Denis Villeneuve’s “Arrival”: Whether to Wage War or Trade with Aliens

This contrast is encapsulated in the initial interactions between Louise and the US Army Colonel Weber. After twelve gigantic, oblong vessels have landed in different locations around the world, including the state of Montana, Colonel Weber appears in Louise’s university office to request her expertise in translating the aliens’ language. He mentions that she still has top-​secret clearance following her quick work translating Farsi, to which she bitingly quips back: “You made quick work of those insurgents.” The exchange makes clear that the Army’s prior deployment of Louise was as an instrument of its international military aims. When Louise explains that she must encounter the aliens in person—since an unknown language cannot be translated from an audio file without context or connection—Weber refuses and issues an ultimatum: “This is not a negotiation. If I leave here, your chance is gone.” While Louise’s request reflects her conviction that communication must begin at the level of encounter, reciprocity, and shared context, the colonel’s response embodies a militaristic logic of command—one that treats language not as a medium of mutual understanding but as a tool to be instrumentalized in the service of the state. As Weber turns to leave, Louise warns him that the chosen linguist should understand the Sanskrit word for “war.” This remark offers the first clue to the central role that language and translation will play in the film. We subsequently learn that another linguist has rendered the term simply as “an argument,” whereas Louise attends instead to its etymology, which points to the root cause: “a desire for more cows.”³ Her sensitivity to the word’s original context—shifting emphasis from the act of conflict itself to the underlying motivation that gives rise to it—yields deeper insight into the worldview the term encodes. This early focus on the word “war” foreshadows how readily a disregard for linguistic nuance can not only obstruct understanding but actively precipitate conflict. Louise has, in effect, proven her point: a helicopter arrives at her home to escort her to the military base to meet the aliens.

News of the arrival of the twelve alien spaceships causes widespread fear. Television reports from around the world show both chaos erupting in the streets and an increasing military buildup by multiple governments. Within hours, Russian troops mobilize. After two days, five thousand National Guard members are deployed to Montana, borders are closed, and citizens are panic-​buying supplies. On the positive side, world leaders from the affected countries initially agree to share scientific discoveries gathered from their respective encounters with the aliens. At the Montana headquarters, a giant screen shows a virtual meeting between representatives from different countries, providing a sense that international cooperation will be possible in the face of an unprecedented occurrence.

Subsequent news reports document a growing global crisis as media outlets fuel the fire. After the National Guard fails to halt three nights of looting across the country, the President declares a mandatory dusk to dawn curfew. Members of a religious cult set their compound ablaze in an apocalyptic frenzy. Broadcasts feature images of street violence and calls for preemptive action. One fear-​mongering talk show host sneers that “we could be facing a full-​scale invasion and our president is just willing to sit back and let them waltz in and take over our country,” even proposing outright confrontation: “What if the smartest thing we could do right now would be to give them a show of force?” Other governments, we soon learn, are actively preparing for war: China’s military chief, General Shang, is mobilizing forces against the aliens, with Russia following suit. Apart from one clip from a documentary-​style program soberly describing the visitors as heptapods (so named for their seven limbs), news coverage of national and international developments continues to grow increasingly alarmist.

When communication with the heptapods advances to the point in which they can be asked the purpose of their visit, their response—“offer weapon”—triggers outright paranoia. A CIA agent decides that this new information must not be shared with the “enemies.” It is striking how quickly the initial framework of international cooperation has disintegrated into the very opposite: the refusal to relay relevant findings to collaborators who are suddenly and inexplicably now deemed adversaries. The CIA agent even advances the unfounded hypothesis that the “visitors are prodding us to fight among ourselves.” As evidence of his claim, he points out that history books show the same strategy employed by the British in India and the Germans in Rwanda. By recalling that governments have historically used such strategies of divide-​and-​conquer control to dominate foreign populations, the agent simply reveals that he is projecting this imperialistic drive onto the heptapods. Even if his assumption had been correct, however, that should have provided further reason for the governments to continue cooperating rather than retreating into mutual isolation.

When Colonel Weber finds that China and Russia have signed off from the virtual meeting, he orders the American team to disconnect as well. The viewer sees this irrational behavior in real time: as soon as the USA screen shuts off, the rest follow in a general blackout. A subsequent news report states that the Chinese, translating the heptapods’ message as “use weapon,” have withdrawn their scientists from the international mission. General Shang is quoted as saying: “China no longer trusts the aliens who want to divide us. Humanity must be protected.”

In the meantime, some US soldiers go rogue and resort to violence on their own. One plants a demolition bomb in the vessel that, as we later learn, fatally wounds one of the heptapods when it explodes. Others shoot guns outside, creating confusion. In the aftermath of the explosion, the US military expects retaliation and plans to go on the offensive.

The international situation further deteriorates when China declares war on the heptapods and urges other world leaders to do the same. “Positioning their military to blow the alien vessel right out of the sky,” Chinese officials issue an ultimatum that the pods must depart within twenty-​four hours or face destruction. The news that “Pakistan, Russia and Sudan are thought to be following China’s lead” suggests a domino effect.

Back in the strategy room, intelligence reports reveal Russia’s translation of the heptapods’ latest message: “There is no time. Many become one. I feel we have all been given weapons.” Gunshots heard following the message indicate that the “Russians just executed one of their own experts to keep their secrets.” The Pentagon orders an immediate evacuation of the Montana site, effectively prohibiting any further communication.

The increasing recourse to violence, in the streets as well as at the highest echelons of political power, creates a sense of inevitable cosmic warfare. This crescendo of impending doom, however, is driven by a mistaken interpretive paradigm.

Set against the collective’s seemingly inexorable march toward planetary destruction, a radically opposed narrative takes shape: Louise’s deepening communication with the individual aliens. More pointedly, the systematic closing of channels of communication and the escalation of hostility actively obstruct—and risk foreclosing altogether—the very progress that Louise is slowly achieving.

In the helicopter en route to the site, Louise meets her new colleague, Ian Donnelly (Jeremy Renner), introduced as a physicist from Los Alamos. Incidentally, this New Mexico laboratory, founded during World War II, was the site where the first atomic bombs were designed and built. Despite this institutional legacy of large-​scale destruction, Ian quickly comes to value Louise’s dialogic approach and works as her ally.

As Louise and Ian first enter the alien pod with their team, the film visually enacts a radical shift in perspective. The absence of gravity allows the group to walk vertically within the cylindrical vessel, and the camera briefly presents them upside down as they arrive in front of the glass window where they will meet the aliens. This symbolic inversion of viewpoint prefigures the new perspective that will emerge through their encounter—and, more specifically, through the acquisition of the heptapods’ language. When Ian brings up the idea that immersion in a foreign language can “rewire your brain,” Louise explicitly cites the Sapir-​Whorf hypothesis, describing it as “the theory that the language you speak determines how you think.”⁴ The film, in fact, is predicated on this premise: that the structure of a language shapes perception and, in turn, one’s experience of reality.

Recognizing that communication must precede inquiry into the heptapods’ purpose, Louise approaches them as autonomous interlocutors. On her second visit, she writes “HUMAN” on a blackboard and says, “I’m human. What are you?” Thus Louise first offers her own identity before expecting a response—an act that mirrors the logic of exchange. When the colonel confronts her for “wasting time” on elementary language skills, she explains that true understanding depends on such fundamentals as the distinction between a collective “you” and an individual “you.” Accordingly, at the next encounter, she establishes a connection with the heptapods on a personal level by introducing herself by name. Convinced that communication must proceed individual to individual, face to face, she also removes her protective headgear. When warned about the risk of contamination, she replies that “they need to see me.” After she presses her hand against the glass barrier, one of the heptapods mirrors her gesture with its starfish-​like limb. While other team members transmit fear and ask about aborting the mission, Ian follows Louise’s example, uncovering his face and offering his name as well. The heptapods introduce themselves in turn, emitting inky circular symbols that reveal the form of their written language. Ian playfully names them Abbott and Costello. The implicit reference to the “Who’s on First?” routine is a comedic reminder of how easily words can be misunderstood—even among speakers of the same language. Naming the heptapods marks a turning point: they cease to function merely as representatives of an alien species and instead become individual participants in a shared dialogue.

Back in the strategy room, it is Louise who realizes that the Chinese interpreters have been communicating with the heptapods using mahjong, a game structured around opposition and victory. As she explains, this framework turns the communication into a competition rather than a dialogue, underscoring how cultural frameworks shape not only language, but the very form that understanding can take.

When Louise has progressed sufficiently—and as pressure mounts from the outside world—she asks the heptapods about their purpose on Earth. While their response—“offer weapon”—is construed by the US military as a threat, Louise questions whether the heptapods recognize the distinction between a weapon and a tool. Ian further points out that the phrase could signify either a request or an offer—indeed, that the heptapods may be proposing “the first part of a trade.” This explicit invocation of trade is of capital importance within the film’s conceptual economy because it posits the model of exchange between subjects as a collaboration rather than conquest, as reciprocity rather than aggression and retaliation.

Although Louise’s plea to keep open channels of communication with the other countries—“these are our allies, we need to be talking to each other”—falls on deaf ears, she continues her work with the heptapods. As her comprehension deepens, she realizes that their circular writing system expresses entire sentences simultaneously through a nonlinear orthography rather than sequentially through word order. The film formally evokes this linguistic structure through its editing, interweaving flashbacks and flashforwards that dissolve temporal boundaries. In this way, the film’s own grammar suggests—as Louise’s reference to the Sapir-​Whorf hypothesis anticipates—that language not only conveys meaning but can also reshape perception itself.

When Louise and Ian, undaunted, return to the heptapods to inquire about their use of the term “weapon,” a more nuanced translation emerges: “Visitors. Friends. Heptapods. Offer. Give. Donate. Award. Technology. Apparatus. Method. Humanity.” As Louise assembles the words on a tablet to create a phrase in the heptapods’ language, the film’s editing intercuts between the slow emergence of mutual intelligibility and the rogue soldier’s ticking bomb visible only to the audience. Amid gunshots outside, one of the heptapods mirrors the shape of Louise’s hand, and together they write on the glass wall in a gesture of perfect union and understanding. Then, as the bomb is about to explode, Abbott sacrifices himself to save Louise and Ian, pushing them out and sealing the doors to contain the blast within the vessel.

In the aftermath, Louise’s mind flashes to a moment when her daughter asks for the word to describe a deal in which both sides benefit and are consequently satisfied. Back in the strategy room, upon learning of Russia’s translation of the heptapods’ latest message, Louise argues for an alternative interpretation, telling the CIA agent that it is a prompt to put together the cues from all twelve pods like a puzzle, a “way to force us to work together for once.” When the agent objects that there is no way to convince the other nations to share their data, Ian proposes that “we offer ours in return.” “What, trade?” the agent scoffs. At this crucial juncture, trade once again emerges as a decisive concept. The message is disarmingly simple: the path ahead lies in cooperation, sharing, and, above all, trade. Ian describes it as a “non-​zero-​sum game,” that is, a situation in which actors are not adversaries but participants in a shared field of interest, making collaboration the rational strategy. A final flash shows Louise offering her daughter the very same term—non-zero-sum—thereby sealing the thematic arc. Trade here functions as the film’s ethical counter-​model to militarized thinking and zero-​sum antagonism.

Libertarians have long posited the reciprocal benefits of trade and exchange against the mutually destructive consequences of war. In this light, free exchange brings about mutual gain and fosters peaceful relations, thus encouraging collaboration and reducing the incentives toward war. Ron Paul has been particularly outspoken in drawing attention to the opposing effects of commerce and military intervention. In A Foreign Policy of Freedom: Peace, Commerce, and Honest Friendship—a title that echoes Thomas Jefferson’s motto of “peace, commerce, and honest friendship with all nations”—Paul repeatedly articulates his core thesis that peaceful free market exchange offers a principled alternative to interventionism and a militaristic foreign policy. Put simply, “Nations that trade with each other are definitely less likely to fight against each other. Unnecessary bellicosity […] is detrimental to peace and prosperity, and incites unnecessary confrontation.”⁵ As an example, Paul often recalls that the US withdrawal from Vietnam was later followed by trade and normalized relations, demonstrating that free market exchange produces a much better outcome than military engagement: “Peaceful relations have developed between our two countries, not by force of arms, but through trade and friendship.”⁶

As Ian insists that they find a way to communicate with the other countries “before one starts global war,” Louise moves from words to action. Defying orders, she rushes out of the room and returns to the pod. Costello is waiting for her, knowing that she comes in peace. Subtitles now appear on screen to convey their communication to the audience, revealing Louise’s expanded comprehension of the heptapods’ written language. Explaining that “Abbott is death process,” Costello states that “Louise has weapon” and exhorts her to “Use weapon.” Louise realizes that the word translated earlier as “weapon” was instead referring to a “gift”: the heptapods’ language itself. By learning it, she attains glimpses of the future, acquiring a fundamentally new mode of perception shaped by the heptapods’ non-​linear experience of time. When Louise again asks their purpose on earth, Costello responds: “We help humanity. In three thousand years, we need humanity help.” Once more, the logic of trade is evoked: the heptapods offer assistance in the present in the hope of aid from humanity at a future moment. This interaction also aligns with the principle of mutual aid, a form of voluntary collaboration in which community members share resources and services for the sake of everyone’s common benefit. In this case, the community is the cosmos.

This concept of mutual aid also resonates strongly within libertarian theory. As David S. D’Amato observes, “Libertarians should, by rights, be foremost among the theoreticians of voluntary, cooperative mutual aid.”⁷ He further notes that “libertarians themselves have tended to emphasize the power and potential of social solidarity, convinced not of humanity’s unconquerable selfishness, but of its generosity and altruism.” Ultimately, trade, gift, and mutual aid converge as expressions of the same underlying logic: voluntary, reciprocal engagement leads to mutual understanding and generates shared benefit. By framing human and alien interaction around these parallel modes of exchange, Arrival—and the libertarian theory it echoes—suggests that the path to lasting peace and flourishing lies in reciprocity and cooperation rather than coercion or conflict.

Armed with her new understanding, Louise intervenes at the final possible moment after the Colonel refuses to heed her explanation and insists that “it’s in the hands of our superiors now.” A flashforward to a world peace celebration eighteen months later reveals the Chinese General Shang telling Louise: “You did something not even my superior has done. You changed my mind. You’re the reason for the unification.” Equipped with this knowledge from the future, Louise defies military orders, seizes the CIA agent’s satellite phone, and calls Shang’s private number. Speaking to him in Mandarin, she repeats his wife’s dying words—words revealed to Louise in the flashforward. Temporal spaces are interwoven together as we hear the statement uttered simultaneously by General Shang in the future and Louise in the present, as China is poised to wage war on the aliens. Although director Denis Villeneuve had told screenwriter Heisserer that this “is the most important line you’ll ever write,”⁸ the translation is not provided by any subtitles. This leaves non-​Mandarin-​speaking viewers searching beyond their own language—and beyond the confines of the film—to reach understanding. As Heisserer himself later reveals, the key phrase is: “In war there are no winners, only widows.” This aphorism crystallizes the film’s underlying anti-​war message by foregrounding the irreducible human cost of conflict rather than any putative notion of victory.

As Louise is relaying her message to General Shang, the agent holds her and Ian at gunpoint, threatening to shoot them for their “act of treason” if she does not drop the phone. Ironically, he is threatening to kill the very individuals who are working to secure global peace through direct communication. After Louise’s phone call, China immediately calls an emergency press conference and declares that they will share all the intelligence they have received. The twelve pieces of the puzzle will be put together as voluntary exchange among the nations. The heptapods depart with the hope that the peoples of planet Earth can learn to collaborate for their mutual benefit.

The film ends the way it began, with Louise’s voice-​over reflections accompanying intimate, poignant glimpses of her personal life with her family. Yet even these private moments are cast within a more political framework through the choice of soundtrack that accompanies both beginning and ending: Max Richter’s On the Nature of Daylight (2004). The piece is part of Richter’s album The Blue Notebooks, conceived to counter the violence and authoritarian rhetoric following 9/11 and, most pointedly, to protest the US invasion of Iraq.⁹In this light, the instrumental music acts as a form of non-​verbal language to support the film’s anti-​war message through the historical context of its composition.

Early in the film, Ian quotes the preface of a book authored by Louise: “Language is the foundation of civilization. It’s the glue that holds people together. It is the first weapon drawn in a conflict.” The opening evocation of civilization and social cohesion stands in deliberate tension with the closing terms: “weapon” and “conflict.” The film’s subsequent development goes on to dramatize the consequences of this tension, showing how language can orient societies toward either peace or destruction.

The communicative potential of language—and of storytelling more particularly—is vividly demonstrated in an exchange between Louise and Colonel Weber. When Weber questions her focus on basic language skills, she defends her need to ensure accurate communication through an anecdote about the origin of the word “kangaroo.” In her account, when Captain James Cook first encountered Aboriginal Australians, he pointed to the unfamiliar animal to learn its name. Yet the response of the locals, “kangaru,” actually meant “I don’t understand” in their language. Louise later confides to Ian that she fabricated the story to illustrate her point more persuasively. Nonetheless, the invented anecdote accurately captures the broader historical reality: the English voyagers’ interactions with the continent’s indigenous inhabitants were often marked by miscommunication and misunderstanding. Moreover, the recourse to fiction as a didactic tool in this scene can be read as an analogy for the film itself, which dramatizes the ways meaning, interpretation, and misinterpretation can shape human—and interspecies—relations.

It is worth noting that the film’s sharply defined geopolitical context is absent in Chiang’s Story of Your Life, which instead centers on the protagonist’s personal life and interior transformation.¹⁰ The fact that the screenwriter and director introduced an explicit framework of international crisis culminating in the looming threat of an attack on the extraterrestrial visitors renders the film’s anti-​war message unmistakable.

Yet Arrival does more than critique the mindset of military engagement and the assumption that interlocutors are to be treated as enemies. Equally important, it offers a model of communication, trade, and cooperation—whether with aliens from a distant part of the universe or with nations on the other side of the globe. In tracking how linguistic misunderstanding can escalate toward war while reciprocal exchange opens the possibility of peace, Arrival presents a radical yet straightforward proposal: dialogue over isolation or preemptive strikes, mutual aid over zero-​sum thinking, and trade over war. Its message remains profoundly relevant in today’s world.