcast in part because it might encourage more people to watch in colour.)

Snooker – not ideal viewing on 'black and white' television (Image by MasterTux from Pixabay )

My father had a part-time weekend job supervising washing machine rental collections (I kid you not, many people only rented such appliances in those days), to supplement income from his full time job, and this meant on Monday evenings after his day job he had to visit his part-time boss and report and they would go throughout the paperwork to ensure things tallied. I would go with him, and was allowed to watch television whilst they did this – it coincided with Star Trek, and the boss had a colour set!


2 Assuming water had to be heated from 20˚C to 100˚C, and the cup took 200 ml (200 cm3) of tea then the calculation is 4.2 x 80 x 200

4.2 J g-1K-1 is the approximate specific heat capacity of water.

Changing these parameters (perhaps you have a small tea cup and I use a mug?) will change the precise value.


3 That is the energy needed divided by the energy released by each neutron: 67200 J ÷ 1.25 x 10-13 J/neutron = 537 600 000 000 000 000 neutrons


4 E=mc2

so m = E/c2 = 67 200 ÷ (3.00 x 108)2 = 7.47 x 10-13


5 E=mc2 = 1.67 x 10-27 x (3.00 x 108)2 = 1.50 x 10-10


6 Well, we could imagine that somehow Hoffal had devised a process where the neutrons somehow redirect energy provided to initially generate the magnetic field, and perhaps the weapon was actually an enormous field generator producing a massive magnetic field that the funnel somehow converted into a beam (of tachyons?) that could pass across vast amounts of space without being absorbed by space dust, remaining highly collimated, and intense enough to destroy a world.

So, perhaps the neutrons are analogous to the core of a laser.

I somehow think it would still need more than 8 of them.


7 That is the energy needed divided by the energy released by each neutron: 67200 J ÷ 1.50 x 10-10 J/neutron = 4.48 x 1014 neutrons


8 Of course molecules are not actually malicious and neutrons cannot be naughty as they are inanimate entities. I am not anthropomorphising, just alliterating.