An existential threat for sure ... or not
This illustration provided by Caltech/IPAC depicts a planet skimming the surface of its star. Astronomers reported observing what appears to be a gas giant at least the size of Jupiter being eaten by its star. Credit: AP
The end is nigh.
Well, not that nigh. But it is coming.
This was gleaned from a paper written by a team of researchers from the likes of MIT, Harvard and Caltech and published last week in the journal Nature. Three years ago this month, they spotted a genuine galactic phenomenon — a star swallowing a planet.
The scientists think the planet — which was in our galaxy about 12,000 light-years away — was about the size of Jupiter. It rotated around a star about 1,000 times its size. But the star was dying. And when that happens, stars start to balloon, and this one kept getting bigger until it engulfed the unfortunate planet.
And just like that — gulp — the planet was gone.
The sobering part of this observation was found in the discussion of its implications for Earth. Many astronomers, it turns out, have concluded that the same fate awaits us. Our sun — 109 times wider than our planet, for reference — will also run out of fuel eventually. And like that other star, it will expand and consume — first Mercury, then Venus, and ultimately Earth. Not that we humans will be around for the final demolition. Our planet will get fried long before it gets devoured, becoming inhospitable for life. So unless we master interplanetary or intergalactic travel by then and escape to some galaxy far far away, it’s curtains for us.
Thankfully, according to astronomers who do these kinds of calculations, that denouement is still a few billion years away.
But I mention it now because the sun consuming the Earth for lunch is an existential threat. A far-off one, yes, but a genuine existential threat — like the impact of an asteroid of a certain size, something Earth and its dinosaurs, for example, experienced in the past. An existential threat, in other words, quite different from the many supposed existential threats that are hyperbolically proclaimed every day.
A surging China is an existential threat (Ohio Rep. Mike Gallagher).
Russia is an existential threat (oft-proclaimed over the years).
The West is an existential threat to Russia (Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov).
COVID-19 is an existential threat (many experts in the early days of the pandemic).
Donald Trump is an existential threat to democracy (many people, many times).
Climate change is an existential threat (OK, that one is real).
Existential threats are trendy, with the newest being artificial intelligence (hordes of folks from all walks of life) and the approaching debt limit (some Washington partisans).
Which is not to say these all aren’t matters of vital concern. But the bar for existential should be high — as it should be for all words that are absolutes or superlatives.
It’s a pet peeve of mine, one I’ve written about before, one now attracting new and wider attention.
Call it the language of the nth degree and label us addicted, because our embrace of it is way too easy.
Perhaps it’s a function of our times. Amid the clamor, perhaps we think it’s easier to stand out if we bray about the best, worst, most or least. Like moths to a flame, we gravitate to extremes.
But when everything is the worst, nothing is. And when everything is a threat, people learn to shrug. The damaging numbness is the same whether the words are a political posture or a sincerely held opinion.
The reliance on those “nth” words cheapens language. The bar should be high for all words, but especially those out on the edge because words matter. Words shape our reality.
The ancient Greeks and Romans knew this well: In all things, moderation. Not just in our vices and our pleasures and our politics, but in our words as well.
A planet-eating sun is one thing. The rest of it we can handle. Maybe.
Columnist Michael Dobie's opinions are his own.
Michael Dobie is a member of the Newsday editorial board.
