Cosmology

A map that is not of positions

One axis of every redshift survey is not a distance but a velocity, and the difference is not noise. Inside a cluster it smears the galaxies into a finger pointing at the observer; on the scale of a supercluster it compresses the structure — and the amount of that compression is a test of gravity.

Assumes Large-scale structure, Baryon acoustic oscillations and Virial theorem.

The rung below this one asked whether the galaxy distribution is homogeneous and measured the scale at which it becomes so. This rung is about the coordinate system that measurement was made in.

A redshift survey has three coordinates and only two of them are angles. The third is a redshift, converted to a distance by assuming the redshift is entirely due to the expansion — and it is not. Every galaxy also moves under the gravity of everything around it, at a few hundred kilometres a second, and that motion adds to the observed redshift and is indistinguishable from being further away.

At H0=70H_0 = 70 km s⁻¹ Mpc⁻¹, a peculiar velocity of 700 kilometres a second is ten megaparsecs of spurious displacement. That is not a small correction to a map whose interesting structures are tens of megaparsecs across.

Fingers 3.1 times long, a large scale squashed to 0.92, and a test of gravity. Left: a 360-megaparsec slice of a clustered universe, as the galaxies actually sit. Right: the same galaxies as a redshift survey records them, with the line of sight up the page. Nothing has moved sideways, because an angle is an angle; every displacement is along the line of sight, because that coordinate came from a redshift and a redshift is the expansion plus whatever the galaxy is doing on its own. Two effects, opposite in sign and separated by scale. Inside a cluster the motions are virial and random, 720 kilometres a second of them, which at H₀ = 67.36 is 11 megaparsecs of smearing on an object a few across: the clusters become fingers 3.1 times longer than they are wide, all pointing at the observer, which is the one structure in cosmology that is definitely not real. On the scale of a supercluster the motions are coherent — everything is falling in, so the far side is approaching and the near side receding — and the structure is compressed rather than stretched, to 0.92 of its true extent here, measured on cluster centroids so the fingers have already averaged away. Below: why that compression is worth having. Its amplitude is the rate at which structure is currently growing, and the growth rate is Ωₘ(z) raised to a power that general relativity fixes at about 0.55. A theory of gravity that differs from general relativity on cosmological scales while matching every solar-system test changes that exponent and nothing else, and the two curves drawn — γ = 0.55 and γ = 0.68 — differ by only 4 per cent at redshift a half, against error bars of 12 per cent on the points beside them. The worst systematic in a redshift survey is the measurement — and it is a hard one, because a quarter of a change in the exponent that governs how gravity assembles structure moves the observable by less than the width of the curve it is drawn on. What the picture cannot show is the degeneracy that limits it: what is measured is fσ₈, a product, and separating the growth rate from the amplitude of clustering needs something else entirely.
Fig. 1 The distortion, and the two regimes it has. Left: a slice of clustered galaxies as they sit. Right: the same galaxies as a redshift survey records them, with the line of sight up the page. Nothing has moved sideways, because an angle is an angle. Inside a cluster the motions are virial and random, so the cluster is smeared into a finger three times longer than it is wide, pointing at the observer — the one structure in cosmology that is certainly not real. On the scale of a supercluster the motions are coherent, so the structure is compressed rather than stretched. Below: why the compression is worth having.

Two regimes, opposite in sign

The two effects are the same physics at different amplitudes, and the sign difference is worth deriving rather than asserting.

On large scales the motions are coherent. A region denser than average pulls its surroundings inwards. A galaxy on the far side of an overdensity is moving towards the observer, so its redshift is reduced and it appears nearer; one on the near side is moving away, so it appears further. Both are displaced towards the overdensity’s centre, and the structure is compressed along the line of sight.

The amplitude follows from continuity: the infall velocity is proportional to the growth rate of the density perturbation, so the compression measures how fast structure is currently growing. In linear theory the observed overdensity in redshift space is

δs  =  (b+fμ2)δm,\delta_s \;=\; \left(b + f\mu^2\right)\delta_m,

with bb the galaxy bias, ff the growth rate, and μ\mu the cosine of the angle to the line of sight. Everything else in this essay follows from that one line.

On small scales the motions are virialised and have lost all memory of the infall that produced them. A cluster’s galaxies move at a dispersion of several hundred to a thousand kilometres a second in random directions, so the cluster is stretched by an amount that has nothing to do with its size — several megaparsecs, when the cluster is one or two across.

A slice 1,000 megaparsecs across. 872 galaxies in a wedge 1000 comoving megaparsecs deep, generated as a Thomas process — Poisson centres at 0.00012 per square megaparsec, 13 galaxies each on average, scattered about their centre with a Gaussian of 22 Mpc. That is not a simulation of how structure formed and does not pretend to be; it is the simplest clustered process whose correlation function is known exactly, which is what lets the next figure check a measurement against something rather than against itself. What it does reproduce is the impression: at this scale the distribution is obviously not uniform, there are groups and there are gaps, and the eye finds patterns in it readily — including several that are not there, because the eye finds patterns in a Poisson field too. The question the next two figures ask is the only one that settles it: at what separation does the clustering stop, and is there a scale above which a box of this universe looks like any other box?
Fig. 2 And the structure the distortion acts on. Galaxies lie in filaments and sheets around voids, with clusters at the intersections, and the pattern spans every scale from a megaparsec to a hundred. The distortion is scale-dependent and so is the structure, which is why the two regimes are separable at all: fingers dominate below about ten megaparsecs and coherent squashing above it.

Why it is a test of gravity

The growth rate f=dlnD/dlnaf = d\ln D/d\ln a measures how fast perturbations are growing now, and it is not a free parameter. In general relativity it is very nearly

f    Ωm(z)γ,γ0.55,f \;\simeq\; \Omega_m(z)^{\gamma}, \qquad \gamma \approx 0.55,

with the exponent following from the equations of general relativity and essentially nothing else. It is insensitive to the dark-energy equation of state, to the curvature, and to the details of the expansion history — those enter through Ωm(z)\Omega_m(z) and are measured independently.

A theory of gravity that differs from general relativity on cosmological scales while matching every solar-system test changes γ\gamma and nothing else observable. That is what makes the measurement a test rather than a parameter estimate: the expansion history and the growth history are separately predicted by a given theory, and a mismatch between them is a failure that no adjustment of the energy content can repair.

This matters because the alternative explanation of the accelerating expansion is not a substance at all. Either the universe contains something with negative pressure — in which case the geometry and the growth are related as general relativity says — or gravity itself behaves differently at large separations, in which case they are not.

What is actually measured, and the product that gets in the way

What a survey measures is not ff. It is fσ8f\sigma_8.

Two degeneracies force that. The observed clustering amplitude is bσ8b\sigma_8 — the galaxies’ bias times the matter clustering amplitude — and neither factor is separately observable, because nobody has an independent measurement of how galaxies trace matter. The redshift-space quadrupole is proportional to fσ8×bσ8f\sigma_8 \times b\sigma_8, and dividing by the monopole’s bσ8b\sigma_8 leaves fσ8f\sigma_8 with the bias cancelled and σ8\sigma_8 still attached.

So the reported quantity is a product of the growth rate and the amplitude of clustering, and interpreting it as a constraint on γ\gamma requires σ8\sigma_8 from somewhere else.

The excess, measured and predicted. The two-point correlation function of the 1499 points in the slice, measured off the drawing rather than assumed. ξ(r) is the fractional excess probability of finding a second galaxy at separation r over what a uniform random field would give: ξ = 0 means no clustering at all. The points are counted in annuli around every galaxy at least 150 Mpc from an edge, so no annulus crosses the boundary and there is no edge correction to get wrong; the curve is the exact correlation function of the process the points were drawn from, ξ(r) = 1/(4πκσ²)·exp(−r²/4σ²), which for this field is 1.37 at zero separation. The two agree to 0.166 in ξ over the clustered range, which is the check that the estimator is measuring what it claims. The excess falls below one per cent by 145 Mpc, and that is the useful number: beyond it, knowing where one galaxy is tells almost nothing about where the next one is. In the real universe the same statistic falls below a per cent at about 100 Mpc, by a rather different route — a power law rather than a Gaussian — and with the acoustic bump sitting on top of it.
Fig. 3 The statistic the measurement is made from. A correlation function computed from a point pattern is an estimate with its own bias and its own variance, and the estimator matters: only points far enough from the survey’s edge can be used as centres without an edge correction. For redshift-space work the same function is computed in bins of separation and of angle to the line of sight, and the anisotropy is decomposed into a monopole, a quadrupole and a hexadecapole. The quadrupole is the measurement; the monopole is what it has to be divided by.
A slice 400 megaparsecs across. 172 galaxies in a wedge 400 comoving megaparsecs deep, generated as a Thomas process — Poisson centres at 0.00012 per square megaparsec, 13 galaxies each on average, scattered about their centre with a Gaussian of 22 Mpc. That is not a simulation of how structure formed and does not pretend to be; it is the simplest clustered process whose correlation function is known exactly, which is what lets the next figure check a measurement against something rather than against itself. What it does reproduce is the impression: at this scale the distribution is obviously not uniform, there are groups and there are gaps, and the eye finds patterns in it readily — including several that are not there, because the eye finds patterns in a Poisson field too. The question the next two figures ask is the only one that settles it: at what separation does the clustering stop, and is there a scale above which a box of this universe looks like any other box?
Fig. 4 The same clustered field in a wedge four hundred megaparsecs deep instead of a thousand. The clustering looks stronger, and it is not: the same Thomas process with the same parameters, drawn over a smaller volume, puts 172 galaxies on the page where the wider slice puts 1,499. What changes is the number of independent structures in view, and a field with three superclusters in it looks lumpier than the same field with thirty — which is the first and simplest reason a structure measurement needs a volume rather than a picture.

What was actually found

Measurements of fσ8f\sigma_8 now exist from about redshift 0.02 to 1.5, from galaxy surveys, from quasars and from the Lyman-α forest, at precisions of five to ten per cent each.

They are consistent with general relativity. Fitting γ\gamma freely gives values near 0.55 with an uncertainty of order 0.05 to 0.1, depending on which data are combined and what is assumed about the expansion history. There is no detection of a departure.

There is, however, a persistent low pull. The measured fσ8f\sigma_8 values sit slightly below the prediction from the microwave background’s best-fit cosmology, by something like five to ten per cent — the same direction and roughly the same size as the discrepancy weak lensing reports in σ8\sigma_8. Whether that is one effect or two, and whether it is a systematic in the tracers or something physical, is unresolved.

The arithmetic of the two regimes

Both effects follow from one number — the peculiar velocity divided by the Hubble constant — and the difference between them is entirely in whether the velocities of neighbouring galaxies point the same way.

Coherent flows. The infall velocity onto a perturbation of overdensity δ\delta on a scale RR is of order 13fHRδ\tfrac{1}{3}f H R\,\delta, so the fractional compression of a structure along the line of sight is 13fδ\tfrac{1}{3}f\delta — a few per cent for a mild overdensity and tens of per cent for a rich supercluster. Crucially it is proportional to δ\delta itself, which is why it appears in the statistics of the density field rather than as a fixed displacement, and why it can be written as a modification of the power spectrum’s angular dependence.

Virial motions. A cluster of mass 101510^{15} solar masses has a dispersion near 1000 km s⁻¹, which is 14 megaparsecs of smearing at the present epoch, against a virial radius of about 2. The finger is therefore an object of axis ratio seven, and its length depends on the cluster’s mass rather than on its size — so a finger’s length is a mass measurement, which is the one use anybody makes of a feature that is otherwise pure damage.

The scale at which the two swap over is where the coherent infall velocity equals the virial dispersion, which is the turnaround radius of the structure in question: a few megaparsecs for a group, ten or more for a rich cluster. Below it, everything is random; above it, everything is coherent; and there is no clean separation because real structures span the range.

Homogeneity is a scale with a tolerance attached. The fractional scatter in the number of galaxies inside a circle, against the circle's radius, measured by dropping four hundred circles of each size wholly inside the slice. Two analytic curves are drawn against it and neither is fitted. The lower one is what a completely random field gives, 1/√N̄. The upper one is what this clustered field must give once the circle is much larger than a cluster, √((1+μ)/N̄) with μ = 13 galaxies per group — clustering multiplies the scatter by a constant and does not change its power: both fall as 1/R. The measured points join the upper curve above about 118 Mpc, roughly 5 cluster radii, and sit 3.1 times above pure Poisson at the largest circle. That factor is the practical content of clustering: a survey counting 244 galaxies in a circle has the statistical power of about 17 independent ones, which is why counting more galaxies in the same volume stops helping. Nothing here says the universe is homogeneous, and the figure is not able to. What it shows is the shape of the question: the scatter falls as 1/R, so "homogeneous" is not a property but a radius chosen against a tolerance. In the real universe the corresponding measurement is that the density scatter in spheres of 8 h⁻¹ Mpc is about 0.81, and redshift surveys find the counts settling onto the uniform-field scaling somewhere between 70 and 150 h⁻¹ Mpc — a range rather than a number, because different surveys and different tolerances give different answers, which is the honest state of it.
Fig. 5 And the property the whole survey exists to establish. Counting galaxies in spheres of increasing radius, the fractional scatter falls and the mean count approaches a constant times the volume — the statement that the universe is homogeneous above about a hundred megaparsecs. Redshift-space distortions do not change that conclusion, because a displacement along one axis conserves the number of galaxies; they change the shape of everything below the homogeneity scale and nothing about the count above it.
A slice 2,000 megaparsecs across. 3576 galaxies in a wedge 2000 comoving megaparsecs deep, generated as a Thomas process — Poisson centres at 0.00012 per square megaparsec, 13 galaxies each on average, scattered about their centre with a Gaussian of 22 Mpc. That is not a simulation of how structure formed and does not pretend to be; it is the simplest clustered process whose correlation function is known exactly, which is what lets the next figure check a measurement against something rather than against itself. What it does reproduce is the impression: at this scale the distribution is obviously not uniform, there are groups and there are gaps, and the eye finds patterns in it readily — including several that are not there, because the eye finds patterns in a Poisson field too. The question the next two figures ask is the only one that settles it: at what separation does the clustering stop, and is there a scale above which a box of this universe looks like any other box?
Fig. 6 And the other direction: two thousand megaparsecs, 3,576 galaxies, and the same generating rule. At this scale the slice looks nearly uniform to the eye, which is exactly the claim the homogeneity figure below makes quantitatively. The three drawings of this one mode are the same universe at three magnifications, and the only thing that changes between them is how much of it is on the page — which is what it means for clustering to have a characteristic scale.

What the exponent can and cannot represent

Writing the growth rate as Ωmγ\Omega_m^{\gamma} and fitting γ\gamma is the standard way of reporting these measurements, and it is worth being clear about what that parameterisation assumes, because it is easy to read it as more general than it is.

The form is an excellent approximation within general relativity across a wide range of expansion histories, which is why it is useful: a single number summarises a function, and a measured departure from 0.55 is a compact statement. It is not, however, a general parameterisation of what a modified theory can do.

Two limitations matter. First, the form has no scale in it — it asserts that perturbations of every wavelength grow at the same rate, which is true in general relativity with cold dark matter and false in a large class of alternatives. A theory with a new length scale, which most modifications of gravity have, produces growth that depends on wavenumber, and a fit that assumes it does not will return some average with no clear meaning.

Second, the exponent is being fitted to data spanning a limited range of redshift, over which Ωm(z)\Omega_m(z) itself varies by a factor of a few. A theory whose deviation from general relativity turns on at a particular epoch produces a growth history that no constant exponent describes, and the fitted value will be a compromise between the epochs sampled.

The response has been to report the raw measurements — fσ8f\sigma_8 at each redshift, with its covariance — alongside the summary, so that a theory can be tested against the observations rather than against a compression of them. A one-parameter summary of a function is a convenience for comparing experiments and a poor instrument for excluding theories, and the distinction matters most exactly where a departure would be most interesting.

It is worth noticing what that reporting convention costs. A set of fσ8f\sigma_8 values with a covariance matrix is not a measurement of anything on its own — it is a measurement of a product, at redshifts where the survey happened to have galaxies, in a fiducial cosmology used to convert the redshifts into distances in the first place. Comparing it against a theory means re-running that conversion for the theory’s own cosmology, and the correction for having assumed the wrong one is applied through the same Alcock–Paczynski geometry the analysis is separately fitting.

So the published numbers are conditional in a way a plotted point does not advertise, and a compilation of them from several surveys is a compilation of quantities defined against different fiducial cosmologies. The joint fits that use them carry the conversions explicitly; a reader taking the points off a figure does not, which is why the summary exponent, for all its limitations, remains what most cross-comparisons are actually made on.

The excess, measured and predicted. The two-point correlation function of the 1499 points in the slice, measured off the drawing rather than assumed. ξ(r) is the fractional excess probability of finding a second galaxy at separation r over what a uniform random field would give: ξ = 0 means no clustering at all. The points are counted in annuli around every galaxy at least 60 Mpc from an edge, so no annulus crosses the boundary and there is no edge correction to get wrong; the curve is the exact correlation function of the process the points were drawn from, ξ(r) = 1/(4πκσ²)·exp(−r²/4σ²), which for this field is 1.37 at zero separation. The two agree to 0.075 in ξ over the clustered range, which is the check that the estimator is measuring what it claims. The excess falls below one per cent by >60 Mpc, and that is the useful number: beyond it, knowing where one galaxy is tells almost nothing about where the next one is. In the real universe the same statistic falls below a per cent at about 100 Mpc, by a rather different route — a power law rather than a Gaussian — and with the acoustic bump sitting on top of it.
Fig. 7 The correlation function of the wide slice measured only out to sixty megaparsecs. Nothing about the measurement has changed — the same points, counted the same way — and the power law that describes the small-separation excess is now most of the plot rather than a corner of it. Read alone, this figure would support a scale-free universe with no homogeneity scale at all. Where a correlation function is truncated decides what it appears to say, and the previous figure is the argument that the truncation matters.

Where the model stops

Linear theory is not enough. The expression δs=(b+fμ2)δm\delta_s = (b + f\mu^2)\delta_m holds only where the perturbations are small and the velocities coherent, which is scales above about thirty megaparsecs. Below that the two regimes overlap and the modelling is a fitted description rather than a derivation — and most of the information is at those scales, so the analysis is a compromise between using the data and trusting the model.

The fingers are modelled by a fudge. The standard treatment convolves the linear result with a phenomenological function representing the small-scale velocity dispersion, with a free width. It works and it is not derived, and the fitted width is not the cluster dispersion measured any other way.

Bias is not a number. Treating the galaxy overdensity as a constant times the matter overdensity is a first term; at the precision of current surveys the second-order terms matter, and they introduce parameters that partially reabsorb the signal.

And the survey geometry enters everything. The distortion is defined with respect to the line of sight, so any error in the selection function that varies with position on the sky, or with redshift, imitates an anisotropy. The measurement is of an anisotropy in a quantity whose isotropy is assumed, and every observational systematic is a candidate.

What kind of redshift is required

The whole construction assumes the radial coordinate is a redshift measured well enough that the peculiar velocity is not swamped by the measurement error, and that condition excludes most of the galaxies anybody has catalogued.

A spectroscopic redshift is obtained by identifying features in a spectrum and is good to some tens of kilometres a second — a fraction of the peculiar velocities being measured. A photometric redshift is obtained by comparing brightnesses in several broad bands against template spectra, and it is good to a few per cent in 1+z1+z — which at redshift 0.5 is tens of thousands of kilometres a second, three orders of magnitude worse.

That difference is not a matter of degree. A photometric survey’s radial coordinate is smeared by far more than the distortion, so the anisotropy is destroyed rather than degraded, and no amount of statistical power recovers it. A survey with a hundred million photometric redshifts and one with a million spectroscopic ones are not two versions of the same instrument: the first can measure clustering projected on the sky and lensing, and it cannot measure a growth rate this way at all.

The consequence shapes the instruments. A spectroscopic survey has to place a fibre or a slit on each target individually, so its cost scales with the number of galaxies rather than with the area, and the surveys that do this work are defined by how many spectra they can take at once — which is why the field’s progress is measured in thousands of simultaneous fibres rather than in aperture.

It also introduces a systematic with no analogue elsewhere. Fibres cannot be placed arbitrarily close together, because each occupies a physical space in the focal plane, so the closest pairs of galaxies are systematically under-sampled — and the closest pairs are exactly the ones inside clusters, which carry the small-scale distortion. The instrument that measures the anisotropy is blind in precisely the regime where the anisotropy is largest, and correcting for it requires re-observing a subset of fields to establish what was missed.

Homogeneity is a scale with a tolerance attached. The fractional scatter in the number of galaxies inside a circle, against the circle's radius, measured by dropping four hundred circles of each size wholly inside the slice. Two analytic curves are drawn against it and neither is fitted. The lower one is what a completely random field gives, 1/√N̄. The upper one is what this clustered field must give once the circle is much larger than a cluster, √((1+μ)/N̄) with μ = 13 galaxies per group — clustering multiplies the scatter by a constant and does not change its power: both fall as 1/R. The measured points join the upper curve above about 118 Mpc, roughly 5 cluster radii, and sit 3.1 times above pure Poisson at the largest circle. That factor is the practical content of clustering: a survey counting 244 galaxies in a circle has the statistical power of about 17 independent ones, which is why counting more galaxies in the same volume stops helping. Nothing here says the universe is homogeneous, and the figure is not able to. What it shows is the shape of the question: the scatter falls as 1/R, so "homogeneous" is not a property but a radius chosen against a tolerance. In the real universe the corresponding measurement is that the density scatter in spheres of 8 h⁻¹ Mpc is about 0.81, and redshift surveys find the counts settling onto the uniform-field scaling somewhere between 70 and 150 h⁻¹ Mpc — a range rather than a number, because different surveys and different tolerances give different answers, which is the honest state of it.
Fig. 8 And the counts-in-cells scatter over the same shortened range. The measured curve is still above the random 1/N1/\sqrt{N} line everywhere it is drawn, and it has not yet come down to meet it — so on this evidence alone the universe has no homogeneity scale below sixty megaparsecs, which is true and is not the interesting statement. The interesting statement needs the curve carried out to where it converges, and a null result at small separations is what a scale looks like from underneath.

Why the effect was noticed before it was wanted

The distortion has been visible in every redshift survey ever made, and for its first two decades it was purely an embarrassment.

The fingers were the first thing anyone saw. The earliest redshift surveys of clusters, in the 1970s, produced maps with elongated features all pointing at the origin, and the natural first reaction — that they were real filaments radial to the observer — was quickly abandoned because the observer is not a special place. By the 1980s the standard practice was to collapse them: identify a cluster, replace all its members with the cluster’s mean redshift, and proceed.

The coherent squashing was harder to see and more consequential. It was derived in 1987, in a paper whose result was that the amplitude of clustering measured in a redshift survey is systematically higher than the true one by a factor depending on Ωm\Omega_m — which meant that every published clustering amplitude from a redshift survey was biased, in a way nobody had corrected.

The reinterpretation from nuisance to measurement took another decade and one change of attitude: the correction contains a parameter that is not otherwise measurable. Once that was recognised the practice reversed. Collapsing the fingers destroys information; the modern analysis models them, and the elongation of a cluster along the line of sight is used as one more constraint rather than removed as one more artefact.

The generalisation

The situation here is a general one: a measurement whose worst systematic is also its signal.

For someone mapping the universe, peculiar velocities are pure contamination — they misplace every galaxy along the one coordinate that is hardest to check, and no amount of care in the observation reduces them. For someone measuring the growth of structure, they are the only handle available, and the map is the nuisance.

Which of those it is depends entirely on the question, and the same reversal appears elsewhere. A star’s finite size ruins an occultation light curve and measures its diameter. Atmospheric turbulence destroys an image and, through its speckles, restores the resolution. A star’s own activity imitates a planet and measures its rotation.

The pattern is worth naming because it suggests where to look: a systematic that is coherent, has a predicted amplitude, and is proportional to something interesting is not a systematic. It is a measurement that has not yet been recognised, and the transition usually happens when someone computes what its amplitude ought to be and finds that the prediction is sharper than the nuisance is annoying.

Where this ladder goes next

Later rungs on this anchor: the void–galaxy cross-correlation, where the distortion is larger and the modelling easier because void interiors are still linear; direct peculiar-velocity surveys using distance indicators, which measure the velocity field itself rather than its statistical signature; the S8S_8 tension in full, and the several ways non-linear modelling could produce it; scale-dependent growth, which is what a theory with a new length scale predicts and which a single number for fσ8f\sigma_8 cannot detect; and the relativistic corrections to the distortion, which are tiny, are predicted exactly, and become measurable in surveys covering a substantial fraction of the horizon.

About the same objects

Not linked from either essay — found by the objects both name.

What links here

Essays that link to this one from their own argument.

The objects this essay names

Each one links to every other essay that touches it.

Correlation functionFingers of GodGalaxy biasGrowth indexGrowth rateKaiser effectModified gravityPeculiar velocityQuadrupoleRedshift space distortionSigma eightStructure formation