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    The definition of planet is still a sore point – especially among Pluto fans

    For 76 years, Pluto was the beloved ninth planet. No one cared that it was the runt of the solar system, with a moon, Charon, half its size. No one minded that it had a tilted, eccentric orbit. Pluto was a weirdo, but it was our weirdo.

    “Children identify with its smallness,” wrote science writer Dava Sobel in her 2005 book The Planets. “Adults relate to its inadequacy, its marginal existence as a misfit.”

    When Pluto was excluded from the planetary display in 2000 at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, children sent hate mail to Neil deGrasse Tyson, director of the museum’s planetarium. Likewise, there was a popular uproar when 15 years ago, in August 2006, the International Astronomical Union, or IAU, wrote a new definition of “planet” that left Pluto out. The new definition required that a body 1) orbit the sun, 2) have enough mass to be spherical (or close) and 3) have cleared the neighborhood around its orbit of other bodies. Objects that meet the first two criteria but not the third, like Pluto, were designated “dwarf planets.”

    Science is not sentimental. It doesn’t care what you’re fond of, or what mnemonic you learned in elementary school. Science appeared to have won the day. Scientists learned more about the solar system and revised their views accordingly.

    “I believe that the decision taken was the correct one,” says astronomer Catherine Cesarsky of CEA Saclay in France, who was president of the IAU in 2006. “Pluto is very different from the eight solar system planets, and it would have been very difficult to keep changing the number of solar system planets as more massive [objects beyond Neptune] were being discovered. The intention was not at all to demote Pluto, but on the contrary to promote it as [a] prototype of a new class of solar system objects, of great importance and interest.”

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    For a long time, I shared this view. I’ve been writing about Pluto since my very first newspaper gig at the Cornell Daily Sun, when I was a junior in college in 2006. I interviewed some of my professors about the IAU’s decision. One, planetary scientist Jean-Luc Margot, who is now at UCLA, called it “a triumph of science over emotion. Science is all about recognizing that earlier ideas may have been wrong,” he said at the time. “Pluto is finally where it belongs.”

    But another, planetary scientist Jim Bell, now at Arizona State University in Tempe, thought the decision was a travesty. He still does. The idea that planets have to clear their orbits is particularly irksome, he says. The ability to collect or cast out all that debris doesn’t just depend on the body itself.

    Everything with interesting geology should be a planet, Bell told me recently. “I’m a lumper, not a splitter,” he says. “It doesn’t matter where you are, it matters what you are.”

    Not everyone agrees with him. “Fifteen years ago we finally got it right,” says planetary scientist Mike Brown of Caltech, who uses the Twitter handle @plutokiller because his research helped knock Pluto out of the planetary pantheon. “Pluto had been wrong all along.”

    But since 2006, we’ve learned that Pluto has an atmosphere and maybe even clouds. It has mountains made of water ice, fields of frozen nitrogen, methane snow–capped peaks, and dunes and volcanoes. “It’s a dynamic, complex world unlike any other orbiting the sun,” journalist Christopher Crockett wrote in Science News in 2015 when NASA’s New Horizons spacecraft flew by Pluto.

    Observations from NASA’s New Horizons mission showed that the surface of Pluto’s Sputnik Planitia region is covered in churning nitrogen ice “cells” (white polygonal blocks) that constantly bring fresh material up to the surface from below.JHU-APL, NASA, SWRI

    Closer views highlight the rugged water-ice mountains that border some of these cells.JHU-APL, NASA, SWRI

    The New Horizons mission showed that Pluto has fascinating and active geology to rival that of any rocky world in the inner solar system. And that solidified planetary scientist Philip Metzger’s view that the IAU definition missed the mark.

    “There was an immediate reaction against the dumb definition” when it was proposed, says Metzger, of the University of Central Florida in Orlando. Since then, he and colleagues have been refining their views: “Why do we have this intuition that says that it’s dumb?”

    Retelling the tale

    It turns out that the “we just learned more” narrative isn’t really true, Metzger says. Though the official story is that Pluto was reclassified because new data came in, it’s not that simple. Teaching that narrative is bad for science, and for science education, he says.

    The truth is, there’s no single definition of a planet — and I’m beginning to believe that’s a good thing.

    For centuries, the word “planet” was a much more inclusive term. When Galileo turned his telescope at Jupiter, any largish moving body in the sky was considered a planet — including moons. When astronomers discovered the rocky bodies we now call asteroids in the 1800s, those too were called planets, at least at first.

    Pluto was considered a planet from the very beginning. When Clyde Tombaugh, an amateur astronomer from Kansas newly recruited to the Lowell Observatory in Flagstaff, Ariz., spotted it in photos taken in January 1930, he rushed to the observatory director and declared: “I have found your Planet X.”

    Clyde Tombaugh, shown here with a homemade telescope, discovered Pluto in 1930 when he was 24 years old.GL Archive/Alamy Stock Photo

    The discovery was no accident. In 1903, U.S. astronomer Percival Lowell hypothesized that a hidden planet seven times the mass of Earth orbited 45 times farther from the sun. Lowell had searched for what he called Planet X until he died in 1916. The search continued without him.

    The new planet was thought to be “black as coal, nearly as dense as iron, twice as dense as the heaviest earthly surface rocks,” Science News Letter, the predecessor of Science News, reported in 1930.

    Further research showed Lowell had grossly overestimated Pluto’s mass: It’s more like one five-hundredth the mass of Earth. Things got even weirder when scientists realized Pluto wasn’t alone out there. In 1992, an object about a tenth the diameter of Pluto was found orbiting the sun “in the deep freeze of space well beyond the orbits of Pluto and Neptune,” as Science News described it.

    Since then, more than 2,000 icy bodies have been found hiding in that frigid zone dubbed the Kuiper Belt, and there are many more out there. Awareness of Pluto’s neighbors brought new questions: What characteristics could unite these strange new worlds with the more familiar ones? And what sets them apart? With so many new objects coming into focus, there was a growing desire for a formal definition of “planet.”

    In 2005, Brown spotted the first of the Kuiper Belt bodies that seemed to be larger than Pluto. If Pluto was the ninth planet, then surely the new discovery, nicknamed Xena (in honor of the TV show Xena: Warrior Princess), should be the 10th. But if Xena was an icy leftover from the formation of the solar system undeserving of the “planet” title, so too was Pluto.

    Tensions over how to categorize Pluto and Xena came to a head in 2006 at a meeting in Prague of the IAU. On the final day, August 24, after much acrimonious debate, a new definition of “planet” was put to a vote. Pluto and Xena got the boot. Xena was aptly renamed Eris, the Greek goddess of discord.

    On August 24, 2006, in Prague, members of the International Astronomical Union voted for a new definition of planet that redesignated Pluto and its neighbor Eris as dwarf planets, shrinking the total number of planets in the solar system to eight.Michal Cizek/AFP/Getty Images

    Textbooks were revised, posters were reprinted, but many planetary scientists, especially those who study Pluto, never bothered to change. “Planetary scientists don’t use the IAU’s definition in publishing papers,” Metzger says. “We pretty much just ignore it.”

    In part that might be cheek, or spite. But Metzger and colleagues think there’s good reason to reject the definition. Metzger, Bell and others — including Alan Stern of the Southwest Research Institute, the planetary scientist who led the New Horizons mission and has argued since before the discovery of the Kuiper Belt that the solar system contains hundreds of “planets” — make their case in a pair of recent papers, one published in 2019 in Icarus and one forthcoming.

    After examining hundreds of scientific papers, textbooks and letters dating back centuries, the researchers show that the way scientists and the public have used the word “planet” has changed over time, but not in the way most people think.

    In and out

    Consider Ceres, the first of what are now known as dwarf planets to be discovered. Located in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter, Ceres was considered a planet after its 1801 discovery, too. It’s often said that Ceres was demoted after astronomers found the rest of the bodies in the asteroid belt. By the end of the 1800s, with hundreds of asteroids piling up, Ceres was stripped of its planetary title thanks to its neighbors. In that sense, the story goes, Ceres and Pluto suffered the same fate.

    But that’s not the real story, Metzger and colleagues found. Ceres and other asteroids were considered planets, sometimes dubbed “minor planets,” well into the 20th century. A 1951 article in Science News Letter declared that “thousands of planets are known to circle our sun,” although most are “small fry.” These “baby planets” can be as small as a city block or as wide as Pennsylvania.

    The dwarf planet Ceres orbits in the asteroid belt. It was also once considered a planet. NASA’s Dawn mission visited the dwarf planet in 2015 and found that it is also a geologically interesting world.JPL-Caltech, NASA, UCLA, MPS, DLR, IDA

    It wasn’t until the 1960s, when spacecraft offered better observations of these bodies, that the term “minor planets” fell out of fashion. While the largest asteroids still looked planetlike, most small asteroids turned out to be lumpy and irregular in shape, suggesting a different origin or different geophysics than bigger, rounder planets. The fact that asteroids didn’t “clear their orbits” had nothing to do with the name change, Metzger argues.

    And what about moons? Scientists called them “planets” or “secondary planets” until the 1920s. Surprisingly, it was nonscientific publications, notably astrological almanacs that used the positions of celestial bodies for horoscope readings, that insisted on the simplicity of a limited number of planets moving through the fixed sphere of stars.

    Metzger thinks that older definition of a planet that included moons was forgotten when planetary science went through a “Great Depression” between about 1910 and 1950. So many asteroids had been discovered that searching for new ones or refining their orbits was getting boring. Telescopes weren’t good enough to start exploring asteroids’ geology yet. Other parts of space science were way more exciting, so attention went there.

    But new data that came with space travel brought moons back into the planetary fold. Starting in the 1960s, “planet” reappeared in the scientific literature as a description for satellites, at least the large, round ones.

    Real-world usage

    The planet definition that includes certain moons, asteroids and Kuiper Belt objects has had staying power because it’s useful, Metzger says. Planetary scientists’ work includes comparing a place like Mars (a planet) to Titan (a moon) to Triton (a moon that was probably born in the Kuiper Belt and captured by Neptune long ago) to Pluto (a dwarf planet). It’s scientifically useful to have a word to describe the cosmic bodies where interesting geophysics, including the conditions that enable life, occur, he says. There’s all sorts of extra complexity, from mountains to atmospheres to oceans and rivers, when rocky worlds grow big enough for their own gravity to make them spherical.

    Pluto and hundreds or thousands of other objects that rival Pluto in size and interest orbit in the icy back of the solar system’s fridge, called the Kuiper Belt (white fuzzy ring).NASA

    “We’re not claiming that we have the perfect definition of a planet and that all scientists ought to adopt our definition,” he adds. That’s the same mistake the IAU made. “We’re saying this is something that ought to be debated.”

    A more inclusive definition of “planet” would also give a more accurate concept of what the solar system is. Emphasizing the eight major planets suggests that they dominate the solar system, when in fact the smaller stuff outnumbers those worlds tremendously. The major planets don’t even stay put in their orbits over long time-scales. The gas giants have shuffled around in the past. Teaching the view of the solar system that includes just eight static planets doesn’t do that dynamism justice.

    Caltech’s Brown disagrees. Having the gravitational oomph to nudge other bodies in and out of line is an important feature of a world, he says. Plus, the eight planets clearly dominate our solar system, he says. “If you dropped me in the solar system for the first time, and I looked around and saw what was there, nobody would say anything other than, ‘Wow, there are these eight — choose your word — and a lot of other little things.’ ”

    Pluto rises above the horizon of its largest moon, Charon, in this illustration.Mark Garlick/Science Photo Library/GettyImages Plus

    Thinking of planets that way leads to big-picture questions about how the solar system put itself together.

    One common argument in favor of the IAU’s definition is that it keeps the number of planets manageable. Can you imagine if there were hundreds or thousands of planets? How would the average person keep track of them all? What would we print on lunch boxes? I’m not making fun of this idea; as an astronomy writer who has been obsessed with space since I was 8, I would be reluctant to turn people off to the planets.

    But Metzger thinks teaching just eight planets risks turning people off to all the rest of space. “Back in the early 2000s, there was a lot of excitement when astronomers were discovering new planets in our solar system,” he says. “All that excitement ended in 2006.” But those objects are still out there and are still worthy of interest. By now, there are at least 150 of these dwarf planets, and most people have no clue, he says.

    This is the argument I find most compelling. Why do we need to limit the number of planets? Kids can memorize the names and characteristics of hundreds of dinosaurs, or Pokémon, for that matter. Why not encourage that for planets? Why not inspire students to rediscover and explore the space objects that most appeal to them?

    I’ve come to think that what makes a planet may just be in the eye of the beholders. I may be a lumper, not a splitter, too.

    [embedded content]
    Pluto continues to charm us all, as shown in these 2015 interviews after New Horizons sent its images of the geologic richness of the dwarf planet. More

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    Here’s how cool a star can be and still achieve lasting success

    If you want to be a successful star by making the minimum possible effort, aim for a surface temperature about a quarter of the sun’s. This is the temperature that a new study says separates red dwarf stars, which shine for a long time, from failed stars known as brown dwarfs.

    It’s often hard to distinguish between red and brown dwarfs, because when young they both look the same: red and dim. But only red dwarfs are born with enough mass to sustain the same nuclear reactions that power stars like the sun. In contrast, brown dwarfs glow red primarily from the heat of their birth, but then their nuclear activity sputters out, causing them to cool and fade. Now astrophysicists Dino Hsu and Adam Burgasser at the University of California, San Diego and their colleagues have discerned the dividing line between the two types by exploiting how they move through space.

    When a star is born, it revolves around the Milky Way’s center on a fairly circular orbit. Over time, though, gravitational tugs from giant gas clouds, spiral arms and other stars toss the stars to and fro. These perturbations make the stars’ orbits around the galactic center more and more elliptical. Thus, the orbital paths of stars can reveal their approximate age.

    Most red dwarfs are fairly old; their predicted lifetimes are far longer than the current age of the universe. But because brown dwarfs cool and fade, any that are still warm are young. Thus, on average, red dwarfs should follow more elliptical orbits around the galaxy than young brown dwarfs do.

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    In the new study, Hsu’s team analyzed 172 red and brown dwarfs of different spectral types, classifications based on the objects’ spectra that correlate with their surface temperatures. The researchers found that a sharp break in stellar motions separates warmer objects, which on average have more elliptical orbits and are older, from cooler ones, which on average have more circular orbits and are younger. This break appears at a spectral type between L4 and L6, corresponding to a surface temperature of about 1200° to 1400° Celsius (1,500 to 1,700 kelvins) — a fraction of the sun’s surface temperature of about 5500°C (5,800 K) — the team reports July 5 at arXiv.org.

    Above this critical temperature, the dim suns are a mix of long-lived red dwarfs and young brown dwarfs. Below this temperature, though, “it’s all brown dwarfs,” Hsu says. These are the failed stars that are fated to fizzle out. The study will appear in a future issue of the Astrophysical Journal Supplement Series.

    This new method for detecting the temperature boundary between red and brown dwarfs is intriguing, but the result is tentative, says Trent Dupuy, an astronomer at the University of Edinburgh who was not involved in the work. “It’s right around where you would expect,” he says. Dupuy says additional red and brown dwarfs should be observed to verify the finding.

    Hsu agrees: “We need a more complete sample.” Expanding the sample will be both easy and hard. On the positive side, red dwarfs abound, outnumbering all other stellar types put together, and brown dwarfs are also common. On the negative side, though, red and brown dwarfs are faint. That makes measuring their Doppler shifts, which reveal how fast the objects move toward or away from Earth, a challenge. But knowing this motion is essential for calculating a star’s orbital path around the galaxy. More

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    Modern humans evolved not to swing our hips as much as chimpanzees

    By Michael Marshall

    Based on the average height of humans, we should have longer stridesJohnnyGreig/Getty Images
    Humans have lost their swing. Chimpanzees and other great apes swing their hips when they walk, but modern humans do not. This means our strides are shorter than those of chimpanzees, even though our legs are proportionally longer.
    “We’ve always had this idea that evolution has been acting on fossil humans to make strides longer and longer,” says Nathan Thompson at the New York Institute of Technology in the US. But in fact, he says, “humans right … More

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    Why adding a road can increase traffic and other modelling delights

    By Simon Ings

    sasilsolutions/Getty Images
    Book

    Atlas of Forecasts: Modeling and mapping desirable futures
    Katy BörnerAdvertisement
    MIT Press

    MY LEAFY, fairly affluent corner of south London has a congestion problem, and to solve it, there is a plan to close certain roads. You can imagine the furore: the trunk of every kerbside tree sports a protest sign. How can shutting off roads improve traffic flows?
    German mathematician Braess answered this question back in 1968, showing that adding a road to a network can actually increase travel times due to a boost in drivers using the same routes and therefore increasing traffic. Now a new book, Atlas of Forecasts: Modeling and mapping desirable futures by Katy Börner, uses it as a fine example of how a mathematical model predicts and can be used to resolve a real-world problem.
    This and more than 1300 other models, maps and forecasts are referenced in Börner’s latest atlas, the third to be derived from Indiana University’s travelling exhibit Places & Spaces: Mapping science.
    Her first, Atlas of Science: Visualizing what we know revealed the power of maps in science, while the second, Atlas of Knowledge: Anyone can map, focused on visualisation. In her latest foray, Börner wants to show how models, maps and forecasts inform decision-making in education, science, technology and policy-making.
    It is a well-structured, heavyweight argument, supported by descriptions of more than 300 applications. Some entries, like Bernard H. Porter’s Map of Physics of 1939, earn their place purely because of their beauty and the insights they offer. Mostly, though, Börner chooses models that were applied in practice and made a positive difference.
    Her range is impressive. We begin at equations, revealing that Newton’s law of universal gravitation has been applied to human migration patterns, and move through the centuries. We tip a wink to Jacob Bernoulli’s 1713 book The Art of Conjecturing –which introduced probability theory – and James Clerk Maxwell’s 1868 paper “On governors”, which was an early nod towards cybernetics. Finally, we arrive at our current era of massive computation and ever-more complex model building.
    It is here that interesting questions start to surface. To forecast the behaviour of complex systems, especially those that contain a human component, many current researchers reach for modelling (ABM) in which discrete autonomous agents interact with each other and with their common (digitally modelled) environment.
    But, warns Börner, “ABMs in general have very few analytical tools by which they can be studied, and often no backward sensitivity analysis can be performed because of the large number of parameters and dynamical rules involved”. In other words, an ABM model offers us an exquisitely detailed forecast, but no clear way of knowing why the model has drawn the conclusions it has – a risky state of affairs, given that its data came from foible-ridden humans.
    Her sumptuous, detailed book tackles issues of error and bias head-on, but she left me tugging at a different problem, represented by those irate protest signs smothering my neighbourhood.
    In over 50 years since Braess’s research was published, reasonably wealthy, mostly well-educated people in comfortable surroundings have remained ignorant of how traffic flows work. So what are the chances that the rest of us, busy and preoccupied as we are, will ever really understand, or trust, the other models that increasingly dictate our civic life?
    Börner argues that modelling data can counteract tribalism, misinformation, magical thinking, authoritarianism and demonisation. I can’t for the life of me see how. What happens when a model reaches such complexity that only an expert can understand it, or when even the expert can’t be sure why the forecast is saying what it is saying?
    We have enough difficulty understanding climate forecasts, let alone explaining them. To apply these technologies to the civic realm begs a host of problems that are nothing to do with the technology, and everything to do with whether anyone will listen.

    More on these topics: More

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    Don't Miss: Are viruses alive? A timely talk at the Royal Institution

    T:Stocktrek Images/Alamy
    Watch
    Are viruses alive? asks New York Times science columnist Carl Zimmer in this Royal Institution talk. Can viruses and other difficult to pin down microbes help us answer the question: what is life? Streaming live on 26 August at 7pm BST.

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    Read
    The Nature Seed by Lucy Jones and Kenneth Greenway is a handy guide to raising adventurous, nature-loving children, full of fires, potions, foraging and make-believe. Discover the awe in a humble cracked pavement or your local park.
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    Watch
    Jamming the Signal is a live conversation at FACT Liverpool on 28 August from 2pm BST that asks whether social media and instant messaging can be used to effect meaningful change in an age of digital unrest. It will also be streamed online. More

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    We need to fully explore the planet to understand our species' origins

    Nino Marcutti/Alamy
    THE tale of human origins continues to throw up surprises. For many years, the generally accepted narrative was that our species emerged on the continent of Africa, before spreading to other continents around 60,000 years ago. It is certainly true that our origins lie primarily in Africa. But in this issue, we explore the crucial role that nearby Arabia played in human evolution.
    Evidence unearthed in Stone Age Arabia points to a much richer story, in which human populations ebbed and flowed in this region over hundreds of thousands  of years as the climate shifted.
    The remarkable discoveries from … More

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    The other cradle of humanity: How Arabia shaped human evolution

    New evidence reveals that Arabia was not a mere stopover for ancestral humans leaving Africa, but a lush homeland where they flourished and evolved

    Humans

    18 August 2021

    By Michael Marshall

    Andrea Ucini
    THE Rub’ al-Khali is both desert and deserted – a landscape of reddish sand dunes that stretches as far as the eye can see. This hyper-arid region in the south-east of the Arabian peninsula is approximately the size of France. Parts of it often go an entire year without rain. Almost nobody lives there; its name means “empty quarter”.
    The rest of Arabia is less environmentally extreme, but still a very tough place to live without air conditioning and other recent technologies. However, the peninsula wasn’t always so parched. A mere 8000 years ago, it was wet enough for there to have been many lakes. The same was true at intervals throughout the past million years, when rivers criss-crossed Arabia, forming green corridors where lush vegetation and wildlife flourished amid the sand dunes. For much of recent geological time, the peninsula was at least partly green.
    Arabia’s verdant past is no mere factoid: it suggests that the region was habitable at times in the distant past. That realisation has prompted archaeologists to start looking for evidence of occupation by humans, their ancestors and their extinct relatives. In just a decade, they have found countless sites where these hominins lived, stretching hundreds of thousands of years into the past. Arabia, it seems, wasn’t a mere stopover for hominins as they moved out of Africa into the wider world. It was somewhere they settled for long stretches of time. Indeed, many researchers now think Arabia should be thought of as part of a “greater Africa”, and that the peninsula played an important role in human evolution and expansion across the world.
    For … More

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    Vera Rubin’s work on dark matter led to a paradigm shift in cosmology

    Bright Galaxies, Dark Matter, and BeyondAshley Jean YeagerMIT Press, $24.95

    Vera Rubin’s research forced cosmologists to radically reimagine the cosmos.

    In the 1960s and ’70s, Rubin’s observations of stars whirling around within galaxies revealed the gravitational tug of invisible “dark matter.” Although astronomers had detected hints of this enigmatic substance for decades, Rubin’s data helped finally convince a skeptical scientific community that dark matter exists (SN: 1/10/20).

    “Her work was pivotal to redefining the composition of our cosmos,” Ashley Yeager, Science News’ associate news editor, writes in her new book. Bright Galaxies, Dark Matter, and Beyond follows Rubin’s journey from stargazing child to preeminent astronomer and fierce advocate for women in science.

    That journey, Yeager shows, was rife with obstacles. When Rubin was a young astronomer in the 1950s and ’60s, many observatories were closed to women, and more established scientists often brushed her off. Much of her early work was met with intense skepticism, but that only made Rubin, who died in 2016 at age 88, a more dogged data collector.

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    On graphs plotting the speeds of stars swirling around galaxies, Rubin showed that stars farther from galactic centers orbited just as fast as inner stars. That is, the galaxies’ rotation curves were flat. Such speedy outer stars must be pulled along by the gravitational grip of dark matter.

    Science News staff writer Maria Temming spoke with Yeager about Rubin’s legacy and what, beyond her pioneering research, made Rubin remarkable. The following discussion has been edited for clarity and brevity.

    Temming: What inspired you to tell Rubin’s story?

    Yeager: It all started when I was working at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., in 2007. I was walking around the “Explore the Universe” exhibit and noticed there weren’t many women featured. But then there was this picture of a woman with big glasses and cropped hair, and I thought, “Who is this?” It was Vera Rubin.

    My supervisor was a curator of oral histories. He was working on Rubin’s, so I asked him about her. He said, “I have one more oral history interview to do with her. Would you like to come?” So I got to interview her. She was charismatic, kind and curious — not a person who was all about herself, but wanted to know about you. That stuck with me.

    Temming: You spend much of the book describing evidence for dark matter besides Rubin’s research. Why?

    Yeager: I wanted to make sure I didn’t portray Rubin as this lone person who discovered dark matter, because there were a lot of different moving pieces in astronomy and physics that came together in the ’70s and early ’80s for the scientific community to say, “OK, we really have to take dark matter seriously.”

    Temming: What made Rubin’s work a linchpin for confirming dark matter?

    Yeager: She really went after nailing down that flat rotation curve in all types of galaxies. Mainly because she did get a lot of pushback, continually, that said, “Oh, that’s just a special case in that galaxy, or that’s just for those types of galaxies.” She studied hundreds of galaxies to double-check that, yes, in fact, the rotation curves are flat. People saying, “We don’t believe you,” didn’t ever really knock her down. She just came back swinging harder.

    It helped that she did the work in visible wavelengths of light. There had been a lot of radio astronomy data to suggest flat rotation curves, but because radio astronomy was very new, it was really only once you saw it with the eye that the astronomy community was convinced.

    Temming: Do you have a favorite anecdote about Rubin?

    Yeager: The one that comes to mind is how much she loved flowers. She told me about how on drives from Lowell Observatory to Kitt Peak National Observatory in Arizona, she and her colleague Kent Ford would always stop and buy wildflowers. The fact that picking these wildflowers stuck with her, I thought, was just representative of who she was. Her favorite moments weren’t necessarily these big discoveries she’d made, but stopping to pick some flowers and enjoy their beauty.

    Author Ashley Yeager (left) interviewed Vera Rubin (right) in 2007 as part of an oral history project with Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum.Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum (NASM 9A16674)

    Temming: Did you learn anything in your research that surprised you?

    Yeager: I didn’t initially grasp how many different types of projects she had. She did a lot with looking for larger-scale structure [in the universe] and looking at the Hubble constant [which describes how fast the universe is expanding] (SN: 4/21/21). She had a very diverse set of questions that she wanted to answer, well into her 70s.

    Temming: I was surprised by her decision to get out of the rat-race of hunting for quasars, when that area of research heated up in the 1960s.

    Yeager: She very much didn’t like to be in pressure situations where she could be wrong. She liked to go and collect so much data that no one could [dispute it]. With quasar research, it was just too fast, and she wanted to be methodical about it.

    Temming: Why is Rubin’s story important to tell now?

    Yeager: Unfortunately for women and minorities in science, it’s still very relevant, in that there are a lot of challenges to pursuing a career in STEM. Her story demonstrates that you have to surround yourself with people who are willing to help you and get away from the people who want to keep you down. Plus her story is also very encouraging: Your curiosity can keep you going and can fuel something way bigger than yourself.

    Temming: How did she advocate for women in astronomy?

    Yeager: She was very outspoken about it. At National Academy of Sciences meetings, the organizers always dreaded her standing up, because she would say, “What are we doing about women in science? We’re not doing enough.” She was constantly pushing for women to be recognized with awards. She kept tabs on the number of women who had earned Ph.D.s and who had gotten staff positions — and their salaries. She was very data-driven. She’d cull that information and use it to advocate for better representation and recognition of women in astronomy.

    Temming: How would you describe Rubin to someone who hasn’t met her?

    Yeager: She was one of the most persistent, gracious and nurturing people that I’ve ever met. You could strip away all that she did in astronomy and she would still be this incredible figure — the way she carried herself, the way she treated people. Just a beautiful human being.

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