Stars

A threshold with no free parameter in it

Divide a cloud's mass by the magnetic flux threading it. Gravity and the magnetic force both fall as the inverse square of the radius, so the ratio cannot change during a collapse — and the critical value that separates a cloud which must collapse from one that never can is one over two pi root G, a pure constant.

Assumes Star formation and Flux freezing.

The Jeans criterion is the standard answer to whether a cloud collapses, and it has a property that is easy to miss: it is a scale rather than a threshold. Cool a cloud and the Jeans mass falls; compress it and the Jeans mass falls; wait long enough and almost any cloud becomes unstable.

The magnetic criterion is different in kind. A cloud below it will not collapse, ever, at any temperature, at any density, however long anyone waits — and the value that separates the two cases contains no free parameter at all.

One dimensionless number decides whether a cloud may collapse. Field strength against hydrogen column density, with three loci of constant mass-to-flux ratio. The ratio of mass to magnetic flux is conserved under flux freezing, so it cannot be changed by anything that happens during a collapse — which is what makes it a criterion rather than a description. Its critical value is the pure constant 1/(2π√G), and dividing by that gives the dimensionless λ drawn here: below λ = 1 the field can hold the cloud up for ever, however cold it gets, because gravity and the magnetic force scale the same way with radius; above it no field strength suffices. Each locus is a straight line of slope exactly one, because at fixed λ the required field is exactly proportional to the column. Zeeman measurements of dense cores put them a little above the line and their envelopes a little below it, which is the arrangement a slow leak of flux out of the centre would produce and is the observational case for ambipolar diffusion.
Fig. 1 Field strength against hydrogen column density, with three loci of constant mass-to-flux ratio. Each is a straight line of slope exactly one, because at fixed ratio the required field is exactly proportional to the column. Below the critical line the field holds the cloud up permanently; above it, no field strength suffices.

Why the ratio is conserved

Take a cloud, and take a surface through it perpendicular to the field. The mass enclosed by a bundle of field lines is fixed, because the gas cannot leave the bundle without crossing field lines, which flux freezing forbids. The magnetic flux through that bundle is fixed, by the definition of freezing.

So the ratio of the two is a constant of the motion, and it stays constant through any amount of collapse, expansion, distortion or rotation. It is a label the cloud carries.

That is a strong statement and it is worth checking against the alternative. The Jeans mass is not conserved: it is a combination of temperature and density, both of which change during a collapse. The virial ratio is not conserved. The free-fall time is not conserved. Almost nothing in the collapse problem is, and the mass-to-flux ratio is.

One conservation is worth comparing directly, because it produces a similar-looking argument with a different outcome. Specific angular momentum is also conserved, and it also produces a barrier — a centrifugal radius inside which a collapsing core cannot go. But the centrifugal barrier is at a definite radius, so a cloud with too much spin collapses partway and stops; the magnetic criterion is scale-free, so a subcritical cloud does not collapse at all. Two conserved quantities, two barriers, and only one of them applies at every scale at once.

One dimensionless number decides whether a cloud may collapse. Field strength against hydrogen column density, with three loci of constant mass-to-flux ratio. The ratio of mass to magnetic flux is conserved under flux freezing, so it cannot be changed by anything that happens during a collapse — which is what makes it a criterion rather than a description. Its critical value is the pure constant 1/(2π√G), and dividing by that gives the dimensionless λ drawn here: below λ = 1 the field can hold the cloud up for ever, however cold it gets, because gravity and the magnetic force scale the same way with radius; above it no field strength suffices. Each locus is a straight line of slope exactly one, because at fixed λ the required field is exactly proportional to the column. Zeeman measurements of dense cores put them a little above the line and their envelopes a little below it, which is the arrangement a slow leak of flux out of the centre would produce and is the observational case for ambipolar diffusion.
Fig. 2 The same three loci spread further apart — a fifth of critical, critical, and five times critical — which makes the scale-free property visible as the thing it is. The three lines are parallel and stay parallel for ever, because the ratio does not depend on where a cloud sits along its own line. A cloud slides up and down its line as it is compressed or rarefied and never crosses to another one, so the diagram is a set of tracks rather than a set of regions, and the only way off a track is a process that breaks the freezing. That is what makes this a label rather than a state, and it is the whole content of the previous paragraph drawn.

The scale-free character is the unusual feature and is worth restating. There is no radius in the magnetic criterion, no density, no temperature. It compares a mass with a flux and returns a verdict that is true of the cloud rather than of its current state, which makes it more like a conserved charge than like a stability condition.

Why the critical value is a pure number

The competition is between two energies or, equivalently, two forces.

Gravity pulls with a force going as the square of the mass divided by the square of the radius. The magnetic force pushes with a force going as the square of the flux divided by the square of the radius — the field is flux over area, its energy density is the square of the field, and the volume brings the radius back.

Both go as the inverse square of the radius. So their ratio is independent of radius, and shrinking the cloud changes nothing about which wins.

Setting them equal gives a critical ratio of mass to flux, and every dimensioned quantity cancels except the gravitational constant. The result is one over two pi root G, times a coefficient of order one that depends on the geometry assumed.

That coefficient is the one place a choice enters, and it is worth being honest about it: for a uniform sphere threaded by a uniform field the number is 0.13 over root G; for a flattened sheet it is 0.16. The difference is twenty per cent, which is small compared with the measurement errors and is not zero.

The comparison with the Jeans criterion’s own coefficient is instructive. That one is a similar factor of order unity, arising from the same kind of geometric choice, and nobody worries about it — because the Jeans mass depends on the temperature to the three halves and the density to the minus a half, so the geometric factor is swamped by everything else. Here nothing else varies, so the geometric factor is the whole uncertainty in the threshold, and it is the reason the criterion is usually quoted as a dimensionless ratio normalised to the critical value rather than as an absolute number.

One dimensionless number decides whether a cloud may collapse. Field strength against hydrogen column density, with three loci of constant mass-to-flux ratio. The ratio of mass to magnetic flux is conserved under flux freezing, so it cannot be changed by anything that happens during a collapse — which is what makes it a criterion rather than a description. Its critical value is the pure constant 1/(2π√G), and dividing by that gives the dimensionless λ drawn here: below λ = 1 the field can hold the cloud up for ever, however cold it gets, because gravity and the magnetic force scale the same way with radius; above it no field strength suffices. Each locus is a straight line of slope exactly one, because at fixed λ the required field is exactly proportional to the column. Zeeman measurements of dense cores put them a little above the line and their envelopes a little below it, which is the arrangement a slow leak of flux out of the centre would produce and is the observational case for ambipolar diffusion.
Fig. 3 The uncertainty drawn at its own size. The three lines here are the critical locus and the twenty-per-cent geometric ambiguity either side of it, spread to a factor of 1.4 for legibility, and the gap between them is the entire disagreement between a uniform sphere and a flattened sheet. Set against a measurement whose projection correction is a factor of two or three, the geometry is not the problem. It becomes the problem only in the one use the criterion is really for — deciding which side of the line a given cloud is on — because there the quantity wanted is a sign rather than a magnitude, and a sign has no error bar to absorb a twenty-per-cent shift.

There is a neater way to write the whole thing that makes the pure-number character obvious. Express the mass as a column density times an area, and the flux as a field times the same area; the area cancels, and the criterion becomes a comparison between a column density and a field strength with the gravitational constant as the only conversion. That is the form the figure above is drawn in, and it is why the critical locus is a straight line of slope exactly one.

What subcritical means

A cloud below the critical ratio is supported for ever against collapse along the field. It is not supported against motion along the field lines: gas can slide down them freely, and does, which is what flattens such clouds into sheets and filaments.

So a subcritical cloud is not static. It contracts in one dimension, becomes flattened, becomes denser, and remains unable to collapse in the other two. That is the origin of the flat branch in the observed field–density relation: density rising at fixed field is exactly what one-dimensional contraction produces.

The consequence for star formation is that a subcritical cloud must first become supercritical, and there are only two ways. It can accumulate more mass along the same field lines, which raises the mass at fixed flux. Or it can lose flux, which requires the freezing to fail.

Both happen. Accumulation along field lines is what turbulent flows do; flux loss is ambipolar diffusion, slow and steady, at a rate set by the cosmic rays that keep a shielded core ionised.

A spot is dark because it is squeezed. Pressure against depth below the quiet photosphere's optical surface, drawn as a ratio to the pressure there. The rising curve is the surrounding gas, which grows exponentially with a 140-kilometre scale height because that is what hydrostatic equilibrium in an ideal gas produces. The flat pair of bands is the spot's own budget: a magnetic pressure of 1.59·10⁵ dyn/cm² from a 2000-gauss field, which is 21 per cent of the total, plus the gas pressure left over. Horizontal balance requires the two columns to reach the same total at the same geometric level, and the level at which they do is 258 kilometres below the quiet surface — so the spot's own optical surface sits in a hollow. Measured Wilson depressions, obtained from the foreshortening of a spot near the limb, are four to six hundred kilometres. Nothing about the darkness was assumed: a field strength read off a Zeeman splitting fixes the magnetic share, the share fixes the depression, and the depression fixes the temperature the deeper layer must have to carry the reduced flux.
Fig. 4 What a field that has won looks like where the result is visible. Two kilogauss in a photosphere evacuates the gas until the sight line reaches material several hundred kilometres deeper and correspondingly cooler, and the region goes dark — a sunspot, produced by nothing but the same B2/8πB^2/8\pi that holds a subcritical cloud open. The comparison is worth making because it is the one case where a magnetically supported structure can be photographed. A subcritical cloud is a sunspot’s argument at ten orders of magnitude in size, and the reason the cloud is harder is that nothing about it changes brightness.

The two routes leave different signatures and that is what makes the distinction testable. Accumulation raises the mass without changing the flux, so it moves a region along a line of constant field on the diagram at the head of this essay — rightward, at fixed height. Flux loss lowers the field at fixed mass, moving a region downward. A population of cores whose ratios were raised by accumulation should therefore lie at higher column at similar field, and one raised by diffusion at lower field at similar column.

The data are not yet good enough to separate those tracks, which is a reasonable summary of the observational state of this whole subject: the predictions are clean, the measurements are two-sigma detections of a part in ten thousand in polarisation, and the sample is a few dozen objects.

What is measured

The measurement is a Zeeman splitting in a radio line — twenty-one centimetres for atomic hydrogen, eighteen centimetres for hydroxyl, or a millimetre-wave line of cyanide for the densest material — giving the line-of-sight field. Against it goes a column density from dust emission or from a molecular tracer.

Both quantities are hard and the combination has a particular pathology worth naming. The Zeeman measurement gives the line-of-sight component, and the column density is also measured along the line of sight, so the ratio is at least consistent in geometry. What it is not is a volume average, and a cloud whose field is inclined reports a ratio too high by the cosine of the inclination.

Statistically that is correctable: averaging over many clouds with random orientations gives a mean projection factor, and the standard correction is a factor of two or three in the ratio. The correction is the same kind of statistical de-projection that turns an ensemble of measured inclinations into a distribution of true masses. Applied to a single object it is not correctable at all.

The height at which the gas stops being in charge. Gas pressure and magnetic pressure through the solar atmosphere, against height above the photosphere, on a logarithmic vertical axis. The gas curve falls by about twelve orders of magnitude between the photosphere and the corona because it is held up by its own weight and the scale height is small; the field falls by four, because a flux tube can only spread. The two cross at 1.04 thousand kilometres, and that crossing is the boundary of two different subjects. Below it the field is carried by the gas and does what the convection tells it; above it the gas is carried by the field, which is why a corona has a shape at all, why it is structured into loops that outline no density gradient, and why a flare can release in minutes an energy the gas at that height could not store in a year. The field itself is invisible in both regimes — what is plotted is the pressure it exerts, inferred from a splitting measured below and from the shape of what the gas does above.
Fig. 5 The same competition where both sides can be measured directly, which is the calibration the interstellar case never gets. A three-hundred-gauss flux tube in the solar photosphere crosses plasma beta of one a few hundred kilometres higher than a hundred-gauss one — and the field, the gas pressure and the height are all observable, so the crossing is a measurement rather than an inference. Nothing about the interstellar criterion is checkable that way. What the solar case supplies is the confidence that the comparison of pressures is the right comparison, and the cloud case supplies the geometry no solar measurement can.

What the corrected measurements say is that dense cores are supercritical by a factor of two or three, and the envelopes around them are close to critical or slightly below. That arrangement — supercritical inside, subcritical outside — is the signature the ambipolar picture predicts, because flux leaves the dense centre faster than the diffuse envelope. It is also what a random selection of sight lines through a tangled field would produce, and separating the two requires the statistics of a large sample.

There is one further complication that the projection correction does not address. A Zeeman non-detection is not the absence of a field; it is an upper limit, and the majority of published measurements are upper limits rather than detections. Treating a set of upper limits statistically requires assuming something about the distribution being sampled, and different assumptions have produced published mass-to-flux ratios differing by a factor of two on the same data.

The honest way to report it, and the way it is now usually reported, is as a distribution with the limits handled explicitly rather than as a mean. What survives that treatment is the ordering — cores above their envelopes — and the conclusion that cores are supercritical, though not by how much.

Where the criterion is challenged

The main challenge to the criterion is not that it is wrong but that it may be irrelevant, and the argument is worth stating fairly.

If molecular clouds are dominated by supersonic turbulence — and they are observed to be — then their structure is a transient, produced by colliding flows and dispersed within a crossing time. On that picture a cloud does not sit quietly becoming supercritical over ten million years; it is assembled in a million, forms stars, and is destroyed.

Turbulence also does the accumulation directly. Gas driven along field lines by a converging flow piles up mass at fixed flux and can carry a region across the critical value in a crossing time, which is far faster than ambipolar diffusion. The two pictures make different predictions about lifetimes and about the fraction of clouds that are subcritical, and the observations sit between them. Cloud lifetimes inferred from the ages of associated stellar populations are a few million years, favouring the turbulent picture; the mass-to-flux measurements put envelopes near critical, favouring the magnetic one.

The current synthesis is that both operate: turbulence assembles and disperses, the field sets how much of the assembled gas can proceed — and the flux it must lose on the way sets the pace of what follows, and ambipolar diffusion matters in the densest, most shielded material where the turbulence has dissipated. That is a synthesis in the sense of containing both, rather than in the sense of being derived.

One thing both pictures agree on is what the field does higher up, and it is worth drawing at a field strength typical of an active region rather than of the quiet Sun.

The height at which the gas stops being in charge. Gas pressure and magnetic pressure through the solar atmosphere, against height above the photosphere, on a logarithmic vertical axis. The gas curve falls by about twelve orders of magnitude between the photosphere and the corona because it is held up by its own weight and the scale height is small; the field falls by four, because a flux tube can only spread. The two cross at 0.09 thousand kilometres, and that crossing is the boundary of two different subjects. Below it the field is carried by the gas and does what the convection tells it; above it the gas is carried by the field, which is why a corona has a shape at all, why it is structured into loops that outline no density gradient, and why a flare can release in minutes an energy the gas at that height could not store in a year. The field itself is invisible in both regimes — what is plotted is the pressure it exerts, inferred from a splitting measured below and from the shape of what the gas does above.
Fig. 6 The same two pressures with the photospheric field raised to 1,500 gauss, which is what a spot or a strong plage carries. The crossing where the magnetic pressure overtakes the gas moves down to the photosphere itself rather than sitting a few hundred kilometres above it, so there is no layer at all in which the gas is in charge. Above an active region the field is not a passenger anywhere.

The height of that crossing is the single number that decides how a magnetic structure behaves, and it moves by kilometres for a factor in the field because the gas pressure falls exponentially with height. Over the quiet Sun the crossing is in the low chromosphere, so photospheric motions shuffle the footpoints of field lines freely and the corona above is braided by convection. Over an active region it is at or below the surface, so the field is rigid all the way down and the convection is what gets pushed around instead — which is the same statement as a spot being dark.

That is why the criterion generalises upward as well as inward. A cloud’s mass-to-flux ratio, a spot’s darkness and a corona’s structure are three readings of one ratio taken at three densities, and in each case the question is which of two pressures is larger. Nothing about the specific physics of ionisation, opacity or self-gravity enters the comparison itself; those decide only where the crossing sits. It is the reason a criterion written for one context keeps turning up in another with the same critical number and a different name — plasma beta in the corona, the mass-to-flux ratio in a cloud, the magnetopause standoff at a planet. Each is the same question asked of a different pair of pressures, and each has a threshold at unity because a ratio of two pressures has nowhere else to put one. That is why the criterion arrives with no fitted constant, and why a measurement of it is a measurement rather than a calibration — the thing being tested is whether nature sits above or below a number that was never chosen.

What happens after the threshold is crossed

The criterion decides whether collapse begins. What happens next is a different problem, and the field is still the awkward participant.

A supercritical core collapsing at frozen flux drags the field inward, and the geometry it produces is an hourglass: field lines pinched at the centre and fanning out above and below. That shape has been mapped in a dozen cores by polarimetry, and its degree of pinching is a measurement of how much the collapse has dragged the field. The collapse also has to shed the flux it is dragging, or the resulting star would carry four orders of magnitude too much. So ambipolar diffusion continues to operate through the collapse, faster now because the density is higher and the ionisation lower, and most of the flux is lost during the protostellar phase rather than before it.

And the field does something useful on the way, which is to remove angular momentum. A core connected to its envelope by field lines is braked by them, and that magnetic braking is the leading answer to the other conservation problem — a core’s spin, which would otherwise stop the collapse at a centrifugal barrier. The same quantity that has to be shed is the agent that sheds something else.

The consequence is a genuine tension in the models. Braking that is efficient enough to solve the angular momentum problem is efficient enough to prevent a rotationally supported disc forming at all, which contradicts the fact that discs exist. Resolving that — usually by invoking misalignment between the field and the rotation axis, or non-ideal effects — is one of the standing problems in star formation theory.

Why a threshold is worth more than a scale

The criterion’s real value is structural, and it is the reason it survives all the caveats.

A cloud’s mass-to-flux ratio is set when the cloud is assembled and cannot change thereafter without a specific, slow, quantifiable process. So it partitions the material permanently: the gas that will make stars and the gas that will not are distinguished before anything happens, by a number that can in principle be measured.

Nothing else in the collapse problem does that. The Jeans mass tells whether a cloud is unstable now, and the answer changes as soon as the cloud moves. The virial ratio tells whether it is bound, and the same applies. The criterion also explains an otherwise puzzling fact about star formation efficiency. Only a few per cent of a molecular cloud’s mass becomes stars, and the rest disperses. A picture in which most of the cloud is subcritical and a small fraction is not accounts for that immediately, and it does so without requiring feedback to remove the rest. Whether that is the actual explanation is another matter — feedback plainly does operate — but it is a mechanism of the right size, available for free.

The height at which the gas stops being in charge. Gas pressure and magnetic pressure through the solar atmosphere, against height above the photosphere, on a logarithmic vertical axis. The gas curve falls by about twelve orders of magnitude between the photosphere and the corona because it is held up by its own weight and the scale height is small; the field falls by four, because a flux tube can only spread. The two cross at 1.64 thousand kilometres, and that crossing is the boundary of two different subjects. Below it the field is carried by the gas and does what the convection tells it; above it the gas is carried by the field, which is why a corona has a shape at all, why it is structured into loops that outline no density gradient, and why a flare can release in minutes an energy the gas at that height could not store in a year. The field itself is invisible in both regimes — what is plotted is the pressure it exerts, inferred from a splitting measured below and from the shape of what the gas does above.
Fig. 7 The same comparison written as a ratio of pressures rather than of masses. Plasma beta — gas pressure over magnetic pressure — is the other way of asking which term is in charge, and in the quiet solar photosphere it is near unity, which is why a hundred-gauss field there is dynamically important and a hundred-gauss field in the interstellar medium is not. The mass-to-flux criterion is this ratio integrated over a cloud, and its being a pure number is what makes it transferable between the two.

The same criterion at other scales

The argument nowhere refers to the size of the object, so it should apply wherever a self-gravitating mass is threaded by a frozen field, and it does.

At the largest scale it applies to a whole galaxy’s gas disc, where the ratio of mass to flux is enormous — supercritical by orders of magnitude — which is why galaxies collapse and form stars at all rather than being held open by their fields — though the same field is a substantial part of what holds the gas layer thick. That is a check on the criterion in the trivial direction, and it is worth making because a criterion that condemned everything would be useless.

Three quarters of what holds up the gas disc is not heat. The four pressures in the local interstellar medium, each in electronvolts per cubic centimetre, each computed from its own measurement rather than from a fit to the total — the thermal term from a density and a temperature, the turbulent from a line width, the magnetic from a field strength, and the cosmic-ray term from the local proton spectrum integrated over energy. Thermal pressure is 17 per cent of the sum; the rest is the kinetic energy of turbulent motion, the magnetic field, and the cosmic rays — and the near equality of the four is the observation, not an assumption. It matters because the scale height of the gas is set by the total, so a disc computed with heat alone comes out several times thinner than the one that is there. Two of the four are also invisible: the magnetic term is a Zeeman splitting and a rotation measure, and the cosmic-ray term is a local particle spectrum extrapolated along the line of sight. A pressure that cannot be photographed still holds the galaxy open.
Fig. 8 The same field seen as a pressure rather than as a flux. In the diffuse interstellar medium the magnetic term is one of four comparable pressures, and the material there is enormously supercritical — the criterion becomes restrictive only in the dense, small structures where the flux has been concentrated with the mass.

At the smallest scale it applies to the fragments a collapsing core breaks into. A fragment inherits its parent’s field, and if it takes a small fraction of the mass with a comparable fraction of the flux it inherits the parent’s ratio; if the geometry is such that it takes more flux than mass, it is subcritical and cannot collapse further. That is a magnetic contribution to setting a minimum fragment mass, alongside the thermal one.

A boundary that a sixty-fourfold gust moves by a factor of two. The standoff distance of a dipole magnetosphere against a wind, in planetary radii, against the wind's proton density, for three wind speeds. The boundary sits where magnetic pressure equals ram pressure — the only balance available, since the field exerts no force on neutral gas and the wind touches nothing. Because a dipole falls as the cube of distance its pressure falls as the sixth power, so the standoff goes as the ram pressure to the −1/6: at 450 km/s a density of 0.3 per cubic centimetre puts the nose at 36.5 radii — against a measured average of ten to eleven — and a sixty-fourfold compression moves it only to 18.3. That exponent is the reason a magnetosphere is a stable thing to have. It is also the reason the boundary's position is a poor measurement of the field: a factor of two in the distance is a factor of sixty-four in what caused it, so the standoff measures the wind badly and the planet's moment hardly at all.
Fig. 9 The same balance at Jupiter, where the field wins over a wind by a factor of thirty-seven planetary radii and the answer is checkable against a spacecraft. What transfers to the cloud problem is not the number but the exponent: a boundary set by comparing a magnetic pressure with something else is always a weak function of the something else, because the field falls steeply with distance. The collapse criterion is the limiting case of that, where the two terms fall at exactly the same rate and the boundary stops depending on distance at all — a sixth root taken to its limit is a step.

And it applies to the first stars, where the answer is different. Primordial gas has essentially no field — whatever the seed was, it is far below anything dynamically relevant — so the earliest star formation is unmagnetised and the criterion does not bind. That means the first generation formed under a rule the later ones do not obey, which is one of several reasons its mass distribution is expected to have been different.

A boundary that a sixty-fourfold gust moves by a factor of two. The standoff distance of a dipole magnetosphere against a wind, in planetary radii, against the wind's proton density, for three wind speeds. The boundary sits where magnetic pressure equals ram pressure — the only balance available, since the field exerts no force on neutral gas and the wind touches nothing. Because a dipole falls as the cube of distance its pressure falls as the sixth power, so the standoff goes as the ram pressure to the −1/6: at 450 km/s a density of 6 per cubic centimetre puts the nose at 9.3 radii — against a measured average of ten to eleven — and a sixty-fourfold compression moves it only to 4.7. That exponent is the reason a magnetosphere is a stable thing to have. It is also the reason the boundary's position is a poor measurement of the field: a factor of two in the distance is a factor of sixty-four in what caused it, so the standoff measures the wind badly and the planet's moment hardly at all.
Fig. 10 And the same balance where both sides are measured rather than inferred. The Earth’s magnetopause sits where the field’s pressure equals the solar wind’s ram pressure, and the answer depends on the wind speed as the two-thirds power — so tripling the wind moves the boundary by only a third. That insensitivity is the same sixth-root behaviour that makes the collapse criterion a threshold rather than a slope, and it is the reason both quantities are worth quoting at all.

What is settled and what is not

Settled: the ratio is conserved under flux freezing; the critical value is a pure constant; a subcritical cloud cannot collapse regardless of its temperature or density. These are consequences of two conservation laws and an inverse-square, and none of them depends on a model of anything.

Measured: cores are supercritical, envelopes are near-critical, and the field–density relation has a flat branch. The measurements carry a factor-of-two systematic from projection and a factor-of-two scatter from everything else. Unsettled: whether the criterion is what regulates star formation, or whether turbulence assembles supercritical regions so quickly that the subcritical state is never occupied for long. That question is about timescales rather than about the criterion, and it will be settled by measuring cloud lifetimes and ionisation fractions rather than by measuring more fields. Both are being measured: lifetimes from the ages of the stellar populations that clouds are next to, and ionisation from the abundances of molecular ions whose chemistry depends on it.

What should be carried away is the shape of the argument rather than its current status. Two conserved quantities, divided; a critical value that is a combination of nothing but the gravitational constant; and a partition of material that is fixed before the interesting physics starts. The flux problem this ladder began with asked where four orders of magnitude of field went. This rung asks a sharper question of the same conserved quantity — not how much is lost, but which side of a line the cloud was on before any of it was.

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.

Ambipolar diffusionCore-collapseFlux freezingJeans massMagnetic critical massMass-to-flux ratioMolecular cloudsStar formationTurbulenceVirial theoremZeeman effect