Before we set out to answer the
question, “Is there intelligent life in outer space?”, we should
first try to determine if there's any legitimate supply here on
earth. The vastness of space can overwhelm our human imagination
with it's nearly infinite enormity, and yet, the dark reaches of
outer space's staggering depth is nonetheless paralleled inch by inch
with the nearly endless length of human gullibility.
Although there's no documented
evidence that Lincoln actually said, “You can fool all of the
people some of the time,” the truth of the aphorism shoots through
the human experience like a particle beam. I used to work with
another schoolteacher who liked to say, “No Lower Limit,” any
time other teachers shared their stories of astonishingly stupid
student behavior. By this expression my fellow teacher meant that
while human genius must certainly have its upper limits, the well of
human stupidity is bottomless; as soon as you think you've scratched
the bottom after hearing the dumbest response ever fallen from the
lips of a student, you can only establish a personal benchmark
because tomorrow (or as soon as five minutes from now) some other
student is going to say something even more inane.
Of course, you do not have to be a
schoolteacher to know the truth of this axiom; anyone whose job
requires them to deal with the general public witnesses the accuracy
of “No Lower Limit” on a daily basis. I suspect if there is
intelligent life in outer space, aliens with foreheads the size of
dinner plates have designed advanced technology to harness the
endless supply of human stupidity to power their spaceships. The
energy from a single season of “The Jersey Shore” could propel an
entire fleet of spacecraft more than twice the length of the Milky
Way.
Have “Beings from Other Planets”
ever really visited our planet? An astrophysicist could perhaps offer
a quantitative estimate of the odds of alien visitation based
upon calculating the number of likely inhabitable planets divided by
current approximations of the likelihood of surpassing the physical
barriers to traveling faster than light speed. As a rhetorical
theorist, however, I would rather offer my qualitative opinion
based on the likelihood of ever getting a straight answer from anyone
who might actually know anything definitive one way or the other.
Thus, my rhetorical assessment of the E.T. visitation question is
that the truth, at this point, is unknowable.
In the more than six decades that have
passed since July 8, 1947, – when Walter Haut, the public
information officer for the 509th Atomic Bomb Group at Roswell Army
Air Field, issued a press release claiming the army had recovered a
crashed “flying saucer” from the desert – so much bad
information has entered the public sphere that sorting out the
ontological truth of alien visitation is no longer feasible. If we
take the events of Roswell as a shining example of how much can go
bad in building a historical record of a supposed paranormal event,
then we can understand why both the adamant skeptic and die-hard true
believer are both sinking in the mud of unreliable information.
Here's what we do know: In the summer
of 1947, something made a mess on a ranch about 30 north of
Roswell, New Mexico. The foreman at the ranch had no idea what made
the mess, and he collected some of the debris to show his family. The
debris was strange enough to make him wonder what it was. Later,
after the ranch foreman confided in the local sherif and then shared
his story with the local newspaper, the army grew interested in the
odd debris, and they sent some folks out to investigate. On the
morning of July 8, Colonel William Blanchard, after examining
fragments of the debris, directed his public information officer, 1st
Lt. Walter Haut, to issue a press release stating that the United
States Army Air Force had recovered a crashed "flying disc."
Later, the very same day, after both national and international news
agencies began reporting the story, the US army hastily issued a
retraction claiming the debris did not come from a flying saucer but
rather from a weather balloon. In the following few days, some
newspapers ridiculed Haut for his initial press release, and by the
end of July, 1947, the incident had pretty much left the public
consciousness.
For next 31 years, no one gave much
thought about the story of “the flying saucer that turned out to be
a weather balloon.” Then, in 1980, two writers by the name of
Charles Berlitz and William L. Moore published a book about the
wreckage found in the desert, and they claimed that one of the men
sent to investigate the debris, Army Major Jesse Marcel, quckly
recognized the material as extra-terrestrial and then conspired with
his superior officers to construct an elaborate coverup of the
incident. Berlitz and Moore, who claimed to having interviewed more
than 90 witnesses in researching their book, alleged that more than
mere spaceship rubble had been recovered, but actual alien corpses
had been recovered as well.
Since the first publication of Berlitz
and Moore's book, The Roswell Incident, several other authors
(notably Kevin D. Randle, Donald R. Schmit, Stanton Friedman, and Don
Berliner) have written books reporting “what actually happened”
at Roswell after interviewing hundreds of supposed eyewitnesses. In
the decades that have followed the publication of Bertliz and Moore's
first book on the subject, the awareness of the mythos of the
downed alien ship collided with the public imagination, and the city
of Roswell learned to both live with and capitalize upon this
awareness by becoming the Mecca for tourists interested in UFOlogy.
Travelers today to Roswell can discover street lights shaped like
alien heads and a wide variety of t-shirt shops, knick-knack stores,
and diners that cater to people who seemly cannot get enough kitschy,
plastic souvenirs.
Since the 1990's, the official account
of the US government is that there actually was a cover-up of what
happened at Roswell, but that the Army was not covering up the
recovery of an alien spacecraft, but rather the wreckage of Project
Mogul,
a top-secret weather
balloon device that was being developed to spy on Russian nuclear
weapon development.
Regardless of whether you choose to
believe the government's latest version of what actually happened in
the desert outside of Roswell or some hybrid story of the more than
half dozen authors who have produced contradictory book-length
explanations for what happened, the point I would like to make is
this: with so many inconsistent and conflicting stories, how can we
believe anyone's account of what happened? The first book that
researched the incident came from interviews conducted nearly three
decades after it happened. Out of the hundreds of people who
subsequently have made claims to having some first-hand experience
with the crash debris, how many of those people are either flat out
lying or have mentally relived other people's stories so often in
their minds that it became their own stories as well? Even if some
people are sincere in their beliefs that they experienced something
“not of this earth” in handling the debris, how many of those
people could actually distinguish alien material from mundane human
produced rubble?
Before leaving Roswell behind this
week, there are two additional points I would like to make. First,
regardless of whatever credibility issues Walter Haut may have
suffered later in life (years after Haut survived the national
ridicule of his initial press release he went on to open a UFO museum
for tourists in Roswell), Haut was a bona fide war hero who deserves
our deepest respect for flying 35 missions as a bombardier during
World War II.
And second, regardless of any evidence anyone might
produce to show that the debris from the Roswell crash site was (or
was not) extra-terrestrial, it seems extremely improbable to me that
a sufficiently advanced alien race that has developed the technology
capable of traversing the far regions of outer space would struggle
with the concept of “brakes.” Imagine this, an alien spaceship
is hurling in our direction at near light speed when a mechanical
engineer announces to the ship's captain that somehow they
have lost their ability to stop or slow down. “See that class-m
planet over there?” the captain says to his navigator. “It's
three fourths covered with water. Aim directly for one of its
deserts.” Perhaps, on other planets, there is also “no lower
limit.”
Keep thinking rhetorically, and I'll
see you folks again next week.
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