Steven Spielberg’s new film “Disclosure Day” has been advertised for $100 million and widely praised in the media. Regardless of its ultimate commercial success, it has already gained significant visibility.
This year, I have been working a bit on the Fermi Paradox.[1] The core of the paradox is the question: our galaxy is old and enormously large, and our planet is nothing special, but where are all the others? There is no sign of anyone else.[2] So, I went to see the film with some enthusiasm. Maybe Spielberg would have something new to offer on these questions? Or at least the story could be interesting and entertaining?
However, it soon became clear that “Disclosure Day” is based on a well-worn American mythology about UFOs and government secrecy. In addition, Spielberg has embedded a large amount of violence, chase scenes, hyper-technological struggles and fantasy into the story – in accordance with the standard formula of Hollywood blockbusters.
Beneath the professionally executed grandeur lies a deeper problem. The film is not only scientifically implausible and incoherent as a story, but it also reinforces narratives that hinder our ability to learn anything essential about who we are and what our future in the cosmos might be.
Scientific implausibility
In terms of plot, “Disclosure Day” is mostly a collection of worn-out clichés: crashed alien ships, secret information-seeking programmes and telepathic communication. In addition, the film is full of scientific improbabilities, if not outright impossibilities.
One motif of the film is the repeated accidents and collisions of alien ships with Earth. The assumption that a civilisation capable of interstellar travel is worse at flying in the atmosphere than today’s amateur civilian pilots in their small planes is ludicrous.[3]
If aliens have multiple ships on or near Earth, how would they allow their fellow beings to be captured and injured, even tortured? Furthermore, the creatures seem to tolerate Earth’s atmosphere, gravity, and biochemistry with little difficulty and apparently can even walk on Earth’s surface naked, even though the conditions on Earth would likely be deadly to them (not only the composition of the atmosphere, but also the prevailing life forms, including pathogens, would pose grave dangers to the aliens).[4]
The aliens have very large eyes and humanoid forms, but little facial expression. Such features could indicate the result of evolution, for example, on a dim planet slightly smaller than Earth orbiting a red dwarf star. However, the probability of complex life developing on such a planet is close to zero because the planet would be too close to the star, making it subject to occasional massive flares and constant intense radiation.
In the film, aliens and humans quickly reach mutual understanding – partly through telepathic mechanisms and direct memory reading – but in reality this is highly unlikely. When many things at all levels are different, from neurological structure to symbolic meanings, achieving understanding requires time and learning.
The scale of the galaxy is so enormous that unless an alien civilisation has some miraculous technology at its disposal (which would raise the paradoxes of time travel and thus would go against scientific realism and the principle of causation), the journey to Earth would likely take at least thousands, if not tens of thousands, of years. Our galaxy is also so old that complex, intelligent life has had billions of years to not only develop but also to disappear. Even if our galaxy had produced many technological life forms, the probability that they exist at the same time as us is quite or very small.
The beings could also be so far away that we are practically alone. Even if we received a radio signal from 10,000 light years away and decided to respond to it, by the time the response arrived, the civilisation that sent the signal might no longer exist. And even if they continued to exist and responded to us, it would take 20,000 years for their response to arrive.
Finally, even if there were someone else in our galaxy at the same time as our own species, and even if they decided to send a ship or probe to explore our solar system, the probability that it would happen to arrive here exactly at the time we have begun to explore the solar system, and the cosmos more generally, would be an incredible coincidence. They could just as easily have arrived 50,000 years ago (there is no sign of this), or they might not come until 10,000 years later, say in year 12,026.
The narrative of Spielberg’s film is based on a long series of improbable coincidences that largely contradict everything we know about physics, biology, culture and language, as well as cosmic space-time scales.
What does a rare Earth mean for the future of humanity?
What would be a scientifically sound understanding of our universe? The more we have learned about exoplanets, stellar environments, and the conditions required for complex life, the more likely it has become that our Earth is rather special after all. The Copernican assumption that neither Earth nor humanity occupies a special position in the universe has been useful for many scientific purposes but seems increasingly invalid.[5]
Except for planet Earth, our solar system is either lifeless or dead (Mars?). Even if we were to find microbial life here or in the nearby regions of the galaxy, it would be a very long way from anything that even resembles the complexity and diversity of Earth’s ecosystems.
Moreover, even after the development of multicellular life, the emergence of culture and technological intelligence requires long periods of time and very specific conditions. Such scales of time are enormous compared with those of modern humans. Coexistence with other civilisations in the same galaxy is unlikely unless one civilisation manages to survive and develop for perhaps hundreds of millions of years, or even longer.
In practice, humanity may be alone – not in an absolute metaphysical sense, but in the sense that no other civilisation is close enough or contemporaneous enough to be relevant to our present or future. If we ever learn about other technological civilisations, our observations will likely concern techno-traits they left behind or signals they sent long ago.[6]
We can begin to look at Earth with new eyes: our planet is a rare oasis of life in our vast galaxy, which itself is only a tiny part of the universe. In a universe full of complex, conscious, and technological life forms, morality would largely concern coexistence, conflict, and cooperation with different others. In a largely empty galaxy and universe, ethics primarily revolves around responsible care and stewardship, which require far-reaching forms of institutional cooperation within humanity. No alien will threaten or save us, and there is no one to cooperate with – except other humans.
The Earth is, at least so far, the only place we know where there is reflective consciousness and where the cosmos has thus become aware of itself. The task is to protect and cultivate this place and ensure that intelligence does not die out, which entails safeguarding the rich, complex biosphere that gave rise to reflective consciousness. The life cycle of the Earth and the reflective consciousness it produces are cosmically fragile and must be protected, which requires the continuity and long-term durability of our common institutions. This is similar to environmental ethics, but understood on a galactic scale.
If intelligence is rare, its survival and further development become a moral good in itself. If the Earth is unique, its protection becomes a planetary necessity. If we are alone, our responsibility does not diminish – it intensifies. The narrative of cosmic solitude can serve as a new moral horizon, a new political imagination, a new cultural myth for a secularised age. Such a perspective can encourage long-term thinking, intergenerational justice, and the stewardship, protection, and care of the planet.
This accords with what astronauts and cosmonauts report. They experience a profound cognitive shift when they look at Earth from space. They see the fragility of the biosphere confined to the planet’s thin surface. The meaning of borders disappears, and they experience the interconnectedness of humanity’s fate. They develop a sense of urgency and responsibility to protect the planet. This is a well-documented psychological phenomenon that has been studied in space psychology and utilised in environmental ethics.[7]
Spielberg’s film’s impact
“Disclosure Day” reinforces a worldview in which humanity is constantly on the brink of self-destruction, incapable of cooperation, and trapped in geopolitical competition. Echoing Arthur C. Clarke’s Cold War motif (see e.g. the film version of “2010: A Space Odyssey”), the world teeters on the brink of World War III at the time of the film’s events. The looming world war is presented as a “natural” inevitability, not as a contingent result of human choices or a political process in which actors could act differently.
This way of thinking is deeply regressive. It implies that humanity cannot mature, learn, or develop a sense of planetary responsibility. If any salvation is possible at all, it must come from outside. The revelation of aliens’ existence and the shock it causes may serve as a trigger, but the film also hints that the aliens may directly interfere in world history. At the end of the story, the newsreader begins narrating the message the alien that was carted to the scene gives to humanity, but its content is not revealed to the audience, and the film ends.
From the perspective of the early 2000s, the problem is that the story of cosmic solitude can open up a new moral horizon only under certain conditions. For the story to function in a way that supports responsibility, it requires socio-psychological and socioeconomic conditions that facilitate the expansion and development of our moral horizon. The wonder and awe surrounding the development of life on our small and fragile planet amid the vastness of the universe can only expand the moral horizon if people feel sufficiently secure existentially. In times of uncertainty and fear, such a story can also inspire terror or prompt a return to simple myths and stories of the past.
Erich Fromm’s book Escape from Freedom is once again relevant.[8] It analyses the formation of the modern individual-centred person in the context of the alienation of the capitalist market economy and the nation-state with its imagined community. According to Fromm, existential reflection under conditions of uncertainty often does not foster responsibility but instead causes regression, authoritarianism, and defensiveness.
Spielberg’s film is built entirely on uncertainty and lack of trust. In Spielberg’s conspiracy story, the state keeps people in the dark, and resources are allocated to militarisation and the existential threat posed by other humans. Market competition, job insecurity, human inequality, and the violence of everyday life are taken for granted. Such a story is inherently incapable of supporting the emergence of a cosmic narrative that inspires responsibility.
“Disclosure Day” is not only scientifically implausible; it is ethically and politically reactionary. It perpetuates an immaturity that must be overcome if humanity is to face its true cosmic situation and take responsibility for its future. The film’s narrative logic is based on fear, secrecy, militarisation, and geopolitical fatalism, thereby blocking the cognitive and emotional pathways through which planetary responsibility could arise. It is a spectacular expression of a culture that prevents most humans from imagining a future based on humility, fragility, and care, but also on hope about future possibilities.
A more mature cosmic narrative would not be based on alien landings or secret government programmes trying to find ways to exploit alien technology, militarily or otherwise, and even torturing aliens who have come to our planet in secret laboratories. The most likely form of “contact” is not a visit to our planet, but a techno-imprint that we observe: a faint, ancient remnant of the engineering work of a distant civilisation. Such a discovery would not cause panic or militarisation. It would provoke reflection on our place and future.
The discovery would force humanity to confront the fragility and contingency of our existence, and the responsibility that comes with the fact that, at least so far, our planet has been the only known place in our galaxy with reflective consciousness. What does the techno-signature we may find in the future indicate about our possible futures?
Spielberg’s film offers spectacle where we would need humility; existential crisis where we would need continuity; and fear where we would need a moral sense of responsibility. In doing so, it misses the opportunity to advance a planetary ethic capable of assuming responsibility for the long-term future of life and consciousness.
References
[1] My paper “The great cosmic silence: what does the Fermi Paradox tell about the future of humanity?” is forthcoming in Global Policy (there is also a longer, two-part Finnish version forthcoming in Kosmopolis).
[2] For a systematic discussion on proposed solutions, see Where is Everybody? Seventy-Five Solutions to the Fermi Paradox and the Problem of Extraterrestrial Life. 2nd ed. Springer, Cham.
[3] A civilisation capable of traversing interstellar distances will have to overcome navigation and reliability problems that are vastly beyond our current capabilities. Interstellar travel – if it is possible at all – will require not only extremely precise trajectory control but must also include robust, fault-tolerant and self-correcting systems and a variety of safety mechanisms. The likelihood that such spacecraft will repeatedly crash-land on a single small planet or have accidents while flying in its atmosphere is vanishingly small. For comparison, the accident rate of current commercial air travel is perhaps one accident per million flights, and not all accidents are equally serious.
[4] If there is life on a planet, there is a high probability that its atmosphere or life forms would be dangerous to the aliens, while the aliens, in turn, would pose a danger to the ecosystems of the planet. For example, no one has immunity to completely different types of microorganisms. So-called “mirror life” consists of organisms built from mirror images of the biological molecules that make up life on Earth, but for living beings evolved somewhere else, our life forms can be mirror images. Mirror organisms can evade immune systems, potentially causing mass extinctions. The current exploration of Mars alone could therefore pose a risk to life on Earth, assuming that there are remnants of ancient life there. And even without mirror-life, alien pathogens are very likely to be very dangerous if they become infectious.
[5] The “Rare Earth” literature went initially against the mainstream. However, many now share the conclusion that the emergence of intelligent life and technological civilisation in the cosmos may be extremely rare. This conclusion is based on the long timescales required for evolutionary transitions and the analysis of various filters or bottlenecks. They may also see the so-called zoo hypothesis as a plausible alternative for the time being (according to this hypothesis, we are kept unaware of other civilisations, or at least can’t detect them with our technologies). However, the more time passes without us detecting signs of advanced intelligent life around us, no matter how hard we try, the less likely the zoo hypothesis becomes. Thus, we may well have to conclude soon that technologically intelligent life is very rare in the universe. Crawford, Ian & Schulze-Makuch, Dirk: “Is the Apparent Absence of Extraterrestrial Technological Civilizations Down to the Zoo Hypothesis or Nothing?”. Nature Astronomy, 2024, 8(1), 44–49. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41550-023-02134-2.
[6] A key aspect of detecting past civilisations is how long-lasting “technosignatures” they leave behind. It may well be that there are – or have been – civilisations that have learned to live in harmony with their biosphere and are therefore not easily distinguishable from nature. Such civilisations would also not leave behind long-lasting technological traces. See Balbi, Amedeo & Ćirković, Milan M. (2021): “Longevity Is the Key Factor in the Search for Technosignatures”. The Astronomical Journal 161(222). https://doi.org/10.3847/1538-3881/abec48.
[7] The effects reported by astronauts and cosmonauts have been tested, in part, also using natural scientific methods. It seems that virtual experience alone is sufficient to produce the so-called overview effect, which in turn correlates with certain neurophysiological effects. See van Limpt-Broers, H.A.T., Postma, M., van Weelden, E. et al. “Neurophysiological Evidence for the Overview Effect: A Virtual Reality Journey Into Space”. Virtual Reality 28, 140, 2024, https://doi.org/10.1007/s10055-024-01035-7.
[8] Fromm’s central thesis is that modern individualistic humans are prone to experience uncertainty and anxiety. Unless social conditions are organised in such a way that the previous collective security (certainty, unchangeability) is replaced by a new kind of security (characterised by a good positioning in society, the experience of solidarity, and the development of inner strength), this easily leads to conformism, authoritarianism, and even destructive tendencies. Fromm’s text combines history, philosophy, theology, and political psychology, but above all, it seeks to explain the rise of fascism and Nazism in modern Europe. Fromm, Erich: Escape from Freedom, Farrar & Rinehart: New York, 1941 (2011 hardcover edition: Ishi Press International: New York).
