Does dark matter exist?

After 80 years of agreement about the dark stuff, opinions may be changing.

The peasants are revolting. Last night the Flamsteed Astronomical Society met at the National Maritime Museum to hear a debate on the existence (or not) of dark matter. In a vote at the end, the audience decided it probably doesn’t exist.

The idea of dark matter has been around since 1933, when a Swiss astronomer called Fritz Zwicky found that centrifugal forces should have been tearing spinning galaxy clusters apart – but weren’t. The answer, he suggested, was that there was extra stuff in there, whose gravitational pull was holding everything together.
 
Astronomers now believe this stuff makes up around a quarter of the universe, if you take into account all the mass and energy in the cosmos. Ignore the pure energy, and dark matter accounts for 80 per cent of the universe’s mass. Which makes it a little embarrassing that we have never seen any.

Neither do we know what it looks like. We’ve been groping around for dark matter since about 1970. Various predictions have been made: in 1980, astronomer Vera Rubin said it would be found within 10 years. In 1990, astronomer royal Martin Rees said the dark matter mystery would be solved by the turn of the century. In 1999 Rees was aware he had been too hasty, and said we would know what dark matter is by 2004. Last January, CERN theoretical physicist and Gandalf lookalike John Ellis gave the physicists another decade.
 
But patience is starting to wear thin. At last night’s debate, Oxford physicist and co-presenter of The Sky at Night Chris Lintott made the case for dark matter; astronomy writer Stuart Clark argued that a modification to the laws of gravity, which are dictated by Einstein’s general relativity theory, held more promise for explaining the (apparently) missing mass. At the end of the evening, the audience sided with Clark and modifying gravity.
 
That’s not going to have dark matter astronomers quaking in their boots. But it is nonetheless indicative of a change of mood. Take what went on at the Cosmic Variance blog last week. Sean Carroll, the blog’s host, has always been bullishly pro dark matter. But it seems he has started to hedge a bit.
 
In a fascinating post, he published the trialogue he had been conducting with astronomer Stacey McGaugh, the original proponent of the modified gravity idea (it’s called MOND: modified Newtonian Dynamics) and German astrophysicist Rainer Plaga. Right at the top, Carroll concedes that “it may very well turn out that the behavior of gravity on large scales does not precisely match the prediction of ordinary general relativity”. In other words, he is saying, we might well have to modify gravity.
 
It’s worth pointing out a couple more reasons it’s OK to harbour doubts about the dark stuff. Last September, Durham astronomer Carlos Frenk admitted he was “losing sleep” over the results of his own computer simulations. His work had showed that the way simulated dwarf galaxies – mainly composed of dark matter – form in a halo around our own galaxy doesn’t tally with what we observe. His conclusion was that the standard theory of dark matter is almost certainly wrong, adding that searches for the stuff at the LHC in Geneva would therefore prove fruitless.
 
Then last month two groups of astronomers announced that dark matter wasn’t where it should be. The sun is meant to be surrounded by a halo of dark matter, and it isn’t.
 
If there really is no dark matter, that won’t be a mainstream view for decades to come. Once it’s got some momentum, it takes a lot of effort to change direction in science. But it does seem that, after 80 years, someone’s found the handbrake on the dark matter juggernaut.
 

Images of giant galaxy clusters, said to be mainly made up of dark matter. Photograph: Nasa/Getty Images

Michael Brooks holds a PhD in quantum physics. He writes a weekly science column for the New Statesman, and his most recent book is At the Edge of Uncertainty: 11 Discoveries Taking Science by Surprise.

Photo: Getty/New Statesman
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The mother lode: how mums became the ultimate viral fodder

The internet’s favourite joke used to be "your mum". Now it's "my mum".

“I was like: oh my.”

Terri Squires is describing her reaction to the news that she had gone viral. Last month, more than 213,000 people shared a tweet about Terri – but it wasn’t sent from her account. The 50-year-old Ohioan was propelled to internet stardom by her son, Jeff, who had tweeted about his mother.

“I didn’t really realise what it meant at first until he was like: ‘Mum, you do realise that millions of people have looked at this?’ … When I started seeing those numbers I was like: ‘Oh boy’.”

It’s a funny story – and Terri laughs heartily all she tells it. After coming out of a meeting, she checked her phone and noticed a picture of a missing – white – dog on Facebook. She quickly texted 17-year-old Jeff to check that the family dog, Duey, was safe. “That’s not Duey… Duey’s face is brown,” replied her son. “OK – just checking,” replied Terri.

More than 600,000 people “liked” Terri’s mistake after Jeff shared screenshots of the text message exchange on Twitter. But Terri is just one of hundreds of mums who have gone viral via their sons and daughters. Texts mums send, mistakes they make, things they fail to notice – these have all become the ultimate viral fodder.

In the last three months alone, Gerald’s mum went viral for a microphone mishap, Adam’s mum shot to Twitter fame for failing to understand WhatsApp, Lois’ mum got tricked by her daughter, Harry’s mum was hit in the head with a football, Hanna’s mum misunderstood a hairstyle, and Jake’s mum failed to notice her son had swapped a photo in her home for a portrait of Kim Jong-un.

But how do the mothers behind these viral tweets feel?

“I'm pretty much a mum that everybody wants to talk to these days,” says Terri, with another warm laugh. The mum of three says going viral “is not that big of a deal” to her, but she is happy that her son can enjoy being a “local superstar”. But is she embarrassed at being the punchline of Jeff’s joke?

“Believe me, I have thick skin,” she says. “I kinda look at what it is, and it’s actually him and his fame. I’m just the mum behind it, the butt of the joke, but I don't mind.”

Not all mums feel the same. A handful of similar viral tweets have since been deleted, indicating the mothers featured in them weren’t best pleased. A few people I reach out to haven’t actually told their mums that they’re the subject of viral tweets, and other mums simply don’t want any more attention.

“I think I’ve put my mum through enough with that tweet already,” says Jacko, when I ask if his mum would be willing to be interviewed. In 2014, Jacko tweeted out a picture of his family writing the word “cock” in the air with sparklers. “This is still my favourite ever family photo,” he captioned the tweet, “My mum did the ‘O’. We told her we were going to write ‘Love’.”

“No one ever expects to call home and say ‘Mum, have you heard of something called LADbible? No, you shouldn’t have, it’s just that a quarter of a million of its fans have just liked a photo of you writing the word ‘cock’ with a sparkler’,” Jacko explains.

Although Jacko feels his mum’s been through enough with the tweet, he does say she was “ace” about her new found fame. “She’s probably cooler about it all than I am”. Apart from the odd deletion, then, it seems most mums are happy to become viral Twitter stars.

Yet why are mums so mocked and maligned in this way? Although dads are often the subject of viral tweets, this is usually because of jokes the dads themselves make (here’s the most notable example from this week). Mums, on the other hand, tend to be mocked for doing something “wrong” (though there are obviously a few examples of them going viral for their clever and cunning). On the whole: dads make jokes, mums are the butt of them.

“We all think our mums are so clueless, you know. They don’t know what’s going on. And the fun thing is, one day we come to realise that they knew way more of what was going on than we thought,” says Patricia Wood, a 56-year-old mum from Texas. “People always kind of make fun of their mums, but love them.”

Last year, Patricia went viral when her daughter Christina tweeted out screenshots of her mum’s Facebook posts. In them, Patricia had forgotten the names of Christina’s friends and had candidly written Facebook captions like: “My gorgeous daughter and her date for formal, sorry I forgot his name”. Christina captioned her tweet “I really can't with my mom” and went on to get more than 1,000 likes.

“I felt, like, wow, it was like we’re famous, you know. I thought it was really cool,” says Patricia, of going viral. Her experiences have been largely positive, and as a part-time Uber driver she enjoys telling her customers about the tweet. “But I did have one bad experience,” she explains. A drunken passenger in her car saw the tweet and called Patricia an “asshole”.

Another aspect of viral fame also worried Patricia. She and her daughter were invited on a reality show, TD Jakes, with the production company offering to pay for flights and hotels for the pair. “I have too many skeletons in my closet and I didn't want them to come dancing out,” says Patricia, of her decision not to go. “By the time I got off it, it would be the Jerry Springer show, you know. I’m kind of a strange bird.”

On the whole, then, mothers are often amused by going viral via their offspring – and perhaps this is the real beauty of tweeting about our mums. Since the moment they earn the title, mums can’t afford to be fragile. There is a joy and relatability in “my mum” tweets – because really, the mum in question could be anyone’s. Still, from now on, mums might be more careful about what they tell their sons and daughters.

“When I send Jeff a text now I make sure I’m like: ‘Is my spelling correct? Is what I’m saying grammatically correct?’,” says Terri, “Because who knows where the words are gonna end up?”

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.