Judgement Day

One of the fundamental roles of science fiction is to provide a context in which our own actions and mores as humans can be critically considered, either directly or by contrast with other imagined races. Some writers have taken this more literally than others, writing of aliens sitting in judgement not only on individuals but on the whole of humanity - of Earth facing its judgement day [1].

Nuclear options

The peak of the Cold War was a time of societal stress, with many people questioning whether the human race would deserve its coming extinction, if that proved to be its fate. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this question was asked in science fiction. 

Perhaps the most famous example of this is the 1951 Film The Day the Earth Stood Still (film, dir. Wise). The film was loosely based on the short story Farewell to the Master by Harry Bates (appearing in Astounding, Oct 1940). However the short story featured a humanity concerned over reprisals when an alien ambassador is killed during first contact. In the film, the focus is shifted. After a dramatic landing of his flying saucer, the alien ambassador Klaatu is wounded. Escaping from medical treatment, Klaatu attempts to blend into the human population in order to better understand humanity, falling into a tentative relationship with a young widowed mother. His aim is to reach a prominent scientist and pass on a warning that other alien species are concerned by human nuclear developments. Earth faces elimination unless changes occur. The film takes its name from the demonstration of his power that Klaatu arranges - half an hour in which no non-essential electrical equipment will function.

However Klaatu’s statement is not well received and the film ends with the ominous warning: “Your choice is simple: join us and live in peace, or pursue your present course and face obliteration."

A near contemporary film with strong similarities to the better known example above was Stranger from Venus (film, 1954, dir. Balaban). Here a flying saucer lands in rural England rather than in central Washington. The occupant is again an urbane man who meets with a human woman and comes with a warning. In this case the super-civilisation on Venus is wary of human aggression, and in particular the potential impact of a nuclear war, which they believe could destabilise Earth’s orbit and hence cause Solar System-wide disruption.

The nameless Stranger from Venus differs from Klaatu in that he also comes with an offer: Venus is willing, in principle, to share scientific knowledge if Earth will abandon nuclear weapons. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the human government and military of 1950s Britain are far more interested in capturing the bird in the hand and pillaging his flying saucer for advanced technology. As a result, the Stranger reaches the conclusion that Earth is not ready for peaceful contact and interplanetary war is only narrowly averted.

Precocious advancement

Although these nuclear fables attracted attention, they were by no means the only examples of human technological advancement becoming the focus of an alien judgement. Another prominent set of technology thresholds that have led to such analysis occur in the field of space flight.

In Progress Report (short story, appearing in IF, July 1953) by Mark Clifton and Alex Apostolides, the threshold in question is the first rocket flight intended to leave Earth’s atmosphere. The story is told from the point of view of a Colonel Jennings overseeing the launch of the very first rocket flight, overseen and hampered by the descent of an uninformed politician who cares only for the cost of the mission or his own personal gain.

Briefly convinced that he might be able to turn his own state into a future space technology hub, this Senator remains blissfully aware as the uncrewed test rocket vanishes from trackers just as it leaves the atmosphere. Reappearing and falling back to Earth, the rocket hull proves to have been pierced, and inside…

Etched in the metal frame, in the same iridescent purple glow, were two words. Two enigmatic words to reverberate throughout the world, burned in by some watcher—some keeper—some warden.

"Not yet."

Less succinct is the judgement in Jack Williamson’s novel The Trial of Terra. This 1962 fix-up novel frames three earlier short stories as examples of evidence delivered within the context of the eponymous trial: a judgement to be delivered by the Celestial Watchers over whether Earth should be admitted to the interstellar community, kept in quarantine for centuries to come or cleansed of life by an induced solar flare.

The question becomes pressing as the trial coincides with the attempted first landing of humanity on the Moon, where the alien wardens are based, and with a plan to turn our Sun into a variable nova to act as an interstellar beacon [2]. The trial, and the three incorporated narratives, are told from the point of view of the aliens, with varying degrees of sympathy for humanity.

An interesting theme running through the narrative is the perceived primitiveness of Earth civilisation, and the way its perception is modified by the possession (or lack of) telepathic or empathic abilities by the aliens sitting in judgement. Interestingly, in this case the aliens are far from neutral arbiters and the nominated judge, Wain Scarlet, proves to be a deeply flawed individual, susceptible to bribes from interested parties (which notably don’t include the human race).

Of course, our own Moon is only the first step of space flight. Famously, Star Trek’s Prime Directive of non-interference in primitive cultures sets a threshold for first contact significantly further out. Numerous Star Trek episodes explore the consequences of this threshold. They ask questions of who gets to decide whether a civilisation is ready for first contact, whether the same threshold applies to every civilisation, whether advancement in other directions is equivalent, and whether there are situations (for example the imminent destruction of a world) which would justify breaching the convention. In each case, the Federation, one of its member races, or simply a starship captain, is effectively being asked to sit in judgement over a world, deciding its entire future. The film Star Trek: First Contact (1996, dir. Frakes), specifically, asks these questions about Earth. It describes the tense interval in which our near-neighbours the Vulcans study Earth for centuries, waiting for the key moment when humanity first creates a spacecraft capable of escaping its own solar system (in this case a warp drive, invented by Zephram Cochrane in the aftermath of a third world war). However time travellers threaten to disrupt this encounter, potentially changing the entire future of the Federation.

We are not Worthy

Alien judgements in science fiction are not entirely restricted to decisions triggered by technological revolutions. Other instalments of the Star Trek universe are still more direct in illustrating alien trials of humanity.

Star Trek: The Next Generation (television series, 1987-1994) began and ended with two literal trials in which the erratic super-powerful entity Q seated himself as judge, jury and executioner for a humanity which has ventured too far. These bracketted the series, with Q appearing in the pilot episode “Encounter at Farpoint” (1987) and revisiting his decision in the finale “All Good Things…” (1994). Here he is not reacting to any specific technology but rather assessing the worthiness of the species and its actions, arriving dressed in the uniforms of warriors past, and accusing humanity of immaturity and violent tendencies. To emphasise this, the Enterprise crew are tried in a simulacrum of an Earth courtroom from the years of the “post-atomic horror”. In "Encounter at Farpoint", Q decides to let the humans’ actions speak for themselves. In “All Good Things…” he resumes his trial, sending Picard travelling mentally through time before bringing him to a showdown, accusing Picard of culpability for an upcoming catastrophe:

“Instead of using the last seven years to change and to grow, you have squandered them!”

Picard’s response is equally impassioned:

“We are what we are, and we’re doing the best we can. It is not for you to set the standard by which we shall be judged!”

By contrast, Judgement Day by Jack Haldeman (short story, 1984) was more sympathetic in highlighting that humanity may also be judged in the context of all Earth’s species. In this brief and bittersweet story, an alien race announces in a dream that Earth will be judged, and either admitted to interstellar community or obliterated if the representative couple they select - the best Earth had to offer - did not satisfy the aliens’ standards. As we’re told at the end of the story:

They took to the stars two dolphins, a mated pair.

We are waiting for their decision.

As this demonstrates, and as I’ve noted before, there is no guarantee that any alien species will recognise humanity as a dominant, rather than simply prevalent and destructive, species. However a second interesting example where cetaceans (i.e. dolphins and whales) feature prominently in an alien judgement is the Eight Worlds series by John Varley (starting with The Ophiuchi Hotline, novel, 1977). Here, the entirety of humanity has been adjudged unworthy of possession of the Earth, which has been rendered into a preserve for Cetaceans by an alien power. Instead, humanity scrapes a living in a range of artificial environments scattered across other Solar System bodies.

While neither of these stories end with humanity cast into a particularly positive light, some other stories have been kinder. The Tomorrow People (1973-1979) was a television series aimed at children, in which the teenage protagonists are examples of Homo superior, a psionically-gifted offshoot of the human race. They operate secretly on Earth, but liaise with the overwhelming telepathic Galactic Federation in the hopes of preparing for Earth’s eventual acceptance.

The final serial, “War of the Empires”, describes the war between two alien races, the Sorsons and Thargons, threatening to encompass the Earth (which had hitherto been ruled too primitive for contact). The Galactic Federation meet to decide whether the handful of Homo superior Earth has produced, and the potential they represent, offsets the destructive selfishness of Homo sapiens and qualifies the world for protection.

The final scene of the story, and hence of the entire series, focuses on Earth’s longtime advocate Timus delivering the Galactic Federation's verdict.

The Scales of Justice

These are just a handful of the many narratives of this kind. Similar stories feature us facing judgement from our own descendants or robot creations. Others involve a subset of humanity making the same judgement call over the masses.

So why are we so obsessed with the idea that others will judge us as a species?

In the mid twentieth century, the pace of technological development, and in particular nuclear development, gave people around the world genuine cause for concern. The rapid innovation during the two world wars led to fears that scientific developments were being deployed by politicians and the military before philosophers, ethicists and the society more generally had time to consider their social and political consequences. Of course, this was nothing new. Technology development has always been accelerated and enabled by conflict and the inflated budgets associated with it. However nuclear proliferation meant that, for the first time, this presented an existential threat to the whole of humanity, rather than to the people in a limited region. Anxiety both over the decisions of rulers and the potential culpability of humanity as a whole in its imminent demise, was perhaps natural.

It’s also notable that the same period was associated with a decline in widespread religious conviction. Where previous generations might have feared divine judgement, the products of a technological society might focus the same instinctual doubts and questions on alien intelligences.

However even setting aside existential fears that may have driven self-questioning, these narratives also explore another important issue. Telegraphic communications, then improved transportation links, international mass media and the internet have led to an increasing frequency of cultural interfaces, and an increasing recognition of the wrongs which occurred when cultures came into contact in the past. Many of the narratives of alien judgement on humanity ask the question of whether one culture’s mores, expectations and ethical systems can be blindly applied to another. If judgement is to be applied, who gets to decide on the criteria for that judgement, and why? And if not, then how can two distinct cultures coexist without judgement?

Narratives of humanity on trial remind us that scientific developments and advancements aren’t morally neutral and that scientists must consider the implications of their work. However it also reminds us of the impossibility of creating a truly independent set of criteria and information by which to judge any situation. Facts are interpreted by beings which, like the judge in Williamson’s Trial of Terra are fallible and biased, or, like Star Trek’s Q choose to prioritise facts that support their own preconceptions. Like the aliens in The Tomorrow People or Stranger from Venus, the judges can be motivated and driven by fear. Or like those in Haldeman’s Judgement Day, The Ophiuchi Hotline or Progress Report, they can simply be incomprehensible and unknowable. In each case, these stories highlight the difficulty of understanding alien (or even other human) thought processes and ethical systems.

Ultimately it’s extremely unlikely that a super-power, whether divine or alien, is likely to impose judgement on humanity. However science fiction which poses questions about such trials reminds each of us, whether scientists or other members of society, that our actions can have consequences beyond those we anticipate. It allows us to explore those consequences, consider our own role in the society we inhabit, and perhaps even eases our fears.

For all the judgements that humanity has faced in the history of science fiction… we’ve more or less turned out okay.