The ideologue

I told myself that I wasn't going to do another political post so soon after Tuesday's, but dammit, my good intentions got blasted to smithereens by Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Gage Skidmore from Surprise, AZ, United States of America, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. (53427511876) (cropped), CC BY-SA 2.0]

Let me open by stating my bias up front.  My considered opinion, as a 32-year veteran science teacher with fifteen years of experience writing on science-related topics, is that RFK is a certifiable lunatic.  He combines the worst of the alt-med nonsense -- the kinds of things promoted by Mike "The Health Ranger" Adams and Vani "Food Babe" Hari -- with outlandish and debunked conspiracy theories, then dishes it all up as if it was peer-reviewed science.  Here are the three stories that destroyed my resolve to stay away from politics for at least a few days:

• In a town hall moderated by "Dr. Phil," he was asked by an audience member what he was planning on doing about "chemtrails."  You probably know that "chemtrails" are a completely discredited conspiracy theory claiming that The Bad Guys are putting stuff into jet fuel -- the "stuff" varies from heavy metals to radioactive isotopes to pathogens like anthrax -- so that when the exhaust is released into the upper atmosphere, it settles down on all of us and poisons us.  Notwithstanding that this has to be the absolute stupidest idea for a poison-delivery method I've ever heard of, it's been studied (I can only imagine the eye-rolling done by the scientists assigned to the research), and... nothing.  Contrails are almost entirely water vapor, with small amounts of soot from incomplete burning of jet fuel.  That's it.  But did RFK say that?  Of course not.  He's all in on chemtrails.  "It’s done, we think, by DARPA [the Defense Advance Research Projects Agency]," he said.  "And a lot of it now is coming out of the jet fuel -- so those materials are put in jet fuel.  I’m going to do everything in my power to stop it.  We’re bringing on somebody who’s going to think only about that, find out who’s doing it, and holding them accountable."

• An article in Ars Technica provides evidence -- in the form of RFK's own words -- that he doubts the basis of the medical science of infectious disease, the "Germ Theory of Disease."  Which claims that many diseases are (1) caused by pathogenic viruses, bacteria, fungi, or protists, and are therefore (2) communicable.  You'd think this'd be beyond question by this point, right?  Wrong.  RFK believes that any disease involving a pathogen is caused by having a weakened immune system -- i.e., all pathogens are opportunistic.  Get enough clean water, food, air, and sunlight, and you'll never get sick.  This is the basis of his anti-vaxx stance; if you live right, you shouldn't need 'em.  If this was a rational stance -- which it is not -- I'd ask him why, then, did childhood death rates go down so dramatically during the 1950s and 1960s, when mandatory vaccination programs against diseases like measles, mumps, rubella, diphtheria, tetanus, pertussis, and polio were instituted?  Did all the kids suddenly start eating right, or something?

• He stated outright that it was reasonable that religious people would shun the MMR vaccine, because it contains "aborted fetus debris."  Needless to say, this is untrue.  Vaccines against viral diseases are cultured in cell lines grown in labs, not in aborted fetuses.  If this were true, it'd be kind of funny that some of the most anti-abortion people around -- the leaders of the Catholic Church -- have no problem with vaccines, and in fact, strongly recommend that children get all of the critical childhood vaccines on the schedule recommended by most doctors.

Look, it's not that I'm against the idea that we need good food and clean air and water.  I'm also well aware that Big Pharma has a lot to answer for in how it produces, vets, and prices drugs.  But going from there to something I saw posted on social media a couple of days ago -- a 32-point-font banner saying, "BIG PHARMA HAS NEVER CURED A SINGLE ILLNESS!" is blatant idiocy.  To give just one example, a friend of mine, who was diagnosed with leukemia at age eighteen and is now a happy and healthy young woman in her late twenties, would not be alive today without the chemotherapy developed and produced by "Big Pharma."  

But under RFK, cancer research -- and also research into Alzheimer's, multiple sclerosis, ALS, Parkinson's, and most recently, Ebola fever -- has been defunded in favor of spurious projects to "stop chemtrails" and "look into the connection between vaccines and autism."  (tl;dr: There isn't one.)

In short, RFK is a dangerous ideologue who shouldn't be allowed within hailing distance of our national health policy.  His continued occupation of the position of Secretary of Health and Human Services is going to result in irreparable damage to the American health care system.

But a man like him is never going to step down, because he can't conceive of the possibility that he could be wrong.  An attitude which, of course, is endemic in our government right now.

I wonder how many people will have to die before anyone will step in and fire him?

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Glitch report

A loyal reader of Skeptophilia sent me a YouTube link with the message, "Okay, so what do you make of this?"

It turned out to be a video from a channel called The Mysteria Archive titled, "The Reality Glitch: People Are Waking Up in the Wrong Timeline."  In it, we hear about folks who had the sudden sense -- often just after waking -- that everything was subtly changed.  Nothing quite looks or feels right.  Sometimes it's just an intangible feeling; other times minor details, like the color of a piece of furniture, the title of a book on the shelf, the brand of coffee you'd purchased, are different from what you remember.

In some cases, though, it's not minor.  In a story that got enough traction that (according to the video) it ended up in Newsweek in July of 2023, a woman decided to return after many years to take a look at her childhood home in northern New Jersey.  When she arrived -- although she recognized the street and the rest of the neighborhood -- the house at the address was completely different from the home she'd grown up in.  Neighbors insisted the house had been there for years, and that there'd never been the two-story colonial-style home there that she remembered; additionally, none of them knew of a family with her last name that had ever lived in the neighborhood.  Shaken, she returned home, and after some online research confirmed that the unfamiliar house now standing at her childhood address had been there for decades.

In another strange account, this one that ended up in Medium, an Australian woman named Elsie Harven was detoured by construction on her way to work in Sydney, and passed an office building with a sign saying "Bellridge Solutions."  She distinctly recalled having worked there as an intern when she was in college -- but when she checked her résumé later, she could find no mention of it.  Friends who knew her at the time had no memory of her having worked there, either.  Understandably freaked out, she decided to return to the building the following week to see if they had record of her -- only to find that the sign saying "Bellridge Solutions" was gone, and the building she'd seen was now completely empty.

Very weird.  Kind of a more personalized version of the Mandela Effect, is how I think of it.

So the narrator then goes into the possibility of it being a side-slip into another timeline -- the old "rip in the spacetime continuum" thing that was the genesis of at least two dozen plot twists in Star Trek alone.  He does admit that human memory is remarkably plastic, but seems convinced that this isn't enough to explain all the hundreds of such accounts there are out there.  The most likely explanation, he says, is that there was a glitch in the Matrix -- the software running the simulation we're all in has developed minor inconsistencies that every once in a while become apparent to someone.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons courtesy of creator Jamie Zawinski]

I have to admit that I've had similar experiences myself.  Nothing so dramatic as finding a different house at my childhood address or having an entire office building more or less erased, of course.  More like feeling things are surreal, like what I'm looking at "isn't quite right."  Not better or worse; just different, as if someone had subtly altered everything while I wasn't looking.  I tried to capture the feeling of this experience in my novel The Accidental Magician:

After hanging up, Carla sat looking out of the sliding glass door into her sheltered back yard, the shadows lengthening as twilight approached.  It all looked so normal.

But things felt off.  It was like those drawings she’d seen in kids’ magazines growing up, the ones labeled, Find twelve things wrong with this picture!  On a glance, everything is as it should be—a brother and a sister in a traditional-looking kitchen, a mom bringing them plates with sandwiches.  But then you looked closer, and the numbers on the clock dial are backwards, the mom is wearing swim fins, the milk-filled glasses on the table are upside down, the cat sitting in the corner is reading a book.

Even as a child, Carla felt a vague sense of unease about those, although they were only drawings.  The problem was that the people in them always seemed completely unaware of the fact that the world around them had gone mad.  Or maybe—they knew.  They knew, and wanted it that way.  The mom wore a reassuring smile, as if to say, No, dear, of course this is normal!  Don’t you know that?  Everything’s fine.  Just eat your sandwich and stop worrying.

So I won't deny the sensation is disorienting and unpleasant.  But what, exactly, is going on here?

I suppose it's unsurprising that I'm inclined to discount the "slipped into a different timeline" response.  This refers, of course, to the famous "Many-Worlds Interpretation" of quantum physics, which attempts to explain the baffling "collapse of the wave function" phenomenon -- the fact that a particle is in a superposition of probabilities until it's observed -- by positing that every possible outcome for the collapse happens, only in different timelines.  The thing is, though, those timelines afterward become completely isolated from one another; Geordi LaForge notwithstanding, it doesn't appear to be possible to jump into a different timeline (more's the pity for most of us here in the United States, who seem to have had our wave function collapsed into the stupidest, cruelest, and greediest timeline imaginable).

The other explanation he offers is the computer simulation one, and to me that's at least marginally more plausible.  Some of these occurrences do have the feel of an elaborate computer game glitching.  But "it feels similar" is light years away from any kind of rigorous scientific explanation.

The most parsimonious explanation is that it's a brain phenomenon.  Most of us remember the past poorly and incompletely, while simultaneously believing that our memories are one hundred percent reliable (and therefore, that anyone who remembers differently is just plain wrong).  I have to admit that remembering your childhood address -- and the rest of the neighborhood -- and having a different house show up there is a pretty major glitch, but it seems like there should be some way to cross-check more deeply than the woman in New Jersey did.  Surely she had to have some record of her address, photographs of her home, school records, something.

Isn't it easier to believe she'd done something like transposed two digits in the address than the entirety of reality being a glitchy computer simulation?

Now, mind you, this isn't a rigorous proof either.  I'm not saying the simulation explanation is impossible, just that the evidence we have doesn't get anywhere near the standard required by science.  At the moment, it's a weird, surreal phenomenon that happens to people sometimes, and that's kind of where we have to leave it.

On the other hand, if we are in a computer simulation, can we have something positive come out of it?  No Agent Smith or evil tracking devices being inserted into Keanu Reeves's navel, nothing like that.  But a targeted lightning strike on a golf course near Mar-a-Lago?

I'd happily reconsider my stance.

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The safety net

In yet another pointless, heartless, and cruel move by the Trump administration, a budget proposal includes a directive by the Department of Health and Human Services to cut funding for a suicide hotline for LGBTQ+ youth.

Let's put this in perspective.  Forty percent of LGBTQ+ teenagers surveyed said they'd considered suicide within the last year.  One in ten attempted it.  This is four times higher than for straight teens (and those lower rates are disturbing enough).  But how, exactly, are these numbers shocking to anyone?  We have a government passing laws right and left specifically to deny rights to queer people.  There is a vocal minority of Americans who advocate making same-sex relationships illegal; one (Pastor Dillon Awes) gained national notoriety for saying that gays should be "lined up and shot."  Less overtly violent, but more pervasive, are strategies like the ones in multiple states to remove library books about the queer experience, or even fiction with queer characters.

Pastor Awes wants to kill us; but I'm not sure how much better the people are who simply want us erased.  That queer youth are feeling hopeless about the situation they're facing is hardly a surprise.

But let me be completely clear, here.  You people who still support Trump and his cronies -- you no longer have the right to call yourselves "pro-life."  What you are is pro-birth, because you don't seem to give a flying rat's ass what happens to kids after they're born.  What, do a person's rights begin at conception and end at birth?  Oh, to be fair, if they're the babies of straight white wealthy Christian conservatives, you're just thrilled to pieces.  But anyone else?  You've advocated reducing or eliminating SNAP benefits to feed low-income children.  You've voted to cut Head Start, which gives underprivileged children better access to early education.  This government's ICE thugs deported three children who had birthright citizenship (which, allow me to point out, is guaranteed by the 14th Amendment to the Constitution), including one with stage 4 cancer.  And as far as the proposed elimination of support for LGBTQ+ teenagers -- well, let me put it this way.

You fucking frightened little MAGA types, we are not trying to turn straight kids into queer kids.  We're trying to make sure queer kids don't turn into dead kids.

But deep inside, you know that, don't you?  You know queerness isn't a choice, because when you hit puberty, you didn't sit down and "choose to be straight."  Your support for this kind of government is based on hate, pure and simple.  So I misspoke earlier; Trump's elimination of a suicide hotline for queer youth isn't pointless.

The cruelty is the point.

[Image courtesy of the Creative Commons Benson Kua, Rainbow flag breeze, CC BY-SA 2.0]

Allow me to get personal, here.  I was one of those queer kids who almost did turn into a dead kid.  Twice.  I attempted suicide when I was 17, and again when I was 20.  There was no safety net for me, and I came damn close to succeeding.  My mom felt like the appropriate thing to do was ignore it.  Her take on things was a dismissive, "What do you have to be sad about?"  It was never talked about; to my knowledge, no one besides her and my dad ever knew about it.  Both times were during summer, so there weren't even missed school days to red-flag anyone.

But if I hadn't gotten scared, and had taken the whole bottle of sleeping pills rather than just a handful, I wouldn't be here right now.

My depression, and my suicide attempts, were not solely about being a closeted queer kid in a place and time where coming out would have put my safety at significant risk.  My childhood, looked at from the outside, seemed pretty placid, but from the inside... well, let's just say that depressed people are chameleons, and so are emotional abusers.  I never felt safe, not for a single moment, neither at home nor at school.  And when I hit those catastrophic downward-spiral points at 17 and 20, I felt like I just wanted out, permanently, whatever it took.

If I had had someone I could have trusted to reach out to -- a counselor, a sympathetic adult, someone on the other end of a hotline -- my life would have played out very, very differently.  I might not have come so very close to ending it.

And the fact that Trump and his cronies want to pull that safety net away from this generation of queer young people is cruelty for cruelty's sake.

So Trump supporters: don't you ever, ever in my presence call yourselves "pro-life" again.  Not until you disavow the vicious and ugly attacks this administration is making against the most vulnerable of us.  Maybe you should revisit the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 25, in that book you profess to care so much about:  "Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?  When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?  When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'  The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'"

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Hands off

When I was about thirty years old, I stumbled upon a copy of American anthropologist Tobias Schneebaum's 1969 memoir Keep the River on Your Right.

It's gripping reading.  It recounts when Schneebaum, himself around thirty at the time, made his way down to Peru on a Fulbright Scholarship, looking for uncontacted tribes to study.  He was staying in a village in southern Peru when he spoke to one of the village leaders about his quest.  The leader basically told Schneebaum, "Yeah, you go into the jungle, they're there."

Schneebaum asked, so how could he find these people?

The elder replied, "Go into the jungle, keep walking, keep the river on your right.  They'll find you."

So Schneebaum did.

He was gone, and completely incommunicado, for almost two years; his family and friends presumed his death.  But then he showed back up, stark naked, wearing body paint.  He'd essentially gone native.  Keep the River on Your Right describes his time amongst the Harakmbut people, who speak a linguistic isolate -- a language that seems to be unrelated to any other known language -- and with whom he'd been accepted, even participating in their sexual ceremonies and ritual cannibalism.

Schneebaum received some criticism for what amounts to a major violation of the Prime Directive.  Although his memoir is fascinating, it brings up an interesting question.  Sure, people have rights (or should -- actions being taken by the United States government lately are making it terrifyingly clear that not everyone believes this).  But do cultures have rights?  Schneebaum didn't give the Harakmbut people a choice, he sort of just showed up one day.  The cultural knowledge certainly flowed both directions.  Did he violate the culture's rights by contaminating it with our own?

Of course, if the answer is yes, it brings up the followup question of how you determine what cultural contact is allowable.  Even having the Harakmbut see him changed them; they now know there are other people out there, who don't look, speak, or behave like they do.  It reminds me of the poignant and thought-provoking episode of Star Trek:The Next Generation called "Who Watches the Watchers?", where the crew of the Enterprise is forced to intervene when a hidden anthropological outpost on Mintaka III is accidentally discovered by the planet's natives -- who then decide Picard and his crew must be gods.

There are still a number of more-or-less uncontacted groups right here on Earth.  The most famous are the Sentinelese, who live on North Sentinel Island in the Andaman Island chain, nominally under the jurisdiction of India.  But the Indian government has made it illegal to contact the Sentinelese, or even to land on their island.  Not that prosecution is likely -- the last one who tried, 26-year-old American missionary John Allen Chau, landed on North Sentinel Island in 2018 with the intent of converting the Sentinelese to Christianity, and was promptly handed over to God himself by the expedient of an arrow through the chest.

North Sentinel Island from the air [Image is in the Public Domain]

We don't know much about the Sentinelese.  There are thought to be somewhere between thirty and five hundred of them, but the thick jungle of their home island makes any kind of estimate from the air difficult at best.  The scanty contact they've had with inhabitants of the other Andaman Islands has shown that the languages of the two nearest islands in the chain, Jarawa and Önge, are mutually unintelligible.  It's presumed that Sentinelese must be related to the other languages in the island chain -- and so belong to the Ongan language family, itself an isolate group -- but without any real data to go by, this is just a guess.

So we're left with a mystery.  Just horning in and hoping for the best, like Schneebaum did with the Harakmbut, is seriously not recommended for the Sentinelese.  And as I asked before, would it be ethical to do so even if it wasn't likely to lead to you getting turned into a pincushion?  History is replete with examples of contact between two cultures of unequal power that have ended up going very badly for all concerned.  Colonialism rightly occupies a horrible spot in the chronicles of humanity.  The Indian government -- wisely, in my opinion -- decided that the Sentinelese's right to self-determination superseded any considerations of curiosity, scientific study, missionary zeal, or even a desire to help.

And that's where we have to leave it.  There are people whose existence as a living culture would be threatened by our attempts to come in and "improve" things.  We here in the technological, industrialized West have done immeasurable damage by our arrogant assumption that the way we do things is the best, and of course everyone would be better off if they just acquiesced and did it our way, too.

Sometimes the best you can do is to keep your mouth shut and your hands off.

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Building the Rockies

I recently re-read John McPhee's wonderful quartet of books on geology, Basin and Range, Rising from the Plains, In Suspect Terrain, and Assembling California.  His lucid prose and capacity for focusing on the human stories connected with the subject while teaching us some fascinating science brought me back to these books, which I first read perhaps twenty-five years ago.

The first two, in particular, describe something that is quite surprising -- or at least was to me when I first learned about it.  The biggest mountain range in the United States, the Rockies, is actually quite poorly understood, and contains some features that are still yet to be satisfactorily explained.  A good part of the Rocky Mountain range is non-volcanic, and although there are some areas that have igneous rocks the vast majority is made up of sedimentary and metamorphosed sedimentary rock -- sandstone, limestone, shale, slate, quartzite, and marble.  Even some of the igneous rocks only show at the surface because the overlayment of sedimentary rock that once was present has eroded away.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Self, Rocky Mountain National Park, CC BY-SA 2.5]

As McPhee describes it, the current thought is that most of what is west of Colorado and Wyoming is probably the result of accretion -- the huge North American Plate overriding smaller plates to the west and gathering up microcontinents and island arcs they carried, cementing them onto the coastline.  It's certain that this is how California formed -- the boundaries between the different "suspect terranes" (the alternate spelling is used when referring to these chunks of land that end up in a very different place from where they were formed) are pretty well established.  Also, the subduction process that brought them to North America is still ongoing, as the small Explorer, Juan de Fuca, and Gorda Plates (in order from north to south) are pulled underneath -- giving rise to the Cascade Volcanoes such as Mount Lassen, Mount Hood, Mount Rainier, and Mount Saint Helens.

We got another piece added to the puzzle with a paper in Nature, out of the University of Alberta, by Yunfeng Chen, Yu Jeffrey Gu, Claire A. Currie, Stephen T. Johnston, Shu-Huei Hung, Andrew J. Schaeffer, and Pascal Audet.  Entitled, "Seismic Evidence for a Mantle Suture and Implications for the Origin of the Canadian Cordillera," the paper describes research that found a sharp boundary in the mantle of the Earth between the "craton" -- the central, oldest piece of the North American continent, encompassing what is now the Midwest -- and a long, narrow microcontinent that slammed into the North American Plate as a primordial sea closed -- moving the coastline hundreds of miles further west.

"This research provides new evidence that the Canadian section of this mountain range was formed by two continents colliding," said Jeffrey Gu, professor in the Department of Physics and co-author on the study, in an interview with Science Daily.  "The proposed mechanism for mountain building may not apply to other parts of the Rocky Mountains due to highly variable boundary geometries and characteristics from north to south."

The cool part is that the research was done by looking deep into the Earth's mantle -- not just by studying the surface features.  And this collision, which is estimated to have occurred a hundred million years ago, has left a scar that is still detectable.  "This study highlights how deep Earth images from geophysical methods can help us to understand the evolution of mountains, one of the most magnificent processes of plate tectonics observed at the Earth's surface," said study co-author Yunfeng Chen.

And this technique could be applied elsewhere, as the Rockies are far from the only mountain range in the world that were created by accretion rather than volcanism.  (The obvious examples are the Alps and the Himalayas -- the latter of which are still rising as the Indian Plate continues to plow into the Eurasian Plate.)  "There are other mountain belts around the world where a similar model may apply," said Claire Currie, associate professor of physics and co-author on the study.  "Our data could be important for understanding mountain belts elsewhere, as well as building our understanding of the evolution of western North America."

So we're piecing together the picture of how the Rockies formed -- ironic, as they seem to have been assembled from pieces themselves.  In the process, we're learning more about the processes that move the tectonic plates, and create the landscape we see around us.  It reminds me of the haunting lines from Alfred, Lord Tennyson, which seem like a fitting way to end:

There rolls the deep where grew the tree.
O Earth, what changes hast thou seen?
There where the long road roars has been
The stillness of the central sea.
The hills are shadows, and they flow
From form to form, and nothing stands,
They melt like mists, the solid lands,
Like clouds, they shape themselves, and go.

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Down in flames

The more exoplanets we find, the more they challenge our notion of how planets should be.

For the many of us who grew up watching Star Trek and Lost in Space and Doctor Who, it's understandable that we picture planets around other stars as being pretty much like the ones we have here in our own Solar System -- either small and rocky like the Earth, or gas giants like Jupiter and Saturn.

The truth is, there is a far greater variety of exoplanets than we ever could have dreamed of, and every new one we find holds some sort of surprise.  Some of the odder ones are:

• TrES-2b, which holds the record as the least-reflective planet yet discovered.  It's darker than a charcoal briquet.  This led some people to conclude that it's made of dark matter, something I dealt with here at Skeptophilia a while back.  (tl:dr -- it's not.)
• CoRoT-7b, one of the hottest exoplanets known.  Its composition and size are thought to be fairly Earth-like, but it orbits its star so closely that it has a twenty-day orbital period and surface temperatures around 3000 C.  This means that it is likely to be completely liquid, and experience rain made of molten iron and magnesium.
• 55 Cancri e, nicknamed the "diamond planet."  Another "hot super-Earth," this one is thought to be carbon rich, and that because of the heat and pressure, much of the carbon could be in the form of diamonds.  (Don't tell Dr. Smith.)
• PSR J1719−1438, a planet orbiting a pulsar (the collapsed, rapidly rotating core of a giant star).  It has one of the fastest rates of revolution of any orbiting object known, circling its host star in only 2.17 hours.
• V1400 Centauri, a planet with rings that are two hundred times wider than the rings of Saturn.  In fact, they dwarf the planet itself -- the whole thing looks a bit like a pea in the middle of a dinner plate.

We now have a new one to add to the list -- BD+05 4868 Ab, in the constellation of Pegasus.  Only 140 light years away, this exoplanet is orbiting so close to its parent star -- twenty times closer than Mercury is to the Sun -- that its year is only 30.5 hours long.  This proximity roasts the surface, melting and then vaporizing the rock it's made of.  That material is then blasted off the surface by the stellar wind.

So BD+05 4868 Ab is literally evaporating, and leaving a long, comet-like tail in its wake.

The estimate is that each time it orbits, it loses a Mount Everest's worth of rock from its surface.  It's not a large world already, and the researchers say it is on track to disintegrate completely in under two million years.

"The extent of the tail is gargantuan, stretching up to nine million kilometers long, or roughly half of the planet's entire orbit," said Marc Hon of MIT, who co-authored a paper on the planet, which appeared this week in Astrophysical Journal Letters.  "The shape of the transit is typical of a comet with a long tail,.  Except that it's unlikely that this tail contains volatile gases and ice as expected from a real comet -- these would not survive long at such close proximity to the host star.  Mineral grains evaporated from the planetary surface, however, can linger long enough to present such a distinctive tail."

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Marc Hon et al. 2025, submitted to AAS Journals, BD+05 4868Ab simulation dust cloud (Figure 12), CC BY 4.0]

So we have a new one to add to the weird exoplanet list -- a comet-like planet in the process of going down in flames.  Not a place you'd want to beam your away team to, but fascinating anyhow.

Makes me wonder what the next bizarre find is going to be.  The universe is like that, isn't it?  We think we have it figured out, then it turns around and astonishes us.

I, for one, think that is fantastic.

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The origins of Carthage

You probably know the story of Carthage, the city in ancient Tunisia that gave its name to a sprawling empire that at its height ran along the Mediterranean coast from southern Spain to northern Egypt.  Carthage's power and influence brought it into conflict over territory and resources with the Roman Republic, resulting in the three Punic Wars, fought between 264 and 146 B.C.E.  At the beginning of the Third Punic War, the Roman statesman Cato the Elder spoke the famous phrase Carthago delenda est on the floor of the Senate, and the Roman military obliged.  Carthage was obliterated, although the whole "plowed under with salt" is a nineteenth-century invention.

The Romans were hardly stupid enough to ruin arable land when they could just kill or enslave the inhabitants and take the place over for their own.

In an amusing "better late than never" postscript, the mayors of Rome and Tunis (Ugo Vetere and Chedli Klibi, respectively) signed a formal peace treaty ending the Punic Wars on February 5, 1985, 2,131 years after the final battle was fought.

The Carthaginian culture, language, and religion were all Phoenician in origin; the Phoenicians were a seagoing people who originated in what is now Lebanon and Syria.  Even the name Carthage is an anglicization of the Phoenician qrt-ḥdšt, "new city."  The most renowned Carthaginian, the general Hannibal -- the guy who famously invaded Italy and brought along some elephants -- was named Ḥanībaʿl in his language, meaning "by the grace of Ba'al."  (Yes, Ba'al -- the Canaanite god mentioned in the Bible as a Very Bad Dude, and whose name is a cognate to the first half of the name of the demon Beelzebub.)

A marble bust of Hannibal [Image is in the Public Domain]

So the Carthaginians were culturally Phoenician.  But what's curious is that a study published this week in the journal Nature describes research showing that the Carthaginian people weren't related to the Phoenicians at all -- they are much more closely related to Sicilians, Greeks, and the people of the Balearic Islands.

A team from the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology, led by population geneticist Harald Ringbauer, analyzed the remains of two hundred people recovered from archaeological sites scattered around the Carthaginian world, and found that the only ones who were related to the Semitic Phoenicians and Canaanites were the ones who were actually in the Middle East.  DNA from people in North Africa, Sardinia, Corsica, Sicily, and Spain, while buried according to Carthaginian customs (and often with artifacts featuring the Punic script) was much more similar to the other, presumably non-Carthaginian inhabitants of ancient Greece, Italy, and Spain than it was to that of the Middle Easterners whose culture and language they shared.

The Phoenicians, apparently, were a culture of integration and assimilation, not replacement.  But the degree to which the Carthaginian and Phoenician DNA differed was a surprise even to the researchers.  “How can there be such a disconnect?” Ringbauer said.  “Does this mean Phoenician culture was like a franchise that others could adopt?  That’s one for the archaeologists.”

Of course, that tactic was familiar to their bitter enemies the Romans.  Look at how Rome handled France.  The Celtic Gauls who were in control of most of what is now France were conquered by the superior Roman military might, and after the fighting was over, those Gaulish groups who were content to let the Romans run things (and, of course, pay tribute) were largely allowed to continue to manage their own affairs.  (The ones who objected, of course, were dealt with just as harshly as were the Carthaginians.)  This is why the French people today are genetically largely Celtic and Germanic, but speak a language descended from Latin.  (My own ancestry -- on my father's side from the French Alps, and on my mother's from a swath of western France from Bordeaux up into Brittany -- is, according to a DNA test, largely Gaulish in origin.  Must be why I've always loved Asterix.)

All this is why you have to be careful not to conflate culture with ethnic origin.  It's also why the concept of race is not nearly as cut-and-dried as most people think it is.  Not only are just about all of us ethnic mixtures, our own cultures are amalgams.  Not only can genetically unrelated groups share a culture, but most of the traits we think of as markers for race (such as skin and eye color, hair texture, and so on) are due to a handful of genes that happen to characterize particular groups, and overlook the fact that even very different-looking human groups share well over 99% of their DNA.

Like it or not, we're all cousins.  Me, I love that.  Anything that allows me to give an enthusiastic middle finger to the racists is okay by me.

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