Let’s face it — we’re mediocre

Let’s face it — we’re mediocre

Are we alone? • NASA/JPL/Cornell

Originally published 18 May 1987

There are as many stars in the Milky Way Galaxy as there are grains of salt in 10,000 box­es of salt. Our sun with its fam­i­ly of plan­ets is a typ­i­cal “grain.” With their largest tele­scopes astronomers can see more galax­ies than there are box­es of salt in all of the super­mar­kets of the world, and among them the Milky Way is typical.

In that almost uncount­able plu­ral­i­ty of worlds — vast­ly more worlds than grains of salt in all the super­mar­kets of the world — are we alone? Is our sun the only star with a plan­et har­bor­ing intel­li­gent life?

There is only one way of answer­ing the ques­tion and that is to make the search for intel­li­gent sig­nals with opti­cal and radio tele­scopes. Such a search does not come cheap. How vig­or­ous­ly we pur­sue the search — as a soci­ety — will depend upon what we expect to find.

Is there anyone out there?

Like many sci­en­tists, I am inclined to believe that the uni­verse is filled with life — both more and less advanced than our­selves. Yet there is not a shred of sci­en­tif­i­cal­ly accept­able evi­dence that life exists any­where in the uni­verse but here. Then why am I so con­fi­dent that we are not alone? The answer is philo­soph­i­cal, not sci­en­tif­ic. But the philo­soph­i­cal prin­ci­ple is based upon science.

Astronomers Sebas­t­ian von Hoern­er and Carl Sagan call it the Prin­ci­ple of Medi­oc­rity. The prin­ci­ple can be stat­ed some­thing like this: The view from here is about the same as the view from any­where else. Or to put it anoth­er way: Our star, our plan­et, the life on it, and even our own intel­li­gence, are com­plete­ly mediocre.

I’ll grant you that the Prin­ci­ple of Medi­oc­rity is not easy to accept. It runs counter the nat­ur­al human ten­den­cy to think of our­selves as spe­cial. Indeed, it runs counter to what we have believed about our­selves through­out most of human history.

In the West­ern tra­di­tion it has been gen­er­al­ly held that the uni­verse was cre­at­ed by God specif­i­cal­ly as a domi­cile for humans. Even today some sci­en­tists accept a relat­ed view, called the Anthrop­ic Prin­ci­ple (anthrop, “man”), that says it is our exis­tence that deter­mines the nature of the uni­verse we live in. Accord­ing to this view, the uni­verse must be pre­cise­ly the sort of uni­verse that will give rise to human intel­li­gence — or else we would­n’t be here to observe it. The Prin­ci­ple of Medi­oc­rity, in its strongest form, denies any spe­cial role for humankind.

Nicholas Coper­ni­cus may have been the first to employ the Prin­ci­ple of Medi­oc­rity when he dis­placed the Earth from the cen­ter of the uni­verse and made it just one more plan­et cir­cling the sun. Galileo was per­se­cut­ed for deny­ing that the Earth was the fixed cen­ter of the uni­verse. Galileo’s con­tem­po­rary Gior­dano Bruno was burned at the stake for, among oth­er things, assert­ing our cos­mic mediocrity.

Average in every way

The unal­ter­able fact is this: Every time we thought that our phys­i­cal place in the uni­verse was spe­cial we dis­cov­ered we were wrong. We thought that the vil­lage was the cen­ter of the uni­verse, and we were wrong. We thought Rome or Jerusalem was the cen­ter, and that turned out to be wrong. We thought that the Earth was cen­tral, until Coper­ni­cus and Galileo con­vinced us it was just anoth­er plan­et. Then the sun turned out to be a typ­i­cal star, in a typ­i­cal neigh­bor­hood of the Milky Way Galaxy. And the Galaxy itself is only one galaxy among bil­lions we can see with our telescopes.

And there is more. Moon rocks are just like Earth rocks. Pho­tographs of the sur­face of Mars made by the Viking lan­ders, and of the sur­face of Venus by the Sovi­et Ven­era craft, could as well have been tak­en in Neva­da. There are vol­ca­noes and ice on the moons of Jupiter no dif­fer­ent from on Earth. Mete­orites con­tain some of the same organ­ic com­pounds that are the basis for ter­res­tri­al life. Gas clouds in the space between the stars are com­posed of pre­cise­ly the same atoms and mol­e­cules that we find in our own back­yard. The most dis­tant galax­ies betray in their spec­tra the pres­ence of famil­iar elements.

Indeed, the entire his­to­ry of sci­ence is an argu­ment for the Prin­ci­ple of Medi­oc­rity. Not a proof, mind you, but a per­suad­ing expe­ri­ence. The Prin­ci­ple of Medi­oc­rity is recur­ring dis­ap­point­ment raised to the sta­tus of a truth. And the Prin­ci­ple of Medi­oc­rity says that we are not alone.

What is the alter­na­tive? If the sun is the only star with a plan­et inhab­it­ed by intel­li­gent beings, then our star is the most remark­able star in the uni­verse; it is the one grain of salt in all of the box­es of salt in the world that is utter­ly unique. At the very least, expe­ri­ence should warn us against that conclusion.

There are seri­ous thinkers, includ­ing astronomers, who reject the Prin­ci­ple of Medi­oc­rity as applied to extrater­res­tri­al intel­li­gence. They argue that if we are not alone — and if we are aver­age — then there must be intel­li­gent civ­i­liza­tions in the Galaxy far in advance of our­selves. Such civ­i­liza­tions would have mod­i­fied the galac­tic envi­ron­ment to such an extent that their pres­ence should be easy to detect. And if we haven’t seen them, the argu­ment goes, then they are not there.

This last argu­ment has mer­it, but in my view it is not suf­fi­cient to dis­suade me of our cos­mic medi­oc­rity. Expe­ri­ence is a com­pelling teacher.

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