Seeing the Blue Marble for the First Time

Join Our Community of Science Lovers!

This article was published in Scientific American’s former blog network and reflects the views of the author, not necessarily those of Scientific American


I've never really appreciated how lucky I am to have grown up with the blue marble. A poster of the earth floating in an endless black sea decorated the walls of my science classrooms since I was in elementary school. Even if it wasn't spoken regularly, that image ensured that I knew the duality of Earth's uniqueness. On the one hand, it is unremarkable--just one planet out of trillions out in space. But, on the other, it's a fragile and lonely garden floating out in the blackness, remarkable because we live here.

Now the image has become commonplace and--dare I say it--almost trite. The NASA Goddard Space Flight Center regales us at least monthly with new, updated photos of our planet through its Flickr account. When photos of Earth make the news, it's because they're taken from a new, interesting angle, like the stunning Black Marble series of the Earth lit up by human lights at night.

But this is a relatively recent phenomenon. It's only in the last 40 years that people have grown up really knowing that we live on a pale blue dot somewhere out in space, having seen the first image of Earth taken from space in 1972. Only in the last four decades that the sense of the planet's wholeness was understood by so many.


On supporting science journalism

If you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.


Of course, people have had maps and globes for millennia and have used them to think about Earth holistically. But there is something powerful about an image. As Gregory Petsko of Brandeis University wrote in a Genome Biology essay:

The blue marble was an iconic image because it perfectly represented the human condition of living on an island in the universe, with all the frailty an island ecosystem is prey to. People are particularly moved by images, in part because we have evolved to have our visual system as our primary sensory input, but also because an image can be retained easily in the mind's eye, and so forms the stuff of memory. The right image, offered at the right time, can have effects far greater than those imagined by the one creating it.

If the photograph has such power to mold the way people think about our planet and world, imagine what it would be like to see it from space for the first time. The documentary Overview (embedded below) conveys just that. The filmmakers from the Planetary Collective interviewed a number of astronauts about what it was like to see the blue marble from space for the first time, and what effect it had on the way they think about the world. The general feeling is coined as the "Overview Effect"--the awe-induced shift to seeing the "big picture" of Earth when seeing it floating out there in space for the first time.

"When we originally went to the moon, our total focus was on the moon: we weren't thinking about looking back at the earth," said David Beaver, the cofounder of the Overview Institute, paraphrasing an astronaut in the documentary. "But now that we've done it, that may well have been the most important reason we went."

The documentary is about 20 minutes long and totally worth your time. So full-screen this baby and pretend you're seeing Earth from space for the first time.

https://vimeo.com/55073825

Thanks to Masha for sending me the video!

Hannah Waters is a science writer fascinated by the natural world, the history of its study, and the way people think about nature. On top of science blogging, she runs the Smithsonian's Ocean Portal, a marine biology education website, and is science editor for Ladybits.

Hannah is a child of the internet, who coded HTML frames on her Backstreet Boys fanpage when she was in middle school. Aptly, she rose to professional science writing through blogging (originally on Wordpress) and tweeting profusely. She's written for The Scientist, Nature Medicine, Smithsonian.com, and others.

Before turning to full-time writing, Hannah wanted to be an oceanographer or a classicist, studying Biology and Latin at Carleton College in Northfield, Minnesota. She's done ecological research on marine food webs, shorebird conservation, tropical ecology and grassland ecosystems. She worked as a lab technician at the University of Pennsylvania studying molecular biology and the epigenetics of aging. And, for a summer, she manned a microphone and a drink shaker on a tour boat off the coast of Maine, pointing out wildlife and spouting facts over a loudspeaker while serving drinks.

Email her compliments, complaints and tips at culturingscience at gmail dot com.

More by Hannah Waters

Subscribe to Support Independent Journalism

Great science journalism requires human expertise, time, effort and creativity. And it costs money. That’s why I and the journalists here at Scientific American hope you’ll join our community.

When you subscribe, you are supporting staff and freelance journalists who are passionate about telling science stories that are true, important and compelling. Our editors and reporters are often experts in their fields, which means they understand the nuances of big discoveries and can untangle the breakthroughs from the hype. With a subscription, you are also supporting rigorous fact-checking to ensure the words we publish are precise and accurate. And you’re supporting original illustrations, graphics and photos that bring you closer to an advanced laboratory, an ice sheet in Antarctica or a space mission in orbit. You’re helping us craft other types of high-quality journalism as well: Our newsletters are carefully written, edited and curated by staffers you have or will come to know and love. Our Science Quickly podcast is based on original reporting, collaboration with editors and scientists and exacting production.

Subscriptions keep this engine running so we can continue to deliver thoughtful, rigorous and independent science journalism to you. In an era of viral misinformation, this work is crucial. If you value what we do, I hope you’ll consider joining us as a subscriber

Thank you,

Jeanna Bryner, Editor in Chief, Scientific American

Subscribe