That radiation is a source of gravitation is a consequence of the special relativistic equivalence of matter and energy. Radiation is commonly overlooked in this regard because its energy density in the current Universe is typically very small. The densest form of radiation in our vicinity, for instance, is solar irradiance at F ≈ 1350 W/m2 (at the Earth's distance from the Sun), corresponding to an energy density of ε ≈ F/c ≈ 4.5 × 10−6 J/m3 or an equivalent mass density of ρ = ε/c2 ≈ 5 × 10−23 kg/m3. This is thinner than the ‘vacuum’ between planets, or between stars in our part of the Galaxy. Under most non-cosmological circumstances there is thus no need to include radiation in computing gravitational forces in the current Universe. But in the very early Universe radiation was the dominant form of gravitation and forms the basis of expansion models prior to t ~ 104 years, or about one millionth of its current age.

For cosmological purposes it is useful to describe ‘radiation’ as highly relativistic particles, for which the EOS parameter is w = 1/3 and ε = ε0a−4. In the very early Universe this was true of many elementary particles; in the current Universe it applies only to photons and to light neutrinos. Current photon sources are many and varied, producing measurable radiation energy densities at wavelengths from gamma to radio waves. Of these types of radiation two are the largest contributors to the overall radiation density: optical/IR radiation, mostly from stars and stellar systems, with εopt ≈ 10−15 J/m3; and microwaves with εmicro ≈ 6 × 10−14 W/m3. Almost all this microwave energy is in the form of a nearly uniform and isotropic radiation field called the Cosmological Microwave Background Radiation (CMB), which is thus the dominant form of radiation in the current Universe. The current CMB energy density is nearly two orders of magnitude greater than the combined densities of all other forms of radiation, but is still more than four orders of magnitude less than the energy density of (non-relativistic) matter.

Astrobiology requires us to rethink what is “universal” and what is “particular.” The capacities and characteristics we have learned to regard as universally human – often after some effort to overcome the prejudices of our own race, culture, or class – may need to be viewed in a different light as we discover other possibilities for life in the universe. We may have to get used to thinking of the “universal” as particular to our own planet and species. This obviously applies to human biology, but it is equally true for our declarations about “universal human rights” and for philosophical ideas like “humans are political animals” or “all men are created equal.” These universals are deeply embedded in traditions of thought and social institutions, but they may take on a different meaning when viewed in relation to other possible forms of life and intelligence.

This challenge is especially interesting when we think about religious traditions, which already speak about human universals in a frame of reference that transcends time and space. Religion, like astrobiology, locates life in the universe. It gives humanity a place in relation to reality as a whole. Perhaps that is why theologians have long been interested in the possibility of life on other worlds (Crowe 1997). A theology that understands humanity in relation to God cannot but be interested in how other life might participate in such a relationship, too.

For the most part, of course, the problems of terrestrial life give people of faith and their religious leaders quite enough to worry about. Providing universal safety, security, and peace for the one form of intelligent life we know exceeds our present capacities, and debate continues about exactly what the needs of that life are, especially when we move beyond biological requirements to consider social and political relationships.

Thus, an important concern in recent theology has been to explore the moral implications of the human dignity that all persons share. We are not only made of the same stuff. We are “made in the image of God,” as some scriptural traditions put it. To be human makes us equal, and equal at a high rank that demands the kind of respect that modern politics formulates in terms of universal human rights (Waldron 2012).

Finding many planets in orbit around other stars has provoked new interest in the long-running debate about the existence of extraterrestrial intelligence. Now we are asked to think about what rational, practical steps we can take to prepare for discovering evidence of sapient aliens, an event whose timing and exact nature are unpredictable. Our preparations must be based on probabilities, analogies, and disciplined speculations rather than on confirmed evidence.

Many of those interested in this debate expect that what they see as the final blow to anthropocentrism – discovering extraterrestrial intelligence – is just a matter of time and effort. If that discovery occurs, it might lead to a change in the way we see our status and our position in the universe. Such a discovery might not be the kind of paradigm break that Thomas Kuhn discussed in his famous book, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Kuhn 1970). Kuhn was writing about breaking scientific paradigms: replacing one set of physical laws with another. The new paradigms were not just different; they were better. The anticipated discovery of extraterrestrial intelligence is part of a different kind of paradigm break. Contact with an alien civilization would involve much more than science, raising philosophical and societal questions where laws are less certain or non-existent.

Evidence, scenarios, choices

Standards of evidence

A century ago, in the wake of Percival Lowell and the controversy over the canals of Mars, many humans believed that the red planet was inhabited by an alien civilization (Crowe 1986). Subsequent observations discredited that idea; the theory failed the empirical test. Beginning in 1947, thousands of people reported seeing exotic craft in our atmosphere, even on the Earth's surface (Jacobs 1975; Peebles 1994). While large numbers of our fellow humans believed that those objects were visitors from other worlds, most analysts concluded that nearly all UFOs actually were IFOs – identifiable flying objects. As astronomer Seth Shostak pointed out, there still are no artifacts to examine (Shostak 1998, 135). Others have suggested that the sightings most difficult to explain might be unknown phenomena that are unrelated to alien visitors. Again, the empirical standard has not been met.

One of the more significant weaknesses in the search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI) research has been the limited contribution from scholars working outside of the Western cultural context including North America and Europe. While there has been interest among astronomers in countries like Japan and South Korea in the search, involvement has been limited particularly when it comes to more speculative research and writing about communication with extraterrestrial intelligence and the possible nature of civilizations inhabiting exoplanets. As argued in Chapter 8 of this volume, there is an ethnocentric bias in much writing about extraterrestrial life that is shaped by both the Western intellectual and religious traditions of Social Darwinism and Christianity, and this ethnocentrism significantly shapes the ways we think about what constitutes a civilization and how cultures and civilizations evolve over time.

In this chapter, we are interested in giving some thought to the potential influence contributions from a non-Western perspective might make in expanding our thinking about extraterrestrial intelligence. This has both pragmatic and theoretical consequences. From a theoretical perspective, alternative worldviews (from the Christian perspective) – such as what we see in Buddhism or Taoism – have the potential to shape our thinking about the nature of progress and change. Pragmatically, this should widen our scope of imagination as we contemplate the possibilities and difficulties we may encounter should contact occur.

Before moving on, we want to emphasize that this chapter is quite speculative. Our perspective here is intended only as an example of how a non-Western perspective might influence our thinking about SETI. In many respects, this chapter is a call for SETI scholars to work on finding new ways to draw non-Western scholars into the discourse. It was interesting that during the Library of Congress symposium that formed the basis for this volume, there were participants from the Vatican and those who worked in areas of Western theology and ethics, but there were no thinkers involved who work from a Buddhist, Muslim, or Hindu perspective (just to name a few possibilities). Indeed, as McAdamis (2011: 339) has argued, “[w]hether a result of ethnocentrism, or of the global influence of Western philosophy, most research engaging astrobiology's relationship with religion has tended to disproportionately focus on Christian theology.”

As life and intelligence continue to evolve in the universe, it is reasonable to wonder where it all may lead, and what, if anything, it may mean. Such contemplations have consumed, befuddled, and perhaps even harmed humanity since we were first able to entertain such matters. From philosophy to science, from religion to spirituality, we have wondered about some larger meaning or purpose, some possible direction for life and intelligence. This is almost always discussed in the context of a broader “objective” external reality to help provide a compelling frame of reference for explaining and navigating the bewildering complexities of human life. Contemplating potential implications or roles for life and intelligence in cosmic evolution should be seen in this larger experiential, emotional, and intellectual context, recognizing that discerning patterns, trends, and theories in cultural change is a tricky business (Denning 2009).

Cosmic contemplations for life and intelligence are subject to wide-ranging speculation and perhaps a certain level of hubris, and hence are justifiably susceptible to deep skepticism and harsh criticism. But in trying to explore more thoroughly the potential futures of humanity and other beings in the universe, it seems reasonable to consider at least a few lines of thinking that place future evolutionary trajectories of life and intelligence in a long-term cosmic context. Ancient religions as well as more contemporary religous and spiritual movements have much to say about life and intelligence in a universal context. Science also has much to say about the past evolution of life and intelligence in a cosmic context, and perhaps even a bit to say about the long-term future. Careful philosophical considerations can leverage the science we understand today, and the best of philosophical thinking, to explore potential sources of meaning and purpose, and articulate some rough themes for the future of life and intelligence in the universe.

This breadth of thought that places life and intelligence in a cosmic context ranges from western and eastern religious worldviews such as Hinduism, to natural theology and Western philosophers such as Plato, Giordano Bruno, and Baruch Spinoza. Alfred North Whitehead's process philosophy (1929), Teilhard de Chardin's Omega Point Theory (1955), and Arthur O. Lovejoy's treatment of the principle of plenitude (1936) are all part of this tradition.

Introduction

After framing the problems of discovery and impact, and attempting to transcend our anthropocentric conceptions of life in the last two sections, we now turn to the possible implications of discovering life beyond Earth. As the reader may gather from what has already been said, great caution and humility are in order here, as we seek to push the frontiers of knowledge using the tools of the social sciences, humanities, philosophy, and theology, not to mention cognitive science and evolutionary science as well.

NASA engineer, biologist, and philosopher Mark Lupisella begins this section with a very broad look at the philosophical implications of life in the universe, emphasizing a peculiar activity of sufficiently self-aware beings: the pursuit of value. The awareness of self and of other minds leads to theories of mind, he argues, as well as the practical pursuit of what is valuable, as embodied in the fields of ethics and aesthetics. Both biological evolution and cosmic evolution affect our pursuit of values – and presumably the pursuit of values by other beings in the universe, if indeed they pursue value at all (a fundamental question fraught with implications for our interactions with them). These factors are important for preparing for contact, and Lupisella elaborates ten practical considerations from this point of view.

In the next two chapters two philosophers ponder the seemingly inscrutable problem of alien minds. Philosopher of science Michael Ruse approaches the problem from the viewpoint of the history and philosophy of evolutionary biology, his specialty over a career spanning 50 years. Through an analysis of the classic science fiction movie The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), he examines possible alien outlooks on mathematics and logic, science, morality, and religion, concluding that the differences in all those areas compared to ours could be very considerable. This conclusion resonates with those of the previous section urging us to transcend anthropocentrism in our most fundamental concepts. Philosopher of mind Susan Schneider takes a very different approach, illustrating how various disciplines can view the same problem from distinct points of view, with divergent outcomes. Taking theories of consciousness and Nick Bostrom's recent book Superintelligence (Bostrom, 2014) as her starting point, Schneider argues that alien minds may well not be biological, but postbiological, what she terms superintelligent artificial intelligence.

The search for life in the universe, once the stuff of science fiction, is now a robust research program with a well-defined roadmap and mind-bending critical issues (Des Marais et al., 2008; Dick, 2012; Dick and Strick, 2004; Sullivan and Baross, 2007). The science of astrobiology – and there is no longer any doubt it is a science, simplistic slogans about “a science without a subject” notwithstanding – is funded by NASA and other institutions to the tune of tens of millions of dollars of ground-based research, not to mention the hundreds of millions spent on space-related missions. Biogeochemists study extremophile life on Earth, biologists study the origins of life, a bevy of spacecraft have orbited or landed on Mars, others have found potentially life-bearing oceans on Jovian and Saturnian moons as well as organic molecules on Titan, and the Kepler spacecraft has discovered thousands of planets beyond the solar system – all just a prelude to future studies. Recent US Congressional hearings on astrobiology indicate it is a hot topic in the policy arena (United States Congress, 2013 and 2014). And international interest is also strong, particularly within the European Space Agency. Although no life has yet been found beyond the Earth, the search for such life has arguably been a driver of the space program since its inception, has inspired multidisciplinary research on Earth, and is the subject of great popular interest that shows no signs of abating. As this volume illustrates, it is also a perennial theme in science fiction literature, igniting dreams of other worlds.

Given both scientific and popular interest in astrobiology it is important for scholars, practitioners, and policymakers to examine the societal implications of discovery in the event of success. Substantial studies have been undertaken on the societal impact of other scientific endeavors such as the Human Genome Project, biotechnology, nanotechnology, and spaceflight. Even closer to astrobiology's core interests are planetary protection protocols, which are certainly studies of potential impact since one of their goals is to prevent a catastrophic “Andromeda Strain” scenario, in the terminology of Michael Crichton's 1969 novel.

One of the beneficial outcomes of searching for life in the universe is that it grants greater awareness of our own problems here on Earth. Lack of contact with alien beings to date might actually comprise a null “signal” pointing humankind towards a viable future. Astrobiology has surprising practical applications to human society; within the larger cosmological context of cosmic evolution, astrobiology clarifies the energetic essence of complex systems throughout the universe, including technological intelligence that is intimately dependent on energy and likely will be for as long as it endures. The “message” contained in the “signal” with which today's society needs to cope is reasonably this: only solar energy can power our civilization going forward without soiling the environment with increased heat yet robustly driving the economy with increased per capita energy usage. The null “signals” from extraterrestrials also offer a rational solution to the Fermi paradox as a principle of cosmic selection likely limits galactic civilizations in time as well as in space: those advanced life forms anywhere in the universe that wisely adopt, and quickly too, the energy of their parent star probably survive, and those that don't, don't.

The context

A few years ago, I had the pleasure of attending the 50th anniversary of Project Ozma – the first dedicated search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI) conducted by Frank Drake in 1960. The celebratory gathering was held at the National Radio Astronomy Observatory in Green Bank, West Virginia, where that initial search was attempted and where I had in the intervening years operated dozens of radio-frequency experiments of my own, including a few unauthorized reality-checks for signs of otherworldly life. Although I never detected there any signal implying contact, I often wondered why not. Astronomers are commissioned by society to keep our eyes on the sky, yet we have never found any unambiguous, confirmed evidence for life beyond Earth. Are alien civilizations out there but not advanced enough to betray their presence? Or are they so advanced they are actively hiding from us? Perhaps they just don't exist at all, thereby ensuring that we are alone in the observable universe.

In this chapter I will explore the modern history of public conceptions and perceptions of extraterrestrial life and speculate on how people might respond to its discovery. Although most astrobiologists assume that “first contact” with extraterrestrial life will be the discovery of microbial life beyond Earth, in public discourse, and especially in popular culture, “first contact” tends to be characterized as contact with extraterrestrial intelligence. I will consider popular representations of extraterrestrial life – from single-celled to intelligent – in their cultural context. How does the cultural environment affect these representations? How does the political economy of the mass media industry shape these representations? How does the human psyche influence these representations? The theoretical framework for this analysis is, more or less, neo-Marxist, incorporating elements of psychoanalytic and ideological critique. The story of the search for evidence of extraterrestrial intelligent life has taken on a standard form, a litany repeated over and over again in scholarly and popular accounts, with little critical analysis (e.g. Davies 2010; Ekers et al. 2002; Vakoch 2014). In this chapter I will offer some critique and then draw on this critique to offer thoughts about possible responses to the discovery of extraterrestrial life.

Cultural environment and representations of extraterrestrial life

The public discourse about alien life takes place in a complex and ever-changing cultural environment. Communication theorist James Carey (1992, 44, 65) described culture “as a set of practices, a mode of human activity, a process whereby reality is created, maintained and transformed …. What is called the study of culture can also be called the study of communications.” From this perspective, communication is a ritual enacted to maintain culture over time, a symbolic process of creating, maintaining, and transforming social reality. Science, literature, and film are among the many symbol systems constructed communicatively to “express and convey our knowledge of and attitudes toward reality” (Carey 1992, 30). Culture is the context in which power arises and operates, and the mass media are an integral element of culture and a site where power arises and operates.

Introduction

For the most part in this volume we assume that life exists beyond Earth and ask what the implications are if a discovery is made. In other words, we begin where most scientific discussions of astrobiology end. Before we head down that path, however, it is prudent to ask why we should believe such life exists. A large literature exists on this subject, ranging from the optimistic (e.g. Davies, 2010; Shklovskii and Sagan, 1966) to the skeptical (Gonzalez and Richards, 2004; Ward and Brownlee, 2000). It is not the purpose of this section to adjudicate between the optimists and pessimists, only to see why studying the societal implications of finding life beyond Earth is a valid endeavor.

The first two chapters of Part I summarize the arguments of the optimists from the point of view of both science and philosophy. Seth Shostak, a radio astronomer and Director of the Center for SETI Research at the SETI Institute, discusses the three broad empirical approaches to the search for life: direct exploration by spacecraft, biosignatures in planetary atmospheres, and the search for signals of artificial origin. Should one of these searches prove successful, he believes the societal reaction might be less dramatic than often assumed. Others in this volume beg to differ. Iris Fry, a philosopher who has written extensively on the history of the origins of life controversy (Fry, 2000), examines our deep philosophical presuppositions in the search for life – the Copernican assumption that the Earth is not special, and the Darwinian assumption that life emerged and evolved on Earth by natural processes and might do so wherever biogenic conditions prevail. While these presuppositions are not proven, she argues that astrobiologists are continually testing them, and there are grounds for being optimistic that their assumptions are valid. She contrasts this with the presuppositions of the Intelligent Design movement, some of which implicitly or explicitly drive opposition to the search for life (as in Gonzalez and Richards, 2004). Those assumptions, she argues, are not testable. In other words, some presuppositions are better than others. This does not mean we are lacking good arguments against the existence of life beyond Earth, only that valid grounds exist to proceed with the search and to study potential societal implications.

In the event that we discover extraterrestrial life, what ethical considerations ought to inform our interactions with it? In this chapter, we argue that astrobiology faces at least two significant roadblocks when it comes to addressing this quandary. The first is the well-known N = 1 problem (see Mariscal, Chapter 7 in this volume). Currently, we have merely one example of life (life on Earth), and one cannot safely make scientific generalizations from a single example about a presumably broader domain phenomenon. Since there are good reasons for suspecting that life elsewhere may deviate from Earth life in biologically significant ways (Grinspoon 1997; Benner et al. 2004; Schulze-Makuch and Irwin 2006), we must grapple with the difficulty of applying traditional ethical theories to hypothetical forms of life we know nothing about. Second, just as our concept of life is restricted to the single example of Earth life, the way we think about moral status is even more narrowly restricted to the members of a single species of life on Earth, Homo sapiens. Taken together, these two roadblocks pose a serious hurdle when it comes to theorizing about the intersection of ethics and astrobiology. Given the highly Earth-centric character of our understanding of life and the anthropocentric character of our concepts of morality, how can we even begin to address the question of our potential ethical responsibilities towards forms of life differing radically from ourselves?

Our goal is not to resolve this dilemma, which will inevitably persist in the absence of concrete examples of extraterrestrial life. Instead, the aim of this chapter is to highlight some of the challenges we face in applying our human-centered ethical theories to truly alien organisms and to propose possible avenues for fruitful research and theorizing about these issues in the future. We will examine the concept of a moral subject (a.k.a. patient), and explore what makes an entity the kind of thing that is capable of being unjustly wronged by a moral agent, such as you or me. That is, instead of focusing in an inward direction on what finding extraterrestrial life would mean to “us” – which remains an important but separate ethical quandary – we look in an outward direction at the moral responsibilities that “we” (human beings) might have towards alien forms of life.

At the intersections of biology and society, scholars have long explored ethical, legal, policy, economic, and other social issues, while also placing emerging science in the context of history and philosophy of science. One tradition has focused on the impact of scientific developments on society, reflecting on eugenics, recombinant DNA, reproductive technologies, human subjects experimentation, genetically modified foods, and other issues in largely reactive ways. Others are trying to anticipate where the science will be going and to outline issues that society is likely to face. Synthetic biology and technologies such as human reproductive cloning raise additional questions about whether we should forbid some science altogether. Stem-cell research or genetic engineering of food and people raise questions about appropriate regulatory responses. Experiments with pathogens and sequencing genes of dangerous organisms raise questions about control of knowledge. The National Science Foundation's Program on the Science of Science Policy explores issues of how science policy gets made and what factors influence the decisions.

Astrobiology falls into this complex world of biology and society, and here I ask: “Is there anything new under the Sun?” Or, more precisely, “Is there anything new under and beyond the Sun?” Have we already heard all the issues and are now just applying them to astrobiology in particular? Or are there special features of astrobiology that call for new thinking or raise new questions? Providing answers requires thinking about the presumed domain of astrobiology, then its implications, which in turn benefits from a look at the context of issues of biology and society more generally.

The domain of astrobiology

NASA defines astrobiology as “the study of the origin, evolution, distribution, and future of life in the universe.” Further: “This multidisciplinary field encompasses the search for habitable environments in our Solar System and habitable planets outside our Solar System, the search for evidence of prebiotic chemistry and life on Mars and other bodies in our Solar System, laboratory and field research into the origins and early evolution of life on Earth, and studies of the potential for life to adapt to challenges on Earth and in space” (NASA 2014a). The “astro” is only part of the story, which includes the origins and evolution of all life.