Centauri Dreams
Imagining and Planning Interstellar Exploration
Ernst Öpik and the Interstellar Idea
Some names seem to carry a certain magic, at least when we’re young. I think back to all the hours I used to haunt St. Louis-area libraries when I was growing up. I would go to the astronomy section and start checking out books until over time I had read the bulk of what was available there. Fred Hoyle’s name was magic because he wrote The Black Cloud, one of the first science fiction novels I ever read. So naturally I followed his work on how stars produce elements and on the steady state theory with great interest.
Willy Ley’s name was magic because he worked with Chesley Bonestell (another magic name) producing The Conquest of Space in 1949, and then the fabulous Rockets, Missiles, and Space Travel in 1957, a truly energizing read. Not to mention the fact that he had a science column in what I thought at the time was the best of the science fiction magazines, the ever-engaging Galaxy. It still stuns me that Ley died less than a month before Apollo 11 landed on the Moon.
My list could go on, but this morning I’ll pick one of the more obscure names, that of Ernst Öpik. Unlike Hoyle and Ley, Öpik (1893-1985) wasn’t famous for popularizing astronomy, but I would occasionally run into his name in the library books I was reading. An Estonian who did his doctoral work at that country’s University of Tartu, Öpik also did work at the University of Moscow but wound up fleeing Estonia in 1944 out of fear of what would happen when the Red Army swept into his country. He spent the productive second half of his career at the Armagh Observatory in Northern Ireland and for a time held a position as well at the University of Maryland.
Image: Ernst Öpik. Credit ESA.
Did I say productive? Consider that by 1970 Öpik had published almost 300 research papers, well over a hundred reviews and 345 articles for the Irish Astronomical Journal, of which he was editor from 1950 to 1981. He remained associate editor there until his death.
I found the references to Öpik in my reading rather fascinating, as I was reminded when Al Jackson mentioned him to me in a recent email. It turns out, as I had already found, that Öpik turns up in the strangest places. Recently I wrote about the so-called ‘manhole’ cover that some have argued is the fastest human object ever sent into space. The object is controversial, as it was actually a heavy cover designed to contain an underground nuclear blast, and rather spectacularly proven unsuccessful at that task. In short, it seems to have lifted off, a kind of mini-Orion. And no one really knows whether it just disintegrated or is still out there beyond the Solar System. See A ‘Manhole Cover’ Beyond the Solar System if this intrigues you.
Öpik’s role in the ‘manhole cover’ story grows out of his book The Physics of Meteor Flight in the Atmosphere, in which he calculated the mass loss of meteors moving through the atmosphere at various velocities. Although he knew nothing about the cover, Öpik’’s work turned out to be useful to Al as he thought about what would have happened to the cover. Because calculations on the potential speed of the explosively driven lid demonstrated that an object moving at six times escape velocity, as this would have been, would vaporize. This seems to put the quietus on the idea that the 4-inch thick iron lid used at the test detonation of Pascal B had been ‘launched’ into hyperbolic orbit.
But this was just a calculation that later became useful. In broader ways, Öpik was a figure that Al describes as much like Fritz Zwicky, meaning a man of highly original thought, often far ahead of this time. He turns out to have played a role in the development of the Oort Cloud concept. This would have utterly escaped my attention in my early library days since I had no access to the journals and wouldn’t have understood much if I did. But in a paper called “Note on Stellar Perturbations of Nearby Parabolic Orbits,” which ran in Proceedings of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1932, the Estonian astronomer had this to say (after page after page of dense mathematics that are to this day far beyond my pay grade):
According to statistics by Jantzen, 395 comets (1909) showed a more or less random distribution of the inclinations, with a slight preponderance of direct motions over retrograde ones, with an age of from 109 to 3.109 years, this would correspond to an average aphelion distance of 1500-2000 a.u., or a period of revolution of 20000-30000 years. For greater aphelion distances the distribution of inclinations should be practically uniform, being smoothed out by perturbations.
Does this remind you of anything? Öpik was writing eighteen years before Jan Oort used cometary orbits to predict the existence of the cloud that now bears his name. Öpik believed there was a reservoir of comets around the Sun. There had to be, for a few comets were known to take on such eccentric orbits that they periodically entered the inner system and swung by our star, some close enough to throw a sizeable tail. Öpik was interested in how cometary orbits could be nudged by the influence of other stars. In other words, there must be a collection of objects at such a distance that were barely bound to the Sun and could readily be dislodged from their orbits.
I’m told that the Oort Cloud is, at least in some quarters, referred to as the Öpik/Oort Cloud, in much the same way that the Kuiper Belt is sometimes called the Edgeworth/Kuiper Belt because of similar work done at more or less the same time. But such dual naming strategies rarely win out in the end.
Being reminded of all this, I noticed that Öpik had done major work on such topics as visual binary stars (he estimated density in some of these), the distance of the Andromeda Galaxy, the frequency of craters on Mars, and the Yarkovsky Effect, which Öpik more or less put on the map through his discussions of Yarkovsky’s work. Studying him, I have the sense of a far-seeing man whose work was sometimes overlooked, but one whose contributions have in many cases proved to be prescient.
Naturally I was interested to learn whether Öpik had anything to say about our subject on Centauri Dreams, the prospect of interstellar flight. And indeed he did, in such a way that the sometimes glowering photographs we have of him seem to reveal something of his thinking on the matter (to be fair, some of us are simply not photogenic, and I understand that he was a kind and gentle man). Indeed, Armagh Observatory director Eric Lindsay described him thus:
…a “very human person with an understanding of, and sympathy for, our many frailties and, thank goodness, with a keen sense of humour. He will take infinite patience to explain the simplest problem to a person, young or old, with enthusiasm for astronomy but lacking astronomical background and training.”
The interstellar flight paper was written in 1964 for the Irish Astronomical Journal. Here he dismissed interstellar flight out of hand. Antimatter was a problem – remember that at the time he was writing, Öpik had few papers on interstellar flight to respond to, and he doesn’t seem to have been aware of the early work on sail strategies and lasers that Robert Forward and György Marx were exploring. So he focused on two papers he did know, the first being Les Shepherd’s study of interstellar flight via antimatter, seeing huge problems in storage and collection of the needed fuel. Here he quotes Edward Purcell approvingly. Writing in A.G.W. Cameron’s Interstellar Communication in 1963, Purcell said:
The exhaust power of the antimatter rocket would equal the solar energy received by the earth – all in gamma rays. So the problem is not to shield the payload, the problem is to shield the earth.
Having dismissed antimatter entirely, Öpik moves on to Robert Bussard’s highly visible ramjet concept, which had been published in 1960. He describes the ramjet sucking up interstellar gas and using it for fusion and spends most of the paper shredding the concept. I won’t go into the math but his arguments reflect many of the reasons that the ramjet concept has come to be met with disfavor. Here’s his conclusion:
…the ‘ramjet’ mechanism is impossible everywhere, as well as inside the Orion Nebula – one must get there first. “Traveling around the universe in space suits – except for local exploration… belongs back where it came from, on the cereal box.” (E. Purcell, loc. cit.). It is for space fiction, for paper projects – and for ghosts. “The only means of communication between different civilizations thus seems to be electro-magnetic signals” (S. von Hoerner, “The General Limits of Space Travel”, in Interstellar Communication, pp. 144-159). Slower motion (up to 0.01 c is a problem of longevity or hereditary succession of the crew; this we cannot reject because we do not know anything about it.
I always look back on Purcell’s comment and muse that cereal boxes used to be more interesting than they are today. I do wonder what Öpik might have made of sail strategies, and I’m aware of but have not seen a paper from him on interstellar travel by hibernation, written in 1978. So he seems to have maintained an interest in what he elsewhere referred to as “our cosmic destiny.” But like so many, he found interstellar distances too daunting to be attempted other than through excruciatingly long journey times in the kind of generation ship we’re familiar with in science fiction.
Since Öpik’s day a much broader community of scientists willing to study interstellar flight has emerged, even if for most it is a sideline rather than a dedicated project. We have begun to explore the laser lightsail as an option, but are only beginning the kind of laboratory work needed, even if a recent paper out of Harry Atwater’s team at Caltech shows progress. An unmanned flyby of a nearby star no longer seems to belong on a cereal box, but it’s a bit sobering to realize that even with sail strategies now under consideration by interstellar theorists, we’re still a long, long way from a mission.
Öpik’s paper on what would come to be known as the Oort Cloud is “Note on Stellar Perturbations of Nearby Parabolic Orbits,” Proceedings of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, vol. 67 (1932), p. 169. The paper on interstellar travel is “Is Interstellar Travel Possible?” Irish Astronomical Journal Vol. 6(8) (1964), p. 299 (full text). The Irish Astronomical Journal put together a bibliography covering 1972 until his death in 1985, which students of Öpik can find here. The Atwater paper on sail technologies is Michaeli et al., “Direct radiation pressure measurements for lightsail membranes,” Nature Photonics 30 April 2025 (abstract). More on this one shortly.
SETI’s Hard Steps (and How to Resolve Them)
The idea of life achieving a series of plateaus, each of which is a long and perilous slog, has serious implications for SETI. It was Brandon Carter, now at the Laboratoire Univers et Théories in Meudon, France, who proposed the notion of such ‘hard steps’ back in the early 1980s. Follow-up work by a number of authors, especially Frank Tipler and John Barrow (The Anthropic Cosmological Principle) has refined the concept and added to the steps Carter conceived. Since then, the idea that life might take a substantial amount of the lifetime of a star to emerge has bedeviled those who want to see a universe filled with technological civilizations. Each ‘hard step’ is unlikely in itself, and our existence depends upon our planet’s having achieved all of them.
Carter was motivated by the timing of our emergence, which we can round off at 4.6 billion years after the formation of our planet. He reasoned that the upper limit for habitability at Earth’s surface is on the order of 5.6 billion years after Earth’s formation, a suspicious fact – why would human origins require a time that approximates the extinction of the biosphere that supports us? He deduced from this that the average time for intelligent beings to emerge on a planet exceeds the lifespan of its biosphere. We are, in other words, a lucky species that squeezed in our development early.
Image: Two highly influential physicists. Brandon Carter (right) sitting with Roy Kerr, who discovered the Einsteinian solution for a rotating black hole. Carter’s own early work on black holes is highly regarded, although these days he seems primarily known for the ‘hard steps’ hypothesis. Credit: University of Canterbury (NZ).
Figuring a G-class star like the Sun having a lifetime on the order of 10 billion years, most such stars would spawn planetary systems that never saw the evolution of intelligence, and perhaps not any form of life. Because an obvious hard step is abiogenesis, and although the universe seems stuffed with ingredients, we have no evidence yet of life anywhere else. The fact that it did happen here tells us nothing more than that, and until we dig out evidence of a ‘second genesis,’ perhaps here in our own Solar System inside an icy moon, or on Mars, we can form no firm conclusions.
There’s a readable overview of the ‘hard steps’ notion on The Conversation, and I’ll direct you both to that as well as to the paper just out from the authors of the overview, which runs in Science Advances (citation below). In both, Penn State’s Jason Wright and Jennifer Macalady collaborate with Daniel Brady Mills (Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich) and the University of Rochester’s Adam Frank to describe such ‘steps’ as the development of eurkarytic cells – i.e., cells with nuclei. We humans are eukaryotes, so this hard step had to happen for us to be reading this.
We could keep adding to the list of hard steps as the discussion has spun out over the past few decades, but it seems agreed that photosynthesis is a big one. The so-called ‘Cambrian explosion’ might be considered a hard step, since it involves sudden complexity, refinements to body parts of all kinds and specialized organs, and it happens quickly. And what of the emergence of consciousness itself? That’s a big one, especially since we are a long way from explaining just what consciousness actually is, and how and even where it develops. Robin Hanson has used the hard steps concept to discuss ‘filters’ that separate basic lifeforms from complex technological societies.
Whichever steps we choose, the idea of a series of highly improbable events leveraging each other on the road to intelligence and technology seems to make the chances of civilizations elsewhere remote. But let’s pause right there. Wright and colleagues take note of the work of evolutionary biologist Geerat Vermeij (UC-Davis), who argues that our view of innovation through evolution is inescapably affected by information loss. Here’s a bit on this from the new paper:
Vermeij concluded that information loss over geologic time could explain the apparent uniqueness of ancient evolutionary innovations when (i) small clades [a clade comprises a founding ancestor and all of its descendants] that independently evolved the innovation in question go extinct, leaving no living descendants, and (ii) an ancient innovation evolved independently in two closely related lineages, or within a short period of time, and the genetic differences between these two lineages become “saturated” to the point where the lineages become genetically indistinguishable.
In other words, as we examine life on early Earth, we have to reckon with incompleteness in our fossil record (huge gaps possible there), with species we know nothing about going extinct despite having achieved a hard step. The authors point out that if this is the case, then we can’t really describe proposed hard steps as ‘hard.’ Other possibilities exist, including that innovations do happen only once, but they may be so powerful that creatures with a new evolutionary trait quickly change their environment so that other lineages of evolution don’t have time to develop.
Image: Earth’s habitability is compromised by a Sun that will, about 5.6 billion years after its formation, become too hot to allow life. Image credit: Wikimedia Commons.
We’re still left with the question of why it has taken so much of the lifetime of the Sun to produce ourselves, a question that bothered Carter sufficiently in 1983 that it drove him to the hard steps analysis. Here the authors offer something Carter did not, an analysis of Earth’s habitability over time. It’s one that can change the outcome. For each of the hard steps sets up its own evolutionary requirements, and these could be met only as Earth’s environment changed. Consider, for example, that 50 percent of our planet’s history elapsed before modern eukaryotic cells had enough oxygen to thrive.
So maybe our planet had to pass certain environmental thresholds:
…we raise the possibility that there are no hard steps (despite the appearance of major evolutionary singularities in the universal tree of life) (51) and that the broad pace of evolution on Earth is set by global-environmental processes operating on geologic timescales (i.e., billions of years) (30). Put differently, humans originated so “late” in Earth’s history because the window of human habitability has only opened relatively recently in Earth history.
Suppose abiogenesis is not a hard step. Biosignatures, then, should be common in planetary atmospheres, at least on planets like Earth that are geologically active, in the habitable zone of their stars, and have atmospheres involving nitrogen, carbon dioxide and water. If oxygenic photosynthesis is a hard step, then we’ll find atmospheres that are low in oxygen, rich in methane and carbon dioxide and other ingredients of the atmosphere of the early Earth. If no hard steps exist at all, then we should find the full range of atmospheric types from early Earth (Archean) to present day (Phanerozoic). Our study of atmospheres will help us make the call on the very existence of hard steps.
Given a lack of hard steps, if this model is correct, then the evolution of a biosphere appears more predictable as habitats emerge and evolve. That would offer us a different way of assessing Earth’s past, but also imply that the same trends have emerged on other worlds like Earth. Our existence in that sense would imply that intelligent beings in other stellar systems are more probable than Carter believed.
The paper is Mills et al., “Reassessment of the “hard-steps” model for the evolution of intelligent life,” Science Advances. Vol. 11, Issue 7 (14 February 2025). Full text. Brandon Carter’s famous paper on the hard steps is “The Anthropic Principle and its Implications for Biological Evolution.” Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London A 310 (1983), 347–363. Abstract.
Pandora: Exoplanet Atmospheres via Smallsat
I’ve been digging into NASA’s Small Spacecraft Strategic Plan out of continuing interest in missions that take advantage of miniaturization to do things once consigned to large-scale craft. And I was intrigued to learn about the small spacecraft deployed on Apollo 15 and 16, two units developed by TRW in a series called Particles and Fields Subsatellites. Each weighed 35 kilograms and was powered by six solar panels and rechargeable batteries. The midget satellites were deployed from the Apollo Command and Service Module via a spring-loaded container giving the units a four foot-per-second velocity. Apollo 15’s operated for six months before an electronics failure ended the venture. The Apollo 16 subsatellite crashed on the lunar surface 34 days into its mission after completing 424 orbits.
Here I thought I knew Apollo history backwards and forwards and I had never run into anything about these craft. It turns out that smallsats – usually cited as spacecraft with weight up to 180 kilograms – have an evocative history in support of larger missions, and current planning includes support for missions with deep space applications. Consider Pandora, which is designed to complement operations of the James Webb Space Telescope, extending our knowledge of exoplanet atmospheres with a different observational strategy.
JWST puts transmission spectroscopy to work, analyzing light from the host star as a transiting planet moves across the disk. A planet’s spectral signature can thus be derived and compared to the spectrum taken when the planet is out of transit and only the star is visible. This is helpful indeed, but despite JWST’s obvious successes, detecting the atmosphere of planets as small as Earth is a challenge. The chief culprit is magnetic activity on the star itself, contaminating the spectral data. The Pandora mission, a partnership between NASA and Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, mitigates the problem by collecting long-duration observations at simultaneous visible and infrared wavelengths.
Image: A transmission spectrum made from a single observation using Webb’s Near-Infrared Imager and Slitless Spectrograph (NIRISS) reveals atmospheric characteristics of the hot gas giant exoplanet WASP-96 b. A transmission spectrum is made by comparing starlight filtered through a planet’s atmosphere as it moves across the star, to the unfiltered starlight detected when the planet is beside the star. Each of the 141 data points (white circles) on this graph represents the amount of a specific wavelength of light that is blocked by the planet and absorbed by its atmosphere. In this observation, the wavelengths detected by NIRISS range from 0.6 microns (red) to 2.8 microns (in the near-infrared). The amount of starlight blocked ranges from about 13,600 parts per million (1.36 percent) to 14,700 parts per million (1.47 percent). Credit: European Space Agency.
Stellar contamination produces spectral noise that mimics features in a planetary atmosphere, or else obscures them, a problem that has long frustrated scientists. Collecting data at shorter wavelengths than JWST’s shortest wavelengths (0.6 microns) helps get around this problem. Pandora’s visible light channel will track the spot-covering fractions of surface stellar activity while its Near-Infrared channel will simultaneously measure the variation in spectral features as the star rotates. A more fine-grained correction for stellar contamination thus becomes possible, and as the new paper on this work explains, the ultimate objective then becomes “…to robustly identify exoplanets with hydrogen- or water-dominated atmospheres, and determine which planets are likely covered by clouds and hazes.”
Pandora will operate concurrently with JWST, complementing JWST’s deep-dive, high-precision spectroscopy measurements with broad wavelength, long-baseline observations. Pandora’s science objectives are well-suited for a SmallSat platform and illustrate how small missions can be used to truly maximize the science from larger flagship missions.
The plan is for the mission to select 20 primary exoplanet host stars and collect data from a minimum of 10 transits per host star, with each observation lasting about 24 hours, producing 200 days of science observations. The lengthy data acquisition time for each star means an abundance of out-of-transit data can be collected to address the problem of stellar contamination. The primary mission has a lifetime of one year, which allows for a significant range of science operations in addition to the above.
Long-duration measurements like those planned for Pandora contrast with data collection on large missions like JWST, which often focus on one or a small number of transits per target. Such complementarity is a worthy goal, and a reminder of the lower cost and high adaptability of using the smallsat platform in conjunction with a primary mission. In addition, smallsats rely on standardized and commercial parts to reduce risk and avoid solutions specific to any single mission. Cost savings can be substantial.
Image: The Pandora observatory shown with the solar array deployed. Pandora is designed to be launched as a ride-share attached to an ESPA Grande ring [(Evolved Expendable Launch Vehicle) Secondary Payload Adapter ring]. Very little customization was carried out on the major hardware components of the mission such as the telescope and spacecraft bus. This enabled the mission to minimize non-recurring engineering costs. Credit: Barclay et al.
Operating at these scales has clear deep space applications. This is a fast growing, innovative part of spacecraft design that has implications for all kinds of missions, and I’m reminded of the interesting work ongoing at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in terms of designing a mission to the Sun’s gravity lens. Smallsats and self-assembly enroute may prove to be a game-changer there.
For the technical details on Pandora, see the just released paper. The project completed its Critical Design Review in October of 2023 and is slated for launch into a Sun-synchronous orbit in the Fall of this year. Launch is another smallsat benefit, for many smallsats are being designed to fit into a secondary payload adapter ring on the launch vehicle, allowing them to be ‘rideshare’ missions that launch with other satellites.
The paper is Barclay et al., “The Pandora SmallSat: A Low-Cost, High Impact
Mission to Study Exoplanets and Their Host Stars,” accepted for the IEEE Aerospace Conference 2025. The preprint is here.
A Three-Dimensional Look at an Exoplanet Atmosphere
Some 900 light years away in the constellation Puppis, the planet WASP-121b is proving an interesting test case as we probe ever deeper into exoplanetary atmospheres. As has been the case with so many early atmosphere studies, WASP-121b, also known as Tylos, is a hot-Jupiter, with a year lasting about thirty Earth hours, in a vise-like tidal lock that leaves one side always facing the star, the other away. What we gain in two new studies of this world is an unprecedented map of the atmosphere’s structure.
At stake here is a 3D look into what goes on as differing air flows move from one side of the planet to the other. A jet stream moves material around its equator, but there is a separate flow at lower altitudes that pumps gas from the hottest regions to the dark side. “This kind of climate has never been seen before on any planet,” says Julia Victoria Seidel (European Southern Observatory), lead author of a paper that appears today in Nature. Seidel points out that we have nothing in the Solar System to rival the speed and violence of the jet stream as it crosses the hot side of Tylos.
The astronomers used the European Southern Observatory’s Very Large Telescope, combining all four units to parse out the movement of chemical elements like iron and titanium in the weather patterns produced by these layered winds. What’s particularly significant here is the fact that we are now able to delve into an exoplanet atmosphere at three levels, analyzing variations in altitude as well as across varying regions on the world, and finally the interactions that produce weather patterns, form clouds and induce precipitation. Such 3D models take us to the greatest level of complexity yet.
“The VLT enabled us to probe three different layers of the exoplanet’s atmosphere in one fell swoop,” says study co-author Leonardo A. dos Santos, an assistant astronomer at the Space Telescope Science Institute in Baltimore. Tracking the movements of iron, sodium and hydrogen, the researchers could follow the course of winds at different layers in the planet’s atmosphere. A second paper, published in Astronomy & Astrophysics, announced the discovery of titanium in the atmosphere.
Image: Structure and motion of the atmosphere of the exoplanet Tylos. Astronomers have peered through the atmosphere of a planet beyond the Solar System, mapping its 3D structure for the first time. By combining all four telescope units of the European Southern Observatory’s Very Large Telescope (ESO’s VLT), they found powerful winds carrying chemical elements like iron and titanium, creating intricate weather patterns across the planet’s atmosphere. The discovery opens the door for detailed studies of the chemical makeup and weather of other alien worlds. Credit: ESO.
Note what we have in the image above. The paper describes it this way:
…a unilateral flow from the hot starfacing side to the cooler space-facing side of the planet sits below an equatorial super-rotational jet stream. By resolving the vertical structure of atmospheric dynamics, we move beyond integrated global snapshots of the atmosphere, enabling more accurate identification of flow patterns and allowing for a more nuanced comparison to models.
And that’s the key here – refining existing models to pave the way for future work. Digging into the 3D structure of the atmosphere required the VLT’s ESPRESSO spectrograph, collecting four times the light of an individual instrument to reveal the planet as it transited its star, a F-class star with mass and radius close to that of the Sun. Planet Tylos is named after the ancient Greek name for Bahrain, as part of the NameExoWorlds project. The host star bears the name Dilmun after the ancient civilization emergent on a trade route in the region after the 3rd millennium BC.
The Seidel et al. paper notes that existing Global Circulation Models (3D) do not fully capture what is observed at WASP-121b, making scenarios like these valuable testbeds for advancing the state of the art. Extremely Large Telescopes now under development will be able to put these refined models to work as they broaden the study of exoplanet atmospheres in extreme conditions:
The discrepancy between GCMs and the provided observations highlight the impact of high signal-to-noise ratio data of extreme worlds such as ultra-hot Jupiters in benchmarking our current understanding of atmospheric dynamics. This study marks a shift in our observational understanding of planetary atmospheres beyond our solar system. By probing the atmospheric winds in unprecedented precision, we unveil the 3D structure of atmospheric flows, most importantly the vertical transitions between layers from the deep sub-to-anti-stellar-point winds to a surprisingly pronounced equatorial jet stream. These benchmark observations made possible by ESPRESSO’s 4-UT mode serve as a catalyst for the advancement of global circulation models across wider vertical pressure ranges thus significantly advancing our knowledge on atmospheric dynamics.
The papers are Seidel et al., “Vertical structure of an exoplanet’s atmospheric jet stream,” Nature 18 February 2025 (abstract) and Prinoth et al., “Titanium chemistry of WASP-121 b with ESPRESSO in 4-UT mode,” in process at Astronomy & Astrophysics (preprint).
What Would Surprise You?
Someone asked me the other day what it would take to surprise me. In other words, given the deluge of data coming in from all kinds of observatories, what one bit of news would set me back on my heels? That took some reflection. Would it surprise me, my interlocutor persisted, if SETI fails to find another civilization in my lifetime?
The answer to that is no, because I approach SETI without expectations. My guess is that intelligence in the universe is rare, but it’s only a hunch. How could it be anything else? So no, continuing silence via SETI does not surprise me. And while a confirmed signal would be fascinating news, I can’t say it would truly surprise me either. I can work out scenarios where civilizations much older than ours do become known.
Some surprises, of course, are bigger than others. Volcanoes on Io were a surprise back in the Voyager days, and geysers on Enceladus were not exactly expected, but I’m talking here about an all but metaphysical surprise. And I think I found one as I pondered this over the last few days. What would genuinely shock me – absolutely knock the pins out from under me – would be if we learn through future observation and even probes that Proxima Centauri b is devoid of life.
I’m using Proxima b as a proxy for the entire question of life on other worlds. We have no idea how common abiogenesis is. Can life actually emerge out of all the ingredients so liberally provided by the universe? We’re here, so evidently so, but are we rare? I would be stunned if Proxima b and similar planets in the habitable zone around nearby red dwarfs showed no sign of life whatsoever. And of course I don’t limit this to M-class stars.
Forget intelligence – that’s an entirely different question. I realize that my core assumption, without evidence, is that abiogenesis happens just about everywhere. And I think that most of us share this assumption.
The universe is going to seem like a pretty barren place if we discover that it’s wildly unlikely for life to emerge in any form. I’ve mentioned before my hunch that when it comes to intelligent civilizations, the number of these in the galaxy is somewhere between 1 and 10. At any given time, that is. Who knows what the past has held, or what the future will bring? But if we find that life itself doesn’t take hold to run the experiment, it’s going to color this writer’s entire philosophy and darken his mood.
We want life to thrive. Notice, for example, how we keep reading about potentially habitable planets, our fixation with the habitable zone being natural because we live in one and would like to find places like ours. Out of Oxford comes a news release with the headline “Researchers confirm the existence of an exoplanet in the habitable zone.” That’s the tame version of more lively stories that grow out of such research with titles like “Humans could live here” and “A Home for ET.” I’m making those up, but you know the kind of headlines I mean, and they can get more aggressive still. We hunger for life.
Here’s one from The Times: “‘Super-Earth’ discovered — and it’s a prime candidate for alien life.’” But is it?
Image: Artist’s depiction of an exoplanet like HD 20794 d in a conceivably habitable orbit. It may or may not be rocky. It may or may not be barren. How much do our expectations drive our thinking about it? Credit: University of Oxford.
That Oxford result is revealing, so let’s pause on it. HD 20794 d is about 20 light years from us, orbiting a G-class star like the Sun, which gives it that extra cachet of being near a familiar host. Three confirmed planets and a dust disk orbit this star in Eridanus, the most interesting being the super-Earth in question, which appears to be about twice Earth’s radius and 5.8 times its mass. The HARPS (High Accuracy Radial Velocity Planet Searcher) and ESPRESSO spectrographs at La Silla (Chile) have confirmed the planet, quite a catch given that the original signal detected in radial velocity studies was at the limit of the HARPS spectrograph’s capabilities.
Habitable? Maybe, but we can’t push this too far. The paper notes that “HD 20794 d could also be a mini-Neptune with a non-negligible H/He atmosphere.” And keep an eye on that elliptical orbit, which means climate on such a world would be, shall we say, interesting as it moves among the inner and outer edges of the habitable zone during its 647-day year. I think Oxford co-author Michael Cretignier is optimistic when he refers to this planet as an ‘Earth analogue,’ given that orbit as well as the size and mass of the world, but I get his point that its proximity to Sol makes this an interesting place to concentrate future resources. Again, my instincts tell me that some kind of life ought to show up if this is a rocky world, even if it’s nothing more than simple vegetation.
Because it’s so close, HD 20794 d is going to get attention from upcoming Extremely Large Telescopes and missions like the Habitable Worlds Observatory. The level of stellar activity is low, which is what made it possible to tease this extremely challenging planetary signal out of the noise – remember the nature of the orbit, and the interactions with two other planets in this system. Probing its atmosphere for biosignatures will definitely be on the agenda for future missions.
Obviously we don’t know enough about HD 20794 d to talk meaningfully about it in terms of life, but my point is about expectation and hope. I think we’re heavily biased to expect life, to the point where we’re describing habitable zone possibilities in places where they’re still murky and poorly defined. That tells me that the biggest surprises for most of us will be if we find no life of any kind no matter which direction we look. That’s an outcome I definitely do not expect, but we can’t rule it out. At least not yet.
The paper is Nari et al., “Revisiting the multi-planetary system of the nearby star HD 20794 Confirmation of a low-mass planet in the habitable zone of a nearby G-dwarf,” Astronomy & Astrophysics Vol. 693 (28 January 2025), A297 (full text).
Pondering Life in an Alien Ocean
No one ever said Europa Clipper would be able to detect life beneath the ice, but as we look at the first imagery from the spacecraft’s star-tracking cameras, it’s helpful to keep the scope of the mission in mind. We’re after some critical information here, such as the thickness of the ice shell, the interactions between shell and underlying ocean, the composition of that ocean. All of these should give us a better idea of whether this tiny world really can be a home for life.
Image: This mosaic of a star field was made from three images captured Dec. 4, 2024, by star tracker cameras aboard NASA’s Europa Clipper spacecraft. The pair of star trackers (formally known as the stellar reference units) captured and transmitted Europa Clipper’s first imagery of space. The picture, composed of three shots, shows tiny pinpricks of light from stars 150 to 300 light-years away. The starfield represents only about 0.1% of the full sky around the spacecraft, but by mapping the stars in just that small slice of sky, the orbiter is able to determine where it is pointed and orient itself correctly. The starfield includes the four brightest stars – Gienah, Algorab, Kraz, and Alchiba – of the constellation Corvus, which is Latin for “crow,” a bird in Greek mythology that was associated with Apollo. Besides being interesting to stargazers, the photos signal the successful checkout of the star trackers. The spacecraft checkout phase has been going on since Europa Clipper launched on a SpaceX Falcon Heavy rocket on Oct. 14, 2024. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech.
Seen in one light, this field of stars is utterly unexceptional. Fold in the understanding that the data are being sent from a spacecraft enroute to Jupiter, and it takes on its own aura. Naturally the images that we’ll be getting at the turn of the decade will far outdo these, but as with New Horizons, early glimpses along the route are a way of taking the mission’s pulse. It’s a long hike out to our biggest gas giant.
I bring this up, though, in relation to new work on Enceladus, that other extremely interesting ice world. You would think Enceladus would pose a much easier problem when it comes to examining an internal ocean. After all, the tiny moon regularly spews material from its ocean out through those helpful cracks around its south pole, the kind of activity that an orbiter or a flyby spacecraft can readily sample, as did Cassini.
Contrast that with Europa, which appears to throw the occasional plume as well, though to my knowledge, these plumes are rare, with evidence for them emerging in Hubble data no later than 2016. It’s possible that Europa Clipper will find more, or that reanalysis of Galileo data may point to older activity. But there’s no question that in terms of easy access to ocean material, Enceladus offers the fastest track.
Enceladus flybys by the Cassini orbiter revealed ice particles, salts, molecular hydrogen and organic compounds. But according to a new paper from Flynn Ames (University of Reading) and colleagues, such snared material isn’t likely to reveal life no matter how many times we sample it. Writing in Communications Earth and Environment, the authors make the case that the ocean inside Enceladus is layered in such a way that microbes or other organic materials would likely break down as they rose to the surface.
In other words, Enceladus might have a robust ecosystem on the seafloor and yet produce jets of material which cannot possibly yield an answer. Says Ames:
“Imagine trying to detect life at the depths of Earth’s oceans by only sampling water from the surface. That’s the challenge we face with Enceladus, except we’re also dealing with an ocean whose physics we do not fully understand. We’ve found that Enceladus’ ocean should behave like oil and water in a jar, with layers that resist vertical mixing. These natural barriers could trap particles and chemical traces of life in the depths below for hundreds to hundreds of thousands of years.”
The study relies on theoretical models that are run through global ocean numerical simulations, plugging in a timescale for transporting material to the surface across a range of salinity and mixing (mostly by tidal effects). Remarkably, there is no choice of variables that offers an ocean that is not stratified from top to bottom. In this environment, given the transport mechanisms at work, hydrothermal materials would take centuries to reach the plumes, with obvious consequences for their survival.
From the paper:
Stable stratification inhibits convection—an efficient mechanism for vertical transport of particulates and dissolved substances. In Earth’s predominantly stably stratified ocean this permits the marine snow phenomena, where organic matter, unable to maintain neutral buoyancy, undergoes ’detrainment’, settling down to the ocean bottom. Meanwhile, the slow ascent of hydrothermally derived, dissolved substances provides time for scavenging processes and usage by life, resulting in surface concentrations far lower than those present nearer source regions at depth.
Although its focus is on Enceladus, the paper offers clear implications for what may be going on at Europa. Have a look at the image below (drawn not from the body of the paper but from the supplementary materials linked after the footnotes) and you’ll see the problem. We’re looking at these findings as applied to what we know of Europa.
Image: From part of Figure S7 in the supplementary materials. Caption: “Tracer age (years) at Europa’s ocean-ice interface, computed using the theoretical model outlined in the main text. Note that age contours are logarithmic.” Credit: Ames et al.
The figure shows the depth of the inversion and age of the ice shell for the same ranges in ocean salinity as inserted for Enceladus. Here we have to be careful about how much we don’t know. The ice thickness, for instance, is assumed as 10 kilometers in these calculations. Given all the factors involved, the transport timescale through the stratified layers of the modeled Europa is, as the figure shows, over 10,000 years. The same stratification layers impede delivery of oxidants from the surface to the ocean.
So there we are. The Ames paper stands as a challenge to the idea that we will be able to find evidence of life in the waters just below the ice, and likewise indicates that even if we do begin to trace more plumes from Europa’s ocean, these would be unlikely to contain any conclusive evidence about biology. Just what we needed – the erasure of evidence due to the length of the journey from the ocean depths to the ice sheet. Icy moons, it seems, are going to remain mysterious even longer than we thought.
The paper is Ames et al., “Ocean stratification impedes particulate transport to the plumes of Enceladus,” Communications Earth & Environment 6 (6 February 2025), 63 (full text).
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