Questões de Inglês

Cosmic Background

By Marcia Bartusiak

1 One hundred fifty years ago, in 1862, the first hint arrived that the stellar universe was far stranger than anyone imagined—or could imagine. It came with the knowledge that a faint companion slowly circles Sirius, the brightest star in the nighttime sky.

2 Astronomers at the time didn’t recognize what they had uncovered. It would take decades—until the 1910s—for them to fully realize that Sirius B, as the tiny companion came to be known, was a star like no other seen before. Once its nature was revealed, though, it didn’t take long for theorists to conceive of other bizarre creatures that might be residing in the stellar zoo.

3 The story begins, not in 1862, but two decades earlier. For a number of years, the noted German astronomer Friedrich Wilhelm Bessel, director of the Königsberg Observatory, had been going through old stellar catalogs, as well as making his own measurements, to track how the stars Sirius and Procyon were moving across the celestial sky over time. By 1844 he had enough data to announce that Sirius and Procyon weren’t traveling smoothly, as expected; instead, each star displayed a slight but distinct wobble—up and down, up and down. With great cleverness, Bessel deduced that each star’s quivering walk meant it was being pulled on by a dark, invisible companion circling it. Sirius’s companion, he estimated, completed oneorbit every fifty years.

4 Bessel was clearly excited by his find; in his communication to Great Britain’s Royal Astronomical

Society he wrote, “The subject . . . seems to me so important for the whole of practical astronomy, that I

think it worthy of having your attention directed to it.”

5 Astronomers did take notice, and some tried to discern Sirius’s companion through their telescopes. Unfortunately, at the time Bessel reported his discovery, Sirius B was at its closest to gleaming Sirius, from the point of view of an observer on Earth, and thus lost in the glare. But even years later, no one wassuccessful in spotting the companion.

6 That all changed on January 31, 1862. That night in Cambridgeport, Massachusetts, Alvan Clark, the best telescope manufacturer in the United States, and his younger son, Alvan Graham Clark, were testing the optics for a new refractor they had been building for the University of Mississippi. It was going to be the biggest refracting telescope in the world. Looking at notable stars to carry out a color test of their 18.5-inch lens, the son observed a faint star very close to Sirius. This was Sirius B, a type of star now known as a “whitedwarf” because of its color and size.

Adapted from Natural History, February, 2012

Cosmic Background

By Marcia Bartusiak

1 One hundred fifty years ago, in 1862, the first hint arrived that the stellar universe was far stranger than anyone imagined—or could imagine. It came with the knowledge that a faint companion slowly circles Sirius, the brightest star in the nighttime sky.

2 Astronomers at the time didn’t recognize what they had uncovered. It would take decades—until the 1910s—for them to fully realize that Sirius B, as the tiny companion came to be known, was a star like no other seen before. Once its nature was revealed, though, it didn’t take long for theorists to conceive of other bizarre creatures that might be residing in the stellar zoo.

3 The story begins, not in 1862, but two decades earlier. For a number of years, the noted German astronomer Friedrich Wilhelm Bessel, director of the Königsberg Observatory, had been going through old stellar catalogs, as well as making his own measurements, to track how the stars Sirius and Procyon were moving across the celestial sky over time. By 1844 he had enough data to announce that Sirius and Procyon weren’t traveling smoothly, as expected; instead, each star displayed a slight but distinct wobble—up and down, up and down. With great cleverness, Bessel deduced that each star’s quivering walk meant it was being pulled on by a dark, invisible companion circling it. Sirius’s companion, he estimated, completed oneorbit every fifty years.

4 Bessel was clearly excited by his find; in his communication to Great Britain’s Royal Astronomical

Society he wrote, “The subject . . . seems to me so important for the whole of practical astronomy, that I

think it worthy of having your attention directed to it.”

5 Astronomers did take notice, and some tried to discern Sirius’s companion through their telescopes. Unfortunately, at the time Bessel reported his discovery, Sirius B was at its closest to gleaming Sirius, from the point of view of an observer on Earth, and thus lost in the glare. But even years later, no one wassuccessful in spotting the companion.

6 That all changed on January 31, 1862. That night in Cambridgeport, Massachusetts, Alvan Clark, the best telescope manufacturer in the United States, and his younger son, Alvan Graham Clark, were testing the optics for a new refractor they had been building for the University of Mississippi. It was going to be the biggest refracting telescope in the world. Looking at notable stars to carry out a color test of their 18.5-inch lens, the son observed a faint star very close to Sirius. This was Sirius B, a type of star now known as a “whitedwarf” because of its color and size.

Adapted from Natural History, February, 2012

Cosmic Background

By Marcia Bartusiak

1 One hundred fifty years ago, in 1862, the first hint arrived that the stellar universe was far stranger than anyone imagined—or could imagine. It came with the knowledge that a faint companion slowly circles Sirius, the brightest star in the nighttime sky.

2 Astronomers at the time didn’t recognize what they had uncovered. It would take decades—until the 1910s—for them to fully realize that Sirius B, as the tiny companion came to be known, was a star like no other seen before. Once its nature was revealed, though, it didn’t take long for theorists to conceive of other bizarre creatures that might be residing in the stellar zoo.

3 The story begins, not in 1862, but two decades earlier. For a number of years, the noted German astronomer Friedrich Wilhelm Bessel, director of the Königsberg Observatory, had been going through old stellar catalogs, as well as making his own measurements, to track how the stars Sirius and Procyon were moving across the celestial sky over time. By 1844 he had enough data to announce that Sirius and Procyon weren’t traveling smoothly, as expected; instead, each star displayed a slight but distinct wobble—up and down, up and down. With great cleverness, Bessel deduced that each star’s quivering walk meant it was being pulled on by a dark, invisible companion circling it. Sirius’s companion, he estimated, completed oneorbit every fifty years.

4 Bessel was clearly excited by his find; in his communication to Great Britain’s Royal Astronomical

Society he wrote, “The subject . . . seems to me so important for the whole of practical astronomy, that I

think it worthy of having your attention directed to it.”

5 Astronomers did take notice, and some tried to discern Sirius’s companion through their telescopes. Unfortunately, at the time Bessel reported his discovery, Sirius B was at its closest to gleaming Sirius, from the point of view of an observer on Earth, and thus lost in the glare. But even years later, no one wassuccessful in spotting the companion.

6 That all changed on January 31, 1862. That night in Cambridgeport, Massachusetts, Alvan Clark, the best telescope manufacturer in the United States, and his younger son, Alvan Graham Clark, were testing the optics for a new refractor they had been building for the University of Mississippi. It was going to be the biggest refracting telescope in the world. Looking at notable stars to carry out a color test of their 18.5-inch lens, the son observed a faint star very close to Sirius. This was Sirius B, a type of star now known as a “whitedwarf” because of its color and size.

Adapted from Natural History, February, 2012

Timbuktu

By Blake Gopnik

1 From the moment the followers of Muhammad came roaring out of Arabia, in A.D. 633, they’ve cherished beautiful things. An exhibition that just closed at the Metropolitan Museum in New York showed how the first Muslims were inspired by glorious works from the Greek-speaking world, and their descendants never stopped being art-friendly.

2 That’s why it has been such a shock to see the artistic heritage of Timbuktu, one of the great seats of Africa’s Islamic culture, fall prey to Muslim puritans. As recently as July 10, members of a group called Ansar Dine, which has been linked to al Qaeda, stormed the 14th-century Djingareyber mosque and destroyed two ancient shrines they found there, according to Reuters and Agence France-Presse. In late March, in the chaos of Mali’s civil war, a small number of these fighters gained control of the city and have since been attacking its heritage. At the start of July, we got word of several shrines they had destroyed. They had also broken open a sealed door on the 15th-century Sidi Yahya mosque, which local tradition says ought to stay closed until Judgment Day. “Building on graves is contrary to Islam. We are destroying the mausoleums because it is ordained by our religion,” Ansar Dine has insisted, claiming that local followers of the Sufi strain of Islam are guilty of idolatry each time they visit the tombs of theirmovement’s sages.

3 But Shamil Jeppie, director of the Tombouctou Manuscripts Project at the University of Cape Town, rejects the idea that this is about the kind of consistent ideology found in other groups we call Islamist. “These guys, you can’t give them such credit,” says Jeppie. “It’s just hooliganism.” He says the locals had been resisting the fighters’ authority, and he feels that the attacks on the shrines are a form of punishment. (Jeppie also reports that, so far, Timbuktu’s great collections of Islamic manuscripts, which he studies, seem not to have been threatened.) The puritanical religious views that Ansar Dine claims to espouse, Jeppie says, derive from the relatively recent Wahhabi movement, “born in Arabia in the 18th century,” and have been taught to today’s fighters by patrons from Saudi Arabia.

4 Ansar Dine claims that its attacks on the shrines reflect the pure form of Islam practiced by Muhammad’s first followers, but Jeppie and other experts, both Western and Muslim, say that misinterprets the historical evidence. There was always debate about showy entombment in shrines and mosques, but the practice was established from early on and has never been definitively rejected in Islamic law. “All you have to do is look at the Taj Mahal,” says Sheila Canby, head of the Metropolitan’s Islamic department, to see that “the attitude toward tombs has varied.” She calls Ansar Dine’s violent rejection “a very, very extreme view.”

5 Even with the most recent destruction, however, the particular artistic culture of Mali gives a glimmer of hope. Thomas Schuler, chair of the Disaster Relief Task Force of the International Council of Museums, has been denouncing the damage. But he points out that locals have a more flexible view of their shrines’ destruction. “The people in Timbuktu say, ‘Let them destroy them. We will rebuild them.’ That’s why people don’t defend [the shrines] to the death.” Art historians have started to talk about this as a “substitution” principle, found in many cultures, whereby something new can stand in for something old that has been lost. It’s not always the physical substance of an artwork that matters, but its shape or location and the traditions those point to. (Timbuktu’s shrines are made of mud brick and so have alwaysrequired rebuilding.)

Adapted from Newsweek, July 23 & 30, 2012

Timbuktu

By Blake Gopnik

1 From the moment the followers of Muhammad came roaring out of Arabia, in A.D. 633, they’ve cherished beautiful things. An exhibition that just closed at the Metropolitan Museum in New York showed how the first Muslims were inspired by glorious works from the Greek-speaking world, and their descendants never stopped being art-friendly.

2 That’s why it has been such a shock to see the artistic heritage of Timbuktu, one of the great seats of Africa’s Islamic culture, fall prey to Muslim puritans. As recently as July 10, members of a group called Ansar Dine, which has been linked to al Qaeda, stormed the 14th-century Djingareyber mosque and destroyed two ancient shrines they found there, according to Reuters and Agence France-Presse. In late March, in the chaos of Mali’s civil war, a small number of these fighters gained control of the city and have since been attacking its heritage. At the start of July, we got word of several shrines they had destroyed. They had also broken open a sealed door on the 15th-century Sidi Yahya mosque, which local tradition says ought to stay closed until Judgment Day. “Building on graves is contrary to Islam. We are destroying the mausoleums because it is ordained by our religion,” Ansar Dine has insisted, claiming that local followers of the Sufi strain of Islam are guilty of idolatry each time they visit the tombs of theirmovement’s sages.

3 But Shamil Jeppie, director of the Tombouctou Manuscripts Project at the University of Cape Town, rejects the idea that this is about the kind of consistent ideology found in other groups we call Islamist. “These guys, you can’t give them such credit,” says Jeppie. “It’s just hooliganism.” He says the locals had been resisting the fighters’ authority, and he feels that the attacks on the shrines are a form of punishment. (Jeppie also reports that, so far, Timbuktu’s great collections of Islamic manuscripts, which he studies, seem not to have been threatened.) The puritanical religious views that Ansar Dine claims to espouse, Jeppie says, derive from the relatively recent Wahhabi movement, “born in Arabia in the 18th century,” and have been taught to today’s fighters by patrons from Saudi Arabia.

4 Ansar Dine claims that its attacks on the shrines reflect the pure form of Islam practiced by Muhammad’s first followers, but Jeppie and other experts, both Western and Muslim, say that misinterprets the historical evidence. There was always debate about showy entombment in shrines and mosques, but the practice was established from early on and has never been definitively rejected in Islamic law. “All you have to do is look at the Taj Mahal,” says Sheila Canby, head of the Metropolitan’s Islamic department, to see that “the attitude toward tombs has varied.” She calls Ansar Dine’s violent rejection “a very, very extreme view.”

5 Even with the most recent destruction, however, the particular artistic culture of Mali gives a glimmer of hope. Thomas Schuler, chair of the Disaster Relief Task Force of the International Council of Museums, has been denouncing the damage. But he points out that locals have a more flexible view of their shrines’ destruction. “The people in Timbuktu say, ‘Let them destroy them. We will rebuild them.’ That’s why people don’t defend [the shrines] to the death.” Art historians have started to talk about this as a “substitution” principle, found in many cultures, whereby something new can stand in for something old that has been lost. It’s not always the physical substance of an artwork that matters, but its shape or location and the traditions those point to. (Timbuktu’s shrines are made of mud brick and so have alwaysrequired rebuilding.)

Adapted from Newsweek, July 23 & 30, 2012

Timbuktu

By Blake Gopnik

1 From the moment the followers of Muhammad came roaring out of Arabia, in A.D. 633, they’ve cherished beautiful things. An exhibition that just closed at the Metropolitan Museum in New York showed how the first Muslims were inspired by glorious works from the Greek-speaking world, and their descendants never stopped being art-friendly.

2 That’s why it has been such a shock to see the artistic heritage of Timbuktu, one of the great seats of Africa’s Islamic culture, fall prey to Muslim puritans. As recently as July 10, members of a group called Ansar Dine, which has been linked to al Qaeda, stormed the 14th-century Djingareyber mosque and destroyed two ancient shrines they found there, according to Reuters and Agence France-Presse. In late March, in the chaos of Mali’s civil war, a small number of these fighters gained control of the city and have since been attacking its heritage. At the start of July, we got word of several shrines they had destroyed. They had also broken open a sealed door on the 15th-century Sidi Yahya mosque, which local tradition says ought to stay closed until Judgment Day. “Building on graves is contrary to Islam. We are destroying the mausoleums because it is ordained by our religion,” Ansar Dine has insisted, claiming that local followers of the Sufi strain of Islam are guilty of idolatry each time they visit the tombs of theirmovement’s sages.

3 But Shamil Jeppie, director of the Tombouctou Manuscripts Project at the University of Cape Town, rejects the idea that this is about the kind of consistent ideology found in other groups we call Islamist. “These guys, you can’t give them such credit,” says Jeppie. “It’s just hooliganism.” He says the locals had been resisting the fighters’ authority, and he feels that the attacks on the shrines are a form of punishment. (Jeppie also reports that, so far, Timbuktu’s great collections of Islamic manuscripts, which he studies, seem not to have been threatened.) The puritanical religious views that Ansar Dine claims to espouse, Jeppie says, derive from the relatively recent Wahhabi movement, “born in Arabia in the 18th century,” and have been taught to today’s fighters by patrons from Saudi Arabia.

4 Ansar Dine claims that its attacks on the shrines reflect the pure form of Islam practiced by Muhammad’s first followers, but Jeppie and other experts, both Western and Muslim, say that misinterprets the historical evidence. There was always debate about showy entombment in shrines and mosques, but the practice was established from early on and has never been definitively rejected in Islamic law. “All you have to do is look at the Taj Mahal,” says Sheila Canby, head of the Metropolitan’s Islamic department, to see that “the attitude toward tombs has varied.” She calls Ansar Dine’s violent rejection “a very, very extreme view.”

5 Even with the most recent destruction, however, the particular artistic culture of Mali gives a glimmer of hope. Thomas Schuler, chair of the Disaster Relief Task Force of the International Council of Museums, has been denouncing the damage. But he points out that locals have a more flexible view of their shrines’ destruction. “The people in Timbuktu say, ‘Let them destroy them. We will rebuild them.’ That’s why people don’t defend [the shrines] to the death.” Art historians have started to talk about this as a “substitution” principle, found in many cultures, whereby something new can stand in for something old that has been lost. It’s not always the physical substance of an artwork that matters, but its shape or location and the traditions those point to. (Timbuktu’s shrines are made of mud brick and so have alwaysrequired rebuilding.)

Adapted from Newsweek, July 23 & 30, 2012