The Meteoric Rise of Space Misinformation

 Mike Bodnar highlights why some media science is just astronomically wrong... 

As you can see from the headline of my opening image, someone has captured brilliant photos of Comet Leonard 'streaking' through the night sky. 

And sure, it really does look like it's hurtling through space, what with that long elegant tail streaming out and all. 

But I have to disabuse you of something: comets don't streak, at least not in our skies. They move infinitesimally, incrementally, night after night. (Unless, of course, you're watching Don't Look Up, in which case it's time to kiss your ass goodbye)

Sure, up in space they really are hurtling; Leonard's a fast kinda guy - barrelling along at an estimated 158,084 miles per hour (254,412 km/h or 70.67 km/second), but due to the vast distance between us and Len, we don't see that speed here on Earth. 

Imagine you're in an aircraft at 35,000 feet looking down on a desert highway below. You can see a vehicle. It doesn't appear to be moving, well maybe not much. But now imagine you're a hitch-hiker standing on the side of that same road. The car approaches and suddenly zooms past you, doing, let's say, 90 miles per hour. Whoa, that's fast! It just blew the cardboard hitch-hiking sign out of your hand! And they didn't stop! 

Unfortunately, the media tends to use words like 'streak,' 'zoom,' and 'shoot' when referring to comets, which - for those who've perhaps never seen a comet before - raises expectations of some sort of spectacle where the celestial object is going to put on a display you'd expect to see at a fireworks event.

Don't get me wrong - comets can definitely be spectacular, but we've had only nine significant comets - that is, comets visible to the naked eye during daytime - in the past 300 years or so. 

Comet McNaught. Image: Mike Bodnar

One of the more recent was Comet McNaught, named after the Australian astronomer who discovered it, and which could be seen in 2007. 

Visible mainly from the southern hemisphere, some reported they saw it in daylight, but from where I was at the time - in Wellington, New Zealand - it required a keen eye and a dark sky without light pollution just after sunset to see it at all. But I did, just - see the pic and play Spot the Comet.

Which brings us to one of astronomy's biggest enemies: light pollution. Too many journalists rave that a comet 'can be seen' in a particular part of the sky without mentioning that if you live in a city you're unlikely to see anything at all due to light pollution. Some comets are so faint you need truly dark skies, such as those in Northumbria, a designated 'dark sky area,' to see anything.

And before we leave comets, may I just touch on the tail? A comet's tail develops more as it gets closer to the sun, due to the sun's influence on the actual comet which is an icy ball of rock and dust. The tail doesn't so much streak behind the comet as demonstrate which way it's oriented. That is, the tail will always face away from the sun regardless of the comet's direction of travel, because the ice and dust being burned off streams out away from it. So it's not, for example, the same as a boat's wake in the water, which will always be behind the boat and away from the boat's direction of travel.

No. Just no.

So even when a comet has passed the sun it's tail will still point away from it. Therefore, not only is a comet's tail nothing to do with its streaking, hurtling speed, it means you will likely best see a comet either just after sunset or just before sunrise. Unless of course it's one of those once-in-a-lifetime big buggers.

Now let's come to meteors. More specifically of course, meteors come to us, but once again the media rave about meteor showers putting on a 'spectacular display,' or that they will be 'stunning.'

Before we get into why some of that hype is only partially true, let's look at the media image here, which announces that a 'stunning' meteor shower is to take place over the UK.

Firstly, the image the tabloid has used does not show meteors; it shows star trails captured in a time lapse by a camera. Never will you see this with the naked eye because we as humans don't have the ability to slow down time and observe it thus.

Don't get me wrong - it's a lovely picture, but the picture editor has been lazy and chosen something that they think looks 'stunning,' and, in their ignorance, they have once again skewed readers' expectations of what they might see.

A meteor caught on camera. Image: iNews

Meteors are basically bits of space rock that burn up as they enter Earth's atmosphere. Unlike comets they really do streak, sometimes so fast that if you blink you'll miss them. 

There are two main categories of meteors (sometimes called shooting stars): we have random meteors, which arrive unexpectedly and take us by surprise, and meteor showers, which are predictable.

Meteor showers are predictable because Earth's orbit, which is also predictable, passes through various known fields of rocky space debris as it goes around the sun, but the term 'showers' itself raises expectations.

A really good meteor shower could mean that, in a nice dark sky location with no clouds, you might see on average 50 meteors an hour, obviously an average of just under one per minute. But you're most unlikely to see a whole heap of them burn up in the atmosphere at the same time like fireworks.

Seeing 50 in an hour is, in astronomy-speak, truly stunning, but to the everyday non-astronomical bystander it's almost yawn territory, and in this day and age of short attention spans, many people want spectacular or stunning to mean that they can look at the sky for five minutes with a glass of Sancerre in their hands and be amazed at the spectacle above them.

So when the media rants about how spectacular a meteor display will be, take it with a grain of salt. Also check the weather forecast, make sure you're prepared to travel to a dark sky location, and take a comfortable folding chair, a flask of coffee, warm clothing, and lots of patience. Look up and enjoy.

The spectacular Arizona Crater formed by a large meteor impact.
Remains of the meteorite can be seen in the crater's information centre. Image: Mike Bodnar

Before we leave meteors, a couple of clarifications. Firstly, when people talk about having had a meteoric rise in their careers, they're meaning it was fast. Meteors don't rise - they only fall. Secondly, when a meteor burns up completely in the atmosphere it remains a meteor. If parts of it fall to earth then they become meteorites. Just saying.

Asteroids meanwhile are rocks in space. They're a bit like comets except with little or no ice and less dust. They're the stuff of disaster movies, and famously one has been found guilty of wiping out the dinosaurs and a large portion of other life on Earth when it entered our atmosphere and struck the planet 65 million years ago.

We're all going to f***ing die!

Advances in astronomy and detection technology in recent years mean that we now know of many many asteroids, and scientists maintain vigil over their orbits and paths, especially in relation to Earth. Most pose no threat whatsoever, but in recent years the media has thrilled to the concept of an asteroid having a close encounter with Earth, using phrases such as, 'Near Miss,' Brush with Extinction,' and, last November, 'Concerning asteroid will break into Earth's orbit in a week.' Quick, duck!!!

The story originated in a tabloid and was quickly picked up by other organs for its shock-horror value. The accompanying video began with, 'A giant asteroid is heading towards Earth.' Well, if you were just a headline reader you'd be running screaming for the hills, or walking through a park a la Jennifer Lawrence in Don't Look Up telling everyone, 'You're all going to f***ing die!'

You have to read further into the article to learn that not only was the asteroid not heading for Earth, it would be about 10 times as far away as the moon at its closest approach and poses no threat whatsoever. But a headline that says, 'No Threat Posed By Asteroid' doesn't grab readers. Or terrify them. Or sell newspapers.

Oh dear.
Image: Getty Images, as used by the NY Post

And note that the headline says the rock would '...break into Earth's orbit.' Forgive me, but many people would read that and assume it meant Earth's atmosphere, which, if it were true, certainly would require Jennifer Lawrence to comment. 

A good analogy would be: you're in your car and you join the M25 ring road around London at a point in the south. At the same time a petrol tanker crosses the same motorway in the north on an overpass. You are, if you like, briefly on the same orbit around London, but the chances of you crashing into that tanker and dying horribly in a roaring inferno are pretty much zero.

In short, you are more likely to suffer ill health and mental issues reading tabloid hype than you are of dying in an extinction event caused by an asteroid.

Finally, let's turn our metaphorical telescopes to the moon and the hype that's been promulgated by the media about our nearest celestial neighbour.

I'm not talking about NASA's or billionaires' plans to send people there or build lunar colonies; I'm talking about the hype surrounding all the different names given to the full moon every time one comes around, which is approximately monthly.

Lunar eclipse, or Blood Moon.
Image: Mike Bodnar

You've heard them: there's the wolf moon, the blue moon, the blood moon, the pink moon and
so on. Bollocks. In the end, the only one that will look any different would be a 'blood' moon, which actually just refers to the red colour it turns during a full lunar eclipse when the Earth's shadow passes across it, which is a rare event. All the others are names drawn from myth and legend, or, like the harvest moon, the seasons. The full moon, for the most part, whatever it's named, will just look like it always does.

That said, never pass up an opportunity to look at the moon and marvel at our nearest neighbour. Use binoculars to see craters, and the so-called 'seas,' or use a telescope for even more detail. Avoid doing this during a full moon because the whole surface is lit up uniformly by the sun; far better to view it when it's a crescent, or a half moon, when you can marvel at the craters in relief along the sunlit edge.

So, my advice about all things celestial is: don't believe all the media hype, but do always look up when you get the chance. Marvel at the night sky, not at the media headlines.

The Good, the Bad and the Boring – Part Four

Victor Borge. Image: Reiner Hersch

The Great Dane sat across from me at the lunch table. It was the mid-1980s, and Victor Borge and I were to do an interview at the hotel in Wellington where he was staying during a tour of New Zealand.

The waiter appeared beside us to take our orders, and Victor indicated that I should order first. 'I'll have the Beef Wellington please,' I said, knowing that this was the posh Parkroyal and that the meal should be excellent. The waiter turned with a raised eyebrow to Denmark's greatest export after Carlsberg. 'I'll have a club sandwich.'

If I could have shrunk myself to disappear into my seat I would have done. Or, in hindsight, maybe I should have just changed my order there and then, say, to a dry cracker. Unfortunately I didn't.

So here he was, the world-famous pianist-comedian who for years had had audiences in stitches by combining musical excellence with comedy genius, playing with – and destroying – the English language while also doing the same with some of the world's greatest piano pieces. Mozart, I suspect, would have loved the humour of it.

The Clown Prince of Denmark.
Image: Jesper Jurcenoks

We chatted about Borge's musical background, and yes indeed he was, like Mozart, a prodigy. He had started learning the piano not long after he'd learned to walk, thanks to having parents who were also accomplished musicians.

Our meals arrived – Victor having had to wait for his humble sandwich while the chef prepared my Beef Wellington – and we tucked in. Rather like Hercule Poirot, Victor Borge personified the word 'dapper'; he was neat, trimmed, precise, tidy, with a twinkle in his eyes, and he was the perfect gentleman. Despite my asking him all the same questions that he'd been asked a million times by interviewers the world over, he answered them with good humour.

I asked him, 'What is the secret to your comedy?' He smiled at me and said, conspiratorially, 'If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret!' and smiled.

As I've mentioned in the previous articles on famous people I've interviewed, not all of them wanted to talk, or even be there, but I'm happy to say that the Clown Prince of Denmark was totally professional and fully engaged in our conversation. The following day I received a message from his son (with whom he was travelling) saying how much his father had enjoyed meeting me and doing the interview. I'd never had such a compliment from a celebrity before and never received one again. I suspect it said more about him then me, but hey, what a gent.

Another gentleman it was a pleasure to meet was astronomer, science broadcaster and

Carl Sagan. Image: Michaerl Okoniewski

author Carl Sagan. By the time he visited New Zealand in the 1980s he was already well known for his astronomy programmes on TV and was, arguably, the most famous name in science communication at the time.

In the UK, astronomer Patrick Moore was, as host of the BBC's long-running Sky At Night programme, also famous, and I interviewed him around the same time. While Patrick was dishevelled and lovely (and signed some books for me), he was a complete contrast to Carl Sagan. Patrick Moore fitted the stereotypical 'boffin' description, with his wildly effusive method of speaking and machine gun-delivery. I don't think anyone could fit so many words into an interview as Moore did.

Sagan on the other hand was more calm and measured, but also more outspoken. This worked for him as a science communicator because not only was he capable of simplifying difficult concepts for a lay audience, he wasn't afraid to address some of the big questions, such as the role of God in the universe. Patrick Moore stuck more to astronomy as a discipline, but they both shared success as communicators and as enthusiasts.

Sir Patrick Moore.
Image: South Downs Planetarium

The main difference was that Carl Sagan achieved global popularity (ref. his acclaimed series and book Cosmos) and some notoriety, to the point that Harvard refused to accept him either on their staff or as a serious astronomer. They disliked the way he popularised astronomy, but I thought he was the bees' knees.

As with Victor Borge, Sagan graciously put up with my questions, which I’m sure he'd answered a billion times before, and – being an experienced broadcaster – he was a dream to interview, knowing just how long to make his answers, just when to stop, or when to elaborate as required.

As I think I've mentioned, most of the famous people I interviewed have since died (not necessarily as a result of meeting me, yet who knows?), but Carl Sagan passed away at the obscenely young age of just 62. Patrick Moore and Victor Borge are also no longer with us, and nor is Marcel Marceau...

French mime artist Marceau, with his top hat, striped top and clown face (the trademarks of his character 'Bip') was world famous when I met him for an interview in the studio on our regional TV programme Today Tonight. My French wasn't even at intermediate stage at the time, but luckily his English was perfect, although I guess we could have done the whole interview in mime. I'm just not sure how I would have asked him how he got started in the 'art

of silence.'

Marcel Marceau as Bip.
 Image: Wikipedia

I'm not sure even if I asked him that out loud, otherwise I'm sure I would have remembered him telling me how he first used mime to entertain rescued Jewish children during the Second World War while he was secretly working for the French Jewish resistance.

What a fascinating man. And yet, the thing I remember most about him was his awful, awful wig. I'd met him before the programme in make-up, and could see then just how dreadful his rug was. It was curly, streaked with grey, but also filthy, matted even. I could hardly take my eyes off it, and yet here I was talking with a man who had been made a Grand Officier de la Légion d'Honneur in his native France and who had risked his life in the French resistance.

Needless to say, I never received any awards for my interviewing.

As an example of how naïve some of my interviewing was in the early days (early- to mid-1980s) go and read about my meeting with SpikeMilligan, a highlight of my broadcasting career but which disappoints me still as one of my biggest missed opportunities ever.

Mark Knopfler.
Image: Klaus Hiltscher, Wikipedia

There are quite a few other famous names that have been on the soft and squidgy end of my interviewing skills, such as Dire Straits' Mark Knopfler, Allan Clarke of the Hollies, and either Rupert Murdoch or Robert Maxwell (unbelievably I can't remember which!).

I've had a drink with the famous British character actor Derek Guyler, shared a flaccid and fleeting handshake with Kenny Everett, and I've had lunch with Clive Anderson. I've chatted (briefly) with Stephen Fry and had a more extended conversation on the set of Rivendell with Sir Peter Jackson. But now I'm just name-dropping, and there's not much to tell about any of those encounters.

Let me finish though by saying that, while many (if not most) of my televised interviews were bog-standard, unexciting and definitely not shock-horror-revealing, the best one I ever did, even though it was at the Avalon Television Studios, was without cameras and with no audience.

There’d been an industrial argument going on for weeks in New Zealand between the Employers' Federation and a national union, but negotiations had reached stalemate.

I was to interview two of the kingpins – Pat Kelly of (I think) the Cleaners' and Caretakers' Union and John Robertson of the Employers' Federation – live on camera. Again we were restricted to no more than about five minutes' duration, so it was unlikely I was going to be doing a ground-breaking interview.

Avalon TV Studios, New Zealand
Image: TVNZ

And so it proved; they both behaved extremely well, politely answered my questions, but hardly set the audience on fire with their blazing disagreements or opinions. They didn't shout or come to blows and I didn't have to referee. It was polite, sanitised, and – let's face it – probably boring. Until we retired to the TV One Club after the show for a drink.

Continuing to chat over a pint I asked Pat Kelly how the disagreement had started and what his concerns were. He told me and I turned to the Federation's John Robertson and said, “That sounds like a genuine grievance to me…” to which he replied, ‘Yes it is, but…” and proceeded to put his side of the argument. “That makes sense to me,” I said to Pat, who agreed it did, except…

And so it went on like a tennis match until in the end they were metaphorically shaking hands over the net and in accord with each other so much that I said it seemed there was enough common ground to progress out of the stalemate. Result!

From that day on I began to properly interview people by listening to them, but I never again had such a golden opportunity to solve a union dispute. And, I don't think I interviewed anyone famous again either.

If only I could go back in time, I would do it all differently. But that's hindsight for you.

If you've enjoyed this, please check out my previous articles on famous people I've interviewed here:

Part One – Rowan Atkinson, Arthur Lowe

Part Two – Dave Allen, Barry Humphries, Jeffrey Archer

Part Three – Dr. David Bellamy, Douglas Adams, Mel Smith & Griff Rhys-Jones

Previously: Spike Milligan