On the timescale for galaxy formation

I’ve been wanting to expand on the previous post ever since I wrote it, which is over a month ago now. It has been a busy end to the semester. Plus, there’s a lot to say – nothing that hasn’t been said before, somewhere, somehow, yet still a lot to cobble together into a coherent story – if that’s even possible. This will be a long post, and there will be more after to narrate the story of our big paper in the ApJ. My sole ambition here is to express the predictions of galaxy formation theory in LCDM and MOND in the broadest strokes.

A theory is only as good as its prior. We can always fudge things after the fact, so what matters most is what we predict in advance. What do we expect for the timescale of galaxy formation? To tell you what I’m going to tell you, it takes a long time to build a massive galaxy in LCDM, but it happens much faster in MOND.

Basic Considerations

What does it take to make a galaxy? A typical giant elliptical galaxy has a stellar mass of 9 x 10¹⁰ M_☉. That’s a bit more than our own Milky Way, which has a stellar mass of 5 or 6 x 10¹⁰ M_☉ (depending who you ask) with another 10¹⁰ M_☉ or so in gas. So, in classic astronomy/cosmology style, let’s round off and say a big galaxy is about 10¹¹ M_☉. That’s a hundred billion stars, give or take.

How much of the universe does it take to make one big galaxy? The critical density of the universe is the over/under point for whether an expanding universe expands forever, or has enough self-gravity to halt the expansion and ultimately recollapse. Numerically, this quantity is ρ_crit = 3H₀²/(8πG), which for H₀ = 73 km/s/Mpc works out to 10^-29 g/cm³ or 1.5 x 10^-7 M_☉/pc³. This is a very small number, but provides the benchmark against which we measure densities in cosmology. The density of any substance X is Ω_X = ρ_X/ρ_crit. The stars and gas in galaxies are made of baryons, and we know the baryon density pretty well from Big Bang Nucleosynthesis: Ω_b = 0.04. That means the average density of normal matter is very low, only about 4 x 10^-31 g/cm³. That’s less than one hydrogen atom per cubic meter – most of space is an excellent vacuum!

This being the case, we need to scoop up a large volume to make a big galaxy. Going through the math, to gather up enough mass to make a 10¹¹ M_☉ galaxy, we need a sphere with a radius of 1.6 Mpc. That’s in today’s universe; in the past the universe was denser by (1+z)³, so at z = 10 that’s “only” 140 kpc. Still, modern galaxies are much smaller than that; the effective edge of the disk of the Milky Way is at a radius of about 20 kpc, and most of the baryonic mass is concentrated well inside that: the typical half-light radius of a 10¹¹ M_☉ galaxy is around 6 kpc. That’s a long way to collapse.

Monolithic Galaxy Formation

Given this much information, an early concept was monolithic galaxy formation. We have a big ball of gas in the early universe that collapses to form a galaxy. Why and how this got started was fuzzy. But we knew how much mass we needed and the volume it had to come from, so we can consider what happens as the gas collapses to create a galaxy.

Here we hit a big astrophysical reality check. Just how does the gas collapse? It has to dissipate energy to do so, and cool to form stars. Once stars form, they may feed energy back into the surrounding gas, reheating it and potentially preventing the formation of more stars. These processes are nontrivial to compute ab initio, and attempting to do so obsesses much of the community. We don’t agree on how these things work, so they are the knobs theorists can turn to change an answer they don’t like.

Even if we don’t understand star formation in detail, we do observe that stars have formed, and can estimate how many. Moreover, we do understand pretty well how stars evolve once formed. Hence a common approach is to build stellar population models with some prescribed star formation history and see what works. Spiral galaxies like the Milky Way formed a lot of stars in the past, and continue to do so today. To make 5 x 10¹⁰ M_☉ of stars in 13 Gyr requires an average star formation rate of 4 M_☉/yr. The current measured star formation rate of the Milky Way is estimated to be 2 ± 0.7 M_☉/yr, so the star formation rate has been nearly constant (averaging over stochastic variations) over time, perhaps with a gradual decline. Giant elliptical galaxies, in contrast, are “red and dead”: they have no current star formation and appear to have made most of their stars long ago. Rather than a roughly constant rate of star formation, they peaked early and declined rapidly. The cessation of star formation is also called quenching.

A common way to formulate the star formation rate in galaxies as a whole is the exponential star formation rate, SFR(t) = SFR₀ e^-t/τ. A spiral galaxy has a low baseline star formation rate SFR₀ and a long burn time τ ~ 10 Gyr while an elliptical galaxy has a high initial star formation rate and a short e-folding time like τ ~ 1 Gyr. Many variations on this theme are possible, and are of great interest astronomically, but this basic distinction suffices for our discussion here. From the perspective of the observed mass and stellar populations of local galaxies, the standard picture for a giant elliptical was a large, monolithic island universe that formed the vast majority of its stars early on then quenched with a short e-folding timescale.

Galaxies as Island Universes

The density parameter Ω provides another useful way to think about galaxy formation. As cosmologists, we obsess about the global value of Ω because it determines the expansion history and ultimate fate of the universe. Here it has a more modest application. We can think of the region in the early universe that will ultimately become a galaxy as its own little closed universe. With a density parameter Ω > 1, it is destined to recollapse.

A fun and funny fact of the Friedmann equation is that the matter density parameter Ω_m → 1 at early times, so the early universe when galaxies form is matter dominated. It is also very uniform (more on that below). So any subset that is a bit more dense than average will have Ω > 1 just because the average is very close to Ω = 1. We can then treat this region as its own little universe (a “top-hat overdensity”) and use the Friedmann equation to solve for its evolution, as in this sketch:

*The expansion of the early universe a(t) (blue line). A locally overdense region may behave as a closed universe, recollapsing in a finite time (red line) to potentially form a galaxy.*

That’s great, right? We have a simple, analytic solution derived from first principles that explains how a galaxy forms. We can plug in the numbers to find how long it takes to form our basic, big 10¹¹ M_☉ galaxy and… immediately encounter a problem. We need to know how overdense our protogalaxy starts out. Is its effective initial Ω_m = 2? 10? What value, at what time? The higher it is, the faster the evolution from initially expanding along with the rest of the universe to decoupling from the Hubble flow to collapsing. We know the math but we still need to know the initial condition.

Annoying Initial Conditions

The initial condition for galaxy formation is observed in the cosmic microwave background (CMB) at z = 1090. Where today’s universe is remarkably lumpy, the early universe is incredibly uniform. It is so smooth that it is homogeneous and isotropic to one part in a hundred thousand. This is annoyingly smooth, in fact. It would help to have some lumps – primordial seeds with Ω > 1 – from which structure can grow. The observed seeds are too tiny; the typical initial amplitude is 10^-5 so Ω_m = 1.00001. That takes forever to decouple and recollapse; it hasn’t yet had time to happen.

The cosmic microwave background as observed by ESA’s Planck satellite. This is an all-sky picture of the relic radiation field – essentially a snapshot of the universe when it was just a few hundred thousand years old. The variations in color are variations in temperature which correspond to variations in density. These variations are tiny, only about one part in 100,000. The early universe was very uniform; the real picture is a boring blank grayscale. We have to crank the contrast way up to see these minute variations.

We would like to know how the big galaxies of today – enormous agglomerations of stars and gas and dust separated by inconceivably vast distances – came to be. How can this happen starting from such homogeneous initial conditions, where all the mass is equally distributed? Gravity is an attractive force that makes the rich get richer, so it will grow the slight initial differences in density, but it is also weak and slow to act. A basic result in gravitational perturbation theory is that overdensities grow at the same rate the universe expands, which is inversely related to redshift. So if we see tiny fluctuations in density with amplitude 10^-5 at z = 1000, they should have only grown by a factor of 1000 and still be small today (10^-2 at z = 0). But we see structures of much higher contrast than that. You can’t here from there.

The rich large scale structure we see today is impossible starting from the smooth observed initial conditions. Yet here we are, so we have to do something to goose the process. This is one of the original motivations for invoking cold dark matter (CDM). If there is a substance that does not interact with photons, it can start to clump up early without leaving too large a mark on the relic radiation field. In effect, the initial fluctuations in mass are larger, just in the invisible substance. (That’s not to say the CDM doesn’t leave a mark on the CMB; it does, but it is subtle and entirely another story.) So the idea is that dark matter forms gravitational structures first, and the baryons fall in later to make galaxies.

An illustration of the the linear growth of overdensities. Structure can grow in the dark matter (long dashed lines) with the baryons catching up only after decoupling (short dashed line). In effect, the dark matter gives structure formation a head start, nicely explaining the apparently impossible growth factor. This has been standard picture for what seems like forever (illustration from Schramm 1992).

With the right amount of CDM – and it has to be just the right amount of a dynamically cold form of non-baryonic dark matter (stuff we still don’t know actually exists) – we can explain how the growth factor is 10⁵ since recombination instead of a mere 10³. The dark matter got a head start over the stuff we can see; it looks like 10⁵ because the normal matter lagged behind, being entangled with the radiation field in a way the dark matter was not.

This has been the imperative need in structure formation theory for so long that it has become undisputed lore; an element of the belief system so deeply embedded that it is practically impossible to question. I risk getting ahead of the story, but it is important to point out that, like the interpretation of so much of the relevant astrophysical data, this belief assumes that gravity is normal. This assumption dictates the growth rate of structure, which in turn dictates the need to invoke CDM to allow structure to form in the available time. If we drop this assumption, then we have to work out what happens in each and every alternative that we might consider. That definitely gets ahead of the story, so first let’s understand what we should expect in LCDM.

Hierarchical Galaxy formation in LCDM

LCDM predicts some things remarkably well but others not so much. The dark matter is well-behaved, responding only to gravity. Baryons, on the other hand, are messy – one has to worry about hydrodynamics in the gas, star formation, feedback, dust, and probably even magnetic fields. In a nutshell, LCDM simulations are very good at predicting the assembly of dark mass, but converting that into observational predictions relies on our incomplete knowledge of messy astrophysics. We know what the mass should be doing, but we don’t know so well how that translates to what we see. Mass good, light bad.

Starting with the assembly of mass, the first thing we learn is that the story of monolithic galaxy formation outlined above has to be wrong. Early density fluctuations start out tiny, even in dark matter. God didn’t plunk down island universes of galaxy mass then say “let there be galaxies!” The annoying initial conditions mean that little dark matter halos form first. These subsequently merge hierarchically to make ever bigger halos. Rather than top-down monolithic galaxy formation, we have the bottom-up hierarchical formation of dark matter halos.

The hierarchical agglomeration of dark matter halos into ever larger objects is often depicted as a merger tree. Here are four examples from the high resolution Illustris TNG50 simulation (Pillepich et al. 2019; Nelson et al. 2019).

Examples of merger trees from the TNG50-1 simulation (Pillepich et al. 2019; Nelson et al. 2019). Objects have been selected to have very nearly the same stellar mass at z=0. Mass is built up through a series of mergers. One large dark matter halo today (at top) has many antecedents (small halos at bottom). These merge hierarchically as illustrated by the connecting lines. *The size of the symbol is proportional to the halo mass.* I have added redshift *and the corresponding age of the universe for vanilla LCDM* in a more legible font. *The color bar illustrates the specific star formation rate*: the top row has objects that are still actively star forming like spirals; those in the bottom row are “red and dead” – things that have stopped forming stars, like giant elliptical galaxies. In all cases, there is a lot of merging and a modest rate of growth, with the typical object taking about half a Hubble time (~7 Gyr) to assemble half of its final stellar mass.

The hierarchical assembly of mass is generic in CDM. Indeed, it is one of its most robust predictions. Dark matter halos start small, and grow larger by a succession of many mergers. This gradual agglomeration is slow: note how tiny the dark matter halos at z = 10 are.

Strictly speaking, it isn’t even meaningful to talk about a single galaxy over the span of a Hubble time. It is hard to avoid this mental trap: surely the Milky Way has always been the Milky Way? so one imagines its evolution over time. This is monolithic thinking. Hierarchically, “the galaxy” refers at best to the largest progenitor, the object that traces the left edge of the merger trees above. But the other protogalactic chunks that eventually merge together are as much part of the final galaxy as the progenitor that happens to be largest.

This complicated picture is complicated further by what we can see being stars, not mass. The luminosity we observe forms through a combination of in situ growth (star formation in the largest progenitor) and ex situ growth through merging. There is no reason for some preferred set of protogalaxies to form stars faster than the others (though of course there is some scatter about the mean), so presumably the light traces the mass of stars formed traces the underlying dark mass. Presumably.

That we should see lots of little protogalaxies at high redshift is nicely illustrated by this lookback cone from Yung et al (2022). Here the color and size of each point corresponds to the stellar mass. Massive objects are common at low redshift but become progressively rare at high redshift, petering out at z > 4 and basically absent at z = 10. This realization of the observable stellar mass tracks the assembly of dark mass seen in merger trees.

This is what we expect to see in LCDM: lots of small protogalaxies at high redshift; the building blocks of later galaxies that had not yet merged. The observation of galaxies much brighter than this at high redshift by JWST poses a fundamental challenge to the paradigm: mass appears not to be subdivided as expected. So it is entirely justifiable that people have been freaking out that what we see are bright galaxies that are apparently already massive. That shouldn’t happen; it wasn’t predicted to happen; how can this be happening?

That’s all background that is assumed knowledge for our ApJ paper, so we’re only now getting to its Figure 1. This combines one of the merger trees above with its stellar mass evolution. The left panel shows the assembly of dark mass; the right pane shows the growth of stellar mass in the largest progenitor. This is what we expect to see in observations.

**Fig. 1** from McGaugh et al (2024): A merger tree for a model galaxy from the TNG50-1 simulation (Pillepich et al. 2019; Nelson et al. 2019, left panel) selected to have M_∗ ≈ 9 × 10¹⁰ M_⊙ at z = 0; i.e., the stellar mass of a local L^∗ giant elliptical galaxy (Driver et al. 2022). Mass assembles hierarchically, starting from small halos at high redshift (bottom edge) with the largest progenitor traced along the left of edge of the merger tree. The growth of stellar mass of the largest progenitor is shown in the right panel. This example (jagged line) is close to the median (dashed line) of comparable mass objects (Rodriguez-Gomez et al. 2016), and within the range of the scatter (the shaded band shows the 16th – 84th percentiles). A monolithic model that forms at z_f = 10 and evolves with an exponentially declining star formation rate with τ = 1 Gyr (purple line) is shown for comparison. The latter model forms most of its stars earlier than occurs in the simulation.

For comparison, we also show the stellar mass growth of a monolithic model for a giant elliptical galaxy. This is the classic picture we had for such galaxies before we realized that galaxy formation had to be hierarchical. This particular monolithic model forms at z_f = 10 and follows an exponential star formation rate with τ = 1 Gyr. It is one of the models published by Franck & McGaugh (2017). It is, in fact, the first model I asked Jay to construct when he started the project. Not because we expected it to best describe the data, as it turns out to do, but because the simple exponential model is a touchstone of stellar population modeling. It was a starter model: do this basic thing first to make sure you’re doing it right. We chose τ = 1 Gyr because that was the typical number bandied about for elliptical galaxies, and z_f = 10 because that seemed ridiculously early for a massive galaxy to form. At the time we built the model, it was ludicrously early to imagine a massive galaxy would form, from an LCDM perspective. A formation redshift z_f = 10 was, less than a decade ago, practically indistinguishable from the beginning of time, so we expected it to provide a limit that the data would not possibly approach.

In a remarkably short period, JWST has transformed z = 10 from inconceivable to run of the mill. I’m not going to go into the data yet – this all-theory post is already a lot – but to offer one spoiler: the data are consistent with this monolithic model. If we want to “fix” LCDM, we have to make the red line into the purple line for enough objects to explain the data. That proves to be challenging. But that’s moving the goalposts; the prediction was that we should see little protogalaxies at high redshift, not massive, monolith-style objects. Just look at the merger trees at z = 10!

Accelerated Structure Formation in MOND

In order to address these issues in MOND, we have to go back to the beginning. What is the evolution of a spherical region (a top-hat overdensity) that might collapse to form a galaxy? How does a spherical region under the influence of MOND evolve within an expanding universe?

The solution to this problem was first found by Felten (1984), who was trying to play the Newtonian cosmology trick in MOND. In conventional dynamics, one can solve the equation of motion for a point on the surface of a uniform sphere that is initially expanding and recover the essence of the Friedmann equation. It was reasonable to check if cosmology might be that simple in MOND. It was not. The appearance of a₀ as a physical scale makes the solution scale-dependent: there is no general solution that one can imagine applies to the universe as a whole.

Felten reasonably saw this as a failure. There were, however, some appealing aspects of his solution. For one, there was no such thing as a critical density. All MOND universes would eventually recollapse irrespective of their density (in the absence of the repulsion provided by a cosmological constant). It could take a very long time, which depended on the density, but the ultimate fate was always the same. There was no special value of Ω, and hence no flatness problem. The latter obsessed people at the time, so I’m somewhat surprised that no one seems to have made this connection. Too soon*, I guess.

There it sat for many years, an obscure solution for an obscure theory to which no one gave credence. When I became interested in the problem a decade later, I started methodically checking all the classic results. I was surprised to find how many things we needed dark matter to explain were just as well (or better) explained by MOND. My exact quote was “surprised the bejeepers out of us.” So, what about galaxy formation?

I started with the top-hat overdensity, and had the epiphany that Felten had already obtained the solution. He had been trying to solve all of cosmology, which didn’t work. But he had solved the evolution of a spherical region that starts out expanding with the rest of the universe but subsequently collapses under the influence of MOND. The overdensity didn’t need to be large, it just needed to be in the low acceleration regime. Something like the red cycloidal line in the second plot above could happen in a finite time. But how much?

The solution depends on scale and needs to be solved numerically. I am not the greatest programmer, and I had a lot else on my plate at the time. I was in no rush, as I figured I was the only one working on it. This is usually a good assumption with MOND, but not in this case. Bob Sanders had had the same epiphany around the same time, which I discovered when I received his manuscript to referee. So all credit is due to Bob: he said these things first.

First, he noted that galaxy formation in MOND is still hierarchical. Small things form first. Crudely speaking, structure formation is very similar to the conventional case, but now the goose comes from the change in the force law rather than extra dark mass. MOND is nonlinear, so the whole process gets accelerated. To compare with the linear growth of CDM:

A sketch of how structures grow over time under the influence of cold dark matter (left, from Schramm 1992, same as above) and MOND (right, from Sanders & McGaugh 2002; see also this further discussion and previous post). The slow linear growth of CDM (long-dashed line, left panel) is replaced by a rapid, nonlinear growth in MOND (solid lines at right; numbers correspond to different scales). Nonlinear growth moderates after cosmic expansion begins to accelerate (dashed vertical line in right panel).

The net effect is the same. A cosmic web of large scale structure emerges. They look qualitatively similar, but everything happens faster in MOND. This is why observations have persistently revealed structures that are more massive and were in place earlier than expected in contemporaneous LCDM models.

*Simulated structure formation in ΛCDM (top) and MOND (bottom) showing the more rapid emergence of similar structures in MOND (note the redshift of each panel). From McGaugh (2015).*

In MOND, small objects like globular clusters form first, but galaxies of a range of masses all collapse on a relatively short cosmic timescale. How short? Let’s consider our typical 10¹¹ M_☉ galaxy. Solving Felten’s equation for the evolution of a sphere numerically, peak expansion is reached after 300 Myr and collapse happens in a similar time. The whole galaxy is in place speedy quick, and the initial conditions don’t really matter: a uniform, initially expanding sphere in the low acceleration regime will behave this way. From our distant vantage point thirteen billion years later, the whole process looks almost monolithic (the purple line above) even though it is a chaotic hierarchical mess for the first few hundred million years (z > 14). In particular, it is easy to form half of the stellar mass early on: the mass is already assembled.

This is what JWST sees: galaxies that are already massive when the universe is just half a billion years old. I’m sure I should say more but I’m exhausted now and you may be too, so I’m gonna stop here by noting that in 1998, when Bob Sanders predicted that “Objects of galaxy mass are the first virialized objects to form (by z=10),” the contemporaneous prediction of LCDM was that “present-day disc [galaxies] were assembled recently (at z<=1)” and “there is nothing above redshift 7.” One of these predictions has been realized. It is rare in science that such a clear a priori prediction comes true, let alone one that seemed so unreasonable at the time, and which took a quarter century to corroborate.

*I am not quite this old: I was still an undergraduate in 1984. I hadn’t even decided to be an astronomer at that point; I certainly hadn’t started following the literature. The first time I heard of MOND was in a graduate course taught by Doug Richstone in 1988. He only mentioned it in passing while talking about dark matter, writing the equation on the board and saying maybe it could be this. I recall staring at it for a long few seconds, then shaking my head and muttering “no way.” I then completely forgot about it, not thinking about it again until it came up in our data for low surface brightness galaxies. I expect most other professionals have the same initial reaction, which is fair. The test of character comes when it crops up in their data, as it is doing now for the high redshift galaxy community.

Massive Galaxies at High Redshift: we told you so

I was raised to believe that it was rude to tell people I told you so. Yet that’s pretty much the essence of the scientific method: we test hypotheses by making predictions, then checking to see which told us the correct result in advance of the experiment. So: I told you so.

Our paper on massive galaxies at high redshift is out in the Astrophysical Journal today. This is a scientific analysis of the JWST data that has accumulated to date as it pertains to testing galaxy formation as hypothesized by LCDM and MOND. That massive galaxies are observed to form early (z > 10) corroborates the long standing prediction of MOND, going back to Sanders (1998):

Objects of galaxy mass are the first virialized objects to form (by z=10), and larger structure develops rapidly

The contemporaneous LCDM prediction from Mo, Mao, & White (1998) – a touchstone of galaxy formation theory with nearly 2,000 citations – was

present-day disc [galaxies] were assembled recently (at z<=1).

This is not what JWST sees, as morphologically mature spiral galaxies are present to at least z = 6 (Ferreira et al 2024). More generally, LCDM was predicted to take a long time to build up the stellar mass of large galaxies, with the median time to reach half the final stellar mass being about half a Hubble time (seven billion years, give or take). In contrast, JWST has now observed many galaxies that meet this benchmark in the first billion years. That was not expected to happen.

In short, one theory got its prediction right, and the other got it wrong. I say expected, because we can always attempt to modify a theory to accommodate new facts. The a priori predictions of LCDM were wrong, but can it be adjusted to explain the data? Perhaps – but if so, that’s because it is incredibly flexible. That’s normally considered to be a bad thing in a theory, not a strength, especially when a competing theory got it right in the first place.

This has happened over and over and over again. After the initial shock of having MOND’s predictions come true in my own data (how can this be so?), I’ve spent the decades since devising and executing new tests of both theories. When it comes to making a priori predictions, MOND has won over and over again. It has consistently had more predictive success.

If you are a scientist reading this and that statement doesn’t sound right to you, that’s because you haven’t been paying attention. I get it: MOND seems too unlikely to pay attention to. I certainly didn’t before it reared its head in my own data. So ask yourself: what do you actually know about MOND? IT’S WRONG! OK, after that. Seriously: how many papers have you read about MOND? Do you know what its predictions are? Do you know what its successes are, or only just its failings? Can you write down its formula? If the answers to these questions do not come easily to you, it’s because you haven’t taken it seriously. Which, again, I get. But it is also an indication that you may not be playing with a complete set of facts. Ignorance is not a strong position from which to make scientific judgements.

I will expand more on the content of the science paper in future posts. For now, it boils down to I told you so.

You can also read more in SciNews, Newsweek, and the most in-depth article so far, in Courthouse News.

What if we never find dark matter?

Some people have asked me to comment on the Scientific American article What if We Never Find Dark Matter? by Slatyer & Tait. For the most part, I find it unobjectionable – from a certain point of view. It is revealing to examine this point of view, starting with the title, which frames the subject in a way that gives us permission to believe in dark matter while never finding it. This framing is profoundly unscientific, as it invites a form of magical thinking that could usher in a thousand years of dark epicycles (feedback being the modern epicycle) on top of the decades it has already sustained.

The article does recognize that a modification of gravity is at least a logical possibility. The mere mention of this is progress, if grudging and slow. They can’t bring themselves to name a specific theory: they never say MOND and only allude obliquely to a single relativistic theory as if saying its name out loud would bring a curse^% upon their house.

Of course, they mention modified gravity merely to dismiss it:

A universe without dark matter would require striking modifications to the laws of gravity… [which] seems exceptionally difficult.

Yes it is. But it has also proven exceptionally difficult to detect dark matter. That hasn’t stopped people from making valiant efforts to do so. So the argument is that we should try really hard to accomplish the exceptionally difficult task of detecting dark matter, but we shouldn’t bother trying to modify gravity because doing so would be exceptionally difficult.

This speaks to motivations – is one idea better motivated? In the 1980s, cold dark matter was motivated by both astronomical observations and physical theory. Absent the radical thought of modifying gravity, we had a clear need for unseen mass. Some of that unseen mass could simply have been undetected normal matter, but most of it needed to be some form of non-baryonic dark matter that exceeded the baryon density allowed by Big Bang Nucleosynthesis and did not interact directly with photons. That meant entirely new physics from beyond the Standard Model of particle physics: no particle in the known stable of particles suffices. This new physics was seen as a good thing, because particle physicists already had the feeling that there should be something more than the Standard Model. There was a desire for Grand Unified Theories (GUTs) and supersymmetry (SUSY). SUSY naturally provides a home for particles that could be the dark matter, in particular the Weakly Interacting Massive Particles (WIMPs) that are the prime target for the vast majority of experiments that are working to achieve the exceptionally difficult task of detecting them. So there was a confluence of reasons from very different perspectives to make the search for WIMPs very well motivated.

That was then. Fast forward a few decades, and the search for WIMPs has failed. Repeatedly. Continuing to pursue it is an example of the sunk cost fallacy. We keep doing it because we’ve already done so much of it that surely we should keep going. So I feel the need to comment on this seemingly innocuous remark:

although many versions of supersymmetry predict WIMP dark matter, the converse isn’t true; WIMPs are viable dark matter candidates even in a universe without supersymmetry.

Strictly speaking, this is correct. It is also weak sauce. The neutrino is an example of a weakly interacting particle that has some mass. We know neutrinos exist, and they reside in the Standard Model – no need for supersymmetry. We also know that they cannot be the dark matter, so it would be disingenuous to conflate the two. Beyond that, it is possible to imagine a practically infinite variety of particles that are weakly interacting by not part of supersymmetry. That’s just throwing mud at the wall. SUSY WIMPs were extraordinarily well motivated, with the WIMP miracle being the beautiful argument that launched a thousand experiments. But lacking SUSY – which seems practically dead at this juncture – WIMPS as originally motivated are dead along with it. The motivation for more generic WIMPs is lacking, so the above statement is nothing more than an assertion that runs interference for the fact that we no longer have good reason to expect WIMPs at all.

There is also an element of disciplinary-centric thinking: if you’re a particle physicist, you can build a dark matter detector and maybe make a major discovery or at least get great gobs of grants in the effort to do so. If instead what is going on is really a modification of gravity, then your expertise is irrelevant and there is no reason to keep shoveling money into your field. Worse, a career spent at the bottom of a mine shaft working on dark matter detectors is a waste of effort. I can understand why people don’t want to hear that message, but that just brings us back to the sunk cost fallacy.

Speaking of money, I occasionally get scientists who come up to me Big Mad that grant money gets spent on MOND research, as that would be a waste of taxpayer money. I can assure them that no government dollars have been harmed in the pursuit of MOND research. Certainly not in the U.S., at any rate. But lots and lots of tax dollars have been burned in the search for dark matter, and the article we’re discussing advocates spending a whole lot more to search for dark matter candidates that are nowhere near as well motivated as WIMPs were. That’s why I keep asking: how do we know when to stop? I don’t expect other scientists to agree to my interpretation of the data, but I do expect them to have a criterion whereby they would accede that dark matter is incorrect. If we lack any notion of how we could figure out that we are wrong, then we’ve made the leap from science to religion. So far, such criteria are sadly lacking, and I see precious little evidence of people rising to the challenge. Indeed, I frequently get the opposite, as other scientists have frequently asserted to me that they would only consider MOND as a last resort. OK, when does that happen? There’s always another particle we can think up, so the answer seems to be “never.”

I wrote long ago that “After WIMPs, the next obvious candidate is axions.” Sure enough, this article spills a lot of ink discussing axions. Rather than dwell on this different doomed idea for dark matter, let’s take a gander at the remarkable art made to accompany the article, because we are visual animals and graphical representations are important.

Where to start? Right in the center is a scroll of an old-timey star chart. On top of that are several depictions of what I guess are meant to be galaxies*. Around those is an ethereal dragon representing the unknown dark matter. The depiction of dark matter as an unfathomable monster is at once both spot on and weirdly anthropomorphic. Is this a fabled beast the adventurous hero is supposed to seek out and slay? or befriend? or maybe it is a tale in which he grows during the journey to realize he has been on the wrong path the whole time? I love the dragon as art, but as a representation of a scientific subject it imparts an aura of teleological biology to something that is literally out of this world, residing in a dark sector that is not part of our daily experience and may be entirely inaccessible to our terrestrial experimentation. Off the edge of the map and on into extra dimensions: here there be monsters.

The representations here are fantastic. There is the coffee mug and the candle to represent the hard work of those of us who burn the candle at both ends wrestling with the dark matter problem. There’s a magnifying glass to represent how hard the experimentalists have looked for the dark matter. Scattered around are various totems, like the Polaroid-style picture at right depicting the gravitational lensing around a black hole. This is cool, but has squat to do with the missing mass problem. It’s more a nod to General Relativity and the Faith we have therein, albeit in a regime many orders of magnitude removed from the one that concerns us here. On the left is an old newspaper article about WIMPs, complete with a sketch of a Feynman diagram that depicts how we might detect them. And at the top, peeking out of a book, as it were a thought made long ago now seeking new relevance, a note saying Axions!

I can save everyone a lot of time, effort, and expense. It ain’t WIMPs and it ain’t axions. Nor is the dark matter any of the plethora of other ideas illustrated in the eye-watering depiction of the landscape of particle possibilities in the article. These simply add mass while providing no explanation of the observed MOND phenomenology. This phenomenology is fundamental to the problem, so any approach that ignores it is doomed to failure. I’m happy to consider explanations based on dark matter, but these need to have a direct connection to baryons baked-in to be viable. None of the ideas they discuss meet this minimum criterion.

Of course it could be that MOND – either as modified gravity or modified inertia, an important possibility that usually gets overlooked – is essentially correct and that’s why it keeps having predictions come true. That’s what motivates considering it now: repeated and sustained predictive success, particularly for phenomena that dark matter does not provide a satisfactory explanation for.

Of course, this article advocating dark matter is at pains to dismiss modified gravity as a possibility:

The changes [of modified gravity] would have to mimic the effects of dark matter in astrophysical systems ranging from giant clusters of galaxies to the Milky Way’s smallest satellite galaxies. In other words, they would need to apply across an enormous range of scales in distance and time, without contradicting the host of other precise measurements we’ve gathered about how gravity works. The modifications would also need to explain why, if dark matter is just a modification to gravity—which is universally associated with all matter—not all galaxies and clusters appear to contain dark matter. Moreover, the most sophisticated attempts to formulate self-consistent theories of modified gravity to explain away dark matter end up invoking a type of dark matter anyway, to match the ripples we observe in the cosmic microwave background, leftover light from the big bang.

That’s a lot, so let’s break it down. First, that modified gravity “would have to mimic the effects of dark matter” gets it exactly backwards. It is dark matter that has to mimic the effects of MOND. That’s an easy call: dark matter plus baryons could combine in a large variety of ways that might bear no resemblance to MOND. Indeed, they should do that: the obvious prediction of LCDM-like theories is an exponential disk in an NFW halo. In contrast, there is one and only one thing that can happen in MOND since there is a single effective force law that connects the dynamics to the observed distribution of baryons. Galaxies didn’t have to do that, shouldn’t do that, but remarkably they do. The uniqueness of this relation poses a problem for dark matter that has been known since the previous century:

*Reluctant conclusions from McGaugh & de Blok (1998). As we said at the time, “This result surprised the bejeepers out of us, too.”*

This basic conclusion has not changed over the years, only gotten stronger. The equation coupling dark to luminous matter I wrote down in all generality in McGaugh (2004) and again in McGaugh et al. (2016). The latter paper is published in Physical Review Letters, arguably the most prominent physics journal, and is in the top percentile of citation rates, so it isn’t some minuscule detail buried in an obscure astronomical journal that might have eluded the attention of particle physicists. It is the implication that conclusion [1] could be correct that bounces off a protective shell of cognitive dissonance so hard that the necessary corollary [2] gets overlooked.

OK, that’s just the first sentence. Let’s carry on with “[the modification] would need to apply across an enormous range of scales in distance and time, without contradicting the host of other precise measurements we’ve gathered about how gravity works.” Well, duh. That’s the first thing I checked. Thoroughly and repeatedly. I’ve written many reviews on the subject. They’re either unaware of some well-established results, or choose to ignore them.

The reason MOND doesn’t contradict the host of other constraints about how gravity works is simple. It happens in the low acceleration regime, where the only test of gravity is provided by the data that evince the mass discrepancy. If we had posed galaxy observations as a test of GR, we would have concluded that it fails at low accelerations. Of course we didn’t do that; we observed galaxies because we were interested in how they worked, then inferred the need for dark matter when gravity as we currently know it failed to explain the data. Other tests, regardless how precise, are irrelevant if they probe accelerations higher than Milgrom’s constant (1.2 x 10^-10 m/s/s).

Continuing on, there is the complaint that “modifications would also need to explain why… not all galaxies and clusters appear to contain dark matter.” Yep, you gotta explain all the data. That starts with the vast majority of the data that do follow the radial acceleration relation, which is not satisfactorily explained by dark matter. They skip⁺ past that part, preferring to ignore the forest in order to complain about a few outlying trees. There are some interesting cases, to be sure, but this complaint about objects lacking dark matter is misplaced for deeper reasons. It makes no sense in terms of dark matter that there are objects without dark matter. That shouldn’t happen in LCDM any more than in MOND^$. One winds up invoking non-equilibrium effects, which we can do in MOND just as we do in dark matter. It is not satisfactory in either case, but it is weird to complain about it for one theory while not for the other. This line of argument is perilously close to the a priori fallacy.

The last line, “the most sophisticated attempts to formulate self-consistent theories of modified gravity to explain away dark matter end up invoking a type of dark matter anyway, to match the ripples we observe in the cosmic microwave background” actually has some merit. The theory they’re talking about is Aether-Scalar-Tensor (AeST) theory, which I guess earns the badge of “most sophisticated” because it fits the power spectrum of the cosmic microwave background (CMB).

I’ve discussed the CMB in detail before, so won’t belabor it here. I will note that the microwave background is only one piece of many lines of evidence, and the conclusion one reaches depends on how one chooses to weigh the various incommensurate evidence. That they choose to emphasize this one thing while entirely eliding the predictive successes of MOND is typical, but does not encourage me to take this as a serious argument, especially when I had more success predicting important aspects of the microwave background than did the entire community that persistently cites the microwave background to the exclusion of all else.

It is also a bit strange to complain that AeST “explain[s] away dark matter [but] end[s] up invoking a type of dark matter.” I think what they mean here is true at the level of quantum field theory where all particles are fields and all fields are particles, but beyond that, they aren’t the same thing at all. It is common for modified gravity theories to invoke scalar fields^#, and this is an important degree of freedom that enables AeST to fit the CMB. TeVeS also added a scalar and tensor field, but could not fit the CMB, so this approach isn’t guaranteed to work. But are these a type of dark matter? Or are our ideas of dark matter mimicking a scalar field? It seems like this argument could cut either way, and we’re just granting dark matter priority as a concept because we thought of it first. I don’t think nature cares about the order of our thoughts.

None of this addresses the question of the year. Why does MOND get any predictions right? Just saying “dark matter does it” is not sufficient. Until scientists engage seriously with this question, they’re doomed to chasing phantoms that aren’t there to catch.

^%From what I’ve seen, they’re probably right to fear the curses of their colleagues for such blasphemy. Very objective, very scientific.

*Galaxies are nature’s artwork; human imitations never seem adequate. These look more like fried eggs to me. On the whole, this art is exceptionally well informed by science, or at least by particle physics, but not so much by astronomy. And therein lies the greater problem: there is a whole field of physics devoted to dark matter that is entirely motivated by astronomical observations yet its practitioners are, by and large, remarkably ignorant of anything more than the most rudimentary aspects of the data that motivate their field’s existence.

⁺There seems to be a common misconception that anything we observe is automatically explained by dark matter. That’s only true at the level of inference: any excess gravity is attributable to unseen mass. That’s why a hypothesis is only as good as its prior; a mere inference isn’t science, you have to make a prediction. Once you do that, you find dark matter might do lots of things that are not at all like the MONDian phenomenology that we observe. While I would hope the need for predictions is obvious, many scientists seem to conflate observation with prediction – if we observe it, that’s what dark matter must predict!

^$The discrepancy should only appear below the critical acceleration scale in MOND. So strictly speaking, MOND does predict that there should be objects without dark matter: systems that are high acceleration. The central regions of globular clusters and elliptical galaxies are such regions, and MOND fares well there. In contrast, it is rather hard to build a sensible dark matter model that is as baryon dominated as observed. So this is an example of MOND explaining the absence of dark matter better than dark matter theory. This is related to the observation that the apparent need for dark matter only appears at low accelerations, at a scale that dark matter knows nothing about.

^#I, personally, am skeptical of this approach, as it seems too generic (let’s add some new freedom!) when it feels like we’re missing something fundamental, perhaps along the lines of Mach’s Principle. However, I also recognize that this is a feeling on my part; it is outside my training to have a meaningful opinion.

Decision Trees & Philosophical Blunders

Given recent developments in the long-running hunt for dark matter and the difficulty interpreting what this means, it seems like a good juncture to re-up* this:

The history of science is a decision tree. Vertices appear where we must take one or another branching. Sometimes, we take the wrong road for the right reasons.

A good example is the geocentric vs. heliocentric cosmology. The ancient Greeks knew that in many ways it made more sense for the earth to revolve around the sun than vice-versa. Yet they were very clever. Ptolemy and others tested for the signature of the earth’s orbit in the seasonal wobbling in the positions of stars, or parallax. If the earth is moving around the sun, nearby stars should appear to move on the sky as the earth moves from one side of the sun to the other. Try blinking back and forth between your left and right eyes to see this effect, noting how nearby objects appear to move relative to distant ones.

Problem is, Ptolemy did not find the parallax. Quite reasonably, he inferred that the earth stayed put. We know now that this was the wrong branch to choose, but it persisted as the standard world view for many centuries. It turns out that even the nearest stars are so distant that their angular parallax is tiny (the angle of parallax is inversely proportional to distance). Precision sufficient for measuring the parallax was not achieved until the 19th century, by which time astronomers were already convinced it must happen.

Ptolemy was probably aware of this possibility, though it must have seemed quite unreasonable to conjecture at that time that the stars could be so very remote. The fact was that parallax was not observed. Either the earth did not move, or the stars were ridiculously distant. Which sounds more reasonable to you?

So, science took the wrong branch. Once this happened, sociology kicked in. Generation after generation of intelligent scholars confirmed the lack of parallax until the opposing branch seemed so unlikely that it became heretical to even discuss. It is very hard to reverse back up the decision tree and re-assess what seems to be such a firm conclusion. It took the Copernican revolution to return to that ancient decision branch and try the other one.

Cosmology today faces a similar need to take a few steps back on the decision tree. The problem now is the issue of the mass discrepancy, typically attributed to dark matter. When it first became apparent that things didn’t add up when one applied the usual Law of Gravity to the observed dynamics of galaxies, there was a choice. Either lots of matter is present which happens to be dark, or the Law of Gravity has to be amended. Which sounds more reasonable to you?

Having traveled down the road dictated by the Dark Matter decision branch, cosmologists find themselves trapped in a web of circular logic entirely analogous to the famous Ptolemaic epicycles. Not many of them realize it yet, much less admit that this is what is going on. But if you take a few steps back up the decision branch, you find a few attempts to alter the equations of gravity. Most of these failed almost immediately, encouraging cosmologists down the dark matter path just as Ptolemy wisely chose a geocentric cosmology. However, one of these theories is not only consistent with the data, it actually predicts many important new results. This theory is known as MOND (MOdified Newtonian Dynamics). It was introduced in 1983 by Moti Milgrom of the Weizmann Institute in Israel.

MOND accurately describes the effective force law in galaxies based only on the observed stars and gas. What this means is unclear, but it clearly means something! It is conceivable that dark and luminous matter somehow interact to mimic the behavior stipulated by MOND. This is not expected, and requires a lot of epicyclic thinking to arrange. The more straightforward interpretation is that MOND is correct, and we took the wrong branch of the decision tree back in the ’70s.

MOND has dire implications for much modern cosmological thought which has developed symbiotically with dark matter. As yet, no one has succeeded in writing down a theory which encompasses both MOND and General Relativity. This leaves open many questions in cosmology that were thought to be solved, such as the expansion history of the universe. There is nothing a scientist hates to do more than unlearn what was thought to be well established. It is this sociological phenomenon that makes it so difficult to climb back up the decision tree to the faulty branching.

Once one returns and takes the correct branch, the way forward is not necessarily obvious. The host of questions which had been assigned seemingly reasonable explanations along the faulty branch must be addressed anew. And there will always be those incapable of surrendering the old world view irrespective of the evidence.

In my opinion, the new successes of MOND can not occur by accident. They are a strong sign that we are barking up the wrong tree with dark matter. A grander theory encompassing both MOND and General Relativity must exist, even if no one has as yet been clever enough to figure it out (few have tried).

These all combine to make life as a cosmologist interesting. Sometimes it is exciting. Often it is frustrating. Most of the time, “interesting” takes on the meaning implied by the old Chinese curse:

MAY YOU LIVE IN INTERESTING TIMES

Like it or not, we do.

*I wrote this in 2000. I leave it to the reader to decide how much progress has been made since then.

Why’d it have to be MOND?

I want to take another step back in perspective from the last post to say a few words about what the radial acceleration relation (RAR) means and what it doesn’t mean. Here it is again:

The Radial Acceleration Relation over many decades. The grey region is forbidden – there cannot be less acceleration than caused by the observed baryons. The entire region above the diagonal line (yellow) is accessible to dark matter models as the sum of baryons and however much dark matter the model prescribes. MOND is the blue line.

This information was not available when the dark matter paradigm was developed. We observed excess motion, like flat rotation curves, and inferred the existence of extra mass. That was perfectly reasonable given the information available at the time. It is not now: we need to reassess as we learn more.

There is a clear organization to the data at both high and low acceleration. No objective observer with a well-developed physical intuition would look at this and think “dark matter.” The observed behavior does not follow from one force law plus some arbitrary amount of invisible mass. That could do literally anything in the yellow region above, and beyond the bounds of the plot, both upwards and to the left. Indeed, there is no obvious reason why the data don’t fall all over the place. One of the lingering, niggling concerns is the 5:1 ratio of dark matter:baryons – why is it in the same ballpark, when it could be pretty much anything? Why should the data organize in terms of acceleration? There is no reason for dark matter to do this.

Plausible dark matter models have been predicted to do a variety of things – things other than what we observe. The problem for dark matter is that real objects only occupy a tiny line through the vast region available to them in the plot above. This is a fine-tuning problem: why do the data reside only where they do when they could be all over the place? I recognized this as a problem for dark matter before I became aware^$ of MOND. That it turns out that the data follow the line uniquely predicted^* by MOND is just chef’s kiss: there is a fine-tuning problem for dark matter because MOND is the effective force law.

The argument against dark matter is that the data could reside anywhere in the yellow region above, but don’t. The argument against MOND is that a small portion of the data fall a little off the blue line. Arguing that such objects, be they clusters of galaxies or particular individual galaxies, falsify MOND while ignoring the fine-tuning problem faced by dark matter is a case of refusing to see the forest for a few outlying trees.^%

So to return to the question posed in the title of this post, I don’t know why it had to be MOND. That’s just what we observe. Pretending dark matter does the same thing is a false presumption.

^$I’d heard of MOND only vaguely, and, like most other scientists in the field, had paid it no mind until it reared its ugly head in my own data.

*I talk about MOND here because I believe in giving credit where credit is due. MOND predicted this; no other theory did so. Dark matter theories did not predict this. My dark matter-based galaxy formation theory did not predict this. Other dark matter-based galaxy formation theories (including simulations) continue to fail to explain this. Other hypotheses of modified gravity also did not predict what is observed. Who⁺ ordered this?

*Modified Dynamics. Very dangerous. You go first.*

Many people in the field hate MOND, often with an irrational intensity that has the texture of religion. It’s not as if I woke up one morning and decided to like MOND – sometimes I wish I had never heard of it – but disliking a theory doesn’t make it wrong, and ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. MOND and only MOND predicted the observed RAR a priori. So far, MOND and only MOND provides a satisfactory explanation of thereof. We might not like it, but there it is in the data. We’re not going to progress until we get over our fear of MOND and cope with it. Imagining that it will somehow fall out of simulations with just the right baryonic feedback prescription is a form of magical thinking, not science.

⁺Milgrom. Milgrom ordered this.

^%I expect many cosmologists would argue the same in reverse for the cosmic microwave background (CMB) and other cosmological constraints. I have some sympathy for this. The fit to the power spectrum of the CMB seems too good to be an accident, and it points to the same parameters as other constraints. Well, mostly – the Hubble tension might be a clue that things could unravel, as if they haven’t already. The situation is not symmetric – where MOND predicted what we observe a priori with a minimum of assumptions, LCDM is an amalgam of one free parameter after another after another: dark matter and dark energy are, after all, auxiliary hypotheses we invented to save FLRW cosmology. When they don’t suffice, we invent more. Feedback is single word that represents a whole Pandora’s box of extra degrees of freedom, and we can invent crazier things as needed. The results is a Frankenstein’s monster of a cosmology that we all agree is the same entity, but when we examine it closely the pieces don’t fit, and one cosmologist’s LCDM is not really the same as that of the next. They just seem to agree because they use the same words to mean somewhat different things. Simply agreeing that there has to be non-baryonic dark matter has not helped us conjure up detections of the dark matter particles in the laboratory, or given us the clairvoyance to explain^# what MOND predicted a prioi. So rather than agree that dark matter must exist because cosmology works so well, I think the appearance of working well is a chimera of many moving parts. Rather, cosmology, as we currently understand it, works if and only if non-baryonic dark matter exists in the right amount. That requires a laboratory detection to confirm.

^#I have a disturbing lack of faith that a satisfactory explanation can be found.

The Radial Acceleration Relation starting from high accelerations

In the previous post, we discussed how lensing data extend the Radial Acceleration Relation (RAR) seen in galaxy kinematics to very low accelerations. Let’s zoom out now, and look at things at higher accelerations and from a historical perspective.

This all started with Kepler’s Laws of Planetary Motion, which are explained by Newton’s Universal Gravitation – the inverse square law g_bar = GM/r² is exactly what is needed to explain the observed centripetal acceleration, g_obs = V²/r. It also explains the surface gravity of the Earth. Indeed, it was the famous falling apple that is reputed to have given Newton the epiphany that it was the same force that made the apple fall to the ground that made the Moon circle the Earth that made the planets revolve around the sun.

The inverse square law holds over more than six decades of observed acceleration in the solar system, from the one gee we feel here on the surface of the Earth to the outskirts patrolled by Neptune.

Planetary motion in the radial acceleration plane. The dotted line is Newton’s inverse square law of universal gravity.*

The inverse square force law is what it takes to make the planetary data line up. A different force law would give a line with a different slope in this plot. No force law at all would give chaos, with planets all over the place in this plot, if, say, the solar system were run by a series of deferents and epicycles as envisioned for Ptolemaic cosmologies. In such a system, there is no reason to expect the organization seen above. It would require considerable contrivance to make it so.

Newtonian gravity and General Relativity are exquisitely well-tested in the solar system. There are also some very precise tests at higher accelerations that GR passes with flying colors. The story to lower accelerations is another matter. The most remote solar system probes we’ve launched are the Voyger and Pioneer missions. These probe down to ~10^-6 m/s/s; below that is uncharted territory.

The RAR extended from high solar system accelerations to much low accelerations typical of galaxies – not the change in scale. Some early rotation curves (of NGC 55, NGC 801, NGC 2403, NGC 2841, & UGC 2885) are shown as lines. These probed an entirely new regime of acceleration. The departure of these lines from the dotted line are the flat rotation curves indicating the acceleration discrepancy/need for dark matter. This discrepancy was clear by the end of the 1970s, but the amplitude of the discrepancy then was modest.

Galaxies (and extragalactic data in general) probe an acceleration range that is unprecedented from the perspective of solar system tests. General Relativity has passed so many precise tests that the usual presumption is that is applies at all scales. But it is an assumption that it applies to scales where it hasn’t been tested. Galaxies and cosmology pose such a test. That we need to invoke dark matter to save the phenomenon would be interpreted as a failure if we had set out to test the theory rather than assume it applied.

It was clear from flat rotation curves that something extra was needed. However, when we invented the dark matter paradigm, it was not clear that the data were organized in terms of acceleration. As the data continued to improve, it became clear that the vast majority of galaxies adhered to a single, apparently universal⁺ radial acceleration relation. What had been a hint of systematic behavior in early data became clean and clear. The data did not exhibit the scatter that as was expected from a sum of a baryonic disk and a non-baryonic dark matter halo – there is no reason that these two distinct components should sum to the single effective force law that is observed.

The RAR with modern data for both early (red triangles) and late (cyan circles) morphological types. The blue line is the prediction of MOND: there is a transition at an acceleration scale to a force law that is universal but no longer inverse-square.

The observed force-law happened to already have a name: MOND. If it had been something else, then we could have claimed to discover something new. But instead we were obliged to admit that the unexpected thing we had found had in fact been predicted by Milgrom.

This predictive power now extends to much lower accelerations. Again, only MOND got this prediction right in advance.

*The RAR as above, extended by weak gravitational lensing observations. These follow the prediction of MOND as far as they are credible.*

The data could have done many different things here. It could have continued along the dotted line, in which case we’d have need for no dark matter or modified gravity. It could have scattered all over the place – this is the natural expectation of dark matter theories, as there is no reason to expect the gravitational potential of the dominant dark matter halo to be dictated by the distribution of baryons. One expects that not to happen. Yet the data evince the exceptional degree of organization seen above.

It requires considerable contrivance to explain the RAR with dark matter. No viable explanation yet exists, despite many unconvincing claims to this effect. I have worked more on trying to explain this in terms of dark matter than I have on MOND, and all I can tell you is what doesn’t work. Every explanation I’ve seen so far is a special case of a model I had previously considered and rejected as obviously unworkable. At this point, I don’t see how dark matter can ever plausibly do what the data require.

I worry that dark matter has become an epicycle theory. We’re sure it is right, so whatever we observe, no matter how awkward or unexpected, must be what it does. But what if it is wrong, and it does not exist? How do we ever disabuse ourselves of the notion that there is invisible mass once we’ve convinced ourselves that there has to be?

Of course, MOND has its own problems. Clusters of galaxies are systems^$ for which it persistently fails to explain the amplitude of the observed acceleration discrepancy. So let’s add those to the plot as well:

*As above, with clusters of galaxies added (x: Sanders 2003; +: Li et al. 2023).*

So: do clusters violate the RAR, or follow it? I’d say yes and yes – the offset, thought modest in amplitude in this depiction, is statistically significant. But there is also a similar scaling with acceleration, only the amplitude is off. The former makes no sense in MOND; the latter makes no sense in terms of dark matter which did not predict a RAR at all.

Clusters are the strongest evidence against MOND. Just being evidence against MOND doesn’t automatically make it evidence in favor of dark matter. I often pose myself the question: which theory requires me to disbelieve the least amount of data? When I first came to the problem, I was shocked to find that the answer was clearly MOND. Since then, it has gone back and forth, but rather than a clear answer emerging, what has happened is more a divergence of different lines of evidence: that which favors the standard cosmology is incommensurate with that which favors MOND. This leads to considerable cognitive dissonance.

One way to cope with cognitive dissonance is to engage with a problem from different perspectives. If I put on a MOND hat, I worry about the offset seen above for clusters. If I put on a dark matter hat, I worry about the same kind of offset for every system that is not a rich cluster of galaxies. Most critics of MOND seem unconcerned about this problem for dark matter, so how much should a critic of dark matter worry about it in MOND?

*For the hyper-pedantic: the eccentricity of each orbit causes the exact location of each planet in the first plot to oscillate up and down along the dotted line. The extent of this oscillation is smaller than the size of each symbol with the exception of Mercury, which has a relatively high eccentricity (but nowhere near enough to reach Venus).

⁺There are a few exceptions, of course – there are always exceptions in astronomy. The issue is whether these are physically meaningful, or the result of systematic uncertainties or non-equilibrium processes. The claimed discrepancies range from dubious to unconvincing to obviously wrong.

^$I’ve heard some people criticize MOND because the centroid of the lensing signal does not peak around the gas in the Bullet cluster. This assumes that the gas represents the majority of the baryons. We know the is not the case, and that there is some missing mass in clusters. Whatever it is, it is clearly more centrally concentrated than the gas, so we don’t expect the lensing signal to peak where the gas is. All the Bullet cluster teaches us is that whatever this stuff is, it is collisionless. So this particular complaint is a logical fallacy of the a red herring and/or straw man variety born of not understanding MOND well enough to criticize it accurately. Why bother to do that when you come to the problem already sure that MOND is wrong? I understand this line of thought extraordinarily well, because that’s the attitude I started with, and I’ve seen it repeated by many colleagues. The difference is that I bothered to educate myself.

A personal note – I will be on vacation next week, so won’t be quick to respond to comments.

Tully-Fisher from gravitational lensing

Last time, we discussed the remarkable result that gravitational lensing extends the original remarkable result of flat rotation curves much farther out, as far as the data credibly probe. This corroborates and extends the result of Brouwer et al. They did a thorough job, but one thing they did not consider was Tully-Fisher. If the circular speed inferred from gravitational lensing remains constant, does this flat velocity fall on the same Tully-Fisher relation that is seen in kinematic data?

We set out to answer this question. Along the way, we did three new things: 1. Dr. Mistele derived an improved method for doing the lensing analysis, extending the radial range over which the data were credible. 2. He explored the criteria by which galaxies were judged to be isolated, finding a morphological type dependence on how far out one had to exclude. 3. We reanalyzed the stellar masses of the KiDS sample to be consistent with those we used when analyzing the kinematic data of SPARC galaxies. The first two are connected, as how far out we can trust the data depends on how well we can define a clean sample of isolated galaxies. The third resolved an apparent offset between early type galaxies (ETGs, aka ellipticals) and late type galaxies (LTGs, aka spirals) seen by Brouwer et al. That appears to be an artifact of stellar population modeling, as I suspected when I first discussed their result. We don’t need to do any fitting of the mass-to-light ratio; the the apparent offset between types disappears when we use use the same population models for both kinematic and lensing data.

I could write a lot about each of these, but most of it is the stuff of technical details that would be dull to many people. If you’re into that sort of thing, go and read the long science paper which is where such details reside. Here I just want to describe the Tully-Fisher result. Spoiler alert: it is the same as that from kinematics.

First off, I’m talking strictly about the Baryonic Tully-Fisher relation: the scaling between baryonic mass and the flat rotation speed. To address this, we bin the lensing data by mass. The mass of each bin is well defined by the average of the many thousands of galaxies within the bin. By far the dominant uncertainty is the systematic in stellar mass caused by stellar population modeling. We went through this with a fine tooth comb, and I’m confident we have an internally self-consistent result. That doesn’t preclude it being wrong in an absolute sense – such is the nature of astronomy – but we can at least make a straight comparison between kinematic and lensing data using the same best-effort stellar mass estimates.

For the velocity, we estimate the average effective rotation curve for each mass bin from the lensing data. We also split the data into morphological types to look for differences. The statistics go down when one divvies up the data like this, so the uncertainties go up, but there are enough KiDS galaxies to define four mass bins. Here are their inferred rotation curves:

**Figure 1** from Mistele et al. (2024). Circular velocities implied by weak lensing for four baryonic mass bins (most to least massive from the top row to the bottom) for the whole sample (left column), for LTGs (middle column), and for ETGs (right column). The lowest ETG mass bin is not shown because it contains too few lenses. Instead we show results for lenses with spectroscopic redshifts from GAMA, without splitting by mass or type due to the small sample size (gray and white symbols). For comparison, we also show results for KiDS without splitting by mass or type (small yellow symbols). Open symbols at small radii indicate where lenses are not yet effective point masses. Light-colored symbols (not-outlined) at large radii indicate data points that may still be reliable but where the isolation criterion is less certain. The error bars show the statistical errors. Horizontal lines and the corresponding shaded regions indicate the inferred V_flat values and uncertainties that we use for the BTFR. The extent of the horizontal lines indicates the radial range we consider when calculating V_flat.

Note that the average over all KiDS data shown in the lower right bin is the data shown in the press release image in the previous post, but the x-axis is logarithmic here. The GAMA data in that bin provide an important cross-check, as these galaxies have spectroscopic redshifts. They give the same answer as the larger KiDS sample, which relies on photometric redshifts. We need the larger sample to consider finer bins in mass, which is the rest of the plot.

Another thing to note here is that all the data in all the bins are consistent with remaining flat. There are some hints of a turn down at very large radii, particularly for LTGs in the second and third row, but these are not statistically significant, and only happen where the data start to become untrustworthy. Where exactly that happens is a judgement call.

Let’s take a closer look, with a comparison to radio data:

**Figure 2** from Mistele et al. (2024). The circular velocities from weak lensing (circles) compared with those from gas kinematics (diamonds). The individual galaxies illustrated here have among the most extended 21 cm rotation curves in their mass bins; the lensing data continue to much larger radii still. The error bars show the statistical error, while the gray band indicates the systematic uncertainty in the radial accelerations. Symbol colors are as in Figure 1. Open symbols at large radii indicate where lenses are not sufficiently isolated. The solid green lines indicate the circular velocities of NFW halos and baryonic point masses appropriate for each mass bin. Green crosses indicate each NFW halo’s virial radius. The light green band adds a qualitative estimate of a two-halo term contribution to the NFW halo, which may become important at large radii in case our isolation criterion is imperfect there.

Again we see that the lensing data, averaged over many galaxies, extend much further out than the rotation curve of any one individual. The x-axis is again logarithmic, so the lensing data go way further out. They trace to 1 Mpc, which is crazy far beyond the observed ends of the most extended individual galaxies. A more conservative limit is the 300 kpc estimated by Brouwer et al. Surely we can go further than that, but how much further remains a judgement call.

What should we expect? The green lines show the rotation curve we’d expect for galaxy in an NFW halo with parameters specified by the stellar mass-halo mass relation of Kravtsov et al. (2018). Not all such relations agree well with kinematic data; this is the case that agrees most closely. We have intentionally cherry-picked the relation that makes LCDM look best. And it does look good up to a point, for example in the top two mass bins out to the virial radius of the halo (tick marks). Beyond that, not so much, and not at all for the two lower mass bins. The data extend far enough out that we should see the predicted decline. We do not.

The green line only represents the expected halo of the primary galaxy. When one gets so far out, one has to worry about all the other stuff out there. We’ve selected galaxies to be isolated, so there isn’t much that is luminous. But we can only exclude down to some sensitivity limit, there might be lots of tiny dwarf galaxies whose mass adds up and starts to affect the result. And of course there can be completely invisible dark matter. The green band attempts to account for this extra stuff in the so-called 2-halo term. This is hard to do, but we’ve made our best estimate based on the LCDM power spectrum. I’m sure the 2-halo term can be adjusted, but the shape is wrong. It will take some fine-tuning to get an effectively flat rotation curve out of the 1-halo+2 halo terms. They don’t naturally do that.

Something that is easy to do is define a flat value of the rotation speed. That’s just the average over the lensing data. We exclude the points at R < 50 kpc, as the assumption of a spherical mass that we make in the lensing analysis isn’t really valid at those comparatively small scales. We tried averaging over a bunch of different ranges, all of which gave pretty much the same answer. For illustration, we show two cases: a conservative one that only uses the data at R < 300 kpc, and another that goes out to 1 Mpc. Having measured V_flat over these ranges, we can plot Tully-Fisher:

**Figure 3** from Mistele et al. (2024). The baryonic Tully–Fisher relation implied by weak lensing for the entire sample (yellow symbols, left column) and for ETGs and LTGs separately (red and blue symbols, right column). The V_flat values are weighted averages of the V_c values shown in Figure 1 for 50 kpc < R < 300 kpc (first row) and 50 kpc < R < 1000 kpc (second row). Vertical error bars represent a 0.1 dex systematic uncertainty on M_*/L. For comparison, we also show the best fit to the kinematic data from Lelli et al. (2019; solid gray line) and the corresponding binned kinematic data (white diamonds).

Lo and behold, we find the same Baryonic Tully-Fisher relation from lensing data as we find with kinematics. This does not surprise me, but it didn’t have to be true. It shouldn’t be true in LCDM: if we can measure out to the virial radius, we should see some indication of a decline in velocity. We have and we don’t.

We also see no statistically significant separation between ETGs and LTGs. This is important, as a theory like MOND predicts that there should be no morphology dependence: only the baryonic mass matters. Brouwer et al. did see an indication of such a split, but it was small compared to the uncertainty in stellar population models. We don’t see it when we use our own stellar mass estimates. This is particularly true in the more conservative (300 kpc) case. There is a hint of a segregation when we average out to 1000 kpc, but the statistics say this isn’t significant. Since the lowest mass bin is most affected, I suspect this is a hint that the isolation criterion is failing first for the smallest galaxies. That makes sense, as the sensitivity limit on interlopers makes the lowest mass bin most susceptible to having its signal inappropriately boosted. It also makes sense that ETGs would be affected first, as ETGs are known to be more clustered than LTGs. It is really hard to define an isolated sample of ETGs, as discussed at length by Mistele et al.

The lensing data corroborate previous kinematic work. Rotation curves are flat. The amplitude of the flat rotation speed correlates with baryonic mass as M_b ∝ V_f⁴. The radial acceleration relation extends to very low accelerations. These are all predictions of MOND. Moreover they are unique predictions: predictions made a priori by MOND and only by MOND. Dark matter models so far provide no satisfactory explanation*.

That hasn’t prevented people from overlooking these basic facts in order to get to the apparent if statistically meaningless difference between ETGs and LTGs. Nevermind the successes! The slight offset between ETGs and LTGs falsify MOND! Seriously: other scientists have already made this argument to me while completely eliding the successes of MOND. It’s a case of refusing to see the forest for a tree that’s a little away from the others.

I think I said something about how this would happen when I first wrote about Brouwer et al‘s lensing result. Ah yes, here it is:

MOND predicted this behavior well in advance of the observation, so one would have to bend over backwards, rub one’s belly, and simultaneously punch oneself in the face to portray this as anything short of a fantastic success of MOND.

I say that because I’m sure people will line up to punch themselves in the face in exactly this fashion.

And so it has come to pass. Sometimes human behavior is as predictable as galaxy dynamics.

*There are many claims to explain limited portions of these results, but none are satisfactory. There is no LCDM model that matches the entire dynamic range of the radial acceleration relation. See, for example, Fig. 5 of Brouwer et al. (reproduced below), which shows the MICE and BAHAMAS simulations. Neither extend into the regime that is well-constrained by kinematic data; there is no reason to think they would successfully do so and good reason to think otherwise. MICE comes nowhere close to this regime and has no baryonic physics that would allow it do even address this question. BAHAMAS comes close but appears to turn away from the kinematic data before it gets there. We’ve built our own LCDM models; they don’t work either. We can make them come close, but only over a limited dynamic range, not over the full span of the data. It isn’t good enough to only explain a limited range of the data. One has to explain the full range, and the only theory that does that so far is MOND.

Fig. 5 from Brouwer et al. showing the radial acceleration relation inferred from the MICE (red band) and BAHAMAS (orange band) simulations. Not also that in our assessment of stellar masses, the lower acceleration points translate a bit to the right.

Rotation curves: still flat after a million light-years

That rotation curves become flat at large radii is one of the most famous results in extragalactic astronomy. This had been established by Vera Rubin and her collaborators by the late 1970s. There were a few earlier anecdotal cases to this effect, but these seemed like mild curiosities until Rubin showed that the same thing was true over and over again for a hundred spiral galaxies. Flat rotation curves took on the air of a de facto natural law and precipitated the modern dark matter paradigm.

Optical and radio data

Rotation curves shouldn’t be flat. If what we saw was what we got, the rotation curve would reach a peak within the light distribution and decline further out. Perhaps an illustration is in order:

The rotation curve (data points, left) of NGC 6946 (right). The red line shows the expected rotation curve for the detected normal matter, which includes both the stars (yellow, from 2MASS) and atomic gas (blue, from THINGS). This provides a good description of the inner rotation curve but falls short further out. The excess observed rotation leads to the need for dark matter or MOND. Also noted is the extent of the rotation curve measured optically to the effective edge of the stars (Daigle et al. 2006; Epinat et al. 2008) and that measured with radio interferometric observations of the gas (Boomsma et al. 2008).

An obvious question is how far out rotation curves remain flat. In the rotation curves traced with optical observations by Rubin et al., the discrepancy was clear but modest – typically a factor of two in mass. It was possible to imagine that the mass-to-light ratios of stars increased with radius in a systematic way, bending the red line above to match the data out to the edge of the stars. This seemed unlikely, but neither did it seem like a huge ask.

Once one gets to the edge of the stellar distribution, most of the mass has been encompassed, and the rotation curve really should start to decline. Increasing the mass-to-light ratio of the stars ceases to be an option once we run out of stars*. Fortunately, the atomic gas typically extends to larger radii, so provides a tracer further out. Albert Bosma pursued this until there were again enough examples to establish that yes, flat rotation curves were the rule. They extended much further out, well beyond where the mass of the observed stars and gas could explain the data.

How much further out? It depends on the galaxy. A convenient metric is the scale length of the disk, which is a measure of the extent of the light distribution. Some galaxies are bigger than others. The peak of the contribution of the stars to the rotation curve occurs around 2.2 scale lengths. The rotation curve of NGC 6946 extends to about 7 scale lengths, far enough to make the discrepancy clear. For a long time, the record holder was NGC 2403, with a rotation curve that remains flat for 20 scale lengths.

Twenty scale lengths is a long way out. It is observations like this that demanded dark matter halos that are much larger than the galaxies they contain. They also posed a puzzle, since we were still nowhere near finding the edge of the mass distribution. Rotation curves seemed to persist in being flat indefinitely.

Results from gravitational lensing

Weak gravitational lensing provides a statistical technique to probe the gravitational potential of galaxies. Brouwer et al. did pioneering work with data from the KiDS survey, and found that the radial acceleration relation extended to much lower accelerations than probed by the types of kinematic data discussed above. That implies that rotation curves remain flat way far out. How far?

Postdoc Tobias Mistele worked out an elegant technique to improve the analysis of lensing data. His analysis corroborates the findings of Brouwer et al. It also provides the opportunity to push further out.

Weak gravitational lensing is a subtle effect – so subtle that one must coadd thousands of galaxies to get a signal. Beyond that, the limiting effect on the result is how isolated the galaxies are. Lensing is sensitive to all mass; if you go far enough out you start to run into other galaxies whose mass contributes to the signal. So one key is to identify isolated galaxies, and restrict the sample to them. KiDS is large enough to do this. Indeed, Mistele was able to show that while neighbors⁺ were a definite concern for elliptical galaxies, they were much less of a problem for spirals. Consequently, we can trace the implied rotation curve way far out.

How far out? In a new paper, Mistele shows that rotation curves continue way far out. Way way way far out. I mean, damn.

The average rotation curve of isolated galaxies (blue points) inferred from KiDS gravitational lensing data. This remains flat well beyond a million light-years with no end in sight. The width of the figure is the distance between the Milky Way and Andromeda. For comparison, the rotation curve of a single galaxy, UGC 6614, is shown in red. An image of the galaxy is shown to scale centered at the origin. UGC 6614 was selected for this illustration because it has a comparable rotation speed to the KiDS average and because it is one of the largest galaxies known: the red points are already a very extended rotation curve. Image credit: Mistele, Lelli, & McGaugh 2024.

Optical rotation curves typically extend to the edge of the stellar disk. That’s about 8 kpc in the example of NGC 6946 given above. Radio observations of the atomic gas of that galaxy extend to 17 kpc. That fits within the first two tick marks on the graph with the lensing rotation curve.

UGC 6614 is a massive galaxy with a very extended low surface brightness disk. Its rotation curve is traced by radio data to over 60 kpc. It is one of the most extended individual rotation curves known. The statistical lensing data push this out by a factor of ten, and more, with no end in sight. The flat rotation curves found by Rubin and Bosma and everyone else appear to persist indefinitely.

So what does it mean? First, flat rotation curves really are a law of nature, in the same sense of Kepler’s laws of planetary motion. Galaxies don’t obey those planetary rules, they have their own set of rules. This is what nature does.

In terms of dark matter halos, the extent of isolated galaxy rotation curves is surprisingly large. Just as we come to the edge of the stellar disk, then the gas disk, we should eventually hit the edge of the dark matter halo. In principle we can imagine this to be arbitrarily large, but in practice there are other galaxies in the universe so this cannot go one forever.

In the context of LCDM, we now have a pretty good idea of how extended halos should be from abundance matching. A galaxy of the mass of UGC 6614 should live in a halo with a virial radius of about 300 kpc or less. There is some uncertainty in this, of course, but we really should have hit the edge with the lensing data. There should be some sign of it, but we see none.

One complication is the so-called 2-halo term. In addition to the primary dark matter halo that hosts a galaxy, when you get very far out, you run into other halos. Isolated galaxies are selected to avoid this to the extent possible, but eventually there will be some extra mass that causes extra lensing signal that would cause an overestimate of the rotation speed. I’ll forgo a detailed discussion of this for now (see Mistele et al. if you’re eager), but the bottom line is that it would require some unnatural fine-tuning for the 1+2 halo terms to add up to such flat rotation curves. There ought to be a perceptible feature in the transition from the primary halo to the surrounding environment. We don’t see that.

In the context of MOND, a flat rotation curve that persists indefinitely is completely natural. That’s what an isolated galaxy should do. Even in MOND there should be an environmental effect: the mass of everything else in the universe should impose an external field effect that eventually limits the extent of the rotation curve. How this transition happens depends on the density of other galaxies; by selecting isolated galaxies this effect is put off as much as possible. Hopefully it will be detected as the data improve from projects like Euclid.

The primary prediction of MOND is an indefinitely extended rotation curve; the external field effect is a subtle detail. Yet again, that is what we see: MOND gets it right without really trying, and in a way that makes little sense in terms of dark matter. Sometimes I wish MOND had never been invented so we could claim to have discovered something profoundly new, or at least discuss the empirical result without concern that the data would get confused with the theory. MOND predictions keep being corroborated, yet the community persists in ignoring its implications, even in terms of dark matter. It’s gotta be telling us something.

We have a press release about this result, so perhaps you will see it kicking around your news feed.

*We could, of course, invoke dark stars, but that’s just an invisible horse of a different color.

⁺There is a well known correlation between morphology and density such that elliptical galaxies tend to live in the densest environments. This means that they are more likely to have neighbors that interfere with the lensing measurement, so finding that identifying isolated ellipticals with a clean lensing signal is more challenging that finding isolated spirals comes as no surprise. Isolated ellipticals do exist so it is possible, but one has to be very restrictive with the sample.

It is not linear

I just got back from a visit to the Carnegie Institution of Washington where I gave a talk and saw some old friends. I was a postdoc at the Department of Terrestrial Magnetism (DTM) in the ’90s. DTM is so-named because in their early days they literally traveled the world mapping the magnetic field. When I was there, DTM⁺ had a small extragalactic astronomy group including Vera Rubin*, Francois Schweizer, and John Graham. Working there as a Carnegie Fellow gave me great latitude to pursue whatever science I wanted, with the benefit of discussions with these great astronomers. After my initial work on low surface brightness galaxies had brought MOND to my attention, much of the follow-up work checking all (and I do mean all) the other constraints was done there, ultimately resulting in the triptych of papers showing that the bulk of the evidence available at that time favored MOND over the dark matter interpretation.

When I joined the faculty at the University of Maryland in 1998, I saw the need to develop a graduate course on cosmology, which did not exist there at that time. I began to consider how cosmic structure might form in MOND, but was taken aback when Simon White asked me to referee a paper on the subject by Bob Sanders. He had found much what I was finding, that there was no way to avoid an early burst of speedy galaxy formation. I had been scooped!

It has taken a quarter century to test our predictions, so any concern about who said what first seems silly now. Indeed, the bigger problem is informing people that these predictions were made at all. I had a huge eye roll last month when Physics Magazine came out with

February 12, 2024
NEWS FEATURE
JWST Sees More Galaxies than Expected
February 9, 2024

The new JWST observatory is revealing far more bright galaxies in the early Universe than anyone predicted, and astrophysicists have more than one explanation for the puzzle.
Physics Magazine

Far more bright galaxies in the early Universe than anyone predicted! Who could have predicted it? I guess I am anyone.

Joking aside, this is a great illustration of the inefficiency of scientific communication. I wrote a series of papers on the subject. I wasn’t alone; so did others. I gave talks about it. I’ve emphasized it in scientific reviews. My papers are frequently cited, ranking in the top 2% among the top 2% across all sciences. They’re cited by prominent cosmologists. Heck, I’ve even blogged about it. And yet, it comes as such a surprise that it couldn’t have possibly happened, to the extent that no one bothers to check what is in the literature. (There was a similar sociology around the prediction of the CMB second peak. It didn’t happen if we don’t look.)

So what did the Physics Magazine article talk about? More than one explanation, most of which are the conventionalist approaches we’ve talked about before – make star formation more efficient, or adjust the IMF (the mass spectrum with which stars form) to squeeze more UV photons out of fewer baryons. But there is also a paper by Sabti et al. that basically asserts “this can’t be happening!” which is exactly the point.

Sabti et al. ask whether the can boost the amplitude of structure formation in a way that satisfies both the new JWST observations and previous Hubble data. The answer is no:

We consider beyond-ΛCDM power-spectrum enhancements and show that any departure large enough to reproduce the abundance of ultramassive JWST candidates is in conflict with the HST data.
Sabti et al.

At first, this struck me as some form of reality denial, like an assertion that the luminosity density could not possible exceed LCDM predictions, even though that is exactly what it is observed to do:

*The integrated UV luminosity density as a function of redshift *from Adams et al. (2023)*. The data exceed the expectation for z > 10, even with the goal posts in motion.*

On a closer read, I realized my initial impression was wrong; they are making a much better argument. The star formation rate is what is really constrained by the UV luminosity, but if that is attributed to stellar mass, you can’t get there from here – even with some jiggering of structure formation. That appears to be correct, within the framework of their considerations. Yet an alteration of structure formation is exactly what led to the now-corroborated prediction of Sanders (1998), so something still seemed odd. Just how were they altering it?

It took a close read, but the issue is in their equation 3. They allow for more structure formation by increasing the amplitude. However, they maintain the usual linear growth rate. In effect, they boost the amplitude of the linear dashed line in the left panel below, while maintaining its shape:

*The growth rate of structure in CDM (linear, at left) and MOND (nonlinear, at right).*

This is strongly constrain at both higher and lower redshifts, so only a little boost in amplitude is possible, assuming linear growth. So what they’ve correctly shown is that the usual linear growth rate of LCDM cannot do what needs to be done. That just emphasizes my point: to get the rapid growth we observe in the narrow time range available above redshift ten, the rate of growth needs to be nonlinear.

Nonlinearity is unavoidable in MOND – hence the prediction of big galaxies at high redshift. Nonlinearity is a bear to calculate, which is part of the reason nobody wants to go there. Tough nougies. They teach us in grad school that the early universe is simple. It is a mantra to many who work in the field. I’m sorry, did God promise this? I understand the reasons why the early universe should be simple in standard FLRW cosmology, but what if the universe we live in isn’t that? No one has standing to promise that the early universe is as simple as expected. That’s just a fairy tale cosmologists tell their young so they can sleep at night.

⁺DTM has since been merged with the Geophysical Laboratory to become the Earth and Planets Laboratory. These departments shared the Broad Branch Road campus but maintained a friendly rivalry in the soccer Mud Cup, so named because the first Mud Cup was played on a field that was a such a quagmire that we all became completely covered in mud. It was great fun.

*Vera was always adamant that she was not a physicist, and yet a search returns the thumbnail

even though the Wikipedia article itself does not (at present) make this spurious “and physicist” assertion.

The evolution of the luminosity density

The results from the high redshift universe keep pouring in from JWST. It is a full time job, and then some, just to keep track. One intriguing aspect is the luminosity density of the universe at z > 10. I had not thought this to be problematic for LCDM, as it only depends on the overall number density of stars, not whether they’re in big or small galaxies. I checked this a couple of years ago, and it was fine. At that point we were limited to z < 10, so what about higher redshift?

It helps to have in mind the contrasting predictions of distinct hypotheses, so a quick reminder. LCDM predicts a gradual build up of the dark matter halo mass function that should presumably be tracked by the galaxies within these halos. MOND predicts that galaxies of a wide range of masses form abruptly, including the biggest ones. The big distinction I’ve focused on is the formation epoch of the most massive galaxies. These take a long time to build up in LCDM, which typically takes half a Hubble time (~7 billion years; z < 1) for a giant elliptical to build up half its final stellar mass. Baryonic mass assembly is considerably more rapid in MOND, so this benchmark can be attained much earlier, even within the first billion years after the Big Bang (z > 5).

In both theories, astrophysics plays a role. How does gas condense into galaxies, and then form into stars? Gravity just tells us when we can assemble the mass, not how it becomes luminous. So the critical question is whether the high redshift galaxies JWST sees are indeed massive. They’re much brighter than had been predicted by LCDM, and in-line with the simplest models evolutionary models one can build in MOND, so the latter is the more natural interpretation. However, it is much harder to predict how many galaxies form in MOND; it is straightforward to show that they should form fast but much harder to figure out how many do so – i.e., how many baryons get incorporated into collapsed objects, and how many get left behind, stranded in the intergalactic medium? Consequently, the luminosity density – the total number of stars, regardless of what size galaxies they’re in – did not seem like a straight-up test the way the masses of individual galaxies is.

It is not difficult to produce lots of stars at high redshift in LCDM. But those stars should be in many protogalactic fragments, not individually massive galaxies. As a reminder, here is the merger tree for a galaxy that becomes a bright elliptical at low redshift:

*Merger tree from De Lucia & Blaizot 2007 showing the hierarchical build-up of massive galaxies from many protogalactic fragments.*

At large lookback times, i.e., high redshift, galaxies are small protogalactic fragments that have not yet assembled into a large island universe. This happens much faster in MOND, so we expect that for many (not necessarily all) galaxies, this process is basically complete after a mere billion years or so, often less. In both theories, your mileage will vary: each galaxy will have its own unique formation history. Nevertheless, that’s the basic difference: big galaxies form quickly in MOND while they should still be little chunks at high z in LCDM.

The hierarchical formation of structure is a fundamental prediction of LCDM, so this is in principle a place it can break. That is why many people are following the usual script of blaming astrophysics, i.e., how stars form, not how mass assembles. The latter is fundamental while the former is fungible.

Gradual mass assembly is so fundamental that its failure would break LCDM. Indeed, it is so deeply embedded in the mental framework of people working on it that it doesn’t seem to occur to most of them to consider the possibility that it could work any other way. It simply has to work that way; we were taught so in grad school!

Here is a sketch of how structures grow over time under the influence of cold dark matter (left, from Schramm 1992) and MOND (right, from Sanders & McGaugh 2002; see also this further discussion). The slow linear growth of CDM (long-dashed line, left panel) is replaced by a rapid, nonlinear growth in MOND (solid lines at right; numbers correspond to different scales). Nonlinear growth moderates after cosmic expansion begins to accelerate (dashed vertical line in right panel).

A principle result in perturbation theory applied to density fluctuations in an expanding universe governed by General Relativity is that the growth rate of these proto-objects is proportional to the expansion rate of the universe – hence the linear long-dashed line in the left diagram. The baryons cannot match the observations by themselves because the universe has “only” expanded by a factor of a thousand since recombination while structure has grown by a factor of a hundred thousand. This was one of the primary motivations for inventing cold dark matter in the first place: it can grow at the theory-specified rate without obliterating the observed isotropy^% of the microwave background. The skeletal structure of the cosmic web grows in cold dark matter first; the baryons fall in afterwards (short-dashed line in left panel).

That’s how it works. Without dark matter, structure cannot form, so we needn’t consider MOND nor speak of it ever again forever and ever, amen.

Except, of course, that isn’t necessarily how structure formation works in MOND. Like every other inference of dark matter, the slow growth of perturbations assumes that gravity is normal. If we consider a different force law, then we have to revisit this basic result. Exactly how structure formation works in MOND is not a settled subject, but the panel at right illustrates how I think it might work. One seemingly unavoidable aspect is that MOND is nonlinear, so the growth rate becomes nonlinear at some point, which is rather early on if Milgrom’s constant a₀ does not evolve. Rather than needing dark matter to achieve a growth factory of 10⁵, the boost to the force law enables baryons do it on their own. That, in a nutshell, is why MOND predicts the early formation of big galaxies.

The same nonlinearity that makes structure grow fast in MOND also makes it very hard to predict the mass function. My nominal expectation is that the present-day galaxy baryonic mass function is established early and galaxies mostly evolve as closed boxes after that. Not exclusively; mergers still occasionally happen, as might continued gas accretion. In addition to the big galaxies that form their stars rapidly and eventually become giant elliptical galaxies, there will also be a population for which gas accretion is gradual^ enough to settle into a preferred plane and evolve into a spiral galaxy. But that is all gas physics and hand waving; for the mass function I simply don’t know how to extract a prediction from a nonlinear version of the Press-Schechter formalism. Somebody smarter than me should try that.

We do know how to do it for LCDM, at least for the dark matter halos, so there is a testable prediction there. The observable test depends on the messy astrophysics of forming stars and the shape of the mass function. The total luminosity density integrates over the shape, so is a rather forgiving test, as it doesn’t distinguish between stars in lots of tiny galaxies or the same number in a few big ones. Consequently, I hadn’t put much stock in it. But it is also a more robustly measured quantity, so perhaps it is more interesting than I gave it credit for, at least once we get to such high redshift that there should be hardly any stars.

Here is a plot of the ultraviolet (UV) luminosity density from Adams et al. (2023):

Fig. 8 from Adams et al. (2023) showing the integrated UV luminosity density as a function of redshift. UV light is produced by short-lived, massive stars, so makes a good proxy for the star formation rate (right axis).

The lower line is one⁺ a priori prediction of LCDM. I checked this back when JWST was launched, and saw no issues up to z=10, which remains true. However, the data now available at higher redshift are systematically higher than the prediction. The reason for this is simple, and the same as we’ve discussed before: dark matter halos are just beginning to get big; they don’t have enough baryons in them to make that many stars – at least not for the usual assumptions, or even just from extrapolating what we know quasi-empirically. (I say “quasi” because the extrapolation requires a theory-dependent rate of mass growth.)

The dashed line is what I consider to be a reasonable adjustment of the a priori prediction. Putting on an LCDM hat, it is actually closer to what I would have predicted myself because it has a constant star formation efficiency which is one of the knobs I prefer to fix empirically and then not touch. With that, everything is good up to z=10.5, maybe even to z=12 if we only believe^* the data with uncertainties. But the bulk of the high redshift data sit well above the plausible expectation of LCDM, so grasping at the dangling ends of the biggest error bars seems unlikely to save us from a fall.

Ignoring the model lines, the data flatten out at z > 10, which is another way of saying that the UV luminosity function isn’t evolving when it should be. This redshift range does not correspond to much cosmic time, only a few hundred million years, so it makes the empiricist in me uncomfortable to invoke astrophysical causes. We have to imagine that the physical conditions change rapidly in the first sliver of cosmic time at just the right fine-tuned rate to make it look like there is no evolution at all, then settle down into a star formation efficiency that remains constant in perpetuity thereafter.

Harikane et al. (2023) also come to the conclusion that there is too much star formation going on at high redshift (their Fig. 18 is like that of Adams above, but extending all the way to z=0). Like many, they appear to be unaware that the early onset of structure formation had been predicted, so discuss three conventional astrophysical solutions as if these were the only possibilities. Translating from their section 6, the astrophysical options are:

Star formation was more efficient early on
Active Galactic Nuclei (AGN)
A top heavy IMF

This is a pretty broad view of the things that are being considered currently, though I’m sure people will add to this list as time goes forward and entropy increases.

Taking these in reverse order, the idea of a top heavy IMF is that preferentially more massive stars form early on. These produce more light per unit mass, so one gets brighter galaxies than predicted with a normal IMF. This is an idea that recurs every so often; see, e.g., section 3.1.1 of McGaugh (2004) where I discuss it in the related context of trying to get LCDM models to reionize the universe early enough. Supermassive Population III stars were all the rage back then. Changing the mass spectrum^& with which stars form is one of those uber-free parameters that good modelers refrain from twiddling because it gives too much freedom. It is not a single knob so much as a Pandora’s box full of knobs that invoke a thousand Salpeter’s demons to do nearly anything at the price of understanding nothing.

As it happens, the option of a grossly variable IMF is already disfavored by the existence of quenched galaxies at z~3 that formed a normal stellar population at much higher redshift (z~11). These galaxies are composed of stars that have the spectral signatures appropriate for a population that formed with a normal IMF and evolved as stars do. This is exactly what we expect for galaxies that form early and evolve passively. Adjusting the IMF to explain the obvious makes a mockery of Occam’s razor.

AGN is a catchall term for objects like quasars that are powered by supermassive black holes at the centers of galaxies. This is a light source that is non-stellar, so we’ll overestimate the stellar mass if we mistake some light from AGN^# as being from stars. In addition, we know that AGN were more prolific in the early universe. That in itself is also a problem: just as forming galaxies early is hard, so too is it hard to form enough supermassive black holes that early. So this just becomes the same problem in a different guise. Besides, the resolution of JWST is good enough to see where the light is coming from, and it ain’t all from unresolved AGN. Harikane et al. estimate that the AGN contribution is only ~10%.

That leaves the star formation efficiency, which is certainly another knob to twiddle. On the one hand, this is a reasonable thing to do, since we don’t really know what the star formation efficiency in the early universe was. On the other, we expected the opposite: star formation should, if anything, be less efficient at high redshift when the metallicity was low so there were few ways for gas to cool, which is widely considered to be a prerequisite for initiating star formation. Indeed, inefficient cooling was an argument in favor of a top-heavy IMF (perhaps stars need to be more massive to overcome higher temperatures in the gas from which they form), so these two possibilities contradict one another: we can have one but not both.

To me, the star formation efficiency is the most obvious knob to twiddle, but it has to be rather fine-tuned. There isn’t much cosmic time over which the variation must occur, and yet it has to change rapidly and in such a way as to precisely balance the non-evolving UV luminosity function against a rapidly evolving dark matter halo mass function. Once again, we’re in the position of having to invoke astrophysics that we don’t understand to make up for a manifest deficit the behavior of dark matter. Funny how those messy baryons always cover up for that clean, pure, simple dark matter.

I could go on about these possibilities at great length (and did in the 2004 paper cited above). I decline to do so any farther: we keep digging this hole just to fill it again. These ideas only seem reasonable as knobs to turn if one doesn’t see any other way out, which is what happens if one has absolute faith in structure formation theory and is blissfully unaware of the predictions of MOND. So I can already see the community tromping down the familiar path of persuading ourselves that the unreasonable is reasonable, that what was not predicted is what we should have expected all along, that everything is fine with cosmology when it is anything but. We’ve done it so many times before.

Initially I had the cat stuffed back in the bag image here, but that was really for a theoretical paper that I didn’t quite make it to in this post. You’ll see it again soon. The observations discussed here are by observers doing their best in the context they know, so it doesn’t seem appropriate to that.

^%We were convinced of the need for non-baryonic dark matter before any fluctuations in the microwave background were detected; their absence at the level of one part in a thousand sufficed.

^The assembly of baryonic mass can and in most cases should be rapid. It is the settling of gas into a rotationally supported structure that takes time – this is influenced by gas physics, not just gravity. Regardless of gravity theory, gas needs to settle gently into a rotating disk in order for spiral galaxies to exist.

⁺There are other predictions that differ in detail, but this is a reasonable representative of the basic expectation.

*This is not necessarily unreasonable, as there is some proclivity to underestimate the uncertainties. That’s a general statement about the field; I have made no attempt to assess how reasonable these particular error bars are.

^&Top-heavy refers to there being more than the usual complement of bright but short-lived (tens of millions of years) stars. These stars are individually high mass (bigger than the sun), while long-lived stars are low mass. Though individually low in mass, these faint stars are very numerous. When one integrates over the population, one finds that most of the total stellar mass resides in the faint, low mass stars while much of the light is produced by the high mass stars. So a top heavy IMF explains high redshift galaxies by making them out of the brightest stars that require little mass to build. However, these stars will explode and go away on a short time scale, leaving little behind. If we don’t outright truncate the mass function (so many knobs here!), there could be some longer-lived stars leftover, but they must be few enough for the whole galaxy to fade to invisibility or we haven’t gained anything. So it is surprising, from this perspective, to see massive galaxies that appear to have evolved normally without any of these knobs getting twiddled.

^#Excess AGN were one possibility Jay Franck considered in his thesis as the explanation for what we then considered to be hyperluminous galaxies, but the known luminosity function of AGN up to z = 4 couldn’t explain the entire excess. With the clarity of hindsight, we were just seeing the same sorts of bright, early galaxies that JWST has brought into sharper focus.

Triton Station

A Blog About the Science and Sociology of Cosmology and Dark Matter

Category: MOND