EPISODE 218 -- (JUST NOD IF YOU CAN HEAR ME)

POP CULTURE SPIRIT WOW

About a year ago I got the chance to spend some time working for the Jesuit Refugee Service in Malta. All told I ended up being in Europe for about seven weeks – not just Malta but a little bit in Paris, Rome and London. It was amazing.

And at some point in the trip I found my daydreaming mind thinking about science fiction stories, and wondering if stories about aliens aren’t really usually about the French.

Okay, not just the French. Also the Italians. And the Maltese. And everyone else that isn’t whoever we are.

My bizarre, “How am I thinking about aliens as I sip tea in a European cafe?” stream of consciousness was, One of the main things alien-science-fiction movies seem like they’re trying to deal with is how are we to understand other cultures and peoples. In ways major and minor they’re not like us, they don’t behave at times in the ways we expect, they have ideas and resources at their disposal that we do not, and all of that is inherently frightening. But are they definitely dangerous? Do we have reason to be afraid?

Nine times out of ten, of course, the movie’s answer is “Are you crazy, oh God yes, get the rifle and run.” So yeah, maybe not the best fairy tales to be telling ourselves as we try to live in a world that is a lot bigger and more interesting than us.

But not every movie or TV show about aliens is about invasion or about fear. Some are also about discovery, which is another big part of the experience of travel. Being somewhere else, walking in the footsteps of another people gives you fresh eyes on the world. I found London filled with gardens; it was like the city was constantly inviting you to stop, savor and reflect. In Paris and Rome people love to sit in outdoors cafes where the seats all face the street. It’s a very disconcerting experience when you’re the one on display; more than once I turned a corner to find myself suddenly being watched by dozens of peoples. But sitting in the cafe, it gave me such a different sense of the world around me, the world as the stage on which so much drama is taking place. Every person you see is suddenly revealed as they actually are, fascinating individuals on meaningful, poignant journeys of their own.

In everything from Starman to Star Trek, the encounter with alien life is all about the traveler’s sense of exploration, with the insight that we discover on that journey not only new worlds but new ways of living in our own.

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This week “This American Life” gave me a whole different take on alien scifi. Producer (and former physicist) David Kestenbaum tells the story of the Fermi Paradox. In 1950 Enrico Fermi was working at Los Alamos with all the great physicists of the country, developing the hydrogen bomb. And some afternoon at lunch they were laughing about some New Yorker cartoon with aliens or flying saucers.

“And then,” relates Kestenbaum, “out of nowhere, Fermi says something like, ‘So where are they?’”

Kestenbaum goes on to explain: “The galaxy is a huge place, right? Hundreds of billions of stars. It’s been around for billions of years. If you believe that intelligent life is something that just arises given enough time, where is everybody?”

That’s the Fermi Paradox: given the size and age and nature of the universe, there should be lots of life. But so far, we have no sign of any of it.

Which makes Kestenbaum really really sad. “It made me think,” he says, near tears, “maybe we’re alone.”

Kestenbaum goes on to talk to some old physics profs, trying to find some hope that this is wrong, that we’re not alone (while his fellow producers point out, um, really, THIS is what’s upsetting you right now?).

But that notion of the possible emptiness of the universe has stayed with me. What would that mean, for the entire universe to be this dead, empty thing, and us the only act in all of it?

Or, an even darker possibility that gets kicked around – what if we haven’t had any contact because, as one of his teachers says, “It’s the nature of intelligent life to destroy itself”? In other words, yeah, there have been alien civilizations, but we haven’t met them because they’ve all killed themselves or one another off. Because that’s what we do.

If you’ve ever been somewhere far from the lights of a city, perhaps you’ve looked up and seen the incredible panorama that is Milky Way. It can make you feel so small, but somehow at least for me that’s always also reassuring, like in that moment I’m seeing things as they really are, and so rather than scary it’s all okay because it’s true. And it’s all so clear that there’s so much out there to see and explore.

Maybe an empty universe is thrilling, in that Star Trek sense of discovery – the entire universe is waiting for us to come and populate it. (Or also, the entire universe is depending on us to keep it from just being a massive version of our scary-lifeless moon.)

But maybe we also tell stories about aliens, create whole universes of not only creatures but cultures and languages with thick grammars that people actually learn to speak (Qapla’, my jup!), because we’re also afraid that Kestenbaum might be right, that we’re all alone out here and those stories are our little candles in that darkness.

It’s silly, really. If we humans are any indication, any aliens we might ever meet are as (or more?) likely to want to strip mine our planet, enslave, dissect or eat us as be our friends. (E.T. is so totally an alien-made propaganda film.)

Also, it’s ridiculous to call oneself alone when surrounded by 7.5 billion other people (including 9600 born in the last 35 minutes – congratulations).

But still, we do wish for something more, don’t we. Some version of ourselves that has gotten farther, been through its own trials and understands things a little better. If not Yoda-level wise, at the least Arrival elephant spider octopus aliens who have a basic kindness to share.

And even on this planet of 7.5 billion potential Facebook friends, we still are quite capable of feeling so alone. Maybe that’s why so many movies that involve aliens also turn out to be love stories or tales of reunion. Connection with someone out there reassures us that there really is someone who gets us.

(Even if that someone is a ten foot alien queen whose egg babies want to nest inside you. Intimacy comes in a lot of different forms, people.)

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Speaking of various versions of little green men...today, May 25th, 2017, is the 40th anniversary of Star Wars. Which should be a big deal, right? Except there’s just so much Star Wars now, how can we possible distinguish this moment from all the others, you know? With some new trailer or announcement every few months, it’s hard to imagine we’re not pretty close to peak Star Wars saturation at this point. What more can there really be to say?

Although then there's this, which I had certainly never thought of
and now can someone please hold me.

I find myself thinking back over the decades, how the films have changed in their meaning and significance to me, how as a kid Empire was just the worst thing that ever come out -- it’s pretty much impossible for our internet world to imagine what it was like for a ten year old to watch the villain of all villains say that he is the hero’s dad and then have to spend three years wondering if it were true, or why he would even say that in the first place; also, how can the film be over before Han is rescued? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU GEORGE LUCAS?

But by the time I was in my 20s and in the Jesuits Empire had become the greatest thing the series had (has) ever produced, a story with more to it, an actual, thoughtful spirituality of hope and possibility, but also – and maybe of greater value to me as I’ve gotten older – of temptation and the darkness that has a home in each of us, and that we have to learn to accept.

But again, it all seems a bit much at this point. Story universes are like wine, or maybe children – you have to give them space to breathe and develop if you want them to stay interesting.

To what new journeys and discoveries the next forty years may bring....

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Atlantic Magazine had an extraordinary piece recently by Pulitzer-Prize winning author Alex Tizon on how the Filipino woman that helped raise him in America was in fact his mother’s slave. It’s sparked, umm, a lot of conversation – just check the article’s comments. A must read.

There is a new map of the world, the explanation for which seems to amount to, “But what if the globe was origami though?” but is apparently more accurate than our current maps.

And lastly, Vanity Fair has a huge article about the Last Jedi, of course, which includes among other things this beautiful photo that makes me sad.

The terror attacks in Manchester and Indonesia this week have been another reminder of how scary things can be, and how awful some human beings can become. But once again we’ve also heard so many stories of strangers immediately throwing open their doors to anyone who needed help. I was particularly touched by the stories of the cab drivers in Manchester, many of them Muslim, who immediately showed up at the arena to take people anywhere they needed to go, even many kilometers away, for free.

Those Earthlings – they're far from perfect, but the can also really surprise you, you know?

Have a good week.