Why Astronomy Still Matters
Astronomers no longer divine messages from the Gods. Even so, their work maintains a strange grasp on society.
Ancient civilizations believed the stars held power over the Earth. Priests watched carefully for messages of divine importance. Kings and emperors trembled at signs of misfortune and rejoiced when victory was foretold.
Those who could read the stars - the first astronomers - held elite positions in ancient societies. They held enormous sway over their rulers. At one time astronomers could decide the fate of nations, trigger wars or pronounce the displeasure of God on an ill-fated heir.
Compared to their predecessors, today’s astronomers are a sorry bunch. Astronomy no longer holds power over governments. Presidents rarely summon stargazers into their offices and no modern astronomer would dream of claiming the mantle of heaven.
Astronomers still, however, have the power to capture the attention of the world. Images of distant black holes, of remote planets or announcements of far-flung supernova draw the attention of millions. Leading astronomers receive knighthoods and write bestselling books.
Quite why astronomers get all this attention is not at all obvious. Their work is of little immediate benefit to humanity. An astronomer might spend her entire career studying matters far removed from Earth, sometimes quite literally. Studies of distant galaxies, for example, seem to have almost nothing to do with the struggles of everyday life.
Unlike scientists in other fields - say quantum physics, biochemistry or nanotechnology - astronomers can claim few useful spin-offs. It is true we may one day visit, or even live on, our neighbouring planets, but what about galaxies? Why do we need to know the details of a supernova or a galactic collision happening millions of light years away? And, sure a photograph of a distant black hole is nice to look at, but what practical use it for anyone on Earth?
These questions are not irrelevant. Astronomy costs a lot of money and takes a lot of resources and ingenuity. Advanced telescopes are expensive to build and run. Space-based observatories - like Hubble and the James Webb Space Telescope - consume billions of dollars and take decades to build. The first picture of a black hole - five hundred million light years from Earth - cost tens of millions of dollars to take.
One could argue that this investment is not all wasted. Surely advances in technology have been spurred by the need to build cutting edge telescopes. And perhaps understanding the spin of galaxies could help us understand more down-to-Earth physics as well. In most cases, however, there are more efficient ways to get the same benefits.
In truth, asking these questions misses the point of astronomy. This is not a science that can ever have much direct return on Earth. Instead, it belongs in a different category of endeavour, one that answers a deep human need.
To understand why, we need to turn back to history. The ancients devoted so much attention to astronomy for practical reasons. They believed that the stars held important messages from the Gods, ones that foretold the future and had direct significance on everyday life. This, then, would seem like a justified, if somewhat mistaken, investment.
Ancient people also poured huge, almost unfathomable, efforts into projects that today seem meaningless. Projects like the Pyramids of Giza, or Stonehenge, must have been incredible undertakings, requiring decades of work from thousands of people. Why did they put so much money and effort into such things?
These strange pursuits are not limited to the ancients or to any one region. Wherever civilizations have appeared, people have started creating vast structures and producing elaborate designs and paintings, all with little practical gain.
The desire to do so is deeply rooted in human nature. Once a civilization becomes relatively secure — from food to defence — attention starts to turn to larger projects. Whether through the desire to be remembered or to find a place in the wider universe, civilizations seem driven to find a higher purpose.
Often this need has been met by religion. We explained our place, our special nature, through the Gods, and through the heavens. This is what drove the first astronomers — but it is also what drove ancient people to build the pyramids.
This started to change in the Middle Ages. The renaissance brought new ideas, and more importantly, gave civilization a new purpose. The Church, perhaps sensing the threat that was coming, fought against this, notably arresting and threatening Galileo for publicising his astronomical discoveries. They were right to be scared - once religion lost its monopoly over our need to understand our place in the world, it was soon dislodged from power altogether.
Today we no longer spend so much effort creating magnificent cathedrals or paintings. Our need to feel a part of something bigger, however, persists. Instead of cathedrals, we build observatories. Instead of painting, we peer across unimaginable distances at black holes and galaxies.
That’s not to say astronomy is a religion. Astronomers, much as they believe in arcane and mysterious things like dark matter, dark energy and black holes, are not the equivalent of priests. Astronomy is a science, it is open to change, and its foundations are constantly under question.
In many ways, astronomy more resembles art. Our astronomical achievements speak more about the society and culture we wish to be — one thirsty for truth, knowledge and discovery — rather than bring any real utility. Pictures of black holes provide little in the way of concrete benefit. Instead, they hold society together, and give us something to aspire to.