Alien Communication: A Micro-Rant

 The Drake equation is a (shock horror!) equation that allows one to calculate the probability of aliens in the Milky Way. It was formulated, not by Sir Francis Drake of late sixteenth-century world-circumnavigation fame, but by American astrophysicist and astrobiologist, Frank Donald Drake, in 1961. 

According to it,

Number of civilisations in the Milky Way with whom communication is possible 

    =         Rate of star formation in Milky Way

        ×     Fraction of stars with planets

        ×     Avg number of planets capable of supported life per star-with-planet

        ×     Fraction of planets capable of life that actually develop life

        ×     Fraction of planets with life that develop intelligent life i.e., civilisations

        ×     Fraction of civilisations that release detectable signs into space

        ×     Time for which these signs are released

Look at that. Look at it close. What does it tell you? Honestly, very little of value.

Most of these variables deal with approximations, out of which the last three parameters are the most difficult to estimate. The solution, therefore, varies enormously and over many orders of magnitude. Not ideal, and not very useful.

But that’s not the point either. 

I would, perhaps, be guilty of gross oversimplification if I were to assert that it is little more than a thought experiment – something to keep in mind when considering extraterrestrial communication, rather than a hard and fast set of rules – but there is very little else that comes to mind. For the time being anyway. 

The Drake Equation was meant to be an opening BANG moment for scientific analysis. Oh, scientists are actually making equations. This isn’t sci-fi any more. This is serious. Quick, look grim. Click your pen. Nod your head. 

Are you writing this down?

I’m being facetious, of course. But the Drake Equation did bring to the forefront some interesting questions, not only about extraterrestrial, but terrestrial life as well. For instance, the question of abiogenesis, i.e., when non-living matter first leads to the creation of life; or the development of multi-cellular organisms; or intelligence itself. 

The Drake Equation was meant to be a starting ‘agenda’ for SETI (Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence), an association of scientists beginning to take aliens seriously. They also called themselves the Order of the Dolphin, but that’s a separate story. 

The most notable amongst this group is perhaps Carl Sagan, known as the ‘people’s astronomer’. Sagan soon came to the forefront of pop sci media, bringing mass appeal to the scientific method and temperament. 

And if you’ve heard of Carl Sagan before, you probably think I’m going to talk about the Pioneer plaque and the Voyager record and the Arecibo message and the Wow! signal or something else; and maybe you’re right and maybe I will. But before that, I’d to invite you to a thought experiment.

Imagine a person. Name this person what you will. A random name generator website recommends Benito Chandler, and I simply acquiesce. Benito Chandler does not speak English, or any other human language. In fact, Benito Chandler has never met a human before. Benito Chandler doesn’t know what a human is, and you’re not entirely certain that he cares. 

You need to talk to Benito Chandler.

How are you going to talk to Benito Chandler?

Maybe start with the basics. An affirmative and negative. You stick up your thumb, nod and say “YES!”

Ignoring the fact that this would be largely unfathomable given the circumstances to most humans (“What ‘yes’? What’s so yessy?”), how do you know for certain that Benito Chandler doesn’t take this for a threat? Or a sign of hello-I-am-food-feel-free-to-consume?

Is the concept of binary opposition (yes/no, true/false, light/dark) even relevant to Benito Chandler? Does Benito Chandler even perceive concepts in dichotomies like humans do? Perhaps, for him, there is no “yes,” and no “no,” only a stream of shifting states, where all things are in a flux of being and becoming, forever undetermined.

What if your concept of a gesture is completely meaningless to him? 

Ok, never mind. Let’s try pictures. Except you don’t know what Benito Chandler’s visual field is like. Colours, shapes, infrared spectrum, ultraviolet spectrum, sensing reality in a way that completely evades your idea of a visual experience? 

Oh boy. This is worse than I thought.

Did I mention – there’s a chance Benito Chandler was raised by intergalactic llamas. Maybe Benito Chandler is an intergalactic llama. Maybe he’s deaf, and dumb, and blind, and can’t smell, and lives under a sea of solid mercury. 

Maybe Benito Chandler can perceive time backwards, forward, or not at all; or lives in an eternal now, where the past and future are concepts as meaningless as “yes” and “no.” 

Maybe Benito Chandler is God. Maybe he is laughing softly at you, a little speck of meaningless carbon waving desperately into the void, as he watches the stars collapse and reform with the casual detachment of a child arranging dominoes.

Maybe Benito Chandler is worse than God. Maybe Benito Chandler is the reason you were born, and the reason you are alive and the reason you won't be alive at some point. Maybe he is the answer to every question and the reason every answer leads to more questions.

You do not have this information. 

You need to talk to Benito Chandler.

How are you going to talk to Benito Chandler?

And yet we have tried. The indomitable, indubitable human spirit has endured in its permanent bid for participation. 

They’ve sent out messages to the void, like the good little cosmic explorers they are, through radio signals and carefully designed plaques, attempting to reach out to what could be a far-flung, incomprehensible intelligence. But then, of course, there’s the nagging thought: What if they don’t get it? What if the very idea of communication is fundamentally impossible?

It’s true that we don’t know how to communicate with Benito Chandler. And it’s true that the likelihood of success is probably laughably low. But does that mean we should stop? Do we abandon all hope of reaching out, just because we don’t have a guarantee that our messages will be understood?

Perhaps it’s the trying that counts. Perhaps we are to be humbled by the vastness of it all, but also driven by the possibility – however faint – that this search means something. Anything. And let that drive takes us where it will.

But yeah no guarantees. 

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Halloa!

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