The polarisation-curve generator
Interstellar polarisation against wavelength — the Serkowski law, p(λ) = p_max exp[−K ln²(λ_max/λ)] with K = 1.66 λ_max. The heavy curve peaks at 0.550 µm, measured off the drawing rather than read back from the parameter, and falls to half its peak at 1.314 µm on the red side, against the closed form λ_max exp√(ln2/K) = 1.315. *That peak wavelength is the measurement.* It is set by the size of the grains doing the aligning — bigger grains, longer λ_max — and it is tied to the shape of the extinction curve along the same sight line by R_V ≈ 5.5 λ_max, which gives 3.03 here against the diffuse-medium value of 3.1. The two faint curves are populations peaking at 0.35 µm and 0.75 µm: *the same amount of polarisation, distributed differently, and a different dust*. Nothing in a photometric measurement of the same star distinguishes them.
14 essays call
polarisation-curve. The drawing above is what it returns with no arguments at all; every
call below passes it something, because a placement that passes nothing draws whichever member
of the family the generator happens to default to rather than the one its essay argues about.
Where it is called
Every figure listed here is the same construction drawn at different numbers, so a correction to one is a correction to all of them.
The direction a photon count throws away
A photometer records how many photons arrived. It discards a two-component quantity that survives every attenuation on the way, and that quantity carries a magnetic field direction, a grain size, and the shape of an exploding star nobody can resolve.
A field strength read off a line that will not split
A few hundred gauss splits a spectral line by a ten-thousandth of its own Doppler width, which no spectrograph will ever resolve. The two components are circularly polarised with opposite handedness, so the split survives in the difference of two polarisations — where it is linear in the field rather than quadratic.
A slope that needs no source
Polarised light passing through magnetised plasma has its plane rotated, by an amount proportional to the square of the wavelength. A single measurement of the angle is worthless, because nobody knows the angle the source emitted at. A measurement of the slope against wavelength squared does not need to know.
A direction measured by something with no strength in it
An interstellar grain spins with its long axis across the magnetic field, so starlight through a cloud is polarised along the field and the cloud's own emission across it. The observable contains no field strength whatever — and the strength is recovered anyway, from how much the directions disagree.
Two instruments blind in opposite directions
The Zeeman effect measures the component of a field along the line of sight and adds it up, so a field tangled into a hundred cells reports a tenth of one cell's strength. The Hanle effect measures how far an atom precesses between absorbing and re-emitting, does not care about sign, and saturates just where the Zeeman effect becomes useful.
An instrument more polarised than the sky
Every oblique reflection polarises. A telescope is a stack of oblique reflections, so it adds a fraction of a per cent of polarisation to everything it looks at — which for most astronomical sources is more than they have themselves, and which is a vector rather than a scale error, so it rotates the answer as well as changing its size.
A source that rotates its own light
The rotation-measure method assumes the plasma that turns the polarisation sits in front of the source. When it is mixed into the source instead, light from the far side is turned more than light from the near side, the contributions cancel, and the straight line in wavelength squared bends, halves its slope and then vanishes. The cure is to stop measuring in wavelength at all.
The fainter polarisation belongs to the lobe further away
The two lobes of a radio galaxy lie at the same distance from the core on the sky, and nothing in a picture of them says which is nearer. Their polarisation does. Light from the far lobe crosses the magnetised hot halo of the host on its way out and light from the near lobe mostly does not, so at long wavelengths the far lobe loses its polarisation first — and the one-sided jet, it turned out, points at the lobe that keeps it.
A foreground drawn by the field it traces
The grains that polarise starlight along the Galaxy's magnetic field glow, at millimetre wavelengths, with light polarised across it — and that glow is brighter than the primordial signal cosmologists are looking for at every frequency above eighty gigahertz and in every patch of sky. Its pattern on the sky is set by how loosely the interstellar filaments follow the field, and removing it rests on a bet that the clouds along each line of sight share one temperature.
A rotation measure the lobe writes on its own boundary
The magnetic fields of hot group and cluster gas are mostly measured through the Faraday rotation of the radio galaxies that live in it, on the assumption that a lobe is a passive lamp behind a screen. But a lobe made its own room. The gas that filled it is now a shell around it, compressed if the lobe grew faster than sound, and the shell rotates the light too — so the inferred field comes out too low for a lobe that grew gently and up to three times too high for one that drove a shock. Only sources behind the halo, which carry no shell, can say which.
The grains that glow and the grains that align
Interstellar dust polarises starlight and polarises its own glow, and for decades the standard account gave the two jobs to different grains — aligned silicates, unaligned carbon. Two populations at two temperatures predict a polarisation fraction that falls toward high frequency; what satellites and balloons measured was a fraction that does not change. That flatness, which no grain shape can fake, says the grains that glow are the grains that align.
A polarisation measured faster than the air changes
Polarisation is a difference between two brightnesses, and the brightness of a star seen through the air changes by a per cent from one millisecond to the next. Measure the two one after the other and the air's flicker becomes a false polarisation a hundred times larger than the signals worth having. The cure is to switch between them faster than the air can change, or to measure both at once and then swap them — turning a calibration problem into a differential one.
A falling polarisation and the angle that says why
The glow of dust in a molecular cloud is less polarised the thicker the cloud, almost everywhere it has been measured. Two explanations fit that fall equally well — a magnetic field tangled along the line of sight, or grains in the dark interior that have stopped lining up with it — and between them they can produce any slope a cloud has shown. What separates them is not how much polarisation is lost but whether the direction of what remains wanders.
A polarisation that a round star cancels
In 1946 Chandrasekhar worked out that light leaving a hot star's atmosphere, where scattering by free electrons dominates, is polarised parallel to the star's edge — not at all at the centre of the disc, 11.7 per cent at the very limb. Over a round, unresolved star the pattern adds up to exactly nothing. It took seventy years to see it in the light of a whole star, because something has to break the circle first: a companion crossing the disc, a planet, or a star spun so fast that its outline is no longer round.