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September 1996 Is There Life On Mars? By Martin Rowe

Apparently, according to NASA scientists last month, the answer to David Bowie's question is "Yes." Or rather, there was life on Mars, and about three billion years ago. A piece of green tinted rock found in Antarctica, considered to be from Mars, and now sitting unconcerned in the Smithsonian, contains - it is claimed -žtraces of prehistoric elemental life. Everybody seems to making a big deal about this - even to the point of saying that this could do for theology, science, and other ancient disciplines what Copernicus' discovery did for geocentrists and flat-earthers everywhere centuries ago. In short, we should all be feeling a little more humble that there is, or rather was, life on Mars, and that all life on this planet may have, in fact, come from our red neighbor. Our great Earth story in other words may in fact be The Martian Chronicles.

I am, however, not excited about this. While I think it is an interesting factoid that primitive forms of life were present on Mars billions of years ago, I cannot help but think that this piece of information will in the end be sucked into the universe-wide dark hole that is humankind's high opinion of itself. After all, look at how much more advanced we are than the dead algae from Mars; and even if the life forms were a bit more sophisticated (such as the aliens in Independence Day) wouldn't we kick their ass just the same?

My fear, exacerbated by this news, is that once more, humankind will find an excuse to turn its eyes away from this beautiful planet and look up. All major world religions at some point give up on this little blue orb and seek to escape it: whether in heaven or by leaving the cycle of birth-death-rebirth. Science continues to extend one hand outward in an attempt to encompass other planets, while delving the other inward to change the very life-structures of plants, animals, and eventually humans. And while all of us look up and ponder infinity, industrialization and commercialization practice the business of finitude as they destroy ecosystems, species, and indigenous peoples. We who can express wonder at the stars, dream dreams of space's vastness and seek to measure it are the same species that grasps its immediate surrounding area and destroys it. As Mickey Z's article in this edition of Satya suggests, if the space program continues, there may be no life at all in the vicinity of this planet. Doesn't it seem peculiarly apt, therefore, for the representation of life elsewhere in the universe to end up in a museum? That's shortly where all life might be.

My complaint is not simply over an allocation of resources: I do not expect that scrapping the space program and giving the money to low-income housing will really make a difference. Nor is it really the hope that the discovery of life on another planet will make us realize how desperately vulnerable the planet we are on is to more abuse. All I can hope is that this little piece of rock gives us pause and helps us acknowledge how deeply we are responsible for our destruction. Maybe then, when we look out at the stars, we will see them as a mirror to look into our deepest selves.

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