This is a mostly high-level, very accessible and light-hearted discussion of a very interesting and profound question — how universal is the science of physics? Would all intelligent, technological life develop a science of physics like ours? Does reality drive us to our science of physics, or might it be something peculiar to our biology and our history? All of this by way of the author’s title question about intelligent aliens.
The authors take the famous Drake Equation, estimating the number of civilizations in our Milky Way galaxy that we might communicate with as a starting point. The final factors in the Drake Equation concern the likelihood of intelligence evolving on planets (or other bodies) where life evolves, the likelihood of intelligent civilizations developing the technology needed to send and receive signals detectable by other intelligent civilizations, and the lifetimes of those intelligent, technological civilizations.
All of the factors in the Drake Equation have their difficulties, but those last three have special problems. Like some of the other factors, our knowledge is limited to our one instance — our own planet, the evolution of life on our planet, the evolution of intelligence in our own biological history, our own development of technology, and our precarious, thus-far short by biological and astronomical standards, lifetime as an intelligent, technological species.
And, maybe even more limiting, we rely on a wealth of assumptions in even thinking about these factors. How likely is it that intelligent beings are curious about reality in the ways that we are, that they formulate theories as we do, that they formulate those theories mathematically, that they have the urge to manipulate their environment, augment their capabilities, and even exploit their resources to develop the kinds of technologies that afford exploration of the universe beyond their worlds. Would they even want to communicate with other civilizations?
Physicists and others in what we could call the traditional search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI) have been optimistic in answering these questions. Intelligence breeds curiosity, curiosity breeds theory (as opposed to serving only practical functions), and theory will converge on an account of reality that in some way coincides with our own. And their theories will be mathematical, as ours are.
To address this mass of questions, and ultimately to challenge that optimism, Whiteson and Warner propose to extend the Drake Equation. They add four new factors, to be applied to the result of the Drake Equation, the whole thing aimed at approximating the likelihood of our being able to share scientific knowledge with whatever alien, intelligent civilizations may exist. These are their four new factors:
- Alien science: what is the likelihood that aliens in those civilizations do something akin to experiment-driven science (taking that characterization as valid of our own sciences)?
- Alien language: can we actually communicate with those aliens, in some language, to allow us to share theoretical knowledge and questions?
- Asking questions: do the aliens ask the kinds of questions that we ask? Are they motivated by the same curiosity about reality that motivates our theories?
- Answering questions: are the answers they have arrived at, their own theories, answers to the questions that we want to find answers to?
Whiteson and Warner are less optimistic than earlier generations of physicists and astronomers have been about the answers to these questions. They recount the efforts and the thinking of optimists like Carl Sagan, who supposed that any intelligent, technological civilizations must not only pursue scientific questions, but answer them in mathematical terms that are reconcilable with our own. That generation was optimistic enough to even suppose that our representations of scientific facts like diagrams of our solar system or of basic mathematical values would be understood by aliens.
The authors question assumptions behind that optimism. In particular, they question the assumption that a technological civilization must be a scientific one. After all, craft technologies, such as those developed and practiced for centuries — taming fire, making pottery, fashioning spears and other weapons — did not depend on theoretical knowledge, only practical knowledge. Could the same be true of more advanced technologies, the kinds we are talking about when we talk about sending and receiving signals across space?
You might want to argue that making spears is one thing and building radio transmitters is another, and that the latter, although not the former, depends on theory, not just know-how. But that argument hasn’t been made, and the steps to get to the radio transmitter may well be achievable through know-how and without know-why.
The bigger, overarching point is that we do not understand and should not underestimate how alien aliens are likely to be. How their biology, their history, how their cognitive lives (if they have something we could recognize as cognitive lives) may differ in truly unimaginable ways from our own. To argue that they must, for example, conquer mathematics to design and build advanced technologies, or even that they must develop symbol-driven languages, only ecause we can’t imagine any other way for them to build a technological civilization is to argue from the limitations of our own imaginations. Our imaginations may shrink before the realities of a universe of life we know nothing about.
All of this is to say that Whiteson and Warner are doing a job that is late in arriving. “Alien” really does mean alien. The paths that alien intelligent life may take, if they take “paths” at all, are truly unknown and beyond our ability to imagine. It’s fun to try, and science fiction writers are fantastic at it. But their imaginings may pale before what we might actually find out there.
The premise of the novel, Roadside Picnic, by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, should serve as a lesson. Aliens actually visit and land on our planet. They spend a little time (maybe having a “roadside picnic”), and they leave without apparent interest in us and leave what may be garbage to them behind. We are just a stop on the road. We imagine ourselves to be recognized as peers — of course they will want to talk to us? Look at us — we have telescopes, we build cities! Surely you’d recognize the builders of cities as intelligent peers!
Okay, that’s a bit sarcastic. Sorry. But the point is, building cities (or other marks of what we call “civilization”) may be insignificant, bizarre, or primitive in the eyes (or whatever) of aliens. Our cities may be akin to prairie dog towns in their eyes, so different from how they live and organize themselves, if those terms are even applicable, as to suggest no commonality, no membership in any galactic intelligence club, at all.
In some ways, the authors’ question about communicating with aliens is a maguffin. To answer it, they must take on the philosophical question, does our physics truly capture reality in a uniquely valid way, or is it only one of many possible ways of describing reality?