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To Infinity and Beyond: A Journey of Cosmic Discovery
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The Confluence of Science, Myth, and Pop Culture
Part of the reason that Neil deGrasse Tyson’s books are so accessible is that he uses metaphors from mythology and popular culture to explain complicated concepts. In the first instance, mythology provides familiar stories—often containing moral guidance—from humanity’s collective history. Myths also express humanity’s aspirations; in this case, to unravel the mysteries of the heavens beyond Earth. In the second instance, popular culture proffers written and visual examples of what space exploration might yield and what interstellar travel might entail and reveal. Pop culture often gets the science wrong—which also provides useful fodder for the authors—but it also conveys the inherent curiosity in humans to look beyond their own backyard. Even though the authors present science as a corrective to these stories and fables, science itself partakes in the storytelling impulse and imaginative leaps represented by myths and pop culture.
In Part 1, the authors describe how even in the earliest days of civilization, humans wondered what existed beyond the terrestrial realm: “Driven by our desire to soar like birds,” they write, “we first took to the skies in story form” (18). This implies that without those early stories, science would not have followed, and the field of aviation might not have flourished. That is, science depends on stories to propel it forward, to inspire innovation to achieve these desires. Further, the authors reveal how universal the impulse to get closer to the heavens and understand their inner workings is. From depictions of Alexander the Great in a winged chariot to Indigenous North American tales about boys in a flying canoe and the elaborate flying transports found in the Sanskrit epic The Ramayana, these “chariots of the gods” stimulate the imagination and expose the yearning of humans to slip the bonds of earthly gravity (19).
In contrast to mythology, popular culture is often a springboard for the authors to explain the actual science behind bestselling books or movies. As the authors note, H. G. Wells’s The War of the Worlds and the subsequent (and infamous) Orson Welles radio broadcast of the novel contributed to the ongoing speculation that intelligent life exists on Mars. It took the Mariner missions of the 1960s to dispel this deep-seated cultural belief. The authors also take aim at science fiction movies throughout the book, including Armageddon, The Martian, The Terminator, and others—but Star Wars gets special consideration. A pop culture phenomenon, Star Wars continues to capture the public’s imagination; thus, its familiarity makes it the perfect target for critical reconsideration. For example, Han Solo’s ship, the Millennium Falcon, navigates an asteroid field in The Empire Strikes Back, but this would not pose much danger in real life: “Any field of objects as crowded as the ones portrayed in Hollywood would have coalesced into one larger object” (137). The force of gravity is not taken into adequate consideration, in this case. Later, the authors point out that the destruction of the Death Star would not have been quite as spectacular as portrayed: “Once introduced to space, the blast would quickly fizzle. More importantly, this bright, brief spectacle would play out in complete silence” (203). Hollywood must take liberties with science to generate the most entertaining product—and yet, even though the science is distorted, the ideas are still inspirational. The final example the authors employ from Star Wars concerns itself with “making the jump to light speed!” (280). The authors note what an actual warp drive display might look like if one could build and utilize it. Even though the movie gets it wrong—it would not appear as streaking bands of light—it still kindles the fires of imagination, which often leads to innovation.
Throughout the book, the authors use the language of stories and mythology to describe the impulses that drive scientific discovery and, especially, the exploration of space. In describing The Epic of Gilgamesh, the 4000-year-old Mesopotamian epic, the authors illuminate how “cosmic threads tie together the mortal and immortal realms, while time and distance are measured by the motions of the stars” (17). When writing about the solar system, the authors group “astronomers, philosophers, and science fiction authors” together in their search for life on other planets (85). They are all equally invested in future discoveries. Finally, the authors reiterate throughout the book that there remains something fundamental about the need to explore beyond the boundaries of Earth: “What a journey it has been, this unending human quest to gain access to the heavens” (301). It is fitting that a book about the cosmos closes with a comment about those ancient heavens.
The Politics of Scientific Innovation
Just like the stories that humans invent, so too does scientific innovation influence other areas of cultural development. Science takes place in the context of changing political environments, contributing to or benefiting from the advancement of industry, and it often participates in the grim realities of war. Political concerns not only influence what kind of science gains prominence but also how much funding various fields receive. In addition, science often flourishes in wartime, where the development of new technologies to defeat enemies or protect citizens becomes urgent. Industry also plays a prominent role in scientific advancement: Science that produces profit again receives favor, while scientific discovery, in turn, propels industry.
The history of space exploration is characterized by political considerations. For example, the original “space race” of the late 1950s and 1960s was fueled by the Cold War, when the United States and the USSR each wanted to prove their political philosophy superior to the other. The launch of the first artificial satellite, the Soviet Union’s Sputnik, “birthed the space race that further entrenched the United States and the Soviet Union in the Cold War” (66). This was in no small part because the launch “made clear which major power held the lead in technology and weaponry” (66). While the rhetoric surrounding the space race trafficked in patriotism, it was rife with tensions over war and the risk of escalation into nuclear warfare.
Historically speaking, times of war have produced some of the most sophisticated—and deadliest—technology ever imagined. As the authors recognize, when discussing the development of the V2 rockets used during World War II, “Like many tales of marriage between science and warfare, technological advancement is often funded by its promise for destruction” (63). Though the rockets themselves were horrifyingly lethal, their construction was arguably worse: “[H]istorians estimate far more people died building [the V2 rocket] than died from its strikes” (63). This is because enslaved Jews and other concentration camp prisoners were forced to build the rockets under the Nazi regime. This labor force was starved and brutalized, exploited in the most extreme ways. Despite this, Nazi engineers and physicists were considered valuable assets and relocated to the United States under Operation Paperclip, highlighting the influence of politics on science. The authors note that these concerns are not at all relegated to the past: “One hesitates to contemplate the shock waves that might be wrought by 21st century technology,” they worry; “As humanity enters a new era of spacefaring ambitions, so too will it enter a new era of war fighting” (196). That is, space exploration is inextricably linked to politics and the possibility of war.
Even today, political considerations determine what kinds of missions are greenlit and where those missions occur. For example, the authors acknowledge that “[g]eopolitical factors also influence the locations of launch sites” (52). Because of the history of colonialism, the European Space Agency has access to sites that sit near the equator, where the Earth’s rotation is strongest (thus providing more thrust with less fuel). The authors also address the issue of increased greenhouse gas emissions caused using fossil fuels, using the state of Venus’s atmosphere as a cautionary tale. The eminent astrophysicist Carl Sagan was one of the early voices to warn political entities about burning fossil fuels, testifying before Congress in the 1980s “about the dangers of anthropogenic climate destruction” (109). Later, the authors unpack the political and ethical ramifications of terraforming Mars. The problem of who might be in charge of the powerful technology needed to achieve this goal is only the first of many challenges.
Science also provides the necessary knowledge for industrial advancement. For example, “[e]xploiting the buoyant force revolutionized global industry, politics, and society” (30). While this is not always for the good of the people or the planet, modern industrial society would not be possible without international shipping. The invention of the barometer, in turn, revolutionized meteorology; weather balloons increase the predictive accuracy of meteorologists, which improves the quality of everyday life. Scientific innovations have also generated entirely new industries, from aviation to silicon computer chips and climate-friendly technologies. While science can get mired in the machinations of politics or implicated in the devastation of war, it also contributes to the enhancement of human understanding. As the authors remind their readers, “Amid the emphasis on political ramifications and ticker-tape parades, we often forget that the moon landing was primarily a scientific mission” (115), one that made a giant leap forward for all of humankind.
The Interstellar Odyssey and the Great Unknown
The philosophical and ethical implications of space exploration are many and diverse. They encompass questions about the nature of space; the boundaries (or limitlessness) of the universe; the origins of life; and the place of the Earth within the solar system and the larger universe. As the authors take the reader on an odyssey that moves from Earth’s atmosphere to the solar system, interstellar space, and “to infinity and beyond,” they grapple with the impact of space exploration on the human psyche: how the leap from ignorance to knowledge (and, often, back again) changes perspective. When they speak of a cosmic odyssey, they evoke ancient cultural memories: In The Odyssey, Odysseus travels to the ends of the Earth and back—or so it seems to him. As humanity’s horizons expand ever farther, so too do notions of what the cosmos is, what Earth signifies in this scheme, and what the limitations of knowledge might be.
First, the demarcation between Earth’s atmosphere and outer space is still a hotly debated topic. While the Kármán line—100 kilometers/62 miles above sea level—is a convenient marker, it is not considered a settled matter “as new understandings of Earth’s atmospheric profile have emerged” (39). New discoveries unsettle established science, and knowledge often has the ironic effect of revealing ignorance. This pattern continues as the interstellar odyssey progresses. Though the sun’s “limits of influence mark the official edge between our solar system and interstellar space” (88), questions about the boundaries within that space still abound: “The definition of interstellar space remains as elusive as the question of where Earth’s atmosphere begins and ends” (163). As the authors acknowledge, should scientists write the story of even just this particular solar system, it would be “nearly illegible with revisions, edits, and deletions, the surrounding margins brimming with scribbled queries” (163). The limitations of human knowledge are on full display as the cosmic journey continues to unfold.
Second, inevitably appended to the project of space exploration is the search for other forms of life in the universe. This poses its own series of philosophical conundrums, primarily the fact that humanity’s experience of life is limited to one planet: “Looking for life in the solar system implicitly means looking for life as we understand it. This is the curse of the single example” (152). It is nearly impossible to imagine lifeforms that have evolved in atmospheres that humans would find toxic or on topographies that don’t adhere to earthly mathematics. Until recently, it was scientific consensus that no lifeforms on Earth could exist without sunlight, but tube worms and dozens of other species were discovered at the bottom of the ocean, surviving in hydrothermal vents hot enough to melt metal.
What scientists do know is that all planets in the solar system “carry the same array of elements contained in that primordial nebula” (93). That is, the Earth is made of the same cosmic stuff as the sun and all the other planets and celestial bodies in the solar system. The Big Bang implies that this is true of all the other galaxies within the universe; all interstellar space shares common elements. The Apollo missions provided some hard evidence for these arguments: The samples brought back to Earth “would rewrite the origin story not only of the moon but also of the entire solar system—and maybe even the origin story of life itself” (115). One can only imagine what could be learned if physical samples from exoplanets could be transported to Earth. As Carl Sagan asserted, “We are made of star-stuff”—and thus, humanity is inextricably linked to the heavens.
Finally, one of the greatest lessons from the exploration of space is humility: “The universe is finite. And we are not at its center” (210). It took more than 100 years for humanity to accept the fact that the Earth revolved around the sun and not the other way around. The idea that the Milky Way galaxy is only one among trillions in a universe whose edge is unreachable—not to mention unfathomable—unsettles notions of what it means to be human and what the purpose of life on Earth might be—if anything at all. Further, the Milky Way itself “might harbor around 300 million Earthlike worlds within a habitable zone” (219). The idea that life on Earth is an anomaly in a universe of such magnitude begins to seem less credible. The discovery of intelligent life elsewhere could destabilize every meaningful philosophical system humanity has developed.
As the authors remind their audience, “A necessary consequence of exploration and discovery is indeed the ever-widening perimeter of ignorance that separates what we know from what is yet to be discovered” (231). Inherent to its mission, the cosmic odyssey has no finite ending—hence, the title of the book, To Infinity and Beyond. As the authors define it, “infinity is only a moment’s pause on the way to unlimited destinations that await us” (301). The quest for knowledge, the search for extraterrestrial life, and the urge to explore—the very impulses that make humans human—compel this cosmic journey.
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