Ninety-nine per cent of the mass and none of the spin
Assumes Angular momentum, Harmonic law and The two-body problem.
Kepler’s second law is a conservation law in disguise, and the quantity it conserves is one number per orbiting body. Add those numbers up across a planetary system, add the star’s own rotation, and the sum is a constant that the system has been carrying since it formed. It is worth asking where it sits.
The answer is peculiar enough that it constrained theories of the solar system’s origin for a century before anyone could compute what to do about it.
Where the numbers come from
Nothing in that figure is quoted. Each planet’s orbital angular momentum is
which needs only the planet’s mass and two of its orbital elements — quantities known to many digits from tables that are fits to centuries of observation. The Sun’s rotational angular momentum is , where is its moment of inertia coefficient, and that number is the least secure in the calculation because it comes from a solar model rather than from a measurement — though helioseismology now constrains the interior density profile well enough that the coefficient is good to a per cent or so.
The dependence on is what does the work. Angular momentum per unit mass rises as the square root of orbital radius, so a gram at Jupiter carries five times what a gram at Earth’s orbit carries and twenty-five times what a gram at Mercury’s does. That is why the outer planets dominate a budget they do not dominate by mass.
The problem it poses
A star forms from a molecular cloud core that collapses when gravity beats pressure, and a cloud core rotates. It has to: the interstellar medium is turbulent and differentially rotating with the galaxy, and a region a tenth of a parsec across picks up a velocity gradient across it. The observed rotation rates of dense cores are around radians a second — one turn in twenty million years, which sounds negligible.
It is not negligible, because collapse is a contraction by an enormous factor and angular momentum per unit mass is conserved through it.
The core cannot become a star. It becomes a disc, twenty or thirty astronomical units across, and stops. Every gram of the material that eventually made the Sun had to lose a factor of about ten thousand in specific angular momentum before it could arrive.
That is the operation the ledger records. The Sun’s 0.6 per cent is not what is left of the cloud’s rotation; it is what remains after the overwhelming majority was moved outwards, onto a small fraction of the mass which is now Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune.
Three ways to move it
The mechanisms are known, and which of them mattered most is still argued about.
A disc that transports it internally. A disc cannot accrete without moving angular momentum outwards, and any process that couples adjacent annuli does so: material at smaller radius spins faster, and friction between annuli speeds up the outer one at the expense of the inner. Most of the disc’s mass moves in and a small fraction of it moves out, carrying nearly all of the angular momentum. That process is the standard account, and its difficulty is that ordinary molecular viscosity is many orders of magnitude too small — the coupling has to be turbulent, and the turbulence has to be driven by something. A wind that removes it. Material lifted off the disc’s surface and accelerated along magnetic field lines carries angular momentum away entirely, rather than merely moving it further out. The lever arm is the same one that brakes a star’s own rotation, and it is efficient for the same reason: the field forces the gas to keep turning with its launch point long after it has left. A disc wind removes a small mass and a large amount of spin.
A companion. If the excess is handed to another body, the problem is solved by construction. That is what happened here: the excess went to Jupiter. It is also why binary stars are common — a cloud core with too much angular momentum to make one star can make two orbiting each other, and the orbit is the reservoir.
What the ledger cannot say
The record is a record of the outcome and not of the process, and the reason is that everything which carried the angular momentum away is gone.
The disc dispersed within ten million years. A wind, if there was one, left the system. The material that moved outwards to absorb the spin was itself mostly lost — the outer disc is not there. What remains is four planets that between them hold 99.4 per cent of the system’s angular momentum in about a seven-hundredth of its mass, and no way to distinguish, from that alone, between an arrangement produced by viscous transport and one produced by a wind. That last point deserves emphasis. Planetary orbits have migrated, resonances have swept through the system, and the eccentricities have been reshuffled by secular interactions. None of that changes the total. Angular momentum can be traded between planets — and a resonance is precisely a channel for trading it — but the sum is conserved by the whole system, so the number in the ledger is inherited directly from the cloud.
What a bigger reservoir would have looked like
There is an instructive counterfactual buried in the arithmetic, and it takes one line to run.
Give the Sun back all of the angular momentum in the system — collapse Jupiter’s share and everyone else’s into the Sun’s rotation, holding its present structure fixed — and its rotation period falls from 25 days to about ten hours. That is a fifth of the break-up rate for a body of the Sun’s mass and radius, and it would make the Sun an oblate, gravity-darkened, rapidly rotating star of exactly the kind that the early-type main sequence is full of.
So the solar system did not merely move some spin around. It moved enough to change what kind of star sits at the middle of it, and the difference between a star with a magnetic brake and a star without one is the difference between the Sun and a body whose surface temperature depends on which way its pole happens to point.
The number in other systems
The solar system is one draw from a distribution, and the distribution turns out to be wide.
Systems with a hot Jupiter have most of their angular momentum in a planet a hundredth of an astronomical unit from the star, which by the square-root law is a tiny fraction of what the same planet would carry at five astronomical units. Such a system’s total is far smaller than the Sun’s — either because it started with less, or because the planet arrived where it is by giving angular momentum to a disc on its way in. Systems of compact inner planets — the most common architecture found so far — have their angular momentum distributed among several small bodies close in, and the totals are smaller again. What is not yet known is whether the solar system’s arrangement, with nearly all the spin in one distant giant, is typical or unusual, because a survey sensitive to distant giants is a survey that has to run for decades.
There is a second reason the comparison is harder than it looks, and it is a selection effect rather than a shortage of time. The ledger’s square-root weighting means the answer is dominated by whatever is furthest out, and every detection method in use is biased against exactly that. A transit becomes geometrically unlikely and temporally rare as the orbit widens; a radial-velocity signal falls off as the inverse square root of the separation and requires a baseline longer than the period; a direct image needs the planet to be both wide and young. So the systems whose angular momentum has been measured are the systems whose angular momentum is small, and the measured distribution is not the underlying one but a projection of it through an instrument that cannot see the term that matters most.
What can be said is that the stellar half of the ledger looks the same everywhere. Sun-like stars of the Sun’s age rotate slowly whether or not they are known to host planets, so whatever removed the star’s spin was not the planets — it was the disc, and then the wind, both of which operate on any star that forms from a rotating cloud. The planets are where the angular momentum ended up in this system, not the reason the Sun lost it.
The same problem, inside the Sun
The ledger above treats the Sun as a single rotating body with one period, and that is an approximation which hides a second angular-momentum problem of the same kind.
The Sun’s outer third is convective and rotates differentially: the equator turns once in about twenty-five days and the poles in about thirty-five. Below the convection zone the interior rotates as a solid body, at a rate near the average of the surface’s, and the transition between the two is a thin shear layer.
That solid-body interior is not what a straightforward account predicts. The Sun has been losing angular momentum from its surface for four and a half billion years through its magnetised wind, and the loss acts on the outer layers. If the interior were not coupled to them it would have kept its original rotation, and since the Sun spun perhaps ten times faster when it arrived on the main sequence, the core should now be turning far faster than the surface.
It is not. Helioseismology measures the interior rotation directly, and it is flat to within a few per cent down to the limit the measurement reaches. So something transports angular momentum outward through the radiative interior, on a timescale short compared with the Sun’s life, and the radiative interior has no convection to do it.
Two mechanisms are proposed. A weak internal magnetic field would couple the layers, and a field of a few gauss suffices — but a primordial field of that kind, left over from the star’s formation, ought to have imposed its own geometry on the rotation profile and does not appear to have. Internal gravity waves generated at the base of the convection zone can also carry angular momentum, and can deposit it where they are absorbed; the transport is plausible and the calculation is delicate.
A star has the same disposal problem as the cloud that formed it, one level down, and the evidence that it was solved is a rotation profile with no gradient in it.
The disc that has to be reconstructed
The mechanisms in this essay all operate on a disc that is no longer present, so the disc has to be reconstructed from what it left behind, and there is a standard way of doing it whose weaknesses are instructive.
Take each planet, restore its heavy elements to solar composition by adding back the hydrogen and helium a body of that composition would have had, and spread the result over an annulus centred on its present orbit. Sum the annuli and the result is a surface density profile — the minimum-mass solar nebula, so called because every step of the construction underestimates.
The profile that comes out falls roughly as the inverse three-halves power of radius and totals about a hundredth of a solar mass. That is the number every model of planet formation was calibrated against for thirty years.
Three assumptions in the construction are known to be wrong and all push the same way. The planets did not necessarily form where they now are, so smearing each over its present annulus misplaces the material. Not all of the solids in an annulus ended up in a planet — a substantial fraction was ejected or accreted by the star. And the gas was largely lost rather than incorporated, so the reconstruction accounts for the mass that stayed and not for the mass that passed through.
The angular momentum version of the same reconstruction is the one that matters here, and it is more robust, because angular momentum is dominated by the outermost material and the outermost material is the least likely to have moved inward. Spreading the giant planets’ angular momentum back into a disc gives a reservoir consistent with the cloud core the previous section computed — which is a genuine consistency check between two calculations sharing no inputs.
A fossil reconstruction is only as good as its assumption about what has been lost, and the reason the angular momentum ledger is trusted more than the mass one is that the quantity is carried by the part of the system that moved least.
An old argument that the ledger settled the wrong way round
The ledger is worth a paragraph of history, because it was for a long time the strongest argument against the theory that turned out to be right.
The nebular hypothesis — that the Sun and planets condensed from one rotating cloud — was proposed in the eighteenth century and had an obvious problem. A contracting cloud spins up. If the Sun formed by contraction from a rotating nebula, the Sun should be the fastest-rotating thing in the system, and it is nearly the slowest. That objection was taken seriously enough that alternatives were constructed to avoid it: the planets were proposed to have been torn out of the Sun by a passing star, precisely because a tidal filament pulled from a slowly rotating Sun would carry the orbital angular momentum of the encounter rather than the Sun’s own.
The encounter theories failed on other grounds — material torn from the Sun would be far too hot to condense, and the required close passages are far too rare. What rescued the nebular hypothesis was not a defence of the angular momentum argument but the discovery of a mechanism the argument had not considered: magnetic fields, which couple a star to material at a distance and let it hand its spin outwards without handing over any appreciable mass.
The lesson is a general one about conservation arguments. A conserved quantity that appears to be in the wrong place is never evidence that the history is wrong; it is evidence that a transport mechanism has been left out. The objection was sound in every step except its unstated premise, which was that a cloud’s angular momentum has nowhere to go but into the rotation of whatever the cloud becomes. Nothing forces that, and once a field line is allowed to reach from the star into the disc it stops being true by a factor of a thousand. The same shape of argument runs through the rest of this collection — a rotation curve that refuses to fall, a core turning too slowly, a binary that should not have merged — and in each case the missing ingredient is a way of moving something rather than a way of destroying it.
Where the ladder goes
The direct continuation is the obstruction itself: what a collapsing core actually does when it hits its own rotation barrier, which is where the mechanisms above are tested against an object still in the middle of the process rather than against a fossil.
The other direction is to notice that the same ledger, drawn for a galaxy, has the same shape. A disc galaxy’s stars carry a specific angular momentum set by the halo they formed in, and the halo — like the Sun — holds nearly all the mass and very little of the coherent rotation. In both cases the visible, rotating, structured part of the system is a small minority that inherited the spin, and the majority of the mass is something that got rid of it.
About the same objects
Not linked from either essay — found by the objects both name.
- A neutron star born turning too slowly angular momentum · angular momentum transport · moment of inertia · specific angular momentum
- A torque that nearly cancels angular momentum · planet migration · protoplanetary disc · the snow line
- A day five hours long angular momentum · angular momentum transport · kepler's third law
- A surface that slowed because the star grew angular momentum · magnetic braking · moment of inertia
- The second number a black hole has accretion disc · angular momentum · specific angular momentum
- A composition that dates a formation rather than placing it protoplanetary disc · the snow line
What links here
Essays that link to this one from their own argument.
- A cloud that cannot become a star galaxies
- A spin that left the axis it was given spaceflight
- A feeding zone, and the spacing it forces gravitation
The objects this essay names
Each one links to every other essay that touches it.
Accretion discAngular momentumAngular momentum transportBarycentreConservation lawDisc windKepler's third lawMagnetic brakingMoment of inertiaPlanet migrationProtoplanetary discThe snow lineSolar nebulaSpecific angular momentum