The Alien Perspective: A New View of Humanity and the Cosmos

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Praise for Space 2069

‘It is rare to read something that so closely mixes science fiction with reality, but Space 2069 does just that … [It] packs a sizeable punch … an intelligent portrait of where we may be in the next half-century.’

BBC Sky at Night

‘Rich, topical and informative’

Physics World

‘[A] skilful history of space exploration … A realist, Whitehouse emphasizes that, without a major breakthrough in rocket technology, travel to Mars will test the limits of human endurance and willingness to bear the expense. His forecast for 2069 is a struggling eighteen-man international base on Mars. China will have its own. A fine overview of the past and future of human space exploration.’

Kirkus Reviews

Praise for Apollo 11

‘Terrific and enthralling’

New Scientist

‘An authoritative account of Apollo 11 and the end of the space race, shedding light on the true drama behind the mission.’

The Observer

‘Fascinating’

The Herald

ii‘Fast-paced and tremendously readable … What makes this book really stand out from other Apollo-based books is the inclusion of long quotes from interviews with astronauts such as John Glenn (the first American to orbit Earth), Eugene Cernan (the last man to walk on the Moon) and, of course, Neil Armstrong himself.’

BBC Sky at Night

‘The book is at its most successful when Whitehouse gets out of the way of its protagonists, letting the astronauts and cosmonauts offer their own verbatim accounts of their often perilous – and occasionally fatal – missions. The real strength of this book is its tribute to the human qualities of these men – and they are all men, with the exception of the brief but gripping story of one female cosmonaut – who were willing to sacrifice so much.’

The Irish News

‘In the most authoritative book ever written about Apollo, David Whitehouse reveals the true drama behind the mission, telling the story in the words of those who took part based around exclusive interviews with the key players … [An] enthralling book.’

All About Space

‘David Whitehouse’s masterly narration of what he calls the inside story is profoundly gratifying.’

The Spectator

‘Whitehouse has a reporter’s gift for uncomplicated storytelling’

Financial Times

‘One of the best books ever written about the lunar landing … absolutely brilliant.’

Engineering and Technology

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The Alien

Perspective

A New View

of Humanity

and the Cosmos

DAVID

WHITEHOUSE

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To Jill

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ix

‘But the barriers of distance are crumbling;

one day we shall meet our equals,

or our masters, among the stars.’

ARTHUR C. CLARKE, 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, 1968

‘Far away, hidden from the eyes of daylight,

there are watchers in the skies.’

– EURIPIDES, THE BACCHAE, 406

bc

‘Thoughts, silent thoughts,

of time and space and death.’

– WALT WHITMAN, ‘PASSAGE TO INDIA’, 1869

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CONTENTS

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

About the Author

Preface

A Question Asked Differently

The Big Sky

Jig of Life

The Cosmic Cave

Speak to Me

Palimpsest

Ripples

Emissary

Hello Earth

Us and Them

Arbitrage

The Great Gig in the Sky

Boltzmann’s Brain

As Far as Thought Can Reach

Index

Plates

By the Same Author

Copyright

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dr David Whitehouse is a former BBC science correspondent and editor. He studied astrophysics at the world-famous Jodrell Bank radio observatory under Sir Bernard Lovell. He is the author of several books, including most recently Space 2069: After Apollo: Back to the Moon, to Mars, and Beyond and Apollo 11: The Inside Story. He has written for many newspapers and magazines and regularly appears on TV and radio programmes. He has won many awards, including the very first Sir Arthur Clarke Award as well as the European Internet Journalist of the Year. Asteroid 4036 Whitehouse is named after him.

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PREFACE

For me, the question of whether there is intelligent life in space is, alongside that about the existence of God, the most important question I know. After a lifetime of thinking about the subject, I was hesitant to write a book about it and initially prepared proposals for a book that skirted around the issue. It was my publishers, Icon Books, and my literary agent, Laura Susijn, who asked me questions and homed in on the essence of what I was stumbling towards. The question of whether there is intelligent life in space is a big one indeed.

During its writing, the project acquired several titles. One was What If?, which was very early on written on a folder containing my notes. There were so many questions, but I worried about a book that asked too many. I soon changed my mind because when it comes to looking for life, especially intelligent life in space, all we have are questions, and in asking them we illuminate the problems, our prejudices and our ignorance. At other times I joked that the book should be called Everything We Know About Aliens and should consist of 252 pages, all of them blank!

At one time I had in mind the forthcoming 50th anniversary of Carl Sagan’s book, The Cosmic Connection, thinking that it was time to assess our cosmic perspective once more, as many others have successfully done, but the alien kept reappearing, and I thought more and more about the search for intelligent life in space and the gap left in the subject by Carl Sagan’s absence. xiv

I thought of demotions, of humanity not being the centre of creation, of the Earth not being the centre of the universe. I thought that finding intelligent aliens would be another in a long line of demotions of humankind, but as you will see I changed my mind, thinking that whatever or whoever is out there, if at all, we should not feel any the lesser for their existence.

And I worried about the contrast between the public interest in life in space and the relatively small number of people who have shaped the philosophy of looking for intelligent aliens, and I thought it was time for new voices, new ways of thinking and perhaps fewer bad jokes and brush-offs that cover up legitimate concerns.

Are we alone? There couldn’t be a shorter yet more profound question, let alone one that strikes to the very core of what we are. What hubris, I thought, attempting to write a book about such questions.

Yet the question is there behind every corner on Earth, behind every ecosystem and living creature, behind every tenet of philosophy, every religious impulse, inside us all. Are there others? Is this wondering common in the cosmos? How much is parochial, how much universal?

Science is not driven by logic. It is driven by desire, a desire to find out, to experience something wonderful, bigger than ourselves and, in the case of aliens, beyond ourselves. It is strange that we should feel so passionate about beings we have never met. Or is it?

And so, a few thoughts and a few ideas about aliens and the place and prospects for life in the cosmos. If we ever encounter xvthem, perhaps the thing we will have most in common are the questions.

I would like to thank Nick Booth for his help and insightful comments throughout this project, and Rebecca Charbonneau for showing me her doctoral thesis on the history of searching for intelligent life in space, which I thoroughly recommend. Thanks also to Carol Oliver of Macquarie University in Australia. I also thank Michael Rappenglück for discussions some time ago about caves and the cosmos.

I would like to thank Duncan Heath and James Lilford of Icon Books, my amazing literary agent Laura Susijn for all her support and of course my children Christopher, Lucy and Emily. My wife, Jill, has given me unwavering support and so many ideas. I cannot thank her enough.

David Whitehouse

Hampshire

2022 xvi

1

A QUESTION ASKED DIFFERENTLY

According to a recent survey, there are 540 objects within 33 light years of our Sun – next door in astronomical terms. This includes 373 stars, 88 brown dwarfs, which are failed stars, 21 white dwarfs, which are dense remnants of dead stars, and 77 planets that circle some of the nearby stars. Most of the stars are red dwarfs that are smaller and dimmer than our Sun but there is a scattering of stars like our Sun. A radio signal sent from Earth in the late 1980s would by now have reached all of them. Because most of the stars that comprise our constellations are much further away, many of our constellations would be recognisable in the sky as seen from these nearby stars and worlds. The view from the nearest one, a red dwarf called Proxima Centauri, which has at least one planet orbiting it, would have an additional star in the constellation we call Cassiopeia. This is our Sun. In a way, to any inhabitants of that system we are Cassiopeians. They might look at our Sun from time to time, but if they judged it by its rather average characteristics they might not pay it much attention. But if they had the ability to detect radio emissions then perhaps they might take a second look.

There is a greater number of stars, 2,034 to be precise, that have a unique view of our planet, even from the greater depths of space beyond Proxima Centauri. These are stars which currently or in the not too-distant past or future could detect our 2Earth passing across the face of our Sun. If there are aliens on any planets orbiting those stars with at least our level of technology, they would be able to spot our world. Should they have telescopes only slightly more advanced than ours, they would be able scrutinise the atmosphere of our tiny rocky world as it transits our home star. They would find the atmosphere unusual: a lot of oxygen, which in the absence of life wouldn’t last long, and perhaps looking along the spectrum of light from this planet a hint that something on its surface might be absorbing light from its star, perhaps powering a metabolism and by implication an ecology.

Perhaps it, they or them might send us a radio signal or a laser flash. Perhaps they might dispatch a probe knowing it will take hundreds, possibly thousands, of years to get here, and perhaps that is trivial to them. Or perhaps there is nothing, and all those worlds and voids are lifeless.

How do we prepare ourselves for contact with aliens? We have only our logic, our assumptions, our emotions and especially our fears to prepare us. It has been said that until we have alien contact, humanity will be blind and afterwards it will be too late.

Our own planet is the only place we know of where there is life. Planets are not the only places where life could exist and possibly not the main place. Where else life could arise may surprise you, and I do not mean the much-talked-about prospects for life in our own planetary system.

Of these there is of course Mars, for some the best hope for nearby life. Perhaps life arose independently there, or perhaps life on Earth and possibly Mars are related in some way, as we shall see. We have sent more than 30 missions to this world, 3many carrying sophisticated instruments on rovers to explore its surface. We see a world we recognise: deserts of sand, boulders, dried-up river beds, sand dunes blown by a thin wind and a peach-coloured sky. But we haven’t found life.

Beneath the icy surface of Jupiter’s moons Ganymede, Europa and Callisto there is water. Protected for perhaps hundreds of millions of years, these oceans would have access to nutrients and possibly have hydrothermal vents, like the ones on the sea floors of Earth around which so much strange life congregates. Saturn’s moons Rhea and Enceladus are the same, and like Europa, they have recently been found to have explosive jets of water vapour that erupt into space through fractures in their crusts known as ‘tiger stripes’. Saturn’s major moon is Titan, which has a chemically rich, thick atmosphere and oceans of liquid hydrocarbons. Even further out in our solar system, Uranus’ moons Titania and Oberon, and Neptune’s large moon Triton, also possibly have sub-surface oceans. The dwarf planets Pluto and Eris may also possess similar oceans, as may the hundreds or thousands of the distant members of the Kuiper Belt. Each may harbour life.

We have our imagination. The Dune novels have their stars and planets. The fictional Arrakis is described as the third planet around the bright star Canopus in the southern hemisphere constellation of Carina the Keel, itself part of the great ship Argo Navis that took the Argonauts on their mythical quest for the Golden Fleece. Buzzell is a water world populated only by tiny islands. There is the forest world of Endor in Return of the Jedi, the overpopulated Coruscant seen in several Star Wars films, Bespin with no solid surface in The Empire Strikes 4Back and the iconic and mysterious desert world of Tatooine, Luke Skywalker’s childhood home. Star Trek has the United Federation of Planets, and in the year 2267 Captain James Tiberius Kirk said that humanity was on a ‘thousand planets and spreading out’. The Federation promises a hopeful future, but we also imagine the ruthless Xenomorph of Alien and the marauders of Independence Day.

What does an alien look like? How would it or they think? What is their perspective on, well, life, the universe and everything? How would we make contact with them? And what exactly is life? Would we recognise it if we saw it?

We have only our imagination, logic and emotions to guide us when contemplating these questions and all of those are flawed if not misleading. But we have no choice, they are all we have. We need scientists and artists, philosophers and poets and perhaps clichés like those of Star Trek, Star Wars, Alien, Independence Day and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, however enjoyably unbelievable they might be. By the way, The War of the Worlds won’t work, the biology in Alien is impossible and the alien at the end of Close Encounters is far too human-looking.

Would aliens arrive and say to us, as Klaatu the humanoid did in the 1951 film The Day the Earth Stood Still, ‘If you threaten to extend your violence, this Earth of yours will be reduced to a burned-out cinder. Your choice is simple: join us and live in peace or pursue your present course and face obliteration.’ No they wouldn’t. That is science fiction, naïve and psychological. Our speculations about aliens illuminate much about the cosmos and humans, but aliens are aliens. How can we ever know them? 5

We once thought we were the centre of all things and that the universe was ours, in fact made for us. The Sun circled the Earth as did everything else and God was intimately involved in our affairs. There was a great chain of being that linked us and our world to heaven and eternity. But now we know differently. The Earth circles the Sun, which is an average star, one of billions in our galaxy, which itself is one of billions in the universe. Although we have yet to find an analogue of Earth, we know that planets are plentiful. Our origin and environment seem commonplace. Everything we’ve ever learned about the universe tells us that we are nothing special, except for one thing.

That one thing is you. Intelligent life, indeed, life of any sort. As far as we know, it only exists here on our planet circling our ordinary star. Humanity has been demoted many times – from the centre of the universe, from a supernatural creation, from living in an unusual star system. But our status as the only life we know of in the cosmos remains. We are special, unique, nobody can yet show otherwise.

But for how long? How would we react if we found out we were not alone? It could happen tomorrow or never. Some believe it already has. Suddenly humanity would be incomplete, not the pinnacle any more but a subset of what is possible. Finding out we are not alone, either in terms of a signal, an artefact or even a visitation, would not just tell us there is someone or something else, it would tell us that the universe is teeming with life, for as we have acknowledged there is nothing special about our insignificant corner of it.

We are passing through a crucial historical threshold. Within the past few decades we have arrived at a point where we could 6contact aliens. Many expect to do so, some are surprised we haven’t already done so. Where are they? What are they like? What is their history? What is their outlook? Do they know about us? The first stars appeared over 10 billion years ago and the Earth is 4.6 billion years old, so perhaps the first intelligent species appeared billions of years ago. Imagine aliens older than our planet.

Think of that, a universe full of life, many different ways of being. We would ask ourselves, what is our place among them? Does it change our future? Does it make it better, hopeful or perhaps introduce a new fearfulness as we cower in the face of what could be an incomprehensible cosmic power? We should think about these things while we can, as the story of humanity might take a turn into the unknown when even our dreams are changed, or one might say, invaded.

Einstein said that the experience of the mysterious was the most beautiful thing and the source of all truth in art and science. He went on to say that he to whom the emotion of the mysterious is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand wrapped in awe, is as good as dead – his eyes are closed. I will add to that. We must face the experience of the alien, a different creature’s views and philosophy, intelligent but without our human mentality, even if this is perhaps beyond our imagination. Immortal possibly and, as far as we could appreciate, maybe almost omnipotent, transcending our history, our morals and our religions. They would not see the universe the way we do. As the American physicist Robert Oppenheimer said: ‘In another world the basic questions may have been asked differently.’

Everything could be different from the alien perspective.

7

THE BIG SKY

On the beach at night,

Stands a child with her father.

Watching the east, the autumn sky.

– WALT WHITMAN, ‘ON THE BEACH AT NIGHT’, 1871

Walt Whitman’s poem ‘On the Beach at Night’ is about a child holding her father’s hand. They are looking at the night sky, at the ascent of the lordstar Jupiter and higher to ‘the delicate sisters the Pleiades’, as he puts it. But the clouds are coming, and the little girl silently weeps as one by one they obscure the stars. Weep not child, says her father, for they shall not long possess the sky. Watch again another night and the Pleiades will return. All those stars both silvery and golden, he adds, shall shine again. But then he does something unexpected. I imagine he crouches down to put his head next to hers and says softly, ‘Mournest thou only for Jupiter? Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars.’

The stars are magnificent but temporary and I wonder if it is the same for life. There will come a time when all the stars are gone, every last one, when there will be no more hopeful sunrises, no more beautiful sunsets, never again a perfect day. Just as there must have been a first star to end the early cosmic dark ages there will be a last, and when it goes out then the cosmic age of light will be over, occupying an ever-smaller sliver of the receding past. As we contemplate our universe, 8we are beginning to see endings and how things will fall apart. In our story, we will meet those twin undertakers infinity and entropy who do not wait for us at the end of time. They are here, they always have been. There is an inscription on the tomb of Tutankhamun that could have been written by them: ‘I have seen yesterday, I know tomorrow.’

The comfort that the father gives his daughter – that the clouds will not devour the stars – is true in her lifetime and for far beyond the lifetime of the Earth. But he then takes away that temporary respite when he talks of the very end of those stars. Perhaps he then feels he has gone too far, so he whispers, ‘Something there is more immortal even than the stars.’ As we shall see, there are many things more immortal than the stars, but will life be one of them? Especially conscious life that can foresee how the universe will change as it ages and how it must change to survive? Can life ever secure a beachhead on eternity’s shoreline, or is its fate in the universe one of desolation, a brief tale wrecked on the rocks of ruined power and splintered space time?

I wonder if some intelligence will occupy a future shore 10 trillion years hence – a frozen beach that aeons ago lost the warmth needed to save it. It may look at a sky of eternal dark with nothing visible beyond its own desolated galaxy. Everything else will have been pulled beyond the observable horizon by the expansion of the universe. Will it, wretched and unhappy perhaps, wonder what it used to be like when life was easier? Will it look to the future with optimism and joy? Will the unanswered questions loom larger then?

How do we know this? How can we imagine trillions of years into the future? The information we have obtained about 9the universe in just