Technological advancement reshapes what matters in the human narrative: not just the direction of our story as a species, but also the values we choose to uphold along the way. Our fascination with pursuing novelty through exploration has persisted as a defining theme in our notion of advancement. After all, the very word advancement in itself implies a “forward-motion”, an expansion, reflective of our belief that the meaning of discovery lies in the unknown entity beyond ourselves. These themes of progress are explored in Ted Chiang’s work, who uses science fiction to illustrate how technological development represents and shapes our systems of meaning, our understanding of the world and our purpose within it. Chiang’s Exhalation is a collection of short stories that criticise and reflect upon different implications of techno-futuristic progress. One such tale, The Great Silence, uses the perspective of a parrot to reflect on humanity’s interaction with Earth’s ecosystems, urging us to reconsider our current capacity to balance advancement and ecological coexistence.
Technological advancement reshapes what matters in the human narrative: not just the direction of our story as a species, but also the values we choose to uphold along the way. Our fascination with pursuing novelty through exploration has persisted as a defining theme in our notion of advancement. After all, the very word advancement in itself implies a “forward-motion”, an expansion, reflective of our belief that the meaning of discovery lies in the unknown entity beyond ourselves. These themes of progress are explored in Ted Chiang’s work, who uses science fiction to illustrate how technological development represents and shapes our systems of meaning, our understanding of the world and our purpose within it. Chiang’s Exhalation is a collection of short stories that criticise and reflect upon different implications of techno-futuristic progress. One such tale, The Great Silence, uses the perspective of a parrot to reflect on humanity’s interaction with Earth’s ecosystems, urging us to reconsider our current capacity to balance advancement and ecological coexistence.
Photo by Miriam Espacio
This urge to expand and explore, often motivated by our perceived superiority, can be traced back to the very foundations of human evolution. Sensory and perceptual capacities are common to all living species, and every species’ unique survival system is a legacy representing millennia of active coexistence with Earth. However, despite our shared commonalities, humans deviated from non-human animals in our evolution, and out-competed other Homo species for resources: we learnt that there was strength in numbers, that complex speech could aid our ability to coordinate group behaviour and developed social systems that transformed our use of Earth’s resources. Our flourishing allowed us to hypothesise about the meaning of our existence, our future as a species, and the unknown. In a way, this foreshadowed our collective ego as a species; our perceived superiority allowed us to distinguish ourselves from the world we depend upon.
“Humans create such beautiful myths;
what imaginations they have. Perhaps that’s why
their aspirations are so immense. Look at
Arecibo. Any species who can build such a thing
must have greatness within it.” – Ted Chiang
Chiang’s reference to the Arecibo Observatory, paralleled to describing the displacement and destruction of the Rio Abajo Forest’s native species and ecosystems, serves as a metaphor for our existential need to connect with something beyond ourselves, and the prioritisation of this need above the conservation of Earth’s biosphere. The parrot in the story highlights the similarities between parrots and humans: from our ability to construct identities to our ascription of names to one another – our “[…] special relationship with sound. We don’t simply cry out. We pronounce. We enunciate.”; our mutual appreciation for community, tradition and ritual. To quote the bird, “If humans are looking for a connection with a non-human intelligence, what more can they ask for than that?” – “We’re a non-human species capable of communicating with them. Aren’t we exactly what humans are looking for?”
In its entirety, space exploration represents our tendency to invest our resources in revolutionary and expansive advancement. However, while our history of pursuit has contributed to revolutionary modern technology, Chiang’s The Great Silence critiques the direction of our expectations and priorities: we define advancement as outward and forward, driven by the belief that meaning lies in the mystical “beyond”, when perhaps it may reside in nurturing our coexistence with Earth’s ecosystems.
“The extinction of my species doesn’t just
mean the loss of a group of birds. It’s also the
disappearance of our language, our rituals, our
traditions. It’s the silencing of our voice.” – Ted Chiang
“We learnt that there was strength in numbers, that complex speech could aid our ability to coordinate group behaviour and developed social systems that transformed our use of Earth’s resources.”
While the exaggerated attribution of human qualities to the parrot is symbolic, his interpretations highlight the irony of our human-centeredness, both in our pursuits of extraterrestrial life and in our neglect of the terrestrial.
Chiang references the Fermi Paradox, alluding to the fact that our exploration has yielded no sign of life anywhere beyond Earth. “One proposed solution to the Fermi Paradox is that intelligent species actively try to conceal their presence, to avoid being targeted by hostile invaders. […] Speaking as a member of a species that has been driven nearly to extinction by humans, I can attest that this is a wise strategy.”
Chiang uses the parrot to underline the contradictions in our motives. Our expectations presuppose that alien life resembles the human species: intelligent, communicative, and technological. Thus even if life were to exist beyond Earth, humans would interpret its behaviours the same way they do non-human animals: through the bias of our human lens. What would prevent us from failing to recognise the value of alien intelligence? Our egocentric expectations would lead us to invalidate non-human intelligence no differently from how we invalidate that of dolphins, elephants and parrots, who exhibit complex communication and problem-solving skills.
Furthermore, while we invest billions into searching for microbial life on Mars, we continue to drive species on Earth to extinction – revealing the irony of our progress as we seek extraterrestrial biospheres while actively destroying our own; not only compromising the very resources that finance this endeavour, but causing more damage than any hypothetical alien invasion ever could.
Finally, it is no wonder that an alien species would be motivated to hide from humans. Our history has unceasing trends of exploitation and colonisation of vulnerable communities, and a species as intelligent as we imagine would recognise this and avoid Earth for the same reason that many terrestrial species on it suffer – because of human exploitation and violence. In essence, our search for other habitable planets stems from the destruction of our own, and our pursuit of extraterrestrial life reflects a deep contradiction: we long for contact and progress while failing to respect, preserve, and apply the same innovation and urgency to address existential threats on Earth.
“Parrots are more similar to humans
than any extraterrestrial species will be,
and humans can observe us up close;
they can look us in the eye.
How do they expect to recognize an
alien intelligence if all they can do is
eavesdrop from a hundred light years away?” – Ted Chiang
“[...] Our pursuit of extraterrestrial life reflects a deep contradiction: we long for contact and progress while failing to respect, preserve, and apply the same innovation and urgency to address existential threats on Earth. ”
Perhaps this notion of advancement extends beyond our relationship with nature. The same philosophy of endless expansion that drives ecological destruction also shapes the way we approach success and fulfilment in our own lives. Perhaps our definition of progress, transformed from adaptive survival mechanisms into an insatiable and self-destructive quest for meaning, reflects a fundamental misalignment in our ability to appreciate life, not for what it can be, but for what it is.
Our societies have increasingly demanded of us the same attitude of maximisation that we have imposed on nature. By directing our gaze towards the ideals of potential, we alienate ourselves from the fruits of our progress into a state of perpetual dissatisfaction. This alienation in appreciating ourselves and the world around us may explain why we fail to truly acknowledge the role we have in conserving the planet and the gravity of the climate crisis.
Our ability to consider the implications of our behaviour, and to what extent our behaviour aligns with our values, requires attention to provoke self-reflection. Modern life pulls our attentive capacities from survival and self-maintenance to self-maximisation, directing our motivation to meet the demands of our increasingly accelerating society. Our drive to meet societal demands often outweighs our pursuit of genuine intrinsic satisfaction — but should it? If this fatigue is so blinding that it proportionally compromises the attention we can dedicate to reflecting on the world around us, how can we trust ourselves to claim the responsibility we owe to our environment and reasonably mark the balance between progress and preservation? Our inaction in the face of the climate crisis illuminates our dissociative tendencies, our ecological neglect is catching up to us and our focus needs to shift urgently to restore the reciprocal relationship we want with Earth.
The cyclical consumption of natural resources that has historically characterised humanity’s interaction with the world has pivoted to reward maximisation and overindulgence, actively undermining the sustainability of our planet. Our space exploration, while epitomising the immensity of human imagination and potential, represents a contradiction in the philosophy of development that permeates our notion of success. Chiang’s The Great Silence questions the hypocrisy in our neglect of Earth, the irony of our anthropocentrism and the implications of our misplaced priorities on the trajectory of future development. Ultimately, nature shows no favouritism in who survives the climate crisis, so it is in our best interest to redefine our meaning of progress and redirect its alignment with our values; to balance development with homeostatic coexistence with our planet.
References
“The Great Silence”. e-flux.com. Retrieved 5 March 2025.
This urge to expand and explore, often motivated by our perceived superiority, can be traced back to the very foundations of human evolution. Sensory and perceptual capacities are common to all living species, and every species’ unique survival system is a legacy representing millennia of active coexistence with Earth. However, despite our shared commonalities, humans deviated from non-human animals in our evolution, and out-competed other Homo species for resources: we learnt that there was strength in numbers, that complex speech could aid our ability to coordinate group behaviour and developed social systems that transformed our use of Earth’s resources. Our flourishing allowed us to hypothesise about the meaning of our existence, our future as a species, and the unknown. In a way, this foreshadowed our collective ego as a species; our perceived superiority allowed us to distinguish ourselves from the world we depend upon.
“Humans create such beautiful myths;
what imaginations they have. Perhaps that’s why
their aspirations are so immense. Look at
Arecibo. Any species who can build such a thing
must have greatness within it.” – Ted Chiang
Chiang’s reference to the Arecibo Observatory, paralleled to describing the displacement and destruction of the Rio Abajo Forest’s native species and ecosystems, serves as a metaphor for our existential need to connect with something beyond ourselves, and the prioritisation of this need above the conservation of Earth’s biosphere. The parrot in the story highlights the similarities between parrots and humans: from our ability to construct identities to our ascription of names to one another – our “[…] special relationship with sound. We don’t simply cry out. We pronounce. We enunciate.”; our mutual appreciation for community, tradition and ritual. To quote the bird, “If humans are looking for a connection with a non-human intelligence, what more can they ask for than that?” – “We’re a non-human species capable of communicating with them. Aren’t we exactly what humans are looking for?”
In its entirety, space exploration represents our tendency to invest our resources in revolutionary and expansive advancement. However, while our history of pursuit has contributed to revolutionary modern technology, Chiang’s The Great Silence critiques the direction of our expectations and priorities: we define advancement as outward and forward, driven by the belief that meaning lies in the mystical “beyond”, when perhaps it may reside in nurturing our coexistence with Earth’s ecosystems.
“The extinction of my species doesn’t just
mean the loss of a group of birds. It’s also the
disappearance of our language, our rituals, our
traditions. It’s the silencing of our voice.” – Ted Chiang
“We learnt that there was strength in numbers, that complex speech could aid our ability to coordinate group behaviour and developed social systems that transformed our use of Earth’s resources.”
While the exaggerated attribution of human qualities to the parrot is symbolic, his interpretations highlight the irony of our human-centeredness, both in our pursuits of extraterrestrial life and in our neglect of the terrestrial.
Chiang references the Fermi Paradox, alluding to the fact that our exploration has yielded no sign of life anywhere beyond Earth. “One proposed solution to the Fermi Paradox is that intelligent species actively try to conceal their presence, to avoid being targeted by hostile invaders. […] Speaking as a member of a species that has been driven nearly to extinction by humans, I can attest that this is a wise strategy.”
Chiang uses the parrot to underline the contradictions in our motives. Our expectations presuppose that alien life resembles the human species: intelligent, communicative, and technological. Thus even if life were to exist beyond Earth, humans would interpret its behaviours the same way they do non-human animals: through the bias of our human lens. What would prevent us from failing to recognise the value of alien intelligence? Our egocentric expectations would lead us to invalidate non-human intelligence no differently from how we invalidate that of dolphins, elephants and parrots, who exhibit complex communication and problem-solving skills.
Furthermore, while we invest billions into searching for microbial life on Mars, we continue to drive species on Earth to extinction – revealing the irony of our progress as we seek extraterrestrial biospheres while actively destroying our own; not only compromising the very resources that finance this endeavour, but causing more damage than any hypothetical alien invasion ever could.
Finally, it is no wonder that an alien species would be motivated to hide from humans. Our history has unceasing trends of exploitation and colonisation of vulnerable communities, and a species as intelligent as we imagine would recognise this and avoid Earth for the same reason that many terrestrial species on it suffer – because of human exploitation and violence. In essence, our search for other habitable planets stems from the destruction of our own, and our pursuit of extraterrestrial life reflects a deep contradiction: we long for contact and progress while failing to respect, preserve, and apply the same innovation and urgency to address existential threats on Earth.
“Parrots are more similar to humans
than any extraterrestrial species will be,
and humans can observe us up close;
they can look us in the eye.
How do they expect to recognize an
alien intelligence if all they can do is
eavesdrop from a hundred light years away?” – Ted Chiang
“[...] Our pursuit of extraterrestrial life reflects a deep contradiction: we long for contact and progress while failing to respect, preserve, and apply the same innovation and urgency to address existential threats on Earth. ”
Perhaps this notion of advancement extends beyond our relationship with nature. The same philosophy of endless expansion that drives ecological destruction also shapes the way we approach success and fulfilment in our own lives. Perhaps our definition of progress, transformed from adaptive survival mechanisms into an insatiable and self-destructive quest for meaning, reflects a fundamental misalignment in our ability to appreciate life, not for what it can be, but for what it is.
Our societies have increasingly demanded of us the same attitude of maximisation that we have imposed on nature. By directing our gaze towards the ideals of potential, we alienate ourselves from the fruits of our progress into a state of perpetual dissatisfaction. This alienation in appreciating ourselves and the world around us may explain why we fail to truly acknowledge the role we have in conserving the planet and the gravity of the climate crisis.
Our ability to consider the implications of our behaviour, and to what extent our behaviour aligns with our values, requires attention to provoke self-reflection. Modern life pulls our attentive capacities from survival and self-maintenance to self-maximisation, directing our motivation to meet the demands of our increasingly accelerating society. Our drive to meet societal demands often outweighs our pursuit of genuine intrinsic satisfaction — but should it? If this fatigue is so blinding that it proportionally compromises the attention we can dedicate to reflecting on the world around us, how can we trust ourselves to claim the responsibility we owe to our environment and reasonably mark the balance between progress and preservation? Our inaction in the face of the climate crisis illuminates our dissociative tendencies, our ecological neglect is catching up to us and our focus needs to shift urgently to restore the reciprocal relationship we want with Earth.
The cyclical consumption of natural resources that has historically characterised humanity’s interaction with the world has pivoted to reward maximisation and overindulgence, actively undermining the sustainability of our planet. Our space exploration, while epitomising the immensity of human imagination and potential, represents a contradiction in the philosophy of development that permeates our notion of success. Chiang’s The Great Silence questions the hypocrisy in our neglect of Earth, the irony of our anthropocentrism and the implications of our misplaced priorities on the trajectory of future development. Ultimately, nature shows no favouritism in who survives the climate crisis, so it is in our best interest to redefine our meaning of progress and redirect its alignment with our values; to balance development with homeostatic coexistence with our planet.
References
“The Great Silence”. e-flux.com. Retrieved 5 March 2025.
