Het Monster
This Mysterious Jupiter
Each planet in the Solar System is unique both in astrological and astronomical terms. Yet, for thousands of years, Jupiter has consistently aroused the greatest interest among researchers and the deepest wonder among ordinary people. “Astronomy stands here before a whole tangle of mysteries,” wrote the renowned astronomy popularizer Yakov Perelman.
Jupiter is the largest planet—the second center of gravity in the entire system after the Sun. Its mass is three times greater than the combined mass of all other planets. There is a theory that in the beginning the Sun was a binary star, which later split apart, and Jupiter is the remnant of that former second star, cooled down after the formation of the planets (Henry Russell). Jupiter also possesses its own planetary system—about a dozen satellites, some of which are comparable in size to Mercury or Mars. No wonder that among all Earth’s peoples, the supreme deity was often not the Sun itself, but Jupiter (also known as Zeus, Marduk, Thor, and others).
Jupiter rotates around its own axis so rapidly that it appears less like a sphere and more like a flattened baseball, with a day lasting less than ten hours (9:50). At the same time, a Jovian “year” lasts 11.86 Earth years—how many days would that year contain, and what might a Jovian calendar look like?
Finally, on Jupiter’s visible disk, the famous Great Red Spot is clearly noticeable—an atmospheric vortex that has maintained its shape for centuries. Through a telescope, Jupiter appears striped due to atmospheric currents, which constantly change, while the Red Spot remains essentially unchanged, only slowly decreasing in size. Numerous hypotheses exist regarding its nature, the most popular being an active volcano or a “regular” cyclone.
The comet’s impact on Jupiter reminded me of another hypothesis, far less known. It concerns not only the origin of the Red Spot, but also other, far more fundamental questions of cosmogony…
Three and a half thousand years ago, shortly before the era of great reformers—Prophet Moses and Pharaoh Akhenaten—a catastrophe also occurred involving Jupiter. As a result of a colossal volcanic eruption, a stream of planetary material was ejected from its depths. The energy of the explosion was so immense that this stream escaped into interplanetary space and headed toward the Sun. However, its trajectory passed too far from the Sun, and once captured by solar gravity, the stream transformed into a new planet—Venus.
This theory was proposed by Immanuel Velikovsky, an indefatigable researcher who recognized no traditional views. Born in 1895 in Vitebsk, he studied at Moscow University and later at Berlin University. In 1924, he moved to Palestine, where he established a psychoanalytic practice, and a few years later relocated to the United States. There, Velikovsky became fascinated with historical research and developed not just one, but several theories that shocked the entire academic world. One of these was the hypothesis of Jupiter’s origin of Venus.
As evidence for his postulate, Velikovsky cites analysis of preserved ancient myths and texts, in which there is no mention of Venus as a planet. A goddess exists, yes, but according to him, the planet Venus should not be identified with this goddess, but rather with Athena, who, as is well known, was born from the head of Zeus-Jupiter (!). Meanwhile, myths and legends of all peoples contain numerous references to global catastrophes (floods, worldwide fires, the destruction of Atlantis)—could these not be the result of a comet, ejected by Jupiter, passing near Earth? If the chronology of these catastrophes seems unconvincing to you, Velikovsky also has his own theory, offering a completely different perspective on human history. And the Great Red Spot, visible on Jupiter’s surface even today, is nothing other than the scar of that cataclysm.
Mysticism, you will say, the delusions of a madman? Perhaps. At least, scientific authorities of the time (Velikovsky’s book was published in 1945) received this theory precisely as such. Yet Albert Einstein, whose friendship with Velikovsky remained unbroken, though he approached Velikovsky’s hypothesis with humor, still acknowledged that contemporary science was unable to disprove it.
Strangely enough, apart from Einstein, no other scientist agreed to accept Velikovsky’s theory even as a hypothesis. Worse still: the academic establishment in the United States demanded that the publisher destroy all remaining copies of Velikovsky’s books in storage. Thus, the reaction of professional scientists proved far more allergic than such nonsense from an obscure amateur would have warranted. Velikovsky was treated roughly as the Church once dealt with heretics—fortunately, at least they did not burn him. In 1979, he died in poverty and obscurity.
Therefore, his opponents were guided not merely by the pursuit of truth or the defense of scientific interests. Well, this case is well known. But today the comet has “returned”—has the cosmos somehow repaid Jupiter’s ancient debt? Will someone uncover Velikovsky’s secret by the centenary of his birth?
But let us leave the mystery as a mystery, so that the inquisitive may have something to ponder. To those who have become intrigued by this hypothesis, I warn in advance: studying ancient mythologies only confirms Velikovsky’s theory. True proof of Velikovsky’s correctness or error can come only from complex mathematical calculations—very laborious ones indeed…
The moral is very simple: do not dismiss foreign hypotheses at the doorstep, even those that seem insane. What if the comet really does arrive, and the sea in the Moomin Valley truly dries up? After all, a certain acquaintance of mine, a very subtle and knowledgeable esotericist, when asked about the comet’s collision with Jupiter, replied: “Don’t you understand? This is a warning to humanity.”
