Diogo Lourenço


Diogo is a postdoctoral researcher at the Department of Earth and Planetary Sciences at the University of California Davis, USA. He uses numerical modeling to investigate the dynamics and evolution of the Earth and other rocky planets, in particular their mantles' structure and surface tectonic regimes. Diogo is part of the GD blog team as an Editor. You can reach him via e-mail .

How to make a subduction zone on Earth

How to make a subduction zone on Earth

Subduction zones are ubiquitous features on Earth, and an integral part of plate tectonics. They are known to have a very important role in modulating climate on Earth, and are believed to have played an essential part in making the Earth’s surface habitable, a role that extends to present-day. This week, Antoniette Greta Grima writes about the ongoing debate on how subduction zones form and persist for millions of years, consuming oceanic lithosphere and transporting water and other volatiles to the Earth’s mantle.

Antoniette Greta Grima. PhD Student at Dept. of Earth Sciences, University College London, UK.

Before we can start thinking about how subduction zones form, we need to be clear on what we mean by the term subduction zone. In the most generic sense, this term has been described by White et al. (1970) as “an abruptly descending or formerly descended elongate body of lithosphere, together with an existing envelope of plate deformation”. In simple words this defines subduction zones as places where pieces of the Earth’s lithosphere bend downwards into the Earth’s interior. This definition however, does not take into account the spatio-temporal aspect of subduction zone formation. It also, does not differentiate between temporary, episodic lithosphere ‘peeling’ or ‘drips’, thought to precede the modern-day ocean plate-tectonic regime (see van Hunen and Moyen, 2012; Crameri et al., 2018; Foley, 2018, and references therein) and the rigid self-sustaining subduction, which we see on the present-day Earth (Gurnis et al., 2004).

A self-sustaining subduction zone is one where the total buried, rigid slab length extends deep into the upper mantle and is accompanied at the surface by back-arc spreading (Gurnis et al., 2004). The latter is an important surface observable indicating that the slab has overcome the resistive forces impeding its subduction and is falling quasi-vertically through the mantle. Gurnis et al. (2004) go on to say that if one or the other of these defining criteria is missing then subduction is forced rather than self-sustaining. Forced or induced subduction (Stern, 2004; Leng and Gurnis, 2011; Stern and Gerya, 2017; Baes et al., 2018) is described by Gurnis et al. (2004) as a juvenile, early stage system, that cannot be described as a fully fledged subduction zone. These forced subduction zones are characterised by incipient margins, short trench-arc distance, narrow trenches and a volcanically inactive island arc and/or trench. Furthermore, although these juvenile systems might be seismically active they will lack a well defined Benioff Zone. Examples of forced subduction include the Puysegur-Fiordland subduction along the Macquarie Ridge Complex, the Mussau Trench on the eastern boundary of the Caroline plate and the Yap Trench south of the Marianas, amongst others. On the other hand, Cenozoic (<66 Ma) subductions, shown in figure 2, are by this definition self-sustaining and mature subduction zones. These subduction zones including the Izu-Bonin-Mariana, Tonga-Kermadec and Aleutians subduction zones, are characterised by their extensive and well defined trenches (see figure 2) (Gurnis et al., 2004). However, despite their common categorization subduction zones can originate through various mechanisms and from very different tectonic settings.

Figure 1: Map the Earth’s subduction zones and tectonic plates from W.K and E.H. (2003). See how subduction zones dominate the figure.

1. How are subduction zones formed?

We know from the geological record that the formation of subduction zones is an ongoing process, with nearly half of the present day active subduction zones initiating during the Cenozoic (<66 Ma) (see Gurnis et al., 2004; Dymkova and Gerya, 2013; Crameri et al., 2018, and references therein). However, it is less clear how subduction zones originate, nucleate and propagate to pristine oceanic basins.


Figure 2: The oldest, still active subduction zones on Earth can be dated back to 66 million years ago. These are self- sustaining mature subduction zones with well defined trenches and trench lengths (modified from Gurnis et al., 2004).

Crameri et al. (2018, and references therein) list a number of mechanisms, some which are shown in figure 3, that may work together to weaken and break the lithosphere including:

  • Meteorite impact
  • Sediment loading
  • Major episode of delamination
  • Small scale convection in the sub-lithospheric mantle
  • Interaction of thermo-chemical plume with the overlying lithosphere
  • Plate bending via surface topographic variations
  • Addition of water or melt to the lithosphere
  • Pre-existing transform fault or oceanic plateau
  • Shear heating
  • Grain size reduction

Some of these mechanisms, particularly those listed at the beginning of the list are more appropriate to early Earth conditions while others, such as inherited weaknesses or fracture zones, transform faults and extinct spreading ridges are considered to be prime tectonic settings for subduction zone formation in the Cenozoic (<66 Ma) (Gurnis et al., 2004). As the oceanic lithosphere grows denser with age, it develops heterogeneity which facilitates its sinking into the mantle to form new subduction zones. However, it is important to keep in mind that without inherited, pre-existing weaknesses, it is extremely difficult to form subduction zones at passive margins. This is because as the oceanic lithosphere cools and becomes denser, it also becomes stronger and therefore harder to bend into the mantle that underlies it (Gurnis et al., 2004; Duarte et al., 2016). Gurnis et al. (2004) note that the formation of new subduction zones alters the force balance on the plate and suggest that the strength of the lithosphere during bending is potentially the largest resisting component in the development of new subduction zones. Once that resistance to bending is overcome, either through the negative buoyancy of the subducting plate and/or through the tectonic forces acting on it, a shear zone extending through the plate develops (Gurnis et al., 2004; Leng and Gurnis, 2011). This eventually leads to plate failure and subduction zone formation.

Figure 3: Different ways to form a new subduction zone (from Stern and Gerya, 2017).

2. Where can new subduction zones form?

From our knowledge of the geological record, observations of on-going subduction, and numerical modelling (Baes et al., 2011; Leng and Gurnis, 2011; Baes et al., 2018; Beaussier et al., 2018) we think that subduction zone initiation primarily occurs through the following:

In an intra-oceanic setting through surface weakening processes

An intra-oceanic setting refers to a subduction zone forming right within the oceanic plate itself. Proposed weakening mechanisms include weakening of the lithosphere due to melt and/or hydration (e.g., Crameri et al., 2018; Foley, 2018, and references therein), localised lithospheric shear heating (Thielmann and Kaus, 2012) and density variations within oceanic plate due to age heterogeneities, where its older and denser portions flounder and sink (Duarte et al., 2016). Another mechanism proposed by Baes et al. (2018) suggests that intra-oceanic subduction can also be induced by mantle suction flow. These authors suggest that mantle suction flow stemming from either slab remnants and/or from slabs of active subduction zones can act on pre-existing zones of weakness, such as STEP (subduction-transfer edge propagate) faults to trigger a new subduction zone, thus facilitating spontaneous subduction initiation (e.g. figure 3) (Stern, 2004). The Sandwich and the Tonga-Kermadec subduction zones are often cited as prime examples of intra-oceanic subduction zone formation due to mantle suction forces (Baes et al., 2018). Ueda et al. (2008) and Gerya et al. (2015) also suggest that thermochemical plumes can break the lithosphere and initiate self-sustaining subduction, provided that the overlying lithosphere is weakened through the presence of volatiles and melt (e.g. figure 3). This mechanism can explain the Venusian corona and could have facilitated the initation of plate tectonics on Earth (Ueda et al., 2008; Gerya et al., 2015). Similarly Burov and Cloetingh (2010) suggest that in the absence of plate tectonics, mantle lithospheric interaction through plume-like instabilities, can induce spontaneous downwelling of both continental and oceanic lithosphere.

Through subduction infection or invasion

Subduction invasion/infection (Waldron et al., 2014; Duarte et al., 2016) occurs when subduction migrates from an older system into a pristine oceanic basin. Waldron et al. (2014) suggest that the closure of the Iapetus Ocean is due to the encroachment of old lithosphere into a young ocean. These authors suggests that subduction initiated at the boundary between old and new oceanic lithosphere and was introduced to the area through trench rollback. This process is thought be similar to the modern day Caribbean, Scotia and Gibraltar Arcs (Duarte et al., 2016). This suggests that the older subductions of the Pacific are invading the younger Atlantic basin, which might potentially lead to collision, orogeny and closure of the Atlantic ocean (Duarte et al., 2016).

Following a subduction polarity reversal

Subduction polarity reversal describes a process where the trench jumps from the subducting plate to the overriding one, flipping its polarity in the process (see figure 3). This can result from the arrival at the trench of continental lithosphere (McKenzie, 1969) or young positively buoyant lithosphere (Crameri and Tackley, 2015). Subduction polarity reversal is often invoked to explain and justify the two juxtaposed Wadati-Benioff zones and their opposite polarities, in the Solomon Island Region (Cooper and Taylor, 1985). Indications of a polarity reversal are also exhibited below the Alpine and Apennine Belts (Vignaroli et al., 2008). Furthermore, Crameri and Tackley (2014) also suggest that the continental connection between South America and the Antarctic peninsula has been severed through a subduction polarity reversal, resulting in the lateral detachment of the South Sandwich subduction zone.

Subduction initiation at ancient/ inherited zones of lithospheric weakness

Subduction zones can also initiate at ancient, inherited zones of weakness such as old fracture zones, transform faults, extinct subduction boundaries and extinct spreading ridges (Gurnis et al., 2004). Gurnis et al. (2004) suggest that the Izu-Bonin-Mariana subduction zone initiated at a fracture zone, while the Tonga-Kermadec subduction initiated at an extinct subduction boundary. The same study also proposes that the incipient Puysegur-Fiordland subduction zone nucleated at an extinct spreading centre.

In conclusion, we can say that subduction zone formation is a complex and multi layered process that can stem from a variety of tectonic settings. However, it is clear that our planet’s current convection style, mode of surface recycling and its ability to sustain life are interlinked with subduction zone formation. Therefore, to understand better how subduction zones form is to better understand what makes the Earth the planet it is today.



Baes, M., Govers, R., and Wortel, R. (2011). Subduction initiation along the inherited weakness zone at the edge of a slab: Insights from numerical models. Geophysical Journal International, 184(3):991–1008.

Baes, M., Sobolev, S. V., and Quinteros, J. (2018). Subduction initiation in mid-ocean induced by mantle suction flow. Geophysical Journal International, 215(3):1515–1522.

Beaussier, S. J., Gerya, T. V., and Burg, J.-p. (2018). 3D numerical modelling of the Wilson cycle: structural inheritance of alternating subduction polarity. Fifty years of the Wilson Cycle concept in plate tectonics, page First published online.

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Crameri, F., Conrad, C. P., Mont ́esi, L., and Lithgow-Bertelloni, C. R. (2018). The dynamic life of an oceanic plate. Tectonophysics.

Crameri, F. and Tackley, P. J. (2014). Spontaneous development of arcuate single-sided subduction in global 3-D mantle convection models with a free surface. Journal of Geophysical Research: Solid Earth, 119(7):5921–5942.

Crameri, F. and Tackley, P. J. (2015). Parameters controlling dynamically self-consistent plate tectonics and single-sided subduction in global models of mantle convection. Journal of Geophysical Research: Solid Earth, 3(55):1–27.

Duarte, J. C., Schellart, W. P., and Rosas, F. M. (2016). The future of Earth’s oceans: Consequences of subduction initiation in the Atlantic and implications for supercontinent formation. Geological Magazine, 155(1):45–58.

Dymkova, D. and Gerya, T. (2013). Porous fluid flow enables oceanic subduction initiation on Earth. Geophysical Research Letters, 40(21):5671–5676.

Foley, B. J. (2018). The dependence of planetary tectonics on mantle thermal state : applications to early Earth evolution. 376.

Gerya, T. V., Stern, R. J., Baes, M., Sobolev, S. V., and Whattam, S. A. (2015). Plate tectonics on the Earth triggered by plume-induced subduction initiation. Nature, 527(7577):221–225.

Gurnis, M., Hall, C., and Lavier, L. (2004). Evolving force balance during incipient subduction. Geochemistry, Geophysics, Geosystems, 5(7).

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Stern, R. J. and Gerya, T. (2017). Subduction initiation in nature and models: A review. Tectonophysics.

Thielmann, M. and Kaus, B. J. (2012). Shear heating induced lithospheric-scale localization: Does it result in subduction? Earth Planet. Sci. Lett., 359-360:1–13.

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Waldron, J. W., Schofield, D. I., Brendan Murphy, J., and Thomas, C. W. (2014). How was the iapetus ocean infected with subduction? Geology, 42(12):1095–1098.

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W.K, H. and E.H., C. (2003). Earth’s Dynamic Systems. Prentice Hall; 10 edition.

Conferences: Secret PhD Drivers

Conferences: Secret PhD Drivers

Conferences are an integral part of a PhD. They are the forum for spreading the word about the newest science and developing professional relationships. But as a PhD student they are more likely to be a source of palpitations and sweaty palms. This week Kiran Chotalia writes about her personal experience on conferences, and lessons learnt over the years.

Kiran Chotalia. PhD Student at Dept. of Earth Sciences, University College London, UK.

My PhD is a part of the Deep Volatiles Consortium and a bunch of us started on our pursuit of that floppy hat together. Our first conference adventure was an introduction to the consortium at the University of Oxford, where the new students were to present on themselves and their projects for a whole terrifying two minutes. At this stage, we had only been scientists in training for a few weeks and the thought of getting up in front of a room of established experts was scary, to say the least. Lesson #1: If it’s not a little bit scary, is it even worth doing? It means we care and we want to do the best we can. A healthy dose of fear can push us to work harder and polish our skills, making us better presenters. Overcoming the fear of these new situations takes up a lot of your energy. But it always helps to practice. In particular, I’ve always been encouraged to participate in presentation (poster or oral) competitions. Knowing that you’re going to be judged on your work and presentation skills encourages you to prepare. And this preparation has always helped to calm my nerves to the point where I’m now at the stage I can enjoy presenting a poster.

Regular work goals that crop up in other professions are often absent, especially when we’re starting out.  The build-up to a conference acts as a good focus to push for results and some first pass interpretations. At the conference itself, it makes sure people come to see your poster and you can start to get your face out there in your field. Lesson #2: Sign up for presentation competitions. AGU’s Outstanding Student Presentation Award (OSPA) and EGU’s Outstanding Student PICO and Poster (OSPP) awards are well established. At smaller conferences, it’s always worth asking if a competition is taking place as, speaking from experience, they can be easily missed. They also give you a good excuse to practice with your research group in preparation, providing the key component of improving your presentation skills: feedback. Lesson #3: Ask for feedback, not just on your science but your presenting too. If you’re presenting to people not in your field, practice with office mates that have no idea what you get up to. By practicing, you can begin to find your style of presenting and the best way to convey your science.

Me, (awkwardly) presenting my first poster at the Workshop on the Origin of Plate Tectonics, Locarno.

Sometimes, you’ll be going to conferences not only with your fellow PhD students, but also more senior members. They can introduce you to their friends and colleagues, extending your network, more often than not, when you are socialising over dinner, after the main working day. Lesson #4: Keep your ear to the ground. These events provide a great opportunity to let people know you are on the hunt for a job and hear about positions that might be right for you. At AGU 2018, I became the proud owner of a ‘Job Seeker’ badge, provided by the Careers Centre. It acted as a great way to segue from general job chat into potential leads. A memento that I’ll be hanging on to and dusting off for conferences to come!

One of the biggest changes to my conferencing cycle occurred last year after attending two meetings: CIDER and YoungCEED. Both were workshops geared towards learning and research, with CIDER lasting four weeks and YoungCEED lasting a week. Lesson #5: Attend research specific meetings when the opportunity arises. Even if they don’t seem to align with your research interests from the outset, they are incredible learning opportunities and a great way to expand your research horizons. By attending these meetings, the dynamic of my first conference after them shifted. There was a focus on catching up with the collective work started earlier in the year. Whilst the pace was the most exhausting I’ve experienced thus far, it was also the most rewarding.

Between all the learning and networking, faces start to become familiar. Before you know it, these faces become colleagues and colleagues quickly become friends. In our line of work, our friends are spread over continents, moving from institution to institution. They tend to offer the only opportunity to be in the same place at the same time. This also results in completely losing track of time and catching up into the early hours of the morning, so the next lesson is more subjective. Lesson #6: Know your limits. Some can stay out until 4am and rock up at the 8.30am talk. I wish I was one of these people but I have a hard time keeping my eyes open past 12.30am. Whatever works for you!

Me, presenting my most recent poster at AGU 2018 with my job seeker badge!

After the conference finishes, you are often in a place that you’ve never visited before. Lesson #7: Have a break. If you can, even an extra day or two of being a tourist is great treat after a hectic build-up as well as the conference itself. If staying for a mini holiday post-conference is not an option, make sure you take some time when you get home to rest and readjust before you get back to work and start planning for the next one.

Last but not least, Lesson #8: Don’t forget to have fun. The stress surrounding conferences and your PhD in general can at times be all consuming. Remember to enjoy the small victories of finally getting a code to run or finding time on the SEM to analyse your samples. At conferences, enjoy being surrounding scientists that are just starting out and the seasoned professionals with a back catalogue of interesting stories. And if you’re lucky enough to be at a conference somewhere sunny, make sure to get outside during the breaks and free time to soak up some vitamin D!

The Shanghai skyline after the Sino-UK Deep Volatiles Annual Meeting at Nanjing University.

Thoughts on geological modelling: an analogue perspective

Thoughts on geological modelling: an analogue perspective

In geodynamics we study the dynamics of the Earth (and other planets). We ground our studies in as much data as possible, however we are constrained by the fact that pretty much all direct information we can collect from the interior of the Earth only shows its present-day state. The surface rock record gives us a glimpse into the past dynamics and evolution of our planet, but this record gets sparser as we go back in time. This is why it is common to use modelling in geodynamics to fill this gap of knowledge. There are different types of modelling, and this week João Duarte writes about the importance of analogue modelling. 

João Duarte. Researcher at Instituto Dom Luiz and Invited Professor at the Geology Department, Faculty of Sciences of the University of Lisbon. Adjunct Researcher at Monash University.

The first time I went to EGU, in 2004, I presented a poster with some new marine geology data and a few sets of analogue models. I was doing accretionary wedges in sandboxes. At the time, I was in the third year of my bachelor’s degree and I was completely overwhelmed by the magnitude of the conference. It was incredible to see the faces of all those scientists that I used to read articles from. But one thing impressed me the most. Earth Sciences were consolidating as a modern, theoretical based science. The efforts in trying to develop an integrated dynamic theory of plate tectonics as part of mantle convection were obvious. The new emergent numerical models looked incredible, with all those colours, complex rheologies and stunning visualization that allowed us to “see” stresses, temperature gradients and non-linear viscosities. I was amazed.

Analogue modelling was at a relative peak in 2004, however it was also anticipated by some that it would quickly disappear (and indeed several analogue labs have closed since). It was with this mindset, that I later did the experiments for my PhD, which I finished in 2012 (Duarte et al., 2011). But I was fortunate. My supervisors, Filipe Rosas and Pedro Terrinha, took me to state-of-art labs, namely Toronto and Montpellier (lead at the time by Sandy Cruden and Jacques Malavieille, respectively), and I started to develop a passion for this kind of models. When I moved to Monash for a post-doc position, in 2011, this turned out to be a great advantage. There, modelers such as Wouter Schellart, Louis Moresi, Fabio Capitanio, David Boutelier and Sandy Cruden (yes, I met Sandy again at Monash) were using analogue models to benchmark numerical models. Why? Because many times, even though numerical models produce spectacular results, they might not be physically consistent. And there is only one way to get rid of this, which is to make sure that whatever numerical code we are using can reproduce simple experiments that we can run in a lab. The classical example is the sinking of a negatively buoyant sphere in a viscous medium.

Sandbox analogue model of an accretionary wedge. Part of the same experiment as shown in the header figure. Here, a sliced section cut after wetting, is shown. University of Lisbon, 2009. Experiments published in Duarte et al. (2011).

That was what we were doing at Monash. I worked with Wouter Schellart in the development of subduction experiments with an overriding plate, which were advancing step by step in both analogue and numerical schemes (see e.g., Duarte et al., 2013 and Chen et al., 2015, 2016 for the analogue models, and Schellart and Moresi, 2013 for numerical equivalents). The tricky bit was, we wanted to have self-consistent dynamic experiments in which we were ascribing the forces (negative buoyancy of the slab, the viscosity of the upper mantle, etc) and let the kinematics (i.e. the velocities) to be an emergent phenomenon. So, no lateral push or active kinematic boundaries were applied to the plates. This is because we now recognize that in general, it is the slab pull at subduction zones that majorly drives the plates and not the other way around. Therefore, if we want to investigate the fundamental physics and dynamics of subduction zones we need to use self-consistent models (both analogue and numerical). In order to carry out these models, we had to develop a new rheology for the subduction interface, which is a complex problem, both in the analogue and the numerical approaches (Duarte et al. 2013, 2014, 2015). But this is another very long story that would lead to a publication by itself.

Analogue models of subduction with an overriding plate and an interplate rheology. Monash University, 2012. Adapted from Duarte et al. (2013)

But what is analogue modelling all about? Basically, analogue models are scaled models that we can develop in the laboratory using analogue materials (such as sand), and that at the scale that we are doing our models have similar physical properties to those of natural materials (such as brittle rocks). But, as it is widely known, under certain circumstances (at large time and space scales), rocks behave like fluids, and for that we use analogue fluids, such as silicone putties, glucose and honey. We can also use fluids to simulate the interaction between subduction zones and mantle plumes in a fluid reservoir (see below figures and links to videos of scaled experiments using three different fluids to study slab-plume interaction; Meriaux et al., 2015a, 2015b, 2016). These are generally called geodynamic analogue models.

End of a slab-plume experiment in the upper mantle (see below). The tank is partially filled with glucose. The slab (laying at the analogue 660 discontinuity) is made of silicone mixed with iron powder. The plume is made of a water solution of glucose dyed with a red colorant. And that’s me on the left. Monash University, 2014.

I usually consider two main branches of analogue models. The first, which is the one mostly used by geologists, was started by Sir James Hall (1761 – 1832), that squeezed layers of clay to reproduce the patterns of folded rocks that he had observed in nature. This method was later improved by King Hubbert (1937), who laid the ground for the development of the field by developing a theory of scaling of analogue models applied to geological processes.

The other branch is probably as old as humans. It began when we started to manipulate objects and using them to understand basic empirical laws, such as the one that objects always fall. When Galileo was using small spheres in inclined surfaces to extract the physical laws that describe the movement of bodies, from rocks to planets, he was in a certain way using analogue models. He understood that many laws are scale invariant. Still today, these techniques are widely used by physicist and engineers when understanding for example the aerodynamics of airplanes, the stability of bridges, the dynamics of rivers or the resistance of dams. They use scaled models that reproduce at suitable laboratory scales the objects and processes that they are investigating.

What we did at Monash, was a mixture of both approaches. Though, we were less interested in exactly reproducing nature from a purely geometric and kinematic point of view, but we were more interested in understanding the physics of the object we were investigating: subduction zones. Therefore, we had to guarantee that we were using the correct dynamical approach in order to be able to extract generic physical empirical laws, hoping that these laws would provide us some insight on the dynamics of natural subduction zones. These empirical laws could readily be incorporated in numerical models, which would then help exploring more efficiently the space of the controlling parameters in the system.

Slab-Plume interaction in the upper mantle. Experiments published in Meriaux et al. (2015a, 2015b).

I want to finish with a question that I believe concerns all of us: are there still advantages in using analogue models? Yes, I believe so! One of the most important advantages is that analogue models are always three-dimensional and high-resolution. Furthermore, they allow a good tracking of the strain and to understand how it occurs in discontinuous mediums, for example when investigating the localization of deformation or the propagation of cracks. Numerical schemes still struggle with these problems. It is very difficult to have an efficient code that can deal simultaneously with very high resolution and large-scale three-dimensional problems, as it is required to investigate the process of subduction. Nevertheless, numerical models are of great help when it comes to track stresses, and model complex rheologies and temperature gradients. To sum up: nowadays, we recognize that certain problems can only be tackled using self-consistent dynamic models that model the whole system in three-dimensions, capturing different scales. For this, the combination of analogue and numerical models is still one of the most powerful tools we have. An interesting example of a field in which a combined approach is being used is the fascinating investigations on the seismic cycle (for example, see here).

Links to videos:

(Subduction with an overriding plate and an interplate rheology. Duarte et al., 2013)

(Slab-plume interaction at mantle scale. Side-view of the experiment on the top, and top-view of the experiment on the bottom. Meriaux et al., 2016)

Chen, Z., Schellart, W.P., Strak, V., Duarte, J.C., 2016. Does subduction-induced mantle flow drive backarc extension? Earth and Planetary Science Letters 441, 200-210.

Chen, Z., Schellart, W.P., Duarte, J.C., 2015. Overriding plate deformation and variability of forearc deformation during subduction: Insight from geodynamic models and application to the Calabria subduction zone. Geochemistry, Geophysics, Geosystems 16, 3697–3715. DOI: 10.1002/2015GC005958

Duarte, J.C., Schellart, W.P., Cruden, A.R., 2015. How weak is the subduction zone interface? Geophysical Research Letters 41, 1-10. DOI: 10.1002/2014GL062876

Duarte, J.C., Schellart, W.P., Cruden, A.R., 2014. Rheology of petrolatum – paraffin oil mixtures: applications to analogue modelling of geological processes. Journal of Structural Geology 63, 1-11.

Duarte, J.C., Schellart, W.P., Cruden, A.R., 2013. Three-dimensional dynamic laboratory models of subduction with an overriding plate and variable interplate rheology. Geophysical Journal International 195, 47-66.

Duarte, J.C., F.M. Rosas P., Terrinha, M-A Gutscher, J. Malavieille, Sónia Silva, L. Matias, 2011. Thrust–wrench interference tectonics in the Gulf of Cadiz (Africa–Iberia plate boundary in the North-East Atlantic): Insights from analog models. Marine Geology 289, 135–149.

Hubbert, M.K., 1937. Theory of scale models as applied to the study of geologic structures. GSA Bulletin 48, 1459-1520.

Meriaux, C., Meriaux, A-S., Schellart, W.P., Duarte, J.C., Duarte, S.S., Chen, Z., 2016. Mantle plumes in the vicinity of subduction zones. Earth and Planetary Science Letters 454, 166-177.

Mériaux, C.A., Duarte, J.C., Schellart, W.P., Mériaux, A-S., 2015. A two-way interaction between the Hainan plume and the Manila subduction zone. Geophysical Research Letters 42, 5796–5802. DOI: 10.1002/2015GL064313

Meriaux, C.A., Duarte, J.C., Duarte, S., Chen, Z., Rosas, F.M., Mata, J., Schellart, W.P., and Terrinha, P. 2015. Capture of the Canary mantle plume material by the Gibraltar arc mantle wedge during slab rollback. Geophysical Journal International 201, 1717-1721.

Schellart, W.P., Moresi, L., 2013. A new driving mechanism for backarc extension and backarc shortening through slab sinking induced toroidal and poloidal mantle flow: Results from dynamic subduction models with an overriding plate. Journal of Geophysical Research: Solid Earth 118, 3221-3248.

Oceans on Mars: the geodynamic record

Oceans on Mars: the geodynamic record

Apart from our own planet Earth, there are a lot of Peculiar Planets out there! In this series we take a look at a planetary body or system worthy of our geodynamic attention, and this week we are back to our own solar system, more precisely to our neighbour Mars. In this post, Robert Citron, PhD student at the University of California, Berkeley, writes about the links between oceans, shorelines, and volcanism on Mars. A David Bowie approved blog post!

Robert Citron

Whether Mars was warm enough in its early history to support large oceans remains controversial. Although today Mars is extremely cold and dry, several lines of geological evidence suggest early Mars was periodically warm and wet. Evidence for ancient liquid water includes river channels, deltas and alluvial fans, lakes, and even shorelines of an extensive ocean.

Such features are carved into Mars’ ancient crust, which contains a remarkable geologic record spanning from over 4 billion years ago to present. How and where fluvial erosion takes place is highly dependent on topography. However, Mars is a dynamic planet and the topography observed today does not necessarily represent the planetary surface billions of years ago. Geological markers that seem misaligned today, such as river flow directions and sea levels, may be more consistent with ancient topography. Geodynamic models of how the planet has changed shape over time can therefore be used to test and constrain evidence of water on early Mars.

Shorelines are one example where geodynamic models have helped interpret the geological record. Perhaps the most compelling evidence for ancient Martian oceans are the hypothetical palaeo-shorelines that border Mars’ northern lowland basin. However, the shorelines fail to follow an equipotential surface, or contours of constant elevation, which would be expected if they formed via a standing body of liquid water. One explanation is that the shorelines used to follow an equipotential surface, but subsequent changes to the planet’s shape warped them to their present-day elevations, which vary by up to several kilometers.

Two geodynamic processes that likely changed the global shape of Mars are surface loading and true polar wander. True polar wander occurs when a planet reorients relative to its spin axis, which reshapes the planet because it changes the location of the equatorial bulge produced by the planet’s rotation. Large scale true polar wander on Mars was examined by Perron et al. (2007), which found that it could have warped past shoreline profiles to their present-day topographic profiles.

Another possibility is that Martian shoreline markers were deflected by flexure associated with surface loads. The emplacement or removal of material on a planet’s surface can cause flexure and displacement of nearby crust. This is observed on Earth, where melting of glaciers has unburdened underlying crust, allowing for rebound and displacement of past shoreline markers. Similar processes could be at work on Mars, but on a global scale.

Mars topography: The massive Tharsis volcanic province (red) is situated on the boundary between the southern highlands (orange) and northern lowlands (blue). The lowlands may have been covered by one or more ancient oceans, and are bordered by palaeo-shorelines. Two of the most prominent shorelines are the older Arabia shoreline (dashed line) and younger Deuteronilus shoreline (solid line). Image constructed by R. Citron using MOLA data. Shoreline data from Ivanov et al. (2017) and Perron et al. (2007).

The largest load on Mars is the Tharsis rise, a volcanic province that dominates the topography and gravity of the planet. Tharsis was built by volcanic activity over hundreds of millions to billions of years. Its emplacement changed Mars’ shape on a global scale; in addition to the Tharsis rise, there is a circum-Tharsis depression and an antipodal bulge.

In recent work (Citron et al. 2018), we found that the present-day variations in shoreline elevations can be explained by flexure from Tharsis and its associated loading. Of the two most prominent Mars shorelines, the older (~ 4 billion years old) Arabia shoreline corresponds to pre-Tharsis topography, deformed by almost all of the flexure associated with Tharsis. The younger (~ 3.6 billion years old) Deuteronilus shoreline corresponds to late-Tharsis topography, requiring only ~17% of Tharsis loading to explain its variations in elevation. This suggests that the Arabia shoreline formed before or during the early stages of Tharsis, and the Deuteronilus shoreline formed during the late stages of Tharsis growth. The match between the present-day shoreline markers and ancient equipotential surfaces supports the hypothesis that the markers do indicate shorelines formed by an ancient ocean.

The timing of ancient Martian oceans is consistent with recent work by Bouley et al. (2016), which found that the Mars valley networks (ancient river channels) also better fit Mars’ pre-Tharsis topography. In the topography of Mars prior to Tharsis, the flow direction of the channels are more consistent with the topographic gradient, and the channels occur at latitudes and elevations where climate models predict water ice (resulting in ice melt) to form.

The timing of the shorelines and valley networks relative to Tharsis volcanism suggests a close link between the stability of water on Mars and volcanic activity. Atmospheric models predict a cold and icy early Mars, however it is possible that oceans may be more sustainable during periods of heightened volcanism. Tharsis activity has also been associated with outflow channels indicative of catastrophic flooding that may have inundated the northern plains with water. Further examination of the link between Tharsis volcanism and oceans could increase our understanding of early Mars habitability.

Further reading:

Bouley, S., Baratoux, D., Matsuyama, I., Forget, F., Séjourné, A., Turbet, M., & Costard, F. (2016). Late Tharsis formation and implications for early Mars. Nature531(7594), 344.

Citron, R. I., Manga, M., & Hemingway, D. J. (2018). Timing of oceans on Mars from shoreline deformation. Nature555(7698), 643.

Ivanov, M. A., Erkeling, G., Hiesinger, H., Bernhardt, H., & Reiss, D. (2017). Topography of the Deuteronilus contact on Mars: Evidence for an ancient water/mud ocean and long-wavelength topographic readjustments. Planetary and Space Science144, 49-70.

Matsuyama, I., & Manga, M. (2010). Mars without the equilibrium rotational figure, Tharsis, and the remnant rotational figure. Journal of Geophysical Research: Planets115(E12).

Perron, J. T., Mitrovica, J. X., Manga, M., Matsuyama, I., & Richards, M. A. (2007). Evidence for an ancient martian ocean in the topography of deformed shorelines. Nature447(7146), 840.

Ramirez, R. M., & Craddock, R. A. (2018). The geological and climatological case for a warmer and wetter early Mars. Nature Geoscience11(4), 230.