All the gyrations in the scientific community, all the controversy, and it’s about nothing more important than what constitutes a planet.  Is Pluto a planet?  And it’s moon, Charon?  And what of the asteroid Ceres?

Let’s start with the proposed definition of a planet:

A planet is a celestial body that (a) has sufficient mass for its self-gravity to overcome rigid body forces so that it assumes a hydrostatic equilibrium (nearly round) shape, and (b) is in orbit around a star, and is neither a star nor a satellite of a planet.

If the current proposal is ultimately accepted, our solar system will immediately grow to 12 planets with a subsequent jump to at least 53 (they have to be named, of course, so the extra 41 will be worked into the system more slowly).  Given what we know exists beyond Pluto’s orbit, that number will only grow — and it will grow dramatically.  And that’s not accounting for the asteroid belt between Mars and Saturn.  We already know that the asteroids Pallas, Vesta, and Hygeia meet almost all criteria for being called planets under the new definition; all we need to determine is if they are fundamentally round.  If so, they would immediately become three additional planets in our solar system.

The silliness of it all has to do with people not wanting to learn something new.  For example, they don’t want to strip Pluto of its planetary status, so instead they make up a senseless new classification called a pluton to compensate.  Objects that are quite small and not what would be called a classical planet (e.g., Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Saturn, Jupiter, Neptune, and Uranus) would be reclassified as plutons so they could still be called planets, just not regular planets.

Huh?

This is a case of “gimme a fuckin’ break!” if ever there was one.

The new planet definition is silly and overly broad.  Asteroids, Kuiper Belt objects, comets, and a great many other non-planets will suddenly become planets, and our solar system will hemorrhage for years to come as hundreds — if not thousands — of new “planets” are discovered, named, renamed, and added to the list.

And all because we don’t want to learn something new, like a solar system with only eight planets instead of 9, or 12, or 53, or a billion.  Regardless of which direction we go in, textbooks and science materials will have to change.  Why not apply common sense and call a planet a planet, an asteroid an asteroid, and so on?

To make matters worse, the new definition was manhandled to ensure Pluto could remain a planet, but that also forced the inclusion of new planetary designations.  Pluton is one such name and would be used to describe Pluto-like objects that are not classical planets but fit in the new definition.  This still causes more confusion, so yet another new name must also be applied to objects like Pluto: dwarf planets.  This moniker would be used to differentiate larger objects from smaller objects.  An example would be the three asteroids I named previously; each would be a dwarf planet as opposed to a classical planet, but each would also be a pluton.

Again, huh?

That means Pluto itself would be a planet, a pluton, and a dwarf.  This same overzealous labeling would become the norm for our solar system as hundreds or thousands of other similar objects are discovered, named, and added to the solary system roster.  Despite all these gyrations, we would still be left with only eight classical planets that would be called planets and only planets.  Everything else would be renamed or relabeled asteroids, Kuiper Belt objects, and so on.

Just like Pluto.  Small, not-really-planetary objects called planets for the sake of not rocking the Plutonian boat.

I say kick Pluto off the solar system charts, call it an asteroid or Kuiper Belt object or some other name that differentiates it from real planets (classical, that is), and be done with it.  I never thought that little frozen piece of rock should be called a planet anyway.  It’s not.  It’s barely a pebble in the scheme of things.

But they didn’t just stop with making a huge mess of things.  They wanted complete and utter devastation of astronomical certainty, so they also want to redefine what is called a planet based on the barycenter (center of gravity) for each object.  For instance, Earth’s center of gravity is inside the planet, so it still can be called a planet.  Pluto’s center of gravity is actually outside the object because it exists between Pluto and Charon, its satellite.  Because of this idiosyncrasy, neither would be called a standalone planet.  Instead, the two objects would be described jointly as a double planet.

So, where are we?  Pluto is a planet that isn’t really a planet but is instead a double planet with Charon.  Pluto and Charon are plutons and dwarf planets, but not standalone planets.  Does that mean they’re double plutons and/or double dwarfs?  And what happens if we discover a similar setup in another solar system, but instead of plutons or dwarfs or asteroids or planetoids or whatever, what if this new system with a shared center of gravity is made up of two Earth-sized objects, or two Jupiter-sized objects?  Do we still not consider them each a planet in its own right but instead a double planet?  And what if there are three?  A triple planet made from three Jupiter-sized planets, but not planets?

This is making my head hurt.

Let’s go back to the common sense approach.

Pluto is not a planet.  Neither is Charon, Ceres, Pallas, Vesta, Hygeia, or 2003 UB313 (an object beyond Pluto that would likely become the 12th planet; nicknamed Xena).  Asteroids are not planets; plutons are not planets; dwarfs are not planets.

Am I making myself clear?

Let’s set aside the fear of learning something new, or better yet, accept the challenge of modifying our assumptions in light of new discoveries, and drop Pluto and all other non-planets from the planet definition.  Let’s use classical planets as the basis for defining a planet.  Let’s suspend our silliness and stupidity and be logical about all of this.

And no matter which way it goes, let’s all remember that everything you ever learned about our solar system must be changed in light of our scientific advancement.  Don’t be afraid of new knowledge, and don’t be afraid of having to modify what you’ve accepted as truth for so long.

In the same spirit, however, let’s not be overzealous in our desire to have the biggest solar system.  Who are we competing with anyway?

And that, of course, raises the next issue.  Whatever we decide, it must be known that any definition will have to be applicable to solar systems other than our own.  We know they’re out there (we’ve discovered hundreds already).  If we mangle our own local neighborhood by cluttering it with senseless naming of non-planetary planets, we’ll hit the same obstacle when it comes to the vast majority of real planets — all of those that exist elsewhere.  We are but one tiny spec in the universe’s eye.  What we do here will impact discovery for a long time to come.  Don’t sully that with ignorance.