Life in a rut: if microbes are commonplace, where does that leave intelligent aliens?

A few years ago I wrote about how Mars' seasonal methane fluctuations suggested - although far from confirmed - that microbial life might be present just under the Martin surface. Now another world in our solar system, the Saturnian moon Enceladus, has ignited discussion along similar lines.

The Cassini probe conducted flybys of Enceladus over a decade, revealing that Saturn's sixth largest moon was venting geyser-like jets of material, including water vapour, from its southern polar region. The material being emitted from these vents also included organic compounds and methane, hinting that this distant moon's watery oceans may also contain alien methane-producing microbes. Whereas Titan and Europa were originally deemed the moons most suitable for life, Enceladus's status has now been boosted to second only to Mars, with conditions not dissimilar to those in the oceans of the early Earth.

Of course, unknown geochemical processes cannot be ruled out, but nonetheless the quality of the evidence is such as to invite further exploration of Enceladus. There have been at least seven potential mission designs proposed by various bodies, including NASA and ESA, to gain more information about the moon and its geysers. Several of these include landers, while others would fly through a plume in order to examine the vented material for biosignatures. However, to date none have received official funding confirmation. As it stands the first probe to arrive might be billionaire Yuri Milner's privately-funded Breakthrough Enceladus, rather than one from a major organisation. However, don't hold your breath: the earliest any of these missions is likely to reach Enceladus is at some point in the 2030s.

What happens if future probes find evidence of microbial life on both Mars and Enceladus? Or even, whenever a method is found to reach it, in the ice-covered oceans of Jupiter's moon Europa? The first key fact will be whether they are genetically independent of Earth biota or if the panspermia hypothesis - the delivery of microbes via cometary and meteorite impact - has been proven. If that turns out not to be the case and multiple instances of life arose separately within a single solar system, this has some profoundly mixed implications for the search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI). After all, if simple life can arise and be sustained on three or even four very different worlds - including bodies far outside their solar system's 'Goldilocks zone' - then shouldn't this also imply a much higher chance of complex alien life evolving on exoplanets? 

Yet despite various SETI programmes over the past few decades, we have failed to pick up any signs of extraterrestrial intelligence - or at least from other technological civilisations prepared to communicate with radio waves, either in our galactic neighbourhood or with super high-powered transmitters further away. This doesn't mean they don't exist: advanced civilisations might use laser pulses at frequencies our SETI projects currently don't have the ability to detect. But nonetheless, it is a little disheartening that we've so far drawn a blank. If there is microbial life on either Mars or Enceladus - or even more so, on both worlds, never mind Europa - then a continued lack of success for SETI suggests the chances of intelligent life evolving are far lower than the probability of life itself arising.

In effect, this means that life we can only view via a microscope - and therefore somewhat lacking in cognitive ability - may turn out to be common, but intelligence a much rarer commodity. While it might be easy to say that life on both Enceladus and Mars wouldn't stand much of a chance of gaining complexity thanks to the unpleasant environmental conditions that have no doubt existed for much of their history, it's clear that Earth's biota has evolved via a complex series of unique events. In other words, the tortuous pathways of history have influenced the evolution of life on Earth.

Whereas the discovery of so many exoplanets in the past decade might imply an optimistic result for the Drake equation, the following factors, being largely unpredictable, infrequent or unique occurrences, might suggest that the evolution of complex (and especially sapiens-level intelligent) life is highly improbable:

• The Earth orbits inside the solar system's Goldilocks zone (bear in mind that some of the planets have moved from the region of space they were created in) and so water was able to exist in liquid form after the atmospheric pressure became high enough.
• The size and composition of the planet is such that radioactivity keeps the core molten and so generates a magnetic field to block most solar and cosmic radiation.
• It is hypothesised that the Earth was hit by another body, nicknamed Theia, that both tilted the planet's axis and caused the formation of the Moon rather than having a catastrophic effect such as tearing our world apart, knocking it on its side (like Uranus) or removing its outer crust (like Mercury).
• The Moon is comparatively large and close to the Earth and as such their combined gravitational fields help to keep Earth in a very stable, only slightly eccentric orbit. This is turn has helped to maintain a relatively life-friendly environment over the aeons. 
• The Earth's axial tilt causes seasons and as such generates a simultaneous variety of climates at different latitudes, providing impetus for natural selection.
• The Great Unconformity and hypothesised near-global glaciation (AKA Snowball Earth) that might have caused it suggests this dramatic period of climate change led to the development of the earliest multi-cellular life around 580 million years ago.
• Mass extinctions caused rapid changes in global biota without destroying all life. Without the Chicxulub impactor for example, it is unlikely mammals would have radiated due to the dominance of reptiles on the land.
• Ice ages over the past few million years have caused rapid climate fluctuations that may have contributed to hominin evolution as East African forests gave way to grasslands.

The evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould often discussed 'contingency', claiming that innumerable historical events had led to the evolution of Homo sapiens and therefore that if history could be re-run, most possible paths would not lead to a self-aware ape. Therefore, despite the 4,800 or so exoplanets discovered so far, some within their system's Goldilocks zone, what is the likelihood such a similar concatenation of improbable events would occur of any of them? 

Most people are understandably not interested in talking to microbes. For a start, they are unlikely to gain a meaningful reply. Yet paradoxically, the more worlds that microbial life is confirmed on, when combined with the distinct failure of our SETI research to date, the easier it is to be pessimistic; while life might be widespread in the universe, organisms large enough to view without a microscope, let alone communicate with across the vast reaches of interstellar space, may be exceedingly rare indeed. The origins of life might be a far easier occurrence than we used to think, but the evolution of technological species far less so. Having said that, we are lucky to live in this time: perhaps research projects in both fields will resolve this fundamental issue within the next half century. Now wouldn't that be amazing?

Mushrooms to Mars: how fungi research could help long-duration space travel

I've often noted that fungi are the forgotten heroes of the ecosystem, beavering away largely out of sight and therefore out of mind. Whether it's the ability to break down plastic waste or their use as meat substitutes and pharmaceuticals, this uncharismatic but vital life form no doubt hold many more surprises in store for future research to discover. It's estimated that less than ten percent of all fungi species have so far been scientifically described; it's small wonder then that a recent study suggests an entirely new use for several types of these under-researched organisms.

Investigation of the Chernobyl nuclear power station in 1991 found that Cladosporium sphaerospermum, a fungus first described in the late nineteenth century, was thriving in the reactor cooling tanks. In other words, despite the high levels of radiation, the species was able to not only repair its cells but maintain a good rate of growth in this extreme environment. This led to research onboard the International Space Station at the end of 2018, when samples of the fungus were exposed to a month of cosmic radiation. The results were promising: a two millimetre thick layer of the fungus absorbed nearly two percent of the radiation compared to a fungus-free control.

This then suggests that long-duration crewed space missions, including to Mars, might be able to take advantage of this material to create a self-repairing radiation shield, both for spacecraft and within the walls of surface habitats. A twenty-one centimetre thick layer was deemed effective against cosmic rays, although this could potentially be reduced to just nine centimetres if the fungal mycelia were mixed with similar amounts of Martian soil. In addition, there is even the possibility of extracting the fungus' radiation-proof melanin pigment for use in items that require much thinner layers, such as spacesuit fabric.

If this sounds too good to be true, there are still plenty of technological hurdles to be overcome. Science fiction has frequently described the incorporation of biological elements into man-made technology, but it's early days as far as practical astronautics is concerned. After all, there is the potential for unique dangers, such as synthetic biology growing unstoppably (akin to scenarios of runaway nanobot replication). However, NASA's Innovative Advanced Concepts program (NIAC) shows that they are taking the idea of fungi-based shielding seriously, the current research considering how to take dormant fungal spores to Mars and then add water to grow what can only be described as myco-architecture elements - even interior fittings and furniture. In addition to the radiation shielding, using organic material also has the advantage of not having to haul everything with you across such vast distances.

Even more ideas are being suggested for the use of similarly hardy species of fungi on a Mars base, from bioluminescent lighting to water filtration. Of course, this doesn't take into account any existing Martian biology: the seasonal methane fluctuations that have been reported are thought by some to be too large to have a geochemical cause; this suggests that somewhere in the sink holes or canyon walls of Mars there are colonies of methane-producing microbes, cosily shielded from the worst of the ultraviolet. If this proves to be the case, you would hope that any fungi taken to the red planet would be genetically modified to guarantee that it couldn't survive outside of the explorer's habitats and so damage Martian biota. Humanity's track record when it comes to preserving the ecosystems of previously isolated environments is obviously not something we can be proud of!

What fungi can do alone, they also do in symbiosis with algae, i.e. as lichens. Various experiments, including the LIchens and Fungi Experiment (LIFE) on the International Space Station (incidentally, doesn't NASA love its project acronyms?) have tested extremophile lichens such as Xanthoria elegans and Rhizocarpon geographicum in simulated Martian environments for up to eighteen months. The researchers found that the organisms could remain active as long as they were partially protected, as if they were growing in sink holes beneath the Martian surface. Of course, this success also enhances the possibility of similar lifeforms already existing on the red planet, where it would have had eons in which to adapt to the gradually degraded conditions that succeeded Mars' early, clement, phase.

The CRISPR-Cas9 system and its successors may well develop synthetic fungi and lichens that can be used both on and especially off the Earth, but we shouldn't forget that Mother Nature got there first. Spacecraft shielding and myco-architecture based on natural or genetically modified organisms may prove to be an extremely efficient way to safeguard explorers beyond our world: the days of transporting metal, plastic and ceramic objects into space may be numbered; the era of the interplanetary mushroom may be on the horizon. Now there's a phrase you don't hear every day!

Life on Mars? How accumulated evidence slowly leads to scientific advances

Although the history of science is often presented as a series of eureka moments, with a single scientist's brainstorm paving the way for a paradigm-shifting theory, the truth is usually rather less dramatic. A good example of the latter is the formulation of plate tectonics, with the meteorologist Alfred Wegener's continental drift being rejected by the geological orthodoxy for over thirty years. It was only with the accumulation of data from late 1950's onward that the mobility of Earth's crust slowly gained acceptance, thanks to the multiple strands of new evidence that supported it.

One topic that looks likely to increase in popularity amongst both public and biologists is the search for life on Mars. Last month's announcement of a lake deep beneath the southern polar ice cap is the latest piece of observational data that Mars might still have environments suitable for microbial life. This is just the latest in an increasing body of evidence that conditions may be still be capable of supporting life, long after the planet's biota-friendly heyday. However, the data hasn't always been so positive, having fluctuated in both directions over the past century or so. So what is the correspondence between positive results and the levels of research for life on Mars?

The planet's polar ice caps were first discovered in the late Seventeenth Century, which combined with the Earth-like duration of the Martian day implied the planet might be fairly similar to our own. This was followed a century later by observation of what appeared to be seasonal changes to surface features, leading to the understandable conclusion of Mars as a temperate, hospitable world covered with vegetation. Then another century on, an early use of spectroscopy erroneously described abundant water on Mars; although the mistake was later corrected, the near contemporary reporting of non-existent Martian canals led to soaring public interest and intense speculation. The French astronomer Camille Flammarion helped popularise Mars as a potentially inhabited world, paving the way for H.G. Wells' War of the Worlds and Edgar Rice Burroughs' John Carter series.

As astronomical technology improved and the planet's true environment became known (low temperatures, thin atmosphere and no canals), Mars' popularity waned. By the time of Mariner 4's 1965 fly-by, the arid, cratered and radiation-smothered surface it revealed only served to reinforce the notion of a lifeless desert; the geologically inactive world was long past its prime and any life still existing there probably wouldn't be visible without a microscope.

Despite this disappointing turnabout, NASA somehow managed to gain the funding to incorporate four biological experiments on the two Viking landers that arrived on Mars in 1976. Three of the experiments gave negative results while the fourth was inconclusive, most researchers hypothesising a geochemical rather than biological explanation for the outcome. After a decade and a half of continuous missions to Mars, this lack of positive results - accompanied by experimental cost overruns - probably contributed to a sixteen-year hiatus (excluding two Soviet attempts at missions to the Martian moons). Clearly, Mars' geology by itself was not enough to excite the interplanetary probe funding czars.

In the meantime, it was some distinctly Earth-bound research that reignited interested in Mars as a plausible source of life. The 1996 report that Martian meteorite ALH84001 contained features resembling fossilised (if extremely small) bacteria gained worldwide attention, even though the eventual conclusion repudiated this. Analysis of three other meteorites originating from Mars showed that complex organic chemistry, lava flows and moving water were common features of the planet's past, although they offered no more than tantalising hints that microbial life may have flourished, possibly billions of years ago.

Back on Mars, NASA's 1997 Pathfinder lander delivered the Sojourner rover. Although it appeared to be little more than a very expensive toy, managing a total distance in its operational lifetime of just one hundred metres, the proof of concept led to much larger and more sophisticated vehicles culminating in today’s Curiosity rover.

The plethora of Mars missions over the past two decades has delivered immense amounts of data, including that the planet used to have near-ideal conditions for microbial life - and still has a few types of environment that may be able to support miniscule extremophiles.

Together with research undertaken in Earth-bound simulators, the numerous Mars projects of the Twenty-first Century have to date swung the pendulum back in favour of a Martian biota. Here are a few prominent examples:

• 2003 - atmospheric methane is discovered (the lack of active geology implying a biological rather than geochemical origin)
• 2005 - atmospheric formaldehyde is detected (it could be a by-product of methane oxidation)
• 2007 - silica-rich rocks, similar to hot springs, are found
• 2010 - giant sinkholes are found (suitable as radiation-proof habitats)
• 2011 - flowing brines and gypsum deposits discovered
• 2012 - lichen survived for a month in the Mars Simulation Laboratory
• 2013 - proof of ancient freshwater lakes and complex organic molecules, along with a long-lost magnetic field
• 2014 - large-scale seasonal variation in methane, greater than usual if of geochemical origin
• 2015 - Earth-based research successfully incubates methane-producing bacteria under Mars-like conditions
• 2018 - a 20 kilometre across brine lake is found under the southern polar ice sheet

Although these facts accumulate into an impressive package in favour of Martian microbes, they should probably be treated as independent points, not as one combined argument. For as well as finding factors supporting microbial life, other research has produced opposing ones. For example, last year NASA found that a solar storm had temporarily doubled surface radiation levels, meaning that even dormant microbes would have to live over seven metres down in order to survive. We should also bear in mind that for some of each orbit, Mars veers outside our solar system's Goldilocks Zone and as such any native life would have its work cut out for it at aphelion.

A fleet of orbiters, landers, rovers and even a robotic helicopter are planned for further exploration in the next decade, so clearly the search for life on Mars is still deemed a worthwhile effort. Indeed, five more missions are scheduled for the next three years alone. Whether any will provide definitive proof is the big question, but conversely, how much of the surface - and sub-surface - would need to be thoroughly searched before concluding that Mars has either never had microscopic life or that it has long since become extinct?

What is apparent from all this is that the quantity of Mars-based missions has fluctuated according to confidence in the hypothesis. In other words, the more that data supports the existence of suitable habitats for microbes, the greater the amount of research to find them. In a world of limited resources, even such profoundly interesting questions as extra-terrestrial life appear to gain funding based on the probability of near-future success. If the next generation of missions fails to find traces of even extinct life, my bet would be a rapid and severe curtailing of probes to the red planet.

There is a caricature of the stages that scientific hypotheses go through, which can ironically best be described using religious terminology: they start as heresy; proceed to acceptance; and are then carved into stone as orthodoxy. Of course, unlike with religions, the vast majority of practitioners accept the new working theory once the data has passed a certain probability threshold, even if it totally negates an earlier one. During the first stage - and as the evidence starts to be favourable - more researchers may join the bandwagon, hoping to be the first to achieve success.

In this particular case, the expense and sophistication of the technology prohibits entries from all except a few key players such as NASA and ESA. It might seem obvious that in expensive, high-tech fields, there has to be a correlation between hypothesis-supporting facts and the amount of research. But this suggests a stumbling block for out-of-the-box thinking, as revolutionary hypotheses fail to gain funding without at least some supporting evidence.

Therefore does the cutting-edge, at least in areas that require expensive experimental confirmation, start life as a chicken-and-egg situation? Until data providentially appears, is it often the case that the powers-that-be have little enticement for funding left-field projects? That certainly seems to have been true for meteorologist Alfred Wegener and his continental drift hypothesis, since it took several research streams to codify plate tectonics as the revolutionary solution. 

Back to Martian microbes. Having now read in greater depth about seasonal methane, it appears that the periodicity could be due to temperature-related atmospheric changes. This only leaves the scale of variation as support for a biological rather than geochemical origin. Having said that, the joint ESA/Roscosmos ExoMars Trace Gas Orbiter may find a definitive answer as to its source in the next year or so, although even a negative result is unlikely to close the matter for some time to come. Surely this has got to be one of the great what-ifs of our time? Happy hunting, Mars mission teams!