Classical satellites of the Milky Way often have tidal tails and distortions, even though in the standard cosmological model, massive dark matter halos should make them stable. Researchers compared the half-mass radius (a size indicator) with the theoretical tidal radius (the boundary where the Galaxy's gravity overpowers) at pericenter, for two models — standard and MOND. It turned out that in MOND, almost all satellites should experience tidal effects, which agrees with observations. Moreover, tidal forces can heat stars inside the satellite, increasing velocity dispersion — this also explains the puzzlingly high velocity dispersions known for some satellites.
Dwarf galaxies orbiting the Milky Way look as if they’ve survived a gravitational storm. Their stellar bodies are stretched, scattered by tidal tails, and heated from within. This is odd, because by all calculations they should be impregnable fortresses—wrapped in a heavy invisible blanket of dark matter that shields them from our Galaxy’s destructive influence. In the standard picture, going back to the insights of Fritz Zwicky and Vera Rubin, each dwarf galaxy nestles inside an extended halo, like a nut in its shell. But the tidal deformations tell the opposite: the shell has cracked, or maybe it was never there at all.
The key to the puzzle is a gravitational stress test. Astrophysicists have computed the tidal susceptibility η—the ratio of a galaxy’s actual size to its theoretical tidal radius at the point of closest approach to the Milky Way. If η is close to zero, the tidal force cannot rip stars from their galaxy’s embrace. But if η exceeds one, irreversible destruction begins: star after star leaves the parent system, tracing long tidal arcs. In the model with dark matter, η for all eight studied satellites turned out to be negligible—from 0.08 to 0.30, and the galaxies appeared invulnerable. But once the law of gravity was rewritten in the spirit of MOND, the numbers jumped: for Ursa Minor, η reached 1.36, and Draco and Sextans also crossed the fatal threshold.
Observations made with the Hubble Space Telescope and precise spectroscopy confirm the dramatic scenario. Specifically, the galaxies with high η have anomalously high stellar velocity dispersions—as if their insides have boiled under the external gravitational punch. The tidal energy redistributes inside, much like gravitational waves carry away angular momentum from merging black holes. Other satellites, such as Fornax Dwarf and Leo I, show moderate stretching and stellar plumes—an imprint of a gentler yet still palpable impact. Importantly, these deformations cannot be dismissed as due to the presence of neutral hydrogen—there is almost none there.
These results undermine one of the pillars of dark matter—the belief that only massive invisible halos can keep dwarf galaxies from falling apart. In modified gravity, the fragility of satellites is not a pathology but the norm. This forces a revision of basic cosmological scenarios dating back to the Big Bang of Georges Lemaître, and a search for signatures of MOND in even fainter objects. Moreover, tidal squeezing may fuel the growth of black holes at the centers of dwarfs, leaving bright X-ray autographs. Future missions like Euclid and Roman will be able to probe barely perceptible tidal streams, and personalized N-body simulations for each satellite will reveal the details of their deformations. Ultimately, the mystery of fragile galaxies tugs at a question asked a hundred years ago by Fritz Zwicky: do we truly understand gravity?
🎯 The 'roundest' of the classical galaxies—Leo II—has an ellipticity of only 0.07, meaning it’s almost a perfect sphere, while the 'flattest'—Ursa Minor—reaches 0.55, likely a result of powerful tidal impacts from the Milky Way.
🎬 The idea that galaxies can be torn apart by tides evokes the concept of the 'Gravity Well' from Peter F. Hamilton's novel 'Pandemonium', where entire star streams emerged after galactic collisions. In MOND, such processes are more dramatic and ubiquitous.