The scientific law of Que Sera, Sera

The scientific law of Que Sera, Sera

Artist's rendering of the proposed Square Kilometre Array • Image by SPDO/TDP/DRAO/Swinburne Astronomy Productions (CC BY 3.0)

Originally published 12 April 1999

In his auto­bi­og­ra­phy, the bril­liant physi­cist John Archibald Wheel­er makes this con­fes­sion of faith: “What­ev­er can be, is.”

He goes even fur­ther. “What­ev­er can be, must be,” he says.

What he means is this: Any­thing that is not pro­hib­it­ed by the laws of nature, exists.

For exam­ple, the the­o­ry of rel­a­tiv­i­ty pre­dicts the exis­tence of some­thing called worm­holes, curi­ous kinks in the fab­ric of space-time that con­nect remote places: fall into a worm­hole at one place in the uni­verse, pop out some­where else, per­haps tril­lions of miles away. Of course, no liv­ing organ­ism could sur­vive such a jour­ney, but even the idea of worm­holes stretch­es credulity.

Wheel­er asserts, “If rel­a­tiv­i­ty is cor­rect, and if it allows for worm­holes, then some­where, some­how, worm­holes must exist.”

What­ev­er can be, must be. A sim­ple phi­los­o­phy, but one with pro­found human impli­ca­tions, if true.

It means, for instance, that we are not the be all and end all of cre­ation, because cer­tain­ly we are not the most com­plex or intel­li­gent life­forms con­sis­tent with the laws of nature.

If the laws of physics and chem­istry do not pro­hib­it crea­tures more intel­li­gent than our­selves, then accord­ing to Wheel­er’s prin­ci­ple such crea­tures must exist.

Which is one rea­son why sci­en­tists want to look for intel­li­gent life in the universe.

Recent­ly, researchers at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia at Berke­ley and the SETI Insti­tute — named for Search for Extrater­res­tri­al Intel­li­gence — announced their inten­tion to build the world’s biggest radio tele­scope ded­i­cat­ed to the search for intel­li­gent sig­nals from some­where out there in the galaxy.

The tele­scope will con­sist of 500 to 1000 small dish­es with a com­bined area of one hectare (about 2.5 acres). The dish­es will scan the sky in uni­son. The tele­scope will increase by a fac­tor of ten the effi­cien­cy of the search for intel­li­gent life. Tens of thou­sands of sun­like stars will be monitored.

If any­one is beam­ing sig­nals our way, the new scope will find them.

The One Hectare Tele­scope is con­ceived as a pre­cur­sor for a Square Kilo­me­ter Array, a radio tele­scope 100 times big­ger that astronomers want to build by the year 2010. The Square Kilo­me­ter Array will be pow­er­ful enough to pick up radio “leak­age” from near­by plan­et sys­tems. A tech­no­log­i­cal civ­i­liza­tion would not have to be beam­ing a sig­nal our way to be detect­ed; they need only be using radio to com­mu­ni­cate among themselves.

These efforts will ulti­mate­ly cost hun­dreds of mil­lions of dol­lars. Is the invest­ment worth it?

If anoth­er intel­li­gent civ­i­liza­tion is detect­ed, it will be the biggest news in his­to­ry and the best mon­ey ever spent.

And if Wheel­er’s prin­ci­ple is true, they are out there.

But is Wheel­er right?

Before we rule out any­thing out there as impos­si­ble, we should con­sid­er the improb­a­ble diver­si­ty of life on Earth.

Some years ago, this col­umn men­tioned Dr. Seuss’s Grick­i­ly Grac­tus, a bird “that lays eggs on a cac­tus,” as an exam­ple of a wild­ly improb­a­ble crea­ture. Sure enough, a read­er sent a pho­to­graph of a bird on the island of Bonaire perched — where else? — in a nest on a cactus.

Appar­ent­ly, not even Dr. Seuss can think up crea­tures that are impos­si­ble to exist.

Not long ago I had mail from a biol­o­gist friend who had returned from a field trip to the upper Rio Negro in Brazil. He described a school of Curi­ma­ta fish, in their tens of thou­sands, that passed beneath his boat, fill­ing the water and air with a “metal­lic buz­z­saw sound” (caused, my friend dis­cov­ered, by the stridu­la­tion of the fish’s air-filled swim blad­der by a bone).

Singing fish. Not even Seuss could think of that.

Cac­tus-lay­ing birds and singing fish are fine object lessons in the diver­si­ty of life on Earth. Every niche in every habi­tat is filled. And for every crea­ture alive today, a thou­sand oth­ers, even more improb­a­ble because they are less famil­iar, have lived before and become extinct.

Of course, every imag­in­able life-form does not exist, now or in the past. All life on Earth is relat­ed by com­mon descent, and there has not been enough time to exhaust diver­si­ty. Nor are ter­res­tri­al habi­tats infi­nite in num­ber. While the aston­ish­ing diver­si­ty of life on Earth cer­tain­ly bears wit­ness to Wheel­er’s con­jec­ture, it does not con­firm it.

But the chem­istry of car­bon-based life pre­sum­ably applies through­out the uni­verse, and the uni­verse presents us with the prospect of hun­dreds of bil­lions of galax­ies, all chock­ablock with stars and plan­ets. The num­ber of worlds, and there­fore habi­tats, is unimag­in­ably large, per­haps infi­nite. Who is will­ing to bet against any pos­si­bil­i­ty in that vastness?

What­ev­er can exist, must exist, guess­es Wheel­er, and since our finite minds have only the dimmest notion of nature’s rules of pos­si­bil­i­ty, we can hard­ly rule out anything.

If Wheel­er’s con­jec­ture is true, then of this we can be sure: We are not alone. Some­where among the mul­ti­tudi­nous galax­ies crea­tures as intel­li­gent as our­selves cer­tain­ly exist.


Con­struc­tion of the One Hectare Tele­scope, now known as the Allen Tele­scope Array, was com­plet­ed in 2007. The devel­op­ment of the Square Kilo­me­tre Array con­tin­ues and is hoped to be com­plet­ed by 2027. ‑Ed.

Share this Musing: