In compiling the sections dealing with observational material I have frequently had recourse, in addition to papers cited in the text, to articles by G. Abetti and S. A. Mitchell in the Handbuch der Astrophysik and also to Physik d. Sternatmosphären by A. Unsöld. The work of Chapters III and IV, which contain the bulk of the original material included in the tract, was carried out in collaboration with R. A. Lyttleton and H. Bondi (M.N. 107, 184, 1947). Although, in the remainder of the tract, the amount of theoretical material taken directly from astronomical literature is not large, my views on many important questions have been much influenced by other authors. In particular, my outlook on electromagnetic effects at and below the photosphere has arisen largely from the work of S. Chapman and T. G. Cowling, while the discussion of electromagnetic effects in the solar atmosphere has been mainly stimulated by the investigations of R. G. Giovanelli. I am indebted to Dr. Giovanelli for allowing me to look over preliminary drafts of several recent papers. My thanks are also due to D. R. Bates, who has been my guide in all matters relating to the Earth's atmosphere.
F. H.
ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
27 June, 1948
Hoyle then goes on to discuss the sun and the stars in our galaxy. Again, in easy to understand terms, he explains how the sun gives out its heat and light by means of nuclear fusion processes, yet at the same time maintains itself as a stable and constant star. Hoyle explains stellar evolution and shows the course that the sun, like most other Main Sequence Stars, will take in the next few billion years before eventually swelling to Red Giant proportions and then shrinking to a Brown Dwarf when all its nuclear fuel is spent.
It was in this series of broadcasts, and the subsequent book, that Sir Fred Hoyle brought to greater public attention his theory on the cosmological nature of the Universe. He rejected the super dense theory ( now known as the Big Bang ) of George Gamov and Georges Lemaitre and maintained that the Universe had no beginning and nor will it ever have an end: it has, he argued, always existed. As the glaxies speed away from each other into infinity, hydrogen atoms are constantly being created to replenish the Universe with new stars and galaxies. This he termed the Steady State Theory by means of continuous creation.
"The Nature of the Universe" may appear to be dated, yet it is a classic for all time as it brought to wider public awareness the new cosmology and Man's place in the Universe.
PREFACE
There comes a time in life when a man feels under an obligation to the country that reared him, and to the people that he grew up amongst. It may seem strange that this should have led to the writing of a book that seeks to emphasise our economic and physical insecurity. But in recent years I have come to feel more and more urgently that public commentators arc not bringing this insecurity home to us with sufficient vividness; of our being tied to a wasting economy; of what the fate of this tightly packed island in an atomic war would very likely be; of the menace of the world's rapidly rising population; and of the threat of an ultimately disastrous decline in world-wide resources.
If our fate were certain there might be some point in keeping these matters hidden. But disaster is by no means inevitable. It is perfectly possible to counter the threat of atomic weapons, for instance, by dispersing a considerable proportion of our population to the Dominions. Whether we ought in fact to adopt such a measure is not for me, or for any other person, or for any limited group of persons, to decide. In a matter of such great moment, it is the will of the whole British people that ought to be decisive. But-and here is the crucial point the people cannot offer a considered opinion until they become sharply aware of the facts on which such an opinion should be based.
This will explain why I have discussed so forcefully those matters that, as a scientist, I feel myself in a position to appreciate. It may be that too strident a picture has sometimes been painted, and that distortions may have been introduced. Thls is apt to happen when, for the sake of conciseness, one is striving to represent a big subject on a small canvas.
Nowadays scientists find themselves between two fires. When they keep silent on political matters, they are accused of being indifferent to the abuse of their discoveries. When they speak out, they are usually told that their views are too 'calculated', or that they are too 'naive', or that they are guilty of 'oversimplifying' difficult problems (By implication, all problems in science being easy). I suppose what I have written will very likely provoke these responses from the experts. This has not dissuaded me, however, mainly for the reason already explained, but partly also because the successes that have so far been achieved by the people who claim to understand the subtlety of human problems have not been impressive. This being so, I do not think that the non-expert need be unduly bashful about putting forward a new outlook on human affairs.
F.H.
Cambridge, November, 1952.
It could be argued that the discovery of cosmic background radiation by Dennis Sciama and Robert Wilson in 1965 has done less damage to Hoyle's Steady State theory than has been done to Darwinian evolution by Watson and Crick's discovery of DNA in the 1950's.
Perhaps the enduring success of Darwin's "Origin of Species" can be put down to the great controversy it caused not only in the scientific community but in the religious establishment itself. Neither Steady State nor Big Bang cosmology has had the same earth shattering consequences that Evolutionary Theory had.
If we take a tour of Hoyle's great work, we should come to the conclusion that controversy alone is not a rational reason for a book's endurance. Though the book is about astronomy, Hoyle devotes the first two chapters of "Frontiers" to planet Earth. Some commentators have viewed this as being rather odd but we must come to the realisation that Earth is no less a part of the Universe than is the Andromeda Galaxy. Throughout his career Hoyle was constantly criticised for stepping into disciplines in which he had no training. Hoyle countered this criticism by explaining that nature does not categorise in the way academe does; there is always going to be overlapping among the sciences. It makes no sense whatsoever to suggest that an astronomer can pronounce on the rock composition and the weather patterns on Mars but only a geologist and a meteorologist can have anything relevant to say respectively on Earth's rocks and climates!
The concept of overlap continues in chapters III and IV as Hoyle takes his readers down into the microcosmic world of the atom and explains the nature of sub-atomic particles. It is impossible to attain any grasp of how the Universe functions in its vastness without a proper understanding of what is going on at the atomic and sub-atomic levels. Microcosm and macrocosm are inextricably bound up.
It is only from chapter V that we leave the Earth to begin a study of the moon, the planets and our nearest star the sun. As we progress through the remaining 15 chapters we find ourselves taken further out into deep space as we consider the origins of the solar system and examine the various types of stars in our galaxy. Moving onwards Hoyle fascinates us with the different kinds of galaxies and their enormous distances in an expanding Universe.
Hoyle concludes his work by giving an outline of the Steady State Theory and its adjunct theory of the continuous creation of matter. The Steady State Theory's non-viability in its original form puts it on a par with Darwinian Evolutionary Theory thus raising the hope one day we may witness "Frontiers of Astronomy" and "Origin of Species" separated on the bookshelves only by the academic labels of "biology" and "astronomy".
"We are already beyond the normal form of biological control, the control that has directed evolution over the past thousand million years .. a new control is going to come into operation .. as to justify the title of a new species." This new species, on which the author places his hope for the future, will not permit irrevocable changes to occur, and will be of a questioning (thus scientific; "sane") mind. In the organisation of his own life, Fred Hoyle has made this his credo.
This is a controversial and thought provoking analysis of man's place in the universe, fascinatingly written by a man who has been called "a twentieth-century Leonardo da Vinci," and who is highly regarded as the world's foremost cosmologist.
Fred Hoyle, in addition to his stature in astronomy, mathematics, and philosophy, is also famed for his several plays and novels-the most noted of which are Black Cloud and A for Andromeda. He achieved international acclaim in 1951 when his book, The Nature of the Universe, was published. It was in this book that he first proposed his revolutionary theory of the continuous creation of the universe. This theory was further elaborated upon in 1956 when Mr. Hoyle enlarged the meaning of the nature of matter with the publication of his Man and Materialism volume in the World Perspectives series.
ABOUT THE EDITOR
Ruth Nanda Anshen, philosopher and editor, plans and edits The Credo Series, as well as World Perspectives. Religious Perspectives, and the Science of Culture Series. She writes and lectures widely on the relationship of knowledge to the meaning of existence.
As we pass to more developed animals we find electronic systems being used not merely for guidance but for directing the animal toward food, particularly toward food in the form of another animal. First we have animals eating plants, then animals eating animals, a second order effect. The situation is analogous to a guided missile, the job of which is to intercept and destroy another missile. Just as in our modern world attack and defence become more and more subtle in their methods, so it was the case with animals. And with increasing subtlety, better and better systems of electronics become necessary. What happened in nature has a close parallel with the development of electronics in modern military applications.
I find it a sobering thought that but for the tooth-and-claw existence of the jungle we should not possess our intellectual capabilities, we should not be able to inquire into the structure of the Universe, or to be able to appreciate a symphony of Beethoven. What happened was that electronic systems gradually outran their original purposes. At first they existed to guide animals with powerful weapons, teeth and claws, toward their victims. The astonishing thing, however, was that at a certain stage of subtlety the teeth and claws became unnecessary. Creatures began to emerge in which the original roles of chemistry and electronics were reversed. Instead of the electronics being servant to the chemistry, the reverse became the case. By the time we reach the human, the body has become the servant of the head, existing very largely to supply the brain with appropriate materials for its operation. In us, the computer in our heads, the computer that we call our brain, has entirely taken control. The same I think is true of most of the higher animals, indeed I think this is how one really defines a higher animal.
Viewed in this light, the question that is sometimes asked—can computers think?—is somewhat ironic. Here of course I mean the computers that we ourselves make out of inorganic materials. What on earth do those who ask such a question think they themselves are? Simply computers, but vastly more complicated ones than anything we have yet learned to make. Remember that our man-made computer industry is a mere two or three decades old, whereas we ourselves are the products of an evolution that has operated over hundreds of millions of years.
Preface
Since several very good astronomy texts are available (I refer to them at the ends of the sections into which this book is divided), I felt that a new departure in presentation would be desirable here. For this reason, I have concentrated more on the relationship of astronomy to physics than is usual in an introductory text. Astronomy was the first of the physical sciences to develop - indeed, we owe the rise of the whole of modern science to critical discoveries made in astronomy some three to four centuries ago. However, and somewhat paradoxically, historical factors have tended to keep astronomy a science apart, studied almost in isolation from the rest of science. Today we see this isolation to be no advantage. The time has come for astronomy to take its place as a major branch of physics. Such is the point of view from which I have tried to write this book.
An irritating detail concerned me from the outset. The quantity we call energy is widely important both in science and in our daily lives; yet there is no well-known unit of energy. When we buy gasoline, we are buying energy; yet we specify a quantity of gasoline by volume (so many gallons), not by its energy content. Electrical devices are rated according to power, not energy; yet we pay our bills to electric companies according to the energy we have consumed. Perhaps the inability of our society to think explicitly in terms of energy has had much to do with the recent developments of the energy crisis.
To be sure, scientists always work professionally in terms of a unit of energy, often a unit called the erg: an object with a mass of 2 grams moving with a speed of I centimetre per second has I erg of energy because of its motion. But this definition seems rather remote from everyday life. To find a definition nearer everyday usage, let us start from the concept of the power rating of an electrical device (so many watts, or so many kilowatts). To calculate the energy used by such a device, we multiply the power rating by the time for which the device is employed:
Energy = Power rating X Time.
A 10-kilowatt device used for 100 hours requires the same amount of electrical energy as a I-kilowatt device used for 1,000 hours-the bill from the electric company would be the same. In this book, however, we will consider time to be measured in seconds rather than hours; so the unit is that of a I-kilowatt device used for I second, a unit known as the kilowatt-second. The relationship of the kilowatt-second to the erg is expressed by the simple equation,
I kilowatt-second = 1010 ergs.
I must also comment on a far more basic topic. Physicists will be surprised to find that, although radiation and the quantum theory are discussed fairly extensively in this book, quanta are never mentioned explicitly. The idea of a quantum of radiation appears at first sight to be a simple and useful concept; but later on, serious confusion emerges when one tries to relate the quantum concept of radiation to the wave description of it. This confusion is the inevitable price to be payed for oversimplification. An accurate description of the specific quantum associated with a specific transition in a specific atom is not simple at all, but is instead quite complicated. It is glossing over this complication which causes the later difficulties. The treatment adopted here, although it can be developed in a way entirely equivalent to the usual treatment, avoids this pitfall. The quantum picture of radiation discussed in Chapter 4 connects to the wave picture without confusion.
Certain technical words have been italicised in the preceding paragraphs. This practice will be followed throughout this book wherever the reader is not expected to know the meaning of such a word beforehand. Instead, the meaning is intended to be explained by the discussion at that place in the book.
This book is divided into six main sections. At the end of each section, I have included additional material in the form of Appendixes, partly to give technical support to the main text, partly to extend the range of the discussion where doing so seemed worthwhile. This additional material can be omitted in an introductory course.
A few equations are used in the main text. These will not give trouble so long as the reader remembers that all equations are of the kind a = b, where a and b are simply the same number. Why bother to write a and b separately if they are the same? In mathematics and in science it is sometimes found that two apparently quite different ways of constructing a number lead to the same value. One way of constructing the number we call a, the other b. Then we express our surprise and delight at finding them equal by triumphantly writing a = b. All the unexpected regularities we find in the world are expressed in this way. So if we refuse to write any equations at all, we simply lose all the remarkable equalities which have been discovered between things that, to begin with, seemed different from each other. Our understanding of the world would then have become quite unnecessarily blurred.
It is a pleasure to express my thanks to Robert M. Blanchard for preparing the artwork for this book, and to Aidan A. Kelly for editing a far-from-easy manuscript. I also wish to thank Evaline Gibbs, Jan Rasmussen, and my wife, Barbara, for typing and for helping organize the material of the book.
Pasadena, California January 1975
Fred Hoyle
Pasadena, California.
The Relation of Biology to Astronomy 1980
There are scientists who distrust a posteriori arguments in principle, no doubt fearing the following ludicrous kind of example. A lone golfer's tee-shot lands on a tuft of grass. The probability of the ball coming to rest on that particular tuft is so minute that there could scarcely be enough golfers in the whole world to have produced such an event. Hence there was no tee-shot, the lone golfer was suffering from hallucination. The fallacy of this argument of course is that there were very many tufts of grass. The tiny probabilities from them all add to unity.
Pursued to a logical conclusion, a distrust of inferences from a posteriori situations would lead one to distrust everything which has already happened, including all past experiments and observations. One would then be in the absurd position of needing to repeat important experiments and observations, and, since the present moment of time immediately flows into the past, the repetitions would have to go on everlastingly.
There is no help for it, unless we are to become entirely swallowed up into a repetitious treadmill, but to use analysis of a posteriori situations to separate out fallacies. This is just what the brain does subconsciously all the time. The eye picks out visual situations as unusual only if they approach a three-standard deviations level of significance. It is no accident that the probability of each of the Arp - Hazard alignments of Figure 4 should turn out to be about one-in-a-hundred, for this is just the level to which our visual analysis attaches significance subconsciously. If the separations from quasar to quasar in those triplets had been half a degree instead of about five arc minutes the eye would have seen nothing in them, and indeed calculation shows there would have been none in such a case.
My own poor-man's method of avoiding fallacies is wasteful of information, and so would not commend itself to an expect statistician. Yet I have always found it a valuable safeguard against self-deceptions. If I come on a situation which on the face of it looks highly unusual I draw no inferences until a second similar situation has been found. I regard the first case as specifying the proposition, the 'game'. Then with the game defined in advance of the second case, I am ready to draw conclusions from that second case, and of course from still further cases.
For me, the calculation of random probabilities for the spacings within groups of quasars was a defined game as long ago as 1966. Every subsequent discovery of spacings with small random probabilities has therefore hit me with full weight. The accumulated product of these probabilities is by now so exceedingly minute that, even without the Arp - Hazard alignments, I personally can have no doubt at all of the error of the cosmological theory. That the astronomical community should continue to think otherwise is more a matter of sociology than of science. Science is not made by what communities think, but by what the Universe is.
If quasar redshifts are not cosmological, what are they then? Towards the end of the essay I have made a suggestion which has the virtue of answering immediate questions in a satisfactory way. After the essay was written in September 1980, Jayant Narlikar raised the question of the effect of observation on triplet alignments, and the results of independent investigations by the two of us are reported in an appendix.
About 1500 quasars are presently known, many with much detail concerning their individual properties. This treasure-house has been assembled through the efforts of many workers. In a recent quasar catalogue compiled by Adelaide Hewitt and Geoffrey Burbidge as many as 743 references to the literature on quasars are given. Unfortunately there was no opportunity for me to pay tribute to more than a few particular islands set in so great an ocean of information. My narrative involves just two topics, the discovery of quasars and the interpretation of their redshifts. The restriction to this particular story line led, of necessity, to the omission, or partial omission, of many names that have greatly distinguished themselves in the subject. Here I would like to express my debt especially to Margaret Burbidge and Roger Lynds, who have always been generous in supplying me with the latest data, and who somehow had the patience not to become exasperated with my elementary knowledge of atomic spectroscopy. I must mention too the many radio astronomers whose unremitting efforts over the years has led to the discovery of so many of these remarkable objects,
Fred Hoyle
Cumbria February 1981
Because the Anglo-Australian Telescope is often said to be the best in the world, it is possible that one day somebody will write its history from the official documents. The most dramatic moments were deliberately omitted from the official documents, however. On formal detail the documents are of course meticulously accurate but on the problems that caused us the worst difficulties they are bland. The diligent historian will find nothing for instance of the reason for the meeting with Malcolm Fraser in February 1972.
The idea of building a large telescope in Australia may have been mentioned in general terms before Bart J. Bok, but it was Bok's tireless lecturing to specialist and non-specialist audiences alike, up and down the length and breadth of Australia, that caused the idea to become a serious issue. Bok was a Dutchman by birth, an American by adoption, who had come in 1956 as the Director of the Mt. Stromlo Observatory - this was when Dick Woolley returned to the U.K. to become Astronomer Royal. Under pressure from Woolley, the Royal Society set up a committee to report on the desirability of the U.K. participating in the construction of a large telescope in Australia. The committee, of which both Woolley and I were members, was chaired by the Royal Society President, then Lord Florey of penicillin fame. Under pressure from Mark Oliphant, the Academy of Sciences did likewise in Australia. Both committees reported favourably on the suggested project.
This was the general situation in 1965 when the Science Research Council was formed. Further negotiations and discussions on the AAT then passed from the Royal Society to the SRC. Although I cannot fault the SRC's subsequent handling of the project, one might think it strange that the most prestigious scientific society in the U.K. should thus summarily have been written out of all subsequent concern with the telescope. Nor was the Royal Astronomical Society to play any role either, a state of affairs that would surely have been inconceivable earlier in the century. One might say the dismissal of the ancient societies was a reaction against nearly two decades of bungling the construction of the Isaac Newton Telescope, but it was also an indication of the inexorable march of twentieth-century bureaucracy.
In Australia exactly the same shift took place. The Academy there ceased to have any role. Control passed to the Department of Education and Science (DES), a similar but not quite symmetrical situation to that in the U.K. The SRC was one peg down from the actual U.K. Ministry, whereas in Australia the DES was the Ministry. For uncontroversial issues the lack of symmetry made little difference, but in matters of important disagreement our Australian opposite numbers had the advantage of being a step nearer to the upper levels of their government, an advantage that was to become relevant over the period 1970 - 73. ...