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By Leo Tobbe
One of my favorite things to ask people is whether they believe in aliens. Answers vary
widely, and once in a blue moon someone will claim to have seen an alien or a UFO or
something of that variety. I’m not sure why I ask this question. It’s a fun conversation
starter, but it never sparks the kind of discussion I hope for. The alien question isn’t about
little green men or flying saucers. It’s about epistemology, humanity, and hope.
In 1994, the Zenit-2 rocket from the Cosmos 2290 satellite re-entered the earth’s
atmosphere above Zimbabwe, forming a large fireball in the sky and sparking the
imaginations of stargazers across the country. A few days later, 62 children playing outside
the Ariel School in Ruwa witnessed a silver aircraft descend from the sky and land on a
nearby field. Small creatures dressed all in black approached the students, interacting with
them telepathically before departing. In the following days, a BBC reporter interviewed the
children, hearing essentially the same story from all of them. Today, many of those
witnesses maintain their initial testimony.
The incident is widely regarded as one of the most remarkable extraterrestrial encounters
ever reported. The question obviously stands, did it really happen? If it didn’t, how did 62
children between the 6 and 12 pull oS this kind of massive, coordinated deception? If it is
true, what do we do with it?
Close encounters of the third kind are nothing new. Claims of supernatural experiences
have played an integral role in human history since Moses. UFO sitings are just the most
recent iteration of a long-standing tradition of the human psyche. In some ways, aliens are
modern-day angels. They’re visitors from beyond, possessing power and wisdom from
other worlds, representing that which humans fundamentally aspire to. They are so much
more than just a pop-science phenomenon.
This is why I’m bothered that the alien question takes the form of a scientific argument in
popular culture. Neil deGrasse Tyson, Elon Musk, and other celebrity scientists talk about
extraterrestrial life in terms of the Fermi paradox and the Great Filter theory, trying to
quantify and rationalize their belief. But the book of Hebrews tells us, “faith is the
substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen.” Just like any religion,
the alien question is a test of whether humanity can, with the best intentions, believe in
something it can’t necessarily rationalize.
Are we bound by the limitations of the status quo, or can we dare to believe in something
new and diSerent? Will we remain cynical and bogged down by intellectual inertia, or
surrender to our imaginations, letting them take us to previously unthinkable new heights?
Nothing in the natural world invites the imagination more than the night sky. It’s a great
mystery waiting to be solved, an elegant symphony waiting to be heard. It’s the last frontier,
waiting to be explored. As we gaze into its dark expanse— in the quiet, lonely desperation
of an infinite universe, we are invited to imagine that somewhere there are others like us.
Creatures of love and reason, and knowledge of worlds beyond. Whether aliens are real or
not is irrelevant. They’re real in our hearts, and they teach us that there is great beauty in
the unknown. The alien question implores us to imagine better things for our world, things
that may only exist if we suspend our desire for explanation, and believe.
Leo Tobbe is a McConnell Scholar in the class of 2028. He is studying political science and economics.