Solar System Essay Question

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Sample Essay - Week 5: The Pluto Controversy: What's A Planet, Anyway?
This essay was developed for the AMNH online course The Solar System . The Solar System is a part of Seminars on Science, a program of online graduate-level professional development courses for K-12 educators.

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Okay, everyone, it's official. Pluto is not a planet. As decreed in August 2006 by a vote of the General Assembly of the International Astronomical Union (IAU), Pluto is now a "dwarf planet." On the other hand, who does the IAU think it is—indeed, who do we astronomers think we are—to be able to demote Pluto? Isn't that sort of like California declaring that Liechtenstein isn't a country?

The word planet seems to hold an irrational sway over our hearts and minds. That made sense in the days when, along with stars, they were the only familiar objects in space—before telescopes could observe the birth of distant galaxies, before space probes had bulldozed into a comet, and before we understood the history of cosmic collisions that links celestial bodies large and small.

In these past four weeks, we've looked at the Solar System as scientists do: at its structure and composition, its origin, and its contents, rocky and gassy. Let's look at Pluto once again—not in terms of rigid classification or nursery-school mnemonics but in the context of its scientific importance—and at how learning more about Pluto contributes to the human endeavor of understanding the cosmos.

What's a planet, anyway?

All the Sturm und Drang about Pluto stems from a simple problem. The label planet originated in ancient Greece. The word simply meant "wanderer" and referred to the seven prominent celestial objects—Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, the Sun, and the Moon—that moved against the background of stars.

Life got more complicated in 1543, when Nicolaus Copernicus described a newfangled Solar System. In his heliocentric universe, instead of remaining stationary in the center, Earth moved around the Sun, just like the other bodies. At that moment, planet lost its astronomical meaning. Astronomers tacitly agreed that whatever orbits the Sun is a planet and whatever orbits a planet is a moon.

Evolving Our Understanding
Petrus Apianus's Earth-centric engraving of the Solar System (left) from 1540 shows the planets and the Sun orbiting Earth, with a band of constellations around the perimeter. In 1543, Copernicus's revolutionary heliocentric system (center) paved the way for modern astronomy, including way-finding diagrams like the plaque (which includes Pluto) on the Pioneer 10 spacecraft (right), now heading into interstellar space. ©Library of Congress/NASA

This wouldn't be a problem if cosmic discoveries had ended with Copernicus. But shortly thereafter, we learned that comets, too, orbit the Sun and are not local atmospheric phenomena, as was long believed. Comets are icy objects on elongated orbits that throw off a long tail of gases as they near the Sun. Are they planets too? How about the chunks of rock and metal that orbit the Sun between Mars and Jupiter in the asteroid belt? When Ceres, the first such object, was detected by Giuseppe Piazzi in 1801, everyone called it a planet. With the discovery of dozens more, however, it became clear that this new community of objects deserved its own classification. Astronomers called these small bodies made of rock and minerals asteroids, and have now cataloged tens of thousands of them.

Even the traditional planets don't fit into one neat category. The rocky planets (Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars) form a family because they are relatively small and rocky, while the gassy planets (Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune) are large, gaseous, have many moons, and bear rings.

And who's counting?

The number of planets dropped to six when the Sun and the Moon were deleted and Earth was added. When Uranus was found in 1781, the figure rose to seven again. It was bumped up to 11 with the discovery of the four largest bodies in the zone between Mars and Jupiter. Then it dropped back to seven again after these four bodies—along with others in the zone yet to be discovered—were demoted to asteroids. Once Neptune was spied in 1846, the total became eight.

When astronomer Clyde Tombaugh found Pluto in 1930, after a dogged search for a long-suspected Planet X beyond Neptune, the tally rose to the now-familiar nine. But refined measurements showed the object to be much, much smaller than originally thought: smaller, in fact, than six of the satellites in the Solar System, including Earth's Moon.

The Kuiper Belt thickens the plot

The story took another twist in 1992, when David C. Jewitt of the University of Hawaii and Jane Luu of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology began to detect a swath of frozen objects on the Solar System's fringes, out beyond Neptune. This region of icy bodies was named the Kuiper Belt in honor of the Dutch-born American astronomer Gerard Kuiper, who predicted its existence. Pluto is one of its largest members. Akin to the asteroids in the belt between Mars and Jupiter, these bodies nevertheless made up another category of objects in the Solar System. Over 800 other Kuiper Belt objects have since been cataloged. Should they all be called planets?

The Kuiper Belt
A disk-shaped region of icy debris beyond the orbit of Neptune, the Kuiper Belt likely contains remnants of the early Solar System, as does the asteroid belt. Because many asteroids and comets never formed planetary bodies that melted, they record early Solar System processes—a record that has been erased elsewhere. ©NASA/JHU
So we find ourselves at the International Astronomical Union General Assembly, meeting in Prague in August 2006. At first the IAU seemed ready to defend Pluto's planetary standing. On August 16, after many meetings over the course of a year, its seven-member Planet Definition Committee stated that round objects in orbit around the Sun are planets. Roundness (though not necessarily a perfectly spherical shape), reasoned the committee, indicated a balance between the gravitational forces pulling matter inward and the internal pressure pushing outward within a celestial body: a scientifically significant state called hydrostatic equilibrium.

Since Pluto qualifies, this would have given everyone the right to place Pluto and Jupiter in the same category, even though Jupiter is 250,000 times larger. The draft resolution would also have rendered at least three additional objects eligible for planet status, objects that had achieved hydrostatic equilibrium but had previously been deemed "too small."

So for that one week in 2006, there were 12 planets. The IAU's roundness criterion added Ceres, the largest asteroid; Pluto's moon Charon, which is unusually large relative to Pluto; and another Kuiper Belt object, 2003 UB313, affectionately dubbed Xena after the leather-clad warrior princess from cable television, but now officially named Eris, after the Greek goddess of discord.

Plutophiles had about a week to rejoice before the astronomers refined their definition: a planet must also be the most massive object in its orbital zone. Poor Pluto is crowded by thousands of other icy bodies in the outer Solar System, some bigger than Pluto itself, so it fails the test. This criterion also eliminated Ceres, Charon, and Eris. To soothe the Pluto boosters, the IAU elected to call it a dwarf planet, without clearly qualifying what that is.

And Then There Were Eight
In 2006, the International Astronomical Union published a draft illustration of the Solar System containing 12 planets (bottom). One week later, a final illustration was published (top), with four of those objects reclassified as "dwarf planets." ©IAU
How much should counting count?

So today we're officially back to eight planets—the nine we memorized in grade school, minus Pluto.

Counting planets does encourage clever mnemonics, such as "My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas"—or its likely successor: "My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Noodles." Or Nectarines. Or Nopalitos! It could be argued that such counting exercises have stunted the curiosity of an entire generation of children. Counting and memorizing just stands in the way of appreciating the full richness of our cosmic environment, right? On the other hand, it's well known that the concreteness of lists and lyrics helps students tie abstract concepts to tangible learning tools.

The best solution probably rests in the middle ground. For now, a dwarf planet is defined as a Solar System body that orbits the Sun, is near-spherical in shape, isn't a satellite, and shares the region around its orbit with other celestial bodies. And who knows how long that classification will stick?

The best question of all: What questions intrigue you?

Imagine a Solar System curriculum that begins with the concept of density—a big concept for third graders, but not inaccessible. Rocks and metals have high density. Balloons and beach balls have low density. Divide the inner and outer planets in this way, as cosmic examples of high and low density. Have fun with Saturn, whose density, like that of a cork, is less than that of water. (Unlike any other object in the Solar System, Saturn would float.)

You might wonder about the joint criteria of roundness and isolation. They're general enough to be shared by both tiny, rocky, iron-rich Mercury and massive, gaseous Jupiter. But what if other characteristics or phenomena pique your interest? Suppose, for example, that you're interested in cyclones. The thick, dynamic atmospheres of Earth and Jupiter are fertile breeding grounds for these storms, so they could be lumped together under that criterion. Fascinated by the chemistry of life? Icy moons like Jupiter's Europa and Saturn's Enceladus may be the best extraterrestrial destinations in the search for liquid water, a crucial ingredient for life as we know it. Perhaps you think ring systems are cool, or magnetic fields, or size, or mass, or composition, or proximity to the Sun, or formation history. Each attribute could serve as a vector for exploring the bodies that populate the Solar System.

These classifications say much more about an object than whether it is round, or unique in its neighborhood, or what category we assign it to. Why not rethink the Solar System as multiple, overlapping families of objects? Then the way you organize them is up to you. The fuss over Pluto doesn't have to play out as a death in the neighborhood. Instead, it could mark the birth of a whole new way of thinking about our cosmic backyard.

No matter how the scientific debate about Pluto rages in the years to come, it will remain a beloved little icy dirtball to millions—and a catalyst to scientific curiosity and excitement. And if you're a Pluto lover, you can rest assured that the dwarf planet won't be forgotten. Guess what the American Dialect Society declared as the 2006 Word of the Year? "Plutoed."

 
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Seminars on Science offers easy-to-use online courses designed around your busy schedule. Learn more...
Sample Essay - Week 6: Life and Water: Why Do We "Follow the Water," and Where Is That Taking Us?
This essay was developed for the AMNH online course The Solar System . The Solar System is a part of Seminars on Science, a program of online graduate-level professional development courses for K-12 educators.

Learn more about this course   See more sample resources


Incredible Water
Sea stars thrive in the tide pools of the Olympic Coast National Marine Sanctuary, one of the most dynamic and chemically complex water environments in the world. ©NOAA, Nancy Sefton
Scientists have been thinking about life on other worlds for a very, very long time. Of course, the first question we have to answer is, "What is life?" Since we know of only one planet that supports life, we start by looking at where life is found here on Earth.

All life on Earth—from bacterium to blue whale, slime mold to sequoia, and everything in between—needs one thing: liquid water. In this essay, we'll talk a little about that watery thread that binds all Earthly life, and a lot about how—and where else—it might exist in our Solar System.

Water: the elixir of life

Why do scientists think that life as we know it requires liquid water? The reasons are complex and manifold, but it boils down to the physics and chemistry of being alive. Living things are systems that grow, sustain, and reproduce themselves with an unmatched combination of complexity and accuracy. Those functions require a medium that can contain (in solution or suspension) a huge variety of complicated molecules; that can rapidly transport those molecules from one part of an organism to another; that is plentiful enough to be easily obtained and replenished; that can hold large amounts of energy as a reservoir for physical and chemical activity; and that can serve as a place where incredibly complicated reactions can occur, yet is itself not particularly physically or chemically active.

That's a tall order for any substance. But liquid water can do it all. In primary school, we all learned that water flows easily from place to place, covers 70% of Earth's surface, and is the so-called "universal solvent." In secondary school, we studied other important characteristics of water: it has a high heat capacity (which means that it can absorb or release relatively large amounts of thermal energy - heat—with only a modest change in temperature); it's a key participant in a myriad of chemical reactions; and it has a neutral pH, the balance point between acid and base. What organism could ask for more?

Water serves more life-supporting roles on an ecosystem level. Thanks to its unusual molecular structure, it's the only known non-metallic substance to expand when it freezes. (That's why ice cubes and icebergs float; frozen water is less dense than liquid water.) Also, frozen water will melt if you press hard enough on it, even if the temperature stays below freezing. (That's partly why glaciers flow: a liquid layer below the surface lets the solid ice above it slide slowly along.) Put these two properties together. If a body of water is deep enough, it can be frozen at the surface and yet remain liquid far below, providing an insulated, protected environment in which a great range of physical and chemical reactions can occur.

Under Antarctica
Liquid water can exist under diverse conditions. This cross-section illustrates the location of Lake Vostok, the largest known subglacial lake, which is buried more than two miles beneath the Antarctic ice. It remains liquid because of geothermal heating and pressure from the ice above it, which also insulates the water. ©NSF, Nicolle Rager-Fuller
The presence of liquid water, then, signals both the likelihood that reactions essential to life can occur, and the possibility that an ecosystem can be sustained. That's why the search for life starts with the search for water.

Follow the water

So let's look around for places in space where the right conditions could combine to make liquid water possible. If a planet orbits its host star too closely, the temperature is too high and the planet's water content vaporizes. Too far from the host star, and the planet's water content freezes. In other words, conditions on the planet must allow the temperature to stay within the 100° C (212° F) range of liquid water. In our Solar System, that makes Venus too hot and the surface of Mars too cold. Farther from the Sun it's even colder, but Jupiter and Saturn's gravitational fields create internal tides in the moons around them, possibly generating enough heat to sustain liquid water, almost certainly in Jupiter's moon Europa.

The Habitable Zone
Earth is the only planet in our Solar System that falls within a range of temperature, size, and atmospheric thickness that allows for liquid, solid and gaseous water to coexist. ©AMNH
Beyond our Solar System, the search has just begun for other "Goldilocks planets"—not too hot and not too cold—where liquid water might persist. In April 2007, for example, astronomers found what appears to be a slightly-larger-than-Earth-size planet in the right orbit around a very dim star: Gleise 581, 20.4 light-years away in the direction of the constellation Cygnus.

Once we identify where water might be present, we can search for it in several ways. The simplest way is direct imaging: taking pictures of the surface. Large, featureless expanses that are darker than surrounding surface features can suggest the presence of seas and oceans. (Galileo Galilei used this technique on the Moon in 1609, noting the presence of maria, or seas. However, he was mistaken; those seas were bone dry.) Reflection spectroscopy is more difficult but more precise: since we know which wavelengths of light are absorbed by water, when we look with telescopes at how any surface absorbs sunshine, we can detect the presence of water ice from that reflected light. The Lunar maria reflect like basaltic rock, not ice.

Another Earth?
An artist's impression of the newly discovered planet orbiting the red dwarf star Gliese 581, which is far dimmer than our Sun. The planet—one of at least three discovered in the system—is so close to its star that it zips around it in a mere 13 days. ©ESO
The best, and by far the most expensive, method is to send probes to investigate surface features close up. If a planet or moon has a solid or liquid surface to land on, a robotic lander is ideal. We'll talk now about the progress that we've made using probes. But first, a preview: in May 2008, the Mars Phoenix Scout mission will land near the Martian north pole, to drill down beneath the frigid surface in search of signs of microbial life.

The search on icy moons

Models and observations indicate that other places in the Solar System probably have liquid water; one is a large moon of Jupiter's. (You'll read about it in this week's Mission Profile.) Fifty years ago, we thought these moons were inactive lumps of rock like Earth's Moon, but the first flyby mission, Voyager, established that each is unique, and that Europa's smooth surface of water ice is even crisscrossed with fractures like those across sea ice on Earth!

We also think that Enceladus, a moon of Saturn, contains liquid water. Surface features such as regions with no craters (indicating recent geological events), fissures, plains, and corrugated terrain indicate that the interior of Enceladus may be partly liquid today. Images from the Cassini spacecraft show a huge icy plume or geyser, which might be erupting from near-surface pockets of liquid water warmed by tidal heating. Icy droplets from this plume actually contribute material directly to Saturn's rings! Imagine if there were bacteria living under the ice on Enceladus. If they were launched into space to become part of Saturn's rings, how would we detect them?

Modeling Interior Structure
The density and radius of Earth's Moon closely resembles Jupiter's rocky satellites, Io and Europa, while Ganymede and Callisto are inferred to be icy satellites. The blue color indicates water (liquid or ice), while the gray or brown is rock. ©NASA/JPL
The search on Mars

So far, though, the most intense search for extraterrestrial liquid water has been conducted on Mars. Though our Moon is closest to Earth, human visits in the 1960s showed no water on its surface and a crust that bore no chemical sign of exposure to liquid water. (No liquid besides water would be stable at Martian conditions.
Water ice on Mars' surface sublimes would evaporate very rapidly because of the low pressure of the atmosphere. But the pressure of rock might within the planet might mean that water ice, and even liquid, are present at depth.) Mars is the next easiest Solar System body to get to—and onto—so that's where we're looking hard.

The possibility of life on Mars has long captured the imagination of scientists and the general public. In the late 1800s, for example, Italian astronomers Pietro Secchi and Giovanni Schiaparelli observed channel-like structures on Mars, which led the American astronomer Percival Lowell to hypothesize that these were water-bearing canals. The flames were fanned more recently when a meteorite called ALH 84001, apparently ejected from Mars in an asteroid or meteorite impact, was found in Antarctica in 1996. The rock crystallized about 4 billion years ago, and contains minerals formed by water interacting with the rock. In 1997, it was thought to contain possible fossil evidence of bacterial life—a finding later shown to be erroneous. Nevertheless, the search for life on Mars continues to provoke scientific inquiry and public fascination. ALH 84001was simply a diversion; the truth lies on, or inside, the planet Mars.

The Viking probes—orbiters and landers—made breakthrough observations of Mars in the 1970s. They gathered a wealth of data but didn't find a trace of life or water. Two decades later, in 1997, the Mars Pathfinder mission, with its breadbox-size Sojourner rover, found fields of loose rocks tilted in the same direction like those found on flood plains on Earth. This is circumstantial evidence that water once flowed on the Martian surface, but still nothing to hang your scientific hat on.

Building the Evidence
NASA's Mars Exploration Program continues to find signs of the Red Planet's watery past (from left): One key finding of the Mars Global Surveyor was a massive gully cut into a crater, like the one shown at left, that had appeared between orbits; the Mars Exploration Rover, Opportunity, landed in Eagle Crater; a treasure trove of rocks deposited in shallow water; sphere-like grains of hematite, which form in water. ©NASA
The case for water on Mars has been greatly advanced by the Mars Exploration rovers Spirit and Opportunity, which landed on the Red Planet in January 2004. They observed features (resembling sand or sediments) that we know are gently laid down when water is very shallow. And they detected tiny beads of a mineral called hematite (in so-called "blueberries," though they're not really blue), which commonly forms when iron precipitates from water. When the water settles out and evaporates, iron oxide dissolved in the water forms these little solid concretions.

The results from the landers have been buttressed by high-resolution photographs from spacecraft in orbit around Mars, which show clear-cut evidence of catastrophic flooding and signs of underground water flow. So we now know that at one time there was water—not just water, but liquid water and in large abundance—on the surface of Mars, and that the subsurface may still contain stable liquid water. For a more definitive answer, stay tuned for news from the Mars Phoenix and future missions!

 

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