A Rear Facing View of the Future
Here at the Tusk, we take a different approach to the study of cosmic impact threats than anywhere else on the internet.
Some sites resemble the digital equivalent of a bearded sidewalk prophet with a sandwich board reading “Repent!”, warning of an imminent rapture-by-meteorite. Another class leans heavily technical—tracking actual Near Earth Objects with sophisticated tools, quietly charting silent orbits in space.
Then there’s the sprawling universe of grant-driven scientists, media personalities, nonprofits, and bureaucrats who treat the subject with a mix of awkward curiosity and institutional caution. They acknowledge, in theory, that Near Earth Objects pose a risk—but they routinely downplay Earth’s actual impact history, while simultaneously pleading for more funding to keep watching the skies.
But here’s the twist:
While most attention is focused on the future, we focus on the past.
Two Perspectives on Impact Risk
There are two ways to assess the risk of planetary impact:
1. The Forward-Facing Approach
Billions are spent launching satellites, building deep-space telescopes, and scanning the cosmos for distant, incoming threats. This is an astronomer’s question:
“Where are they now—and when might they arrive?”
2. The Backward-Facing Approach (Ours)
We ask a simpler, more terrestrial question:
“How recently—and how often—have we been clobbered already?”
This second method is not only cheaper—it may be more informative. Because beneath our feet, in the shallow soil horizons of archaeological and geological sites around the world, lies a physical, testable, repeatable record of what happened here. Not on Mars. Not in a telescope’s future projection. But here, on Earth, in the recent past.
The Cruel Irony of Willful Ignorance
Much has been made of the idea that only a few dozen astronomers worldwide seriously track Near Earth Objects—a number that could “staff a McDonald’s.”
But when it comes to searching Earth itself—our own sediments, lake beds, and archaeological sites—for evidence of past airbursts and impacts? The number of active researchers would be hard-pressed to make a single French fry.
It is, at present, a part-time pursuit undertaken by the well-qualified but chronically underfunded Comet Research Group, and a small group of allied thinkers, geologists, and volunteers.
And yet:
Taking well-dated samples from archaeological horizons and testing them for evidence of cosmic impact is completely doable. It’s just not done.
Why?
Because our institutions and orthodoxies have already answered the question in advance:
“There were no globally significant impacts in human times. Don’t bother looking.”
This assumption, baked into textbooks and tenure tracks alike, forms a kind of intellectual blindfold—a premature consensus that actively discourages the very research that could change our understanding of history.
Why This Matters
We believe the Younger Dryas Impact Hypothesis (YDIH) is just the beginning—a keystone case that reveals a larger pattern: humanity’s long, punctuated, often traumatic relationship with cosmic disaster.
By refusing to acknowledge past impact events, or even investigate them, we are blinding ourselves to patterns that could better inform how we prepare for the future.
You don’t need billion-dollar satellites to find truth. Sometimes, a spade in the dirt and an open mind are enough.
And so, while others stare into the heavens for warnings, we’ll keep looking underfoot—for answers.