Someone asked me the other day what it would take to surprise me. In other words, given the deluge of data coming in from all kinds of observatories, what one bit of news would set me back on my heels? That took some reflection. Would it surprise me, my interlocutor persisted, if SETI fails to find another civilization in my lifetime?

The answer to that is no, because I approach SETI without expectations. My guess is that intelligence in the universe is rare, but it’s only a hunch. How could it be anything else? So no, continuing silence via SETI does not surprise me. And while a confirmed signal would be fascinating news, I can’t say it would truly surprise me either. I can work out scenarios where civilizations much older than ours do become known.

Some surprises, of course, are bigger than others. Volcanoes on Io were a surprise back in the Voyager days, and geysers on Enceladus were not exactly expected, but I’m talking here about an all but metaphysical surprise. And I think I found one as I pondered this over the last few days. What would genuinely shock me – absolutely knock the pins out from under me – would be if we learn through future observation and even probes that Proxima Centauri b is devoid of life.

I’m using Proxima b as a proxy for the entire question of life on other worlds. We have no idea how common abiogenesis is. Can life actually emerge out of all the ingredients so liberally provided by the universe? We’re here, so evidently so, but are we rare? I would be stunned if Proxima b and similar planets in the habitable zone around nearby red dwarfs showed no sign of life whatsoever. And of course I don’t limit this to M-class stars.

Forget intelligence – that’s an entirely different question. I realize that my core assumption, without evidence, is that abiogenesis happens just about everywhere. And I think that most of us share this assumption.

The universe is going to seem like a pretty barren place if we discover that it’s wildly unlikely for life to emerge in any form. I’ve mentioned before my hunch that when it comes to intelligent civilizations, the number of these in the galaxy is somewhere between 1 and 10. At any given time, that is. Who knows what the past has held, or what the future will bring? But if we find that life itself doesn’t take hold to run the experiment, it’s going to color this writer’s entire philosophy and darken his mood.

We want life to thrive. Notice, for example, how we keep reading about potentially habitable planets, our fixation with the habitable zone being natural because we live in one and would like to find places like ours. Out of Oxford comes a news release with the headline “Researchers confirm the existence of an exoplanet in the habitable zone.” That’s the tame version of more lively stories that grow out of such research with titles like “Humans could live here” and “A Home for ET.” I’m making those up, but you know the kind of headlines I mean, and they can get more aggressive still. We hunger for life.

Here’s one from The Times: “‘Super-Earth’ discovered — and it’s a prime candidate for alien life.’” But is it?

Image: Artist’s depiction of an exoplanet like HD 20794 d in a conceivably habitable orbit. It may or may not be rocky. It may or may not be barren. How much do our expectations drive our thinking about it? Credit: University of Oxford.

That Oxford result is revealing, so let’s pause on it. HD 20794 d is about 20 light years from us, orbiting a G-class star like the Sun, which gives it that extra cachet of being near a familiar host. Three confirmed planets and a dust disk orbit this star in Eridanus, the most interesting being the super-Earth in question, which appears to be about twice Earth’s radius and 5.8 times its mass. The HARPS (High Accuracy Radial Velocity Planet Searcher) and ESPRESSO spectrographs at La Silla (Chile) have confirmed the planet, quite a catch given that the original signal detected in radial velocity studies was at the limit of the HARPS spectrograph’s capabilities.

Habitable? Maybe, but we can’t push this too far. The paper notes that “HD 20794 d could also be a mini-Neptune with a non-negligible H/He atmosphere.” And keep an eye on that elliptical orbit, which means climate on such a world would be, shall we say, interesting as it moves among the inner and outer edges of the habitable zone during its 647-day year. I think Oxford co-author Michael Cretignier is optimistic when he refers to this planet as an ‘Earth analogue,’ given that orbit as well as the size and mass of the world, but I get his point that its proximity to Sol makes this an interesting place to concentrate future resources. Again, my instincts tell me that some kind of life ought to show up if this is a rocky world, even if it’s nothing more than simple vegetation.

Because it’s so close, HD 20794 d is going to get attention from upcoming Extremely Large Telescopes and missions like the Habitable Worlds Observatory. The level of stellar activity is low, which is what made it possible to tease this extremely challenging planetary signal out of the noise – remember the nature of the orbit, and the interactions with two other planets in this system. Probing its atmosphere for biosignatures will definitely be on the agenda for future missions.

Obviously we don’t know enough about HD 20794 d to talk meaningfully about it in terms of life, but my point is about expectation and hope. I think we’re heavily biased to expect life, to the point where we’re describing habitable zone possibilities in places where they’re still murky and poorly defined. That tells me that the biggest surprises for most of us will be if we find no life of any kind no matter which direction we look. That’s an outcome I definitely do not expect, but we can’t rule it out. At least not yet.

The paper is Nari et al., “Revisiting the multi-planetary system of the nearby star HD 20794 Confirmation of a low-mass planet in the habitable zone of a nearby G-dwarf,” Astronomy & Astrophysics Vol. 693 (28 January 2025), A297 (full text).