Forensic geology

I've been interested in rocks since I was a kid.  My dad was a rockhound -- more specifically, a lapidary, who made jewelry from such semiprecious stones as turquoise, agate, and jasper.  The high point of my year was our annual trip to Arizona and New Mexico, when we split our time between searching for cool rocks in the canyons and hills of the southwestern desert and pawing through the offerings of the hundreds of rock shops found throughout the region.

Besides the simple beauty of the rocks themselves, it fascinated me to find out that with many rocks, you could figure out how and when they formed.  A lot of the gem-quality rocks and minerals my dad was looking for -- malachite, azurite, and opal amongst them -- are created by slow precipitation of layers of minerals from supersaturated water; others, such as lapis lazuli, rhodonite, and garnets form when metal-bearing rocks are metamorphosed by contact with magma far underground.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Olga Semiletova, Минералы горных пород, Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license]

Once I found out that the "when" part was also often knowable, through such techniques as radioisotope dating and stratigraphy, it was always with a sense of awe that I held pieces of rock in my hand.  Even around where I live now, where there are few if any of the lovely gem-quality stones you find in the southwest, there's still something kind of mind-boggling about knowing the layers of limestone and shale that form the bedrock here in upstate New York were formed in the warm shallows of a warm ocean during the Devonian Period, on the order of four hundred million years ago.

But if you think that's impressive, wait till you hear about the research out of the University of Johannesburg that was published in the journal Icarus last week.

The research centered around a stone in the desert of western Egypt called Hypatia, given the name by Egyptian geologist Aly Barakat in honor of the brilliant, tragic polymath whose career was cut short when she was brutally murdered by a mob on the orders of Cyril, bishop of Alexandria.  (The aftermath, although infuriating, is typical of the time; Hypatia was largely forgotten, while Cyril went on to be canonized as a saint by the Roman Catholic Church.)  The stone, fittingly considering Hypatia's contributions to astronomy, turns out to be extraterrestrial in origin, later falling as a meteorite to the surface of the Earth.

But "extraterrestrial" is a big place, as it were.  Where exactly did it form?  Chemical tests on the rock found that it didn't match the composition of any known asteroid or comet; then, the mystery deepened when it was found to contain nickel phosphide, which has never been found on any solid material tested in the entire Solar System.

Further tests only made the rock seem more anomalous.  Silicon, second only to oxygen as the most common element in the Earth's crust (a little over 28%, to be exact), was almost absent, as were calcium, chromium, and manganese; on the other hand, there was far more iron, sulfur, phosphorus, copper, and vanadium than you'd expect.  The ratios were far off not only from rocks in our Solar System, they didn't match the composition of interstellar dust, either.

The researchers decided to go at it from the other direction.  Instead of trying to find another sample that matched, they looked at what process would create the element ratios that Hypatia has.  And they found only one candidate that matched.

A type 1a supernova.

Type 1a supernovas occur in binary star systems, when one of the stars is relatively low mass (on the order of the Sun) and ends its life as a super-compact white dwarf star.  White dwarf stars have an upper limit on their mass (specifically about 1.4 times the mass of the Sun) called the Chandrasekhar limit, after Nobel Prize winning astronomer Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar.  The reason is that at the end of a star's life, when the outward pressure caused by the fusion in the core drops to the point that it can't overcome the inward pull of gravity from the star's mass, it begins to collapse until some other force kicks in to oppose it.  In white dwarf stars, this occurs when the mutual repulsion of electrons in the star's constituent atoms counterbalances the pull of gravity.  In stellar remnants more than 1.4 times the mass of the Sun, electrostatic repulsion isn't powerful enough to halt the collapse.  (The other two possibilities, for progressively higher masses, are neutron stars and black holes.)

In binary stars, when one of the members becomes a white dwarf, the gravitational pull of its extremely compact mass begins to siphon material from its companion.  This (obviously) increases the white dwarf's mass.  Once it passes the Chandrasekhar limit, the white dwarf resumes its collapse.  The temperature of the white dwarf skyrockets, and...

... BOOM.

The whole thing blows itself to smithereens.  Fortunately for us, really; a lot of the elements that make up the Solar System were formed in violent events such as the various kinds of supernovas.  But the models of the relatively rare type 1a (only thought to happen once or twice a century in a typical galaxy of a hundred billion stars) generate a distinct set of elements -- and the percent composition of Hypatia matches the prediction perfectly.

So this chunk of rock in the Egyptian desert was created in the cataclysmic self-destruction of a white dwarf star, probably long before the Solar System even formed.  Since then it's been coursing through interstellar space, eventually colliding with our obscure little planet in the outskirts of the Milky Way.

When I was twelve, holding a piece of billion-year-old limestone from the Grand Canyon, little did I realize how much more amazing such origin stories could get.

I think the real Hypatia would have been fascinated.

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Dogma vs. science vs. history

I don't, for the most part, frequent religious blogs and websites.  As I've mentioned before, the majority of religious writers are starting from a stance so completely opposite from mine that there is barely any common ground on which even to have a productive argument.  So I generally only address religious issues when they either stray into the realm of science (as with the conflict over evolution), or when they begin to intrude on social or political realms (such as Dana Perino's claim earlier this year that atheists should leave the United States).  Otherwise, the religious folks can entertain themselves all they like about the meaning of scripture and the nature of god, and I'll happily entertain myself with the equally reality-based discussions about Bigfoot and aliens.

But just a couple of days ago, Catholic blogger Stacy Trascanos came out with a claim that is so bizarre that I felt like I had to respond to it.  In her piece entitled, "Without Dogma, Science is Lost," Trascanos makes the rather mindboggling claim that not only does science owe its origins to religion, science needs religion today -- as a fact-checker:

People also wrongly assume that dogma restricts science too much.  On the contrary, divine revelation nurtured and guarded a realistic outlook in Old Testament cultures, in early Christianity, and in the Middle Ages.  This Trinitarian and Incarnational worldview was, and still is, different from any pantheism or other monotheism, and it provided the “cultural womb” needed to nurture the “birth” of science...

To do science well, a working knowledge of Catholic dogma is necessary.  To know what directly contradicts the dogmas of revealed religion and to make such distinctions guides the scientist.  The accomplishments of the medieval Catholic scholars demonstrate this abundantly. You’ve heard the axiom, “Truth cannot contradict truth.” The Scientific Revolution is evidence of it...  (S)cience needs to be guided by faith, and that the Catholic Church has a legitimate right and authority to veto scientific conclusions that directly contradict her dogma.  This is not about the Church being against science, but about the Church being a guardian of truth.

I probably wouldn't have been as shocked as I was by all of this if I hadn't read Trascanos's bio at the bottom of the page, in which she says she has a Ph.D. in chemistry.  So these aren't the rantings of someone who has never studied science; Trascanos herself is a trained scientist, who gave up a career as a research chemist to pursue an M.A. in theology.

But a deeper problem with all of this is that she's simply factually incorrect.  Rationalism, and the scientific method it gave birth to, started with people like Anaxagoras and Democritus and Thales, long before Christianity began.  The idea that we could find out about the laws of nature by studying lowly matter was profoundly repulsive to early church fathers, who by and large took the mystical approach -- also, interestingly, launched prior to Christianity, by people like Pythagoras -- that the road to knowledge came from simply thinking, not experimentation.  (The desperation of medieval astronomers to make planetary orbits conform to perfect circles and the "five Platonic solids" comes largely from this approach.)

And as far as Christianity's acceptance of, and nurturing of, science, you only have to look at the story of Hypatia to realize what a crock that is.  Hypatia was a philosopher, teacher, mathematician, and astronomer in 4th century Egypt, who ran afoul of Bishop Cyril of Alexandria for her "ungodly teachings."  On his orders, she was kidnapped on the way home from the Library of Alexandria, and was cut to pieces with sharpened roof tiles.  Her body was burned.

Cyril went on to be canonized.

The problem, of course, is one we've encountered before; science and religion approach knowledge two completely incompatible ways.  Science bases its understanding on evidence; if new evidence arises, the understanding must change.  Religion, by and large (although there are some exceptions), bases its knowledge on revelation and inward reflection, not to mention authority.  Change in scientific understand can occur at lightning speed; change in religious understanding is slow, and frequently met with much resistance from adherents.  As Trascanos said, "...divine revelation nurtured and guarded a realistic outlook in Old Testament cultures, in early Christianity, and in the Middle Ages."  I would argue that because of this, self-correction seldom occurs in religion, because any alteration in belief is much more likely to be looked upon by the powers-that-be as an error of faith.

But the bottom line is, Trascanos is right about one thing; if science and religion come into conflict, there is no reconciliation possible.  You have to choose one or the other, because their decision-making protocols are inherently incompatible.  Trascanos, despite her scientific training, has chosen religion -- a decision I find frankly baffling, given the fact that science's track record in uncovering the truth is pretty unbeatable.

Still, I'm left with feeling like I still don't quite get how an obviously well-educated person as Trascanos can make claims that are so clearly counterfactual.  The thesis she so passionately defends is contradicted not only by history, but by science itself -- given the number of unscientific stances that were once considered "revealed truth" by the church, and which have since been abandoned.  (The whole heliocentric/geocentric argument is so well-known as to be a cliché; but check out this article, which attributes much of Galileo's troubles with the Vatican as coming from his stance on the existence of atoms [they exist] and his explanation of why things float in water [low density].) 

But all other considerations aside, we're back to the condition of agree-to-disagree.  However Trascanos wants to try to reconcile science with religion, she has arrived at the appropriate conclusion of falling on one side of the fence or the other.  It's just that she's chosen a different side than I have (actually, I tend to think that the other side of the fence doesn't exist, but that's an argument for a different day).  And now, I really will leave behind the shaky ground of religion and philosophy, and return to my happy place, populated by Bigfoot and aliens.

To each his own, I suppose.