Starry Messenger - Book Summary

Discover a new, cosmic take on life's dilemmas

We've all heard the saying - people are tired of experts. That sentiment, recently expressed by British politician Michael Gove, seems to favor emotion over intellect, instinct over empirical evidence.

Many argue that such an approach to politics invites chaos rather than order. Yet it cannot be denied that it mirrors the current state of our society - an era characterized by intense partisan divide and incendiary cultural conflicts. Rational discourse seems to be retreating into the shadows, replaced by emotionally charged altercations.

In the midst of the anti-expert sentiment, a counterwave has emerged — a group advocating for the return of experts, suggesting we bypass our convoluted disagreements and leave decisions in the hands of the level-headed rationalists.

However, renowned Astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson posits a different perspective. He agrees that science alone cannot substitute politics — after all, functional democratic societies inevitably engage in fundamental value debates. Nevertheless, he staunchly believes that science has a critical role to play in these debates.

Tyson's contribution is not about prescribing solutions but about facilitating more enlightened discussions. He presents an approach he dubs "the cosmic perspective" — essentially, viewing our Earthly problems from a broader vantage point.

As we delve into Tyson's "Starry Messenger", we'll discover how this perspective not only equips us with better problem-solving strategies, but also fosters a heightened sense of unity.

Unravel the cosmic perspective: A journey through exploration

The term "cosmos" envelopes every molecule in the universe — an astronomical number of galaxies dispersed over ten billion light years. Looking at life through this expansive lens, which we'll term the "cosmic perspective," can be an overwhelming thought. But let's kick off this exploration with a more manageable concept. We'll circle back to the cosmos soon. But for now, let's travel 30,000 years back in time.

Envision a cluster of our ancient, cave-dwelling ancestors huddled around a fire. Their "universe" is miniscule. Their cognitive map stretches out no further than a dozen or so square miles surrounding their cave. Beyond that boundary lurks the unknown. Some might perceive it as an empty void, while others envision it teeming with fatal threats.

Now, picture a day when a few adventurous cave dwellers seek their elders' approval to journey beyond the known. The elders, venerable due to age and experience, contemplate the pros and cons. Deciding there are more immediate concerns, they postpone exploration. Consequently, the group stays confined to their cave, grappling with its challenges.

Visualize a similar scenario unfolding in a different cave. But this time, the prospective explorers win the argument. Perhaps these elders see further into the future, or maybe they're simply more audacious. Regardless, their decision profoundly alters their existence.

On occasion, you must exit the cave to resolve your cave issues. The unexplored contains elements of risk and danger. Yet, it also presents the prospect of medicinal plants, innovative tools, new food, water, and shelter sources. Most importantly, it unravels new ways of thinking — a concept embraced by many scientists and intrinsically human. American poet T.S. Eliot encapsulated this idea in the following verses:

"We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time."

In essence, exploration is as much about the journey as the destination. When we venture out, we don't just unearth new worlds — we also learn to perceive our known world in unprecedented ways. Neil deGrasse Tyson argues that this is the essence of the cosmic perspective. Adopting this viewpoint means broadening our frames of reference, reframing familiar ideas, and perceiving our starting point in a completely new light. And this, indeed, changes everything.

The lunar voyage that gave us a fresh view of Earth

Let's catapult from our cave-dwelling forefathers to the tumultuous year of 1968.

Cultural and political boundaries were being redefined across the globe. In the United States, civil rights activists reshaped the meaning of citizenship. Students in Prague, Paris, Mexico City, and Tokyo challenged the status quo, dreaming up new utopias. The Beatles' fusion of sitar and Western pop music transformed the music scene, while hippies sought enlightenment in psychedelic substances.

Yet, the most profound exploration of 1968 happened in the realm of science. On December 21, the first manned spacecraft reached the Moon. Apollo 8 orbited the Moon ten times before returning to Earth. During one of those passes, astronaut William Anders snapped the iconic photograph known as Earthrise. If the cosmic perspective could be encapsulated in a picture, this image of Earth rising over the stark lunar landscape would be it.

Reflecting on the Apollo 8 mission half a century later, Anders said their goal was to explore the Moon but ended up discovering Earth. Mike Massimino, an engineer who was part of several Space Shuttle missions, shares this sentiment. In his memoir, "Spaceman," he writes about his first glimpse of Earth from space. Initially, he thought it resembled what heaven must look like from Earth. He soon corrected himself — this is what heaven looks like.

In essence, by venturing into the heavens, we rediscovered our home planet. We journeyed back to our starting point. With Earthrise spreading across the globe, people began seeing Earth in a new light. Factories belching out pollution in Pennsylvania, acid rain destroying Polish forests, and oil-coated beaches in the Niger Delta were no longer local concerns. They emerged as manifestations of a bigger issue plaguing a collective, global ecosystem. We began to understand the environment as a unified entity deserving of universal concern, triggered by the literal and metaphorical act of zooming out.

This shift in perspective sparked a wave of environmental legislation. From 1968 till the final Moon mission in 1973, countries globally implemented laws to control industrial pollution emissions and the use of harmful pesticides like DDT. Organizations dedicated to protecting natural resources and curbing overfishing were established. The United Nations started observing Earth Day, championing global environmental protection.

In theory, this eco-consciousness could have surged earlier. For example, Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, detailing the devastating effects of industrial pesticides, was a best-seller in the US for over 30 weeks between 1962 and 1963. Similarly, four significant reports advocating the banning of DDT were published before the Apollo 8 mission.

Yet, mass environmental awareness didn't take flight until the Apollo missions to the Moon. That is no mere coincidence. It underlines that our concern for the planetary ecosystem bloomed from the seeds of the cosmic perspective.

When Mother Nature laughs at our human assumptions

Picture this scenario: you're away from the comfort of your home, perched on a mountaintop, your stomach growling from hunger. You decide to whip up a simple meal. A pot of boiling water, maybe some spaghetti. But here's a puzzle — why does it take longer to cook the spaghetti up on this mountain than at your sea-level home?

The answer lies in an often-overlooked aspect of our lives — air pressure. Liquids have a boiling temperature that sways with the ups and downs of air pressure. At sea level, water reaches its boiling point at 100 degrees Celsius. Go up 10,000 feet, and this drops to a mere 90 degrees, thanks to the reduced air pressure. The result? Your al dente spaghetti needs extra cooking time. So, here's the takeaway: lower air pressure equals lower boiling point.

But let's push the envelope further. What about cooking pasta on Mars? Setting aside the whole 'you'd suffocate instantly' technicality, the question to ask is: What would be the boiling temperature for water in Martian kitchens?

When you keep lowering air pressure, the boiling point of water eventually dips below its freezing point. This means water would boil at sub-zero temperatures — a state known as the triple point where it exists as a solid, liquid, and gas all at once.

Such intriguing phenomenon is commonplace in places like Mars, proving the cosmic perspective's knack for muddying our commonly held beliefs. It's no wonder that scientists, trained to question such boundaries, revel in this ambiguity. When it comes to cultural and political issues, however, it's a different ball game. For instance, questions surrounding fluidity in sex, gender, and sexual preference have sparked a lot of debate, as they challenge ingrained beliefs and longstanding norms.

But to astrophysicists, the concept of a continuum is practically second nature. Consider the colors of the rainbow. Our culture teaches us to see seven — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. But with a closer look or an expanded color vocabulary, we could identify thousands more. The alternative? Use wavelengths of light to classify colors instead.

Neil deGrasse Tyson sees gender in a similar light — as a cultural construct. In an experiment on a New York City subway, Tyson attempted to categorize his fellow commuters as male or female based purely on their facial features, stripped of adornments like earrings, lipstick, or facial hair. Despite conventional views on masculine and feminine facial features, Tyson found these traits scattered randomly across the faces of his co-commuters. He realized that without socially coded cues, humans were largely androgynous.

Social coding, it seems, is a powerful tool in reinforcing gender norms. Whether it's growing a beard or waxing, wearing clothes from the men's or women's section, or adorning oneself with jewelry or makeup — our gender identity is continuously invested in and performed. Strip away these layers, and you'll find a broad spectrum of physiological traits.

Historically, societal conventions and religious dicta have firmly established the lines of gender identity. Joan of Arc, for instance, was sentenced to death partly because of her insistence on wearing men's clothing. But we have to remember, tradition has been wrong before. Galileo was tried for heresy for asserting that the Earth revolves around the Sun — a claim that we now know as a fundamental truth. The natural world, after all, has a habit of shattering our assumptions. Why should gender be any different?

The grand cosmic lottery and our winning ticket

As we wrap up this journey of exploring our cosmic perspective, let's delve into a big number — an astronomical figure that boggles the mind. That number? It's 10 to the power of 30.

In its expanded form, that's a 1 with a trail of 30 zeros. This figure represents the assortment of viable human beings that our genome can create — an astounding million-trillion-trillion possible humans. To give you a sense of the enormity, consider this: the total count of humans ever born is estimated at about 100 billion. What does that mean? It means we've only explored a minuscule 0.00000000000000001 percent — that's 16 zeros for you — of all the possible human beings that could exist. It's the proverbial needle in the haystack, a drop in the vast ocean.

This is the lens through which we see how rare and improbable our lives truly are.

Every one of us has hit the jackpot in this cosmic lottery, a stroke of luck we might never experience again. Sure, theoretically, if you comb through all the million-trillion-trillion variations possible in the human genome, you might stumble upon another version of you — a perfect twin of sorts. But let's get real: practically speaking, there's only one of us, each unique in our existence.

Isn't it miraculous then, that we get to live on this cosmic anomaly called Earth, gaze at the sprinkling of stars in the night sky, and ponder the mysteries of life?

A grand conclusion

Our insatiable curiosity to understand the universe is essentially a drive to uncover the unknown. This deep-seated yearning propelled our ancestors to traverse vast oceans, and in the last century, it spurred mankind to land on the moon. But no matter how far we ventured, we always found our way back home, bringing with us newfound knowledge that allowed us to perceive our world with fresh eyes.

This is the power of the cosmic perspective: it allows us to look at life on Earth, challenging our preconceived notions and pushing us to transcend the boundaries of our understanding. It paints our civilization in a light so bizarre, yet so profound — reminding us of the sheer miracle of our existence.