From the article: So they're treating each of Frank Drake's equation variables as fuzzy numbers, with a minimum and a maximum range. Which is an excellent approach. But they are still constrained...
From the article:
“We found that even using the guesstimates in the literature (we took them and randomly combined the parameter estimates) one can have a situation where the mean number of civilizations in the galaxy might be fairly high – say a hundred – and yet the probability that we are alone in the galaxy is 30%! The reason is that there is a very skew distribution of likelihood.
“If we instead try to review the scientific knowledge, things get even more extreme. This is because the probability of getting life and intelligence on a planet has an extreme uncertainty given what we know – we cannot rule out that it happens nearly everywhere there is the right conditions, but we cannot rule out that it is astronomically rare. This leads to an even stronger uncertainty about the number of civilizations, drawing us to conclude that there is a fairly high likelihood that we are alone. However, we also conclude that we shouldn’t be too surprised if we find intelligence!”
So they're treating each of Frank Drake's equation variables as fuzzy numbers, with a minimum and a maximum range. Which is an excellent approach. But they are still constrained by our current understanding of astronomy, or at least letting a cautious and conservative estimate dictate many of these variables.
Again, that's a sensible approach. But it's worth remembering that our understanding is constantly changing. And many of the actual numbers are more optimistic than our blind assumptions from years prior, once we get hard data behind them.
Back in the 80s and before, the argument many scientists pushed was that our system is the only one with planets because we hadn't detected them in other systems.
Then when we started finding them the argument was that small rocky worlds were extremely rare because we weren't seeing them elsewhere.
Then the argument was that small rocky worlds in the habitable zone were extremely rare because all the planets we were finding at that size were too close to their stars or in highly elliptical orbits.
Now that has been somewhat disapproved (we've found some like Earth, Venus, etc - not many, but as a sample they are significant), and the argument is that having the right chemical mix for life as we know it is extremely rare. Coincidentally, we can't easily detect chemical signatures yet, but that will change soon.
There's a pattern here. We are continuously limited by our level of detection technology.
So while they might well be right that we are probably alone, we should expect the probability to change upwards as the variables down the line become less fuzzy.
Also, considering there are about 200 billion stars in the Milky Way, and about 200 billion galaxies in they observable universe (the 2 trillion number looks like it was more related to an earlier period in the universe), if only 1% of those galaxies have one intelligent species right now (relatively speaking).... That's still a LOT of them kicking around! Even if we'll never be able to detect them.
The probability won't necessarily go upwards, so far all those factors are indeed much higher than we expected, but it could still be that chemical signatures really are as rare as we think. It's...
The probability won't necessarily go upwards, so far all those factors are indeed much higher than we expected, but it could still be that chemical signatures really are as rare as we think. It's not because all previous assumptions turned out to be more common, that the current one is. The problem of course is that we don't know. The Fermi Paradox is really weird, and depending on the outcome, it can have a lot of interesting consequences.
I had a surprising emotional reaction at this point: for just a brief moment the immensity of the galaxy, our smallness in the face of it, and the overwhelming loneliness of our existence, weighed...
it simply means that we can say with greater confidence – based on what we know – that humanity is most likely the only intelligent species in the Milky Way Galaxy at present.
I had a surprising emotional reaction at this point: for just a brief moment the immensity of the galaxy, our smallness in the face of it, and the overwhelming loneliness of our existence, weighed on me. I literally had a shiver run down my spine.
I suppose this is a result of my lifetime reading and viewing of science fiction that assumes that the galaxy is populated with multiple species: everything from the Golden Age Venusians and Martians of the 1930s to The United Federation of Planets in Star Trek. I've just known for my whole life that there are other species out there. They may look more like Bandersnatchi (Larry Niven's Known Universe) or Kanten (David Brin's Uplift Trilogy) than Klingons (Gene Roddenberry's Star Trek), but they're out there. We just can't see them from here.
But, to read a point-blank statement by scientists that those aliens almost certainly aren't out there... that induced a brief moment of devastating, overwhelming loneliness.
The mitigating factor in this profound loneliness is that the science says we're almost certainly alone... based on current knowledge. There could still be someone out there in the dark, but as we...
The mitigating factor in this profound loneliness is that the science says we're almost certainly alone... based on current knowledge. There could still be someone out there in the dark, but as we understand things currently, we're probably the only ones looking. As @ThePowerOfGeek pointed out, however, the goalpost of "we've never seen it, so it probably doesn't exist" moves every decade or so
Reading that statement made me smile at humanity's vanity, to be confident that we're the only special case out of a nigh-uncountable number of possibilities. It's tempered a bit by the "based on...
Reading that statement made me smile at humanity's vanity, to be confident that we're the only special case out of a nigh-uncountable number of possibilities.
It's tempered a bit by the "based on what we know" part, but what we know keeps changing and growing at a surprising rate sometimes.
Isn't it a sort of vanity to assume that we are reflected elsewhere in the universe? I have sometimes wondered if we might find life out there and be unable to recognize it.
Isn't it a sort of vanity to assume that we are reflected elsewhere in the universe? I have sometimes wondered if we might find life out there and be unable to recognize it.
If the Fermi Paradox fascinates you I highly recommend this series by Isaac Arthur his videos are well done and there's days of content on his channel.
If the Fermi Paradox fascinates you I highly recommend this series by Isaac Arthur his videos are well done and there's days of content on his channel.
Science can only work with the data at hand. We live in a time when the amount of data at had is increasing at an incredible rate. I would say that we're in a time of flux in terms of what truths...
Science can only work with the data at hand. We live in a time when the amount of data at had is increasing at an incredible rate. I would say that we're in a time of flux in terms of what truths we can hold dear, one of them being "Are we the only ones here?"
But what I really came here to say was that Cixin Liu's Three Body Trilogy was the first original treatment of the Fermi Paradox that I've seen in a long time. This remarkable story convinced me that we'll keep looking and looking, forever if possible, until we find company in this vast universe. All of which makes this theoretical model interesting, but rather pointless.
From the article:
So they're treating each of Frank Drake's equation variables as fuzzy numbers, with a minimum and a maximum range. Which is an excellent approach. But they are still constrained by our current understanding of astronomy, or at least letting a cautious and conservative estimate dictate many of these variables.
Again, that's a sensible approach. But it's worth remembering that our understanding is constantly changing. And many of the actual numbers are more optimistic than our blind assumptions from years prior, once we get hard data behind them.
Back in the 80s and before, the argument many scientists pushed was that our system is the only one with planets because we hadn't detected them in other systems.
Then when we started finding them the argument was that small rocky worlds were extremely rare because we weren't seeing them elsewhere.
Then the argument was that small rocky worlds in the habitable zone were extremely rare because all the planets we were finding at that size were too close to their stars or in highly elliptical orbits.
Now that has been somewhat disapproved (we've found some like Earth, Venus, etc - not many, but as a sample they are significant), and the argument is that having the right chemical mix for life as we know it is extremely rare. Coincidentally, we can't easily detect chemical signatures yet, but that will change soon.
There's a pattern here. We are continuously limited by our level of detection technology.
So while they might well be right that we are probably alone, we should expect the probability to change upwards as the variables down the line become less fuzzy.
Also, considering there are about 200 billion stars in the Milky Way, and about 200 billion galaxies in they observable universe (the 2 trillion number looks like it was more related to an earlier period in the universe), if only 1% of those galaxies have one intelligent species right now (relatively speaking).... That's still a LOT of them kicking around! Even if we'll never be able to detect them.
The probability won't necessarily go upwards, so far all those factors are indeed much higher than we expected, but it could still be that chemical signatures really are as rare as we think. It's not because all previous assumptions turned out to be more common, that the current one is. The problem of course is that we don't know. The Fermi Paradox is really weird, and depending on the outcome, it can have a lot of interesting consequences.
I had a surprising emotional reaction at this point: for just a brief moment the immensity of the galaxy, our smallness in the face of it, and the overwhelming loneliness of our existence, weighed on me. I literally had a shiver run down my spine.
I suppose this is a result of my lifetime reading and viewing of science fiction that assumes that the galaxy is populated with multiple species: everything from the Golden Age Venusians and Martians of the 1930s to The United Federation of Planets in Star Trek. I've just known for my whole life that there are other species out there. They may look more like Bandersnatchi (Larry Niven's Known Universe) or Kanten (David Brin's Uplift Trilogy) than Klingons (Gene Roddenberry's Star Trek), but they're out there. We just can't see them from here.
But, to read a point-blank statement by scientists that those aliens almost certainly aren't out there... that induced a brief moment of devastating, overwhelming loneliness.
The mitigating factor in this profound loneliness is that the science says we're almost certainly alone... based on current knowledge. There could still be someone out there in the dark, but as we understand things currently, we're probably the only ones looking. As @ThePowerOfGeek pointed out, however, the goalpost of "we've never seen it, so it probably doesn't exist" moves every decade or so
Reading that statement made me smile at humanity's vanity, to be confident that we're the only special case out of a nigh-uncountable number of possibilities.
It's tempered a bit by the "based on what we know" part, but what we know keeps changing and growing at a surprising rate sometimes.
Isn't it a sort of vanity to assume that we are reflected elsewhere in the universe? I have sometimes wondered if we might find life out there and be unable to recognize it.
If the Fermi Paradox fascinates you I highly recommend this series by Isaac Arthur his videos are well done and there's days of content on his channel.
Science can only work with the data at hand. We live in a time when the amount of data at had is increasing at an incredible rate. I would say that we're in a time of flux in terms of what truths we can hold dear, one of them being "Are we the only ones here?"
But what I really came here to say was that Cixin Liu's Three Body Trilogy was the first original treatment of the Fermi Paradox that I've seen in a long time. This remarkable story convinced me that we'll keep looking and looking, forever if possible, until we find company in this vast universe. All of which makes this theoretical model interesting, but rather pointless.