New Frequencies Are Being Used To Search For Extraterrestrial Life

LOFAR The LOFAR radio telescope at Birr, Ireland, used for a SETI survey at low frequencies. (credit: Wikipedia) How we’re searching for alien life at previously unexplored frequencies by Owen Johnson Monday, January 15, 2024 Bookmark and Share The Conversation Is there life beyond Earth? The question has turned out to be one of the hardest to answer in science. Despite the seemingly boundless expanse of the universe, which implies there’s potential for abundant life, the vast distances between stars render the search akin to locating a needle in a cosmic haystack. Previous technosignature surveys have included only the radio frequency band above 600 megahertz, leaving lower frequencies virtually unexplored. The Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence (SETI) constitutes a branch of astronomy dedicated to finding extraterrestrial life by searching for unusual signals, dubbed technosignatures. The identification of a technosignature wouldn’t just signify the existence of life, but specifically point to the presence of intelligent life using advanced technology. That said, 60 years of searches have so far come up short. But now my colleagues at Breakthrough Listen and I have started investigating a previously unexplored range of frequencies. SETI makes the assumption that extraterrestrial civilizations might rely on technology in a similar way to people on Earth, such as using cell phones, satellites, or radar. Since a significant portion of such technology generates signals that are prominently detectable in radio frequencies, focusing on these wavelengths serves as a logical starting point in the quest for potential extraterrestrial intelligence. Previous technosignature surveys have included only the radio frequency band above 600 megahertz, leaving lower frequencies virtually unexplored. That’s despite the fact that everyday communication services such as air traffic control, marine emergency broadcasting, and FM radio stations all emit this type of low-frequency radiation on Earth. The reason it hasn’t been explored is that telescopes that operate at these frequencies are rather new. And lower-frequency radio waves have less energy, meaning they can be more challenging to detect. In our concluded survey, we ventured into these frequencies for the first time ever. The Low Frequency Array (LOFAR) is the world’s most sensitive low-frequency telescope, operating from 10 to 250 megahertz. It’s composed of 52 radio telescopes—with more on the way—spread across Europe. These telescopes can reach a high resolution when used in unison. Our survey, however, only made use of two of these stations: one situated in Birr, Ireland, and the other in Onsala, Sweden. We surveyed 44 planets orbiting other stars than our Sun that had been identified by NASA’s Transiting Exoplanet Survey Satellite. Over the course of two summers, we scanned these planets at 110 to 190 megahertz with our two telescopes. Initially, this doesn’t seem like a large number of targets, but low-frequency observation boasts a major advantage in having large fields of view compared with their higher-frequency siblings. That’s because the area of the sky covered decreases with higher frequencies. In the case of LOFAR, we covered 5.27 square degrees of the sky for each pointing of our telescopes. This culminated in 36,000 targets per telescope pointing, or more than 1,600,000 targets in total, when you check what other stars are nearby and include their planets as well. galactic map Overview of the stars searched for technosignatures by LOFAR in our Milky Way. Interfering signals Searching for technosignatures from space introduces a significant challenge: the same technosignatures are ubiquitous on Earth. This presents an obstacle as the telescopes in these searches boast sensitivity levels that can detect signals, such as a phone call, from halfway across the Solar System. We whittled down thousands of candidate signals to zero. This means we didn’t find any signs of intelligent life with our search, but we have only just started. Consequently, the data collected is inundated with thousands of signals originating from Earth, posing a considerable difficulty in isolating and identifying signals that could be of extraterrestrial origin. The need to sift through this extensive and noisy dataset adds a layer of complexity to the search. We came up with an innovative approach to mitigating such radio frequency interference, called the “coincidence rejection” method. This takes into account the local radio emissions at each of our telescopes. For example, if I am using the telephone close to the telescope in Ireland to call my supervisor, that same call won’t appear in the data in Sweden, and vice versa, mainly because the telescope isn’t pointing in our direction, but instead at an exoplanet candidate. So, we decided to only include signatures in the dataset if they exhibited a simultaneous presence at both stations, suggesting they come from outside Earth. In this way, we whittled down thousands of candidate signals to zero. This means we didn’t find any signs of intelligent life with our search, but we have only just started—and there are likely to be an enormous number of Earth-like planets out there. Knowing that the coincidence rejection method works with a high success rate may be key to helping us discover life at one of these planets in the future. There are many ways forward for technosignature searches at low frequencies. Currently, there is a sister survey (NenuFAR) being carried out on that operates at 30 to 85 megahertz. Along with this, further LOFAR observations will increase the volume of the survey by a factor of ten over the course of the coming year. The collected data is also used for investigating astronomical objects known as pulsars, fast radio bursts, radio exoplanets, and more. Thankfully, we’re only at the start of a long journey. I have no doubt that many wondrous things will be found. And if we’re lucky, we may reap the biggest reward of all: some company in the cosmos. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article. Owen Johnson is an Irish astrophysicist, currently enrolled as a PhD researcher at Trinity College Dublin, jointly supported by UC Berkeley. His research is based on transient astronomical objects using everything from pulsars as gravitational probes to searching large data sets for signs of ET.

Book Review- "The Little Book of Aliens"

book cover Review: The Little Book of Aliens by Jeff Foust Monday, January 15, 2024 Bookmark and Share The Little Book of Aliens by Adam Frank Harper, 2023 hardcover, 240 pp. ISBN 978-0-06-327973-5 US$27.99 The search for evidence of life beyond Earth has followed several, often intertwined, paths. One involves the search for biosignatures, from microfossils on Mars to excess concentrations of oxygen on distant exoplanets, that are evidence of past or present life. That field of astrobiology has grown significantly in the last few decades and is now arguably driving projects like the Habitable Worlds Observatory, a multibillion-dollar next-generation space telescope. Then there are efforts to look not just for any extraterrestrial life but instead intelligent life, an effort long known as the search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI). That has surged and ebbed over the decades but has found new momentum as the search for technosignatures, a term intended to be more encompassing that the traditional radio-focused SETI. Then there are the claims that such extraterrestrial intelligences have been visiting us over the decades, known as UFOs and, more recently, unidentified anomalous phenomena or UAPs. “What’s needed is hard data from verified instruments collected via a rational search strategy.” Most scientists involved in conventional astrobiology or even technosignatures tend to steer clear of UAPs, despite the recent interest by the US government. However, Adam Frank, an astrophysicist at the University of Rochester, is willing to consider them as part of the broader search for life beyond Earth, including them in his latest book, The Little Book of Aliens. It showcases his willingness to consider all lines of inquiry when it comes to extraterrestrial life, while subjecting them to scientific scrutiny. UAPs, to be clear, make up only a modest part of a slender book (true to its title, The Little Book of Aliens weighs in at about 200 pages.) Frank manages to provide a broad overview of astrobiology in those pages, touching on the history of the search for both biosignatures and technosignatures, including familiar topics like the Drake Equation and Fermi Paradox, as well as analysis of how similar, or different, alien life might be to terrestrial life, and whether we could communicate with it should we find it. Frank turns his attention to that third strand of searching for life beyond Earth in a chapter titled, “WTF UFOs and UAPs?” It’s a broad examination of the UFO phenomenon over the decades; he notes that earlier surges of interest in UFOs adversely affected scientific searches, as politicians used it to deny NASA funding for SETI efforts in the 1970s into the 1990s. He is skeptical of the more recent evidence that now falls under the UAP term, but supports efforts to gain better data about them: “What’s needed is hard data from verified instruments collected via a rational search strategy.” (Italics in original.) NASA, in its own report on UAPs completed after this book went to press, also endorsed “a comprehensive, evidence-based approach that is rooted in the scientific method,” while also emphasizing that none of the data that an independent panel reviewed linked UAPs to anything extraterrestrial in nature. The current interest in UAPs may fade, particularly if the evidence fails to find a definite extraterrestrial (or even terrestrial) explanation for them. But, unlike past surges in interest in UFOs, there’s little to suggest it will have an adverse effect on more traditional astrobiological studies as more data comes in from our solar system and beyond, analyzed and scrutinized by scientists. The truth may be out there, just buried below the icy surfaces of Enceladus and Europa or in the atmosphere of an exoplanet. Jeff Foust (jeff@thespacereview.com) is the editor and publisher of The Space Review, and a senior staff writer with SpaceNews. He also operates the Spacetoday.net web site. Views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author alone.

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The U.S. Played A Big Part In Argentina Aviation History

Lawrence Leon and the Curtiss Aeroplane Co. in 1920s Argentina Nov 17, 2023 By Marc Alsina Home / Lawrence Leon and the Curtiss Aeroplane Co. in 1920s Argentina On July 22, 1919, the newspapers of Buenos Aires—the capital of Argentina—announced the arrival by steamship of a “yanqui” [Yankee] aviator and his wife from the United States. Thirty-year-old flight instructor Lawrence Leon (1889-1965) was a representative of the Curtiss Aeroplane Company of Buffalo, New York. He brought with them a Curtiss JN-4 “Jenny” and the promise to “study the possibility of establishing air services” in Argentina.[i] In a matter of weeks he would be a celebrity in Argentine society and in the process would win a special place for U.S. aviation on the other side of the American hemisphere. Whether for business, personal achievement, military adventure, or humanitarian concern, aviadores estadounidenses [aviators from the United States] took to the skies of Latin America from the outset of powered flight. Many developed close ties to communities south of the border that were based on mutual respect and admiration. Personal diplomacy could and did circumvent the often-discordant political relationships among the U.S. government and its hemispherical neighbors over the 20th century. Within the the National Air and Space Museum Archives, there are few better cases of the power of personality than that of flight instructor, aerobatic pilot, and businessman Lawrence Leon. Born in Turin, Italy, Leon immigrated to the U.S. in 1913 at the age of 24. He settled in Buffalo and in 1915 began working for the Curtiss Aeroplane Company. Leon earned his civil pilot license (No. 589) in September 1916 at the Buffalo Flying School. During World War I, he served as a flight instructor for the U.S. Army Air Service, before returning to Curtiss as a test pilot. Leon became a U.S. citizen in November 1918. Leon leaning on the propeller of the San Fernando school’s Standard J-1 in 1920. Leon leaning on the propeller of the San Fernando school’s Standard J-1 in 1920. In mid-1919, the Curtiss Aeroplane Company looked to expand the sales of its stalwart products such as the “Jenny.” The First World War had massively increased the scale of aircraft production and with the return of peace, the company had far too many unsold airplanes sitting in its warehouses. European airplane manufacturers found themselves in the same position. The governments of France and Italy created “aeronautical missions” composed of combat pilots and their aircraft that traveled around the world to woo foreign buyers. Similarly, Curtiss created the Curtiss Aeroplane Export Co. and dispatched sales agents around Latin America. Leon was selected to represent the company in what was then the largest market for aircraft in the region: Argentina. When Leon arrived in July 1919, Argentina was at the outset of an aviation boom. While there was little flight activity during the war years due to aircraft shortages, the postwar period saw a profusion of aerial accomplishments, such as the first flights over the Andes Mountains. Pilots were again in the news—not as combatants but as popular heroes. Flight activity remained small-scale and precarious, but the Argentine public was hungry for new aerial feats, celebrities, and machines. And with Argentina being Latin America’s wealthiest nation per capita, argentinos could afford airplanes to a greater degree than any of their neighbors. Despite the opportunities afforded by the flying boom, as an agent of a U.S. firm, Leon faced a serious challenge. A British military mission had already arrived months earlier, and by September 1919, aeronautical missions from France and Italy had disembarked to much fanfare. These missions were generally larger, state-funded operations featuring internationally known pilots. Furthermore, Argentine society was enamored of European culture and technology. The millions of Europeans that had immigrated to Argentina in the preceding decades maintained close cultural and economic ties to their home countries. A group of prominent argentinos photographed around an aircraft of the French aeronautical mission. El Hogar, January 23, 1920. A group of prominent argentinos photographed around an aircraft of the French aeronautical mission. El Hogar, January 23, 1920. In contrast, the relationship between Argentina and the United States was ambivalent at best. Argentine public intellectuals frequently argued in the national press that the U.S. represented the greatest threat to Argentina’s political and economic ambitions, if not sovereignty. This perception grew in the wake of the Spanish-American War in 1898 and intensified during a series of U.S. military interventions in Central America and the Caribbean, before improving under the Roosevelt administration’s “Good Neighbor Policy” in the 1930s. Leon confronted an uphill battle to convince the Argentine state as well as private individuals to buy Curtiss planes and not Italian Capronis and French Spads. Leon proved more than able to outmaneuver his European competition. He had the advantage of his Italian heritage, an asset in some Argentine circles since the nation had received millions of Italian immigrants in the preceding decades. He also had a superb airplane, the Curtiss JN-4 “Jenny,” which was one of the period’s most popular aircraft. But these advantages could only get him so far. His Italian, French, British, and German competition also had great products. Instead, Leon won friends and customers through his easygoing attitude, graciousness, business acumen, and sheer competence as a pilot. Curtiss’ San Fernando airfield in the early 1920s with a JN-4 “Jenny” in the foreground. Curtiss’ San Fernando airfield in the early 1920s with a JN-4 “Jenny” in the foreground. Initially Leon announced plans to create a passenger service between Buenos Aires and the Uruguayan capital Montevideo, but this proved a premature ambition as there was little demand for such services. Instead, he dedicated his efforts to opening a flight school at the San Fernando airfield in a suburb of the Argentine capital, with the aid of two more Curtiss pilots, Richard Depew and William MacMullen, and small team of U.S. and Argentine mechanics. The San Fernando school’s aircraft roster included the Curtiss Oriole and Standard J-1, but most flight instruction was conducted in the iconic “Jenny.” Leon was an excellent teacher. He personally instructed dozens of Argentines, which represented a sizable proportion of civilian pilots in the country. Many of his protégés became important members of the Argentine flight community as instructors, state administrators, aeroclub founders, and, eventually, airline pilots. His services were soon in high demand across the region. In 1922, Leon was sent to Chile and Peru to establish training programs there for civilian pilots. A local advertisement for the Curtiss Aeroplane Export Co. in 1921. The text promotes Leon and the other Curtiss pilots’ flight activity, as well as the Curtiss school’s excellent safety record. Aviación, December 1921. A local advertisement for the Curtiss Aeroplane Export Co. in 1921. The text promotes Leon and the other Curtiss pilots’ flight activity, as well as the Curtiss school’s excellent safety record. Aviación, December 1921. Critically for Curtiss, the San Fernando school’s successes garnered aircraft orders. Argentine pilots lauded the “Jenny,” locally called “la petisa,” or “the pony,” as a dependable and forgiving aircraft. San Fernando graduates and Argentine military procurement committees placed orders for Jennys and more advanced Curtiss models. To promote Curtiss and the San Fernando school, Leon undertook dozens of cross-country tours, regularly performed in airshows, and ably competed in local air races. He became known as a crack aerobatic pilot that could both amaze the earth-bound crowds with dizzying maneuvers while inspiring confidence in his cool competence. Images from the 1923 “Wilbur Wright Cup” air race held at the San Fernando airfield. On the left, the President of Argentina Marcelo Torcuato de Alvear arrives at the event. In the middle, the crowd gathers at the airfield’s edge to watch the competitors take off. Leon stands triumphantly on the right after winning the race. El Hogar, December 10, 1923. Images from the 1923 “Wilbur Wright Cup” air race held at the San Fernando airfield. On the left, the President of Argentina Marcelo Torcuato de Alvear arrives at the event. In the middle, the crowd gathers at the airfield’s edge to watch the competitors take off. Leon stands triumphantly on the right after winning the race. El Hogar, December 10, 1923. Leon knew how to win friends in high places while still endeavoring to entertain the throngs of people that gathered to watch him fly. He routinely flew during official parades to commemorate national holidays, honor fallen local aviators, and benefit local charities, all of which ingratiated him to the Argentine military and political elite. He also made an ally of the most prominent national newspaper at the time, La Nacion, by dropping a congratulatory message from his aircraft for their 50th anniversary.