Is there such a thing as too many moons? This Spinoff writer says yes.

Last week I was distressed to hear that from September 29 to November 25, the earth is no longer “moonogamous” and has acquired a second, temporary mini-moon, causing critics to respond “Is one moon not enough for you people?” and “It’s not even round.” 

This alleged “moon” named 2024 PTF not only sounds like a discontinued printer cartridge, but can’t even be seen by the average telescope because it’s only 10 metres long, which is slightly smaller than an average bus, or two unusually long crocodiles.  Can you even call something a moon if it’s the size of two unusually long crocodiles? I’m no astrophysicist, but it just doesn’t seem right. 

The designation of this asteroid as a temporary mini-moon has been widely criticised by some, who claim this is yet another instance of “NASA clickbait” and question whether this attention-seeking piece of itinerant space rock has earned the right to be considered an official satellite of earth. 

The issue once again boils down to the problematic nature of taxonomic classifications. The  International Astronomic Union (IAU) (the organisation responsible for demoting Pluto from planetary status) has refused to commit to a scientific definition of a moon, perhaps an understandable decision considering the widespread public outcry following Pluto’s ejection from the planetary pantheon. 

The informal definition of a moon is simply a natural satellite or astronomical body that orbits a planet or dwarf planet. Space.com described the difference between a satellite and an interstellar object as: “You may say that if a true satellite is like a customer buying goods inside a store, objects like 2024 PT5 are window shoppers!” a metaphor so bizarre and unhelpful I can only reproduce it here in full. 

Even using the informal definition, 2024 PTF’s designation as a moon is controversial as it won’t even complete a full revolution around the earth, which some critics have described as “lazy” and “lacking commitment.” 

The good news is the moment this so-called parasite moon leaves the earth’s gravity, it will cease to retain its newfound lunar status and will revert to being an average, run-of-the-mill asteroid, respected by nobody. 

I hate to be astronomically xenophobic. But the fact that this sidekick moon is actually an asteroid pretending raises troubling questions. We all remember the asteroid that collided with earth 66 million years ago, driving 76% of earth’s species to extinction. While this Trojan moon currently shows no danger of colliding with our planet and destroying life as we know it, it raises the question: is this the kind of astronomical behaviour we really want to be encouraging? 

Just how this mini-moon might affect the astrological landscape is also unclear. Leading astrologist Lisa Stardust has suggested that the mini-moon might “amplify the effects of eclipse season” while Bella International, psychic and life coach, says “the mini-Moon’s energy is all about duality—light and shadow, rest and action..It’s inviting us to balance the two, offering a powerful opportunity for transformation. This rare event is everyone’s call to embrace both sides of their journey and step into your full potential.”

This certainly isn’t the first time the earth has had to deal with a tourist moon. Readers may remember “2020 CD3”, another mini-moon which orbited Earth for a year before it departed to buy cigarettes and was never heard from again.

Some have pointed out that given the manner in which our moon was formed, it’s possible that this ersatz moon is a fragment from the initial collision, and is therefore simply trying to get in touch with its celestial ancestry. But while 2024 PTF may technically fit our working definition of moondom, I question whether it has truly earned the right to call itself a moon. 

In my day, we only had one moon, and we called it “the moon.” We wrote poems about it. We danced naked beneath it. We even defied gravity and journeyed 384,400 km across the galaxy to pay our respects. 

There’s something so poignant about the fact we call our moon “the moon” as if there is no other. It calls to mind a line in David Berman’s poem Self-Portrait at 28

“a certain amount of pride at school/everytime they called it “our sun.”

I’m not suggesting, as some have, that we launch a missile to try and knock this fraudulent moon out of orbit and teach it a lesson. As an unsentient fragment of celestial detritus, it is beyond both our scorn and criticism. Instead, I say we should use this fake moon as a reminder to take a moment to be grateful for our moon “the moon,” the moon we have all come to know and love. 

Thank you to the one righteous and sovereign moon, for your gravitational capture of asteroids, protecting us from harm. Thanks for the stable axial tilt. Thanks for all your hard work on the tides. And most of all, thank you for reflecting the light of the sun, reminding us we are never alone in the darkness.