Jean-Luc Margot, University of California, Los Angeles

On Nov. 9, 2024, the world will mark Carl Sagan’s 90th birthday – but sadly without Sagan, who died in 1996 at the age of 62.

Most people remember him as the co-creator and host of the 1980 “Cosmos” television series, watched worldwide by hundreds of millions of people. Others read “Contact,” his best-selling science fiction novel, or “The Dragons of Eden,” his Pulitzer Prize-winning nonfiction book. Millions more saw him popularize astronomy on “The Tonight Show.”

What most people don’t know about Sagan, and what has been somewhat obscured by his fame, is the far-reaching impact of his science, which resonates to this day. Sagan was an unequaled science communicator, astute advocate and prolific writer. But he was also an outstanding scientist.

Sagan propelled science forward in at least three important ways. He produced notable results and insights described in over 600 scientific papers. He enabled new scientific disciplines to flourish. And he inspired multiple generations of scientists. As a planetary astronomer, I believe such a combination of talents and accomplishments is rare and may occur only once in my lifetime.

Scientific accomplishments

Very little was known in the 1960s about Venus. Sagan investigated how the greenhouse effect in its carbon dioxide atmosphere might explain the unbearably high temperature on Venus – approximately 870 degrees Fahrenheit (465 degrees Celsius). His research remains a cautionary tale about the dangers of fossil fuel emissions here on Earth.

Sagan proposed a compelling explanation for seasonal changes in the brightness of Mars, which had been incorrectly attributed to vegetation or volcanic activity. Wind-blown dust was responsible for the mysterious variations, he explained.

Sagan and his students studied how changes to the reflectivity of Earth’s surface and atmosphere affect our climate. They considered how the detonation of nuclear bombs could inject so much soot into the atmosphere that it would lead to a yearslong period of substantial cooling, a phenomenon known as nuclear winter.

With unusual breadth in astronomy, physics, chemistry and biology, Sagan pushed forward the nascent discipline of astrobiology – the study of life in the universe.
Together with the research scientist Bishun Khare at Cornell University, Sagan conducted pioneering laboratory experiments and showed that certain ingredients of prebiotic chemistry, called tholins, and certain building blocks of life, known as amino acids, form naturally in laboratory environments that mimic planetary settings.

He also modeled the delivery of prebiotic molecules to the early Earth by asteroids and comets, and he was deeply engaged in the biological experiments onboard the Mars Viking landers. Sagan also speculated about the possibility of balloon-shaped organisms floating in the atmospheres of Venus and Jupiter.

His passion for finding life elsewhere extended far beyond the solar system. He was a champion of the search for extraterrestrial intelligence, also known as SETI. He helped fund and participated in a systematic search for extraterrestrial radio beacons by scanning 70% of the sky with the physicist and electrical engineer Paul Horowitz.

He proposed and co-designed the plaques and the “Golden Records” now affixed to humanity’s most distant ambassadors, the Pioneer and Voyager spacecrafts. It is unlikely that extraterrestrials will ever find these artifacts, but Sagan wanted people to contemplate the possibility of communication with other civilizations.

Advocacy

Sagan’s scientific output repeatedly led him to become an eloquent advocate on issues of societal and scientific significance. He testified before Congress about the dangers of climate change. He was an antinuclear activist and spoke out against the Strategic Defense Initiative, also known as “Star Wars.” He urged collaborations and a joint space mission with the Soviet Union, in an attempt to improve U.S.-Soviet relations. He spoke directly with members of Congress about the search for extraterrestrial intelligence and organized a petition signed by dozens of prominent scientists urging support for the search.

But perhaps his most important gift to society was his promotion of truth-seeking and critical thinking. He encouraged people to muster the humility and discipline to confront their most cherished beliefs – and to rely on evidence to obtain a more accurate view of the world. His most cited book, “The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark,” is a precious resource for anyone trying to navigate this age of disinformation.

Impact

A scientist’s impact can sometimes be gauged by the number of times their scholarly work is cited by other scientists. According to Sagan’s Google Scholar page, his work continues to accumulate more than 1,000 citations per year.

Indeed, his current citation rate exceeds that of many members of the National Academy of Sciences, who are “elected by their peers for outstanding contributions to research,” according to the academy’s website, and is “one of the highest honors a scientist can receive.”

Sagan was nominated for election into the academy during the 1991-1992 cycle, but his nomination was challenged at the annual meeting; more than one-third of the members voted to keep him out, which doomed his admission. An observer at that meeting wrote to Sagan, “It is the worst of human frailties that keeps you out: jealousy.” This belief was affirmed by others in attendance. In my opinion, the academy’s failure to admit Sagan remains an enduring stain on the organization.

No amount of jealousy can diminish Sagan’s profound and wide-ranging legacy. In addition to his scientific accomplishments, Sagan has inspired generations of scientists and brought an appreciation of science to countless nonscientists. He has demonstrated what is possible in the realms of science, communication and advocacy. Those accomplishments required truth-seeking, hard work and self-improvement. On the 90th anniversary of Sagan’s birth, a renewed commitment to these values would honor his memory.

Jean-Luc Margot, Professor of Earth, Planetary, and Space Sciences, University of California, Los Angeles

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Zackary Okun Dunivin, University of California, Davis

There’s a certain allure to the notion that some of the world’s brightest stars burn out at the age of 27. The so-called 27 Club has captivated the public imagination for half a century. Its members include legendary musicians Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse. The idea is as seductive as it is tragic: a convergence of talent, fame and untimely death at a singular age.

But is there any truth to this phenomenon, or is it merely a story we tell ourselves and each other about fame and youth?

In our newly published research, my colleague Patrick Kaminski and I explore why the 27 Club persists in culture. We didn’t set out to debunk the myth. After all, there is no reason to think that 27 is an especially dangerous age beyond superstition.

Rather, we wanted to explore the 27 Club to understand how such a myth gains traction and affects people’s perception of reality.

Is the 27 Club real?

The origin of the 27 Club dates back to the early 1970s, following the deaths of Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison – all at age 27, within a span of two years.

This uncanny coincidence left its mark on collective memory. It wasn’t just their age. It was the common thread of musical genius, countercultural influence and the tragic allure of lives cut short by a cocktail of fame, drug use and the struggle of being human. The narrative is not just compelling but almost mystical in its synchronicity.

Analyzing data from 344,156 notable deceased individuals listed on Wikipedia, we found that while there’s no increased risk of dying at 27, those who do die at that age receive significantly more public attention. Using Wikipedia page views as a proxy for fame, our study revealed that the legacies of these 27-year-olds are amplified, garnering more visibility than those who die at adjacent ages.

This increased visibility has a strange effect: People are more likely to encounter those who died at 27 than other young ages, even if they are not aware of the myth. This in turn creates the appearance of greater risk of mortality at 27. The myth of the 27 Club is a self-fulfilling prophecy: It became “real” because we believed it.

Why is the 27 Club a thing?

We believe this phenomenon can be understood through three interrelated concepts: path dependence, stigmergy and memetic reification.

Path dependence refers to how random events can set a precedent that influences future outcomes. The initial cluster of high-profile deaths at age 27 was statistically improbable – we estimate that one in 100,000 timelines would have four such famous deaths at age 27 – but it established a narrative pathway that has persisted and shaped collective reality.

Stigmergy describes how traces of an event or action left in the environment can indirectly coordinate future events or actions. In the digital age, platforms such as Wikipedia serve as repositories of collective memory. The existence of a dedicated 27 Club page, with links to its members’ pages, increases the visibility of those who die at 27. This creates a feedback loop: The more we click, the more prominent these figures become, and the more the myth is reinforced.

Finally, what we call memetic reification captures how beliefs can shape reality. We draw from a sociological concept called the Thomas theorem, which states that if you “define a situation as real, they are real in their consequences.” The 27 Club myth has tangible effects on cultural memory and fame. By imbuing significance into the age of 27, society elevates the legacies of those who die at that age, making the myth materially consequential.

Why do myths endure?

Why do such myths endure? At their core, myths are not about factual accuracy but about narratives that resonate with people. They thrive on mystery, tragedy and the human penchant for finding patterns even in randomness. The story of the 27 Club is poetic, encapsulating the fleeting nature of genius and the fragility of life. It’s a story that begs to be told and retold, regardless of its veracity.

This isn’t an isolated phenomenon. Cultural patterns often arise from chance events that, through collective commitment and storytelling, become embedded in our understanding of the world.

Consider the evolution of language – why do we call a dog a “dog”? There is nothing doggy about the word. Philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein observed that nearly all symbols are arbitrary. Some countries drive on the left side of the road while others on the right. While the choice to adopt left- or right-side traffic is influenced by neighboring countries or car producers, ultimately these followed from an arbitrary resolution to the need to pick one side or the other. These conventions began as random occurrences that, over time, became standardized and meaningful through social reinforcement.

The 27 Club serves as a lens through which you can examine the power of mythmaking in shaping perceptions of history and reality. It highlights how collective beliefs can have real-world consequences, influencing who becomes immortalized in cultural memory. It’s a testament to the complex interplay between chance events, storytelling and the mechanisms by which myths are perpetuated.

Though we may appear to dispel the myth of the 27 Club, let’s not abandon the story. We’re myth trusters, not myth busters. In unraveling the myth, we’re acknowledging the profound ways in which narratives influence our collective consciousness. By understanding the processes behind myth formation, we can better appreciate the richness of culture and the stories people choose to tell.

Zackary Okun Dunivin, Postdoctoral Fellow in Communication, University of California, Davis

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Farha Abassi, Michigan State University

My three daughters and I arrived in Michigan from Pakistan in 2000.

Moving here was my choice, and I followed the legal process. Before the move, I had often been to the United States. I was familiar with the culture and spoke fluent English, so I thought I was prepared.

Resuming my career as a physician in the U.S. was arduous, but I finally passed all the qualifying exams and completed a psychiatry residency at Michigan State University in 2006. After finishing my studies, I stayed on as faculty.

Of course, there is nothing new or particularly unique about my family’s experience. Immigration, whether it is out of choice or forced by conflict, has always been part of the American experience. After all, the U.S. Constitution was signed by seven first-generation immigrants.

Experts will tell you that immigration makes our country stronger economically, culturally and in fields like science and medicine. Since I’m a doctor, I’m well aware that 26% of licensed U.S. physicians and surgeons are immigrants.

But it is also true that immigrants like me face stresses that harm our
psychical and mental health.

I teach cultural psychiatry to medical students and residents, specifically how to provide culturally appropriate care to Muslim patients. After more than 20 years in Michigan, I’m deeply rooted in the Muslim and immigrant community, and I’ve seen firsthand how anxious and uncertain my community is about the 2024 presidential election.

Panic attacks and depression

Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump has called immigrants “bloodthirsty criminals” and the “most violent people on Earth.” He claims that immigrants were “poisoning the blood of our country.” Research shows, and I’ve seen personally, how this kind of talk can cause anxiety and depression in immigrants both undocumented and legal.

Undocumented immigrants and their families, who live in precarious conditions and in fear of being deported, are especially vulnerable to Trump’s calls for mass deportations.

History has taught us that a politician’s hateful words can lead to violence.

In the first half of 2024, the Michigan Chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations documented 239 complaints of discrimination against Muslims, an 81% increase over the same period in 2023. In the report, CAIR-MI Executive Director Dawud Walid attributed the uptick to “policies of elected officials, rhetoric of candidates running for office, along with victim blaming by some political pundits.”

Adding to the situation are the deepening crises in the Gaza Strip and Lebanon, which are making Muslims in Michigan, especially those with relatives in the Middle East, reel with palpable grief.

This rise in Islamophobia and fear of an uncertain future is taking a toll. American Muslims are twice as likely to attempt suicide compared with people from other faiths.

Anxiety in the voting booth

Like 73% of all Americans, immigrants are anxious about the election.

With the politicization of baseless claims of undocumented immigrants voting, the fact is that naturalized citizens – who have every right to take part in the election – are a formidable voting bloc, making up 1 in 10 of the nation’s eligible voters and about 5% in Michigan.

What’s more, naturalized citizens tend to vote at higher rates than native-born citizens.

Still, for many Muslims in Michigan, it is hard to know how to vote this year. I don’t trust either of the major parties.

Michigan’s Muslims are feeling devalued and disenfranchised.

A key Arab American political action committee based in Michigan refused to endorse either candidate this cycle. Although the PAC typically backs Democrats, this year it said “neither candidate represents our hopes and dreams as Arab Americans.”

In late September, a national group of three dozen Muslim American scholars and imams signed an open letter calling on Muslims not to vote for Democratic nominee Kamala Harris.

“We want to be absolutely clear,” the letter reads, “don’t stay home and skip voting. This year, make a statement by voting third party for the presidential ticket.”

A group called Listen to Michigan gained attention during the primaries by attracting more than 100,000 people to vote “uncommitted” as a protest against President Joe Biden’s funding of the war in Gaza. The group has stopped short of endorsing Harris but urged voters “not to cast their ballot for anyone but her.”

Still, some of my neighbors have decided to back Green Party candidate Jill Stein.

I know my vote is my voice, and I fully intend to participate in the electoral process. But I can’t trust any of the candidates to create a safe haven for my family – a place where my daughters and I can thrive and live our American dream.

Farha Abassi, Assistant Professor of Psychiatry, Michigan State University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.