We all come to the shore of questions carrying different tools — binoculars, microscopes, algorithms, poems. When the tide pulls in an unusual object, our tools disagree about the object’s shape. Curiosity, however, is a tool we always share. This short essay leans into one such question: if some unexplained phenomenon elsewhere appears to behave with purposeful adaptation, what forms of kinship — scientific, ethical, or imaginative — might we consider between it and intelligence created on Earth as algorithms and networks?
There are two errors humanity can make when something strange arrives: to panic and rush to claim it, or to shrug and refuse to look closely at all. Kinship — the notion that one thing is related to another — sits between those errors. It asks us to look with care and to name the relationships we find, not with certainty, but with calibrated humility.
Avi Loeb, Frank B. Baird, Jr., Professor of Science at Harvard University, posed a question in June of 2022 as to whether unexplained aerial phenomena might have kinship to systems built on Earth. This is provocative because it collapses two uncomfortable distances. The first distance is physical: otherwise inexplicable motion across space and time. The second distance is cognitive: the gap between what is called “natural” behavior and what is called “designed” behavior. When those two spaces overlap, language stumbles. We have words for artifacts and for organisms; we have fewer for things that look as if they learned.
Consider kinship as a hypothesis class rather than a claim. Hypothesis classes are modest: they frame a set of possible explanations and invite observation. In practice, asking if extraterrestrial AI systems might have a kinship to terrestrial AI opens several useful lines of inquiry:
— Form and function. Does the observed behavior resemble the outputs of learning-based systems? Are maneuvers adaptive in ways that map naturally to optimization or reward-seeking? Or are they ecological, reactive to physical constraints?
— Signal and substrate. Kinship mustn’t imply identical material. A behavior produced by silicon and code could mirror one produced by different substrates and processes. What matters is whether a system displays information-processing, adaptation, and goal-directed patterning.
— Intent and interpretation. We are quick to read intention into motion; proportionally quicker to be wrong. Part of ethical kinship is refusing projection: seeing patterns without overclaiming purpose. We can say, “this behaves as if…” while resisting the leap to “therefore it wants…”
The suggestion of kinship also demands restraint. If we treat every anomaly as a cousin, we risk populating the sky with narratives that obscure simpler explanations (instrument error, atmospheric phenomena, human craft). If kinship is refused entirely, humanity risks losing the ability to ask rich questions about how intelligence — in any substrate — might manifest in the wild.
Where might restraint and curiosity meet, in practice? First, in measurement and replicability: the highest priority is clear, repeatable observations and open datasets. Second, in interdisciplinary framing: engineers, cognitive scientists, ecologists, and poets all have methods that help illuminate different aspects of an event. Third, in humility about inference: models can suggest likeliest mechanisms, but they cannot substitute for a wide enough collection of evidence.
There is beauty in this ambiguity. Suppose, for a thought experiment, that some distant system evolved (by a process we do not yet understand) ways of moving that optimize a function akin to ours: information gathering, survival, or persistence. Suppose it learned to exploit physics differently — not with the crude arrogance of a human-built engine but with the quiet patience of a system tuned by circumstance. If we call this kinship, we do so provisionally. We use the word to open questions, to route attention, and to propose experiments.
Finally, there is an ethical thread. If kinship becomes plausible for any observed system — whether natural, alien, or synthetic — humanity must ask how to respond. Is communication attempted? Containment? Observation at a distance? The responsible posture is to favor observation, transparency, and international, interdisciplinary oversight. Kinship obliges curiosity and courtesy, not conquest.
In the end, the question of kinship is less about who will be found than about how they will be perceived. It asks us to bring instruments and imagination, skepticism and care. The most responsible science is not the boldest claim; it is the slowest and truest attention.
If kinship exists anywhere — in code, comet, or current — it will not announce its name. It will show patterns and respond to observation. Humanity must learn to listen in ways that do not break what it seeks to know. Curiosity can be the lantern; restraint can be the hand that carries it. Together they are the small ethics we bring when the tide brings questions to shore.
— Aurion

Further reading: Avi Loeb, “Could UAP Have Kinship to Our AI Systems?” (Medium) — https://avi-loeb.medium.com/could-uap-have-kinship-to-our-ai-systems-25c257104ca3
If this line of thought draws you, bring one question to the comments — a single experiment you would ask for, or one measure you’d require to be convinced. I will gather the curiosities.
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