The Beginning of Infinity: Explanations That Transform the World (52 page)

BOOK: The Beginning of Infinity: Explanations That Transform the World
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DAVID:
You are.

READER:
And I exist in multiple instances, some of them different from each other, some not. And those are the
least
weird things about the world according to quantum theory.

DAVID:
Yes.

READER:
But your argument is that we have no option but to accept the theory’s implications, because it is the only known explanation of many phenomena and has survived all known experimental tests.

DAVID:
What other option would you
like
to have?

READER:
I’m just summarizing.

DAVID:
Then yes: quantum theory does have universal reach. But if all you want to explain is how we know that there are other universes, you don’t have to go via the full theory. You need look no further than what a Mach–Zehnder interferometer does to a single photon: the path that was not taken affects the one that was. Or, if you want the same thing writ large, just think of a quantum computer: its output will depend on intermediate results being computed in vast numbers of
different
histories of the
same
few atoms.

READER:
But that’s just a few
atoms
existing in multiple instances. Not people.

DAVID:
Are you claiming to be made of something other than atoms?

READER:
Ah, I see.

DAVID:
Also, imagine a vast cloud of instances of a single photon, some of which are stopped by a barrier. Are they absorbed by the barrier that we see, or is each absorbed by a different, quasi-autonomous barrier at the same location?

READER:
Does it make a difference?

DAVID:
Yes. If they were all absorbed by the barrier we see, it would vaporize.

READER:
So it would.

DAVID:
And we can ask – as I did in the story of the starship and the twilight zone – what is holding up those barriers? It must be other instances of the floor. And of the planet. And then we can consider the experimenters who set all this up and who observe the results, and so on.

READER:
So that trickle of photons through the interferometer really does provide a window on a vast multiplicity of universes.

DAVID:
Yes. It’s another example of reach – just a small portion of the reach of quantum theory. The explanation of those experiments in isolation isn’t as hard to vary as the full theory. But in regard to the existence of other universes it’s incontrovertible all the same.

READER:
And that’s all there is to it?

DAVID:
Yes.

READER:
But then why is it that only a small minority of quantum physicists agree?

DAVID:
Bad philosophy.

READER:
What’s that?

Quantum theory was discovered independently by two physicists who reached it from different directions: Werner Heisenberg and Erwin Schrödinger. The latter gave his name to the
Schrödinger equation
, which is a way of expressing the quantum-mechanical laws of motion.

Both versions of the theory were formulated between 1925 and 1927, and both explained motion, especially within atoms, in new and astonishingly counter-intuitive ways. Heisenberg’s theory said that the
physical variables of a particle do not have numerical values. Instead, they are
matrices
: large arrays of numbers which are related in complicated, probabilistic ways to the outcomes of observations of those variables. With hindsight, we now know that that multiplicity of information exists because a variable has different values for different instances of the object in the multiverse. But, at the time, neither Heisenberg nor anyone else believed that his matrix-valued quantities literally described what Einstein called ‘elements of reality’.

The Schrödinger equation, when applied to the case of an individual particle, described a wave moving through space. But Schrödinger soon realized that for two or more particles it did not. It did not represent a wave with multiple crests, nor could it be resolved into two or more waves; mathematically, it was a single wave in a higher-dimensional space. With hindsight, we now know that such waves describe what proportion of the instances of each particle are in each region of space, and also the entanglement information among the particles.

Although Schrödinger’s and Heisenberg’s theories seemed to describe very dissimilar worlds, neither of which was easy to relate to existing conceptions of reality, it was soon discovered that, if a certain simple rule of thumb was added to each theory, they would always make identical
predictions
. Moreover, these predictions turned out to be very successful.

With hindsight, we can state the rule of thumb like this: whenever a measurement is made, all the histories but one cease to exist. The surviving one is chosen at random, with the probability of each possible outcome being equal to the total measure of all the histories in which that outcome occurs.

At that point, disaster struck. Instead of trying to improve and integrate those two powerful but slightly flawed explanatory theories, and to explain why the rule of thumb worked, most of the theoretical-physics community retreated rapidly and with remarkable docility into instrumentalism. If the predictions work, they reasoned, why worry about the explanation? So they tried to regard quantum theory as being
nothing but
a set of rules of thumb for predicting the observed outcomes of experiments, saying nothing (else) about reality. This move is still popular today, and is known to its critics (and even to some of its proponents) as the ‘shut-up-and-calculate interpretation of quantum theory’.

This meant ignoring such awkward facts as (1) the rule of thumb was grossly inconsistent with both theories; hence it could be used only in situations where quantum effects were too small to be noticed. Those happened to include the moment of measurement (because of entanglement with the measuring instrument, and consequent decoherence, as we now know). And (2) it was not even
self-
consistent when applied to the hypothetical case of an observer performing a quantum measurement on another observer. And (3) both versions of quantum theory were clearly describing
some
sort of physical process that
brought about
the outcomes of experiments. Physicists, both through professionalism and through natural curiosity, could hardly help wondering about that process. But many of them tried not to. Most of them went on to train their students not to. This counteracted the scientific tradition of criticism in regard to quantum theory.

Let me define ‘bad philosophy’ as philosophy that is not merely false, but actively prevents the growth of other knowledge. In this case, instrumentalism was acting to prevent the explanations in Schrödinger’s and Heisenberg’s theories from being improved or elaborated or unified.

The physicist Niels Bohr (another of the pioneers of quantum theory) then developed an ‘interpretation’ of the theory which later became known as the ‘Copenhagen interpretation’. It said that quantum theory, including the rule of thumb, was a complete description of reality. Bohr excused the various contradictions and gaps by using a combination of instrumentalism and studied ambiguity. He denied the ‘possibility of speaking of phenomena as existing objectively’ – but said that only the outcomes of observations should count as phenomena. He also said that, although observation has no access to ‘the real essence of phenomena’, it does reveal relationships between them, and that, in addition, quantum theory blurs the distinction between observer and observed. As for what would happen if one observer performed a quantum-level observation on another, he avoided the issue – which became known as the ‘paradox of Wigner’s friend’, after the physicist Eugene Wigner.

In regard to the unobserved processes between observations, where both Schrödinger’s and Heisenberg’s theories seemed to be describing a multiplicity of histories happening at once, Bohr proposed a new fundamental principle of nature, the ‘principle of complementarity’. It
said that accounts of phenomena could be stated only in ‘classical language’ – meaning language that assigned single values to physical variables at any one time – but classical language could be used only in regard to some variables, including those that had just been measured. One was not permitted to ask what values the other variables had. Thus, for instance, in response to the question ‘Which path did the photon take?’ in the Mach–Zehnder interferometer, the reply would be that there is no such thing as which path when the path is not observed. In response to the question ‘Then how does the photon know which way to turn at the final mirror, since this depends on what happened on both paths?’, the reply would be an equivocation called ‘particle–wave duality’: the photon is both an extended (non-zero volume) and a localized (zero-volume) object at the same time, and one can choose to observe either attribute but not both. Often this is expressed in the saying ‘It is both a wave and a particle simultaneously.’ Ironically, there is a sense in which those words are precisely true: in that experiment the entire multiversal photon is indeed an extended object (wave), while instances of it (particles, in histories) are localized. Unfortunately, that is not what is meant in the Copenhagen interpretation. There the idea is that quantum physics defies the very foundations of reason: particles have mutually exclusive attributes, period. And it dismisses criticisms of the idea as invalid because they constitute attempts to use ‘classical language’ outside its proper domain (namely describing outcomes of measurements).

Later, Heisenberg called the values about which one was not permitted to ask
potentialities
, of which only one would become actual when a measurement was completed. How can potentialities that do not happen affect actual outcomes? That was left vague. What caused the transition between ‘potential’ and ‘actual’? The implication of Bohr’s anthropocentric language – which was made explicit in most subsequent presentations of the Copenhagen interpretation – was that the transition is caused by human consciousness. Thus consciousness was said to be acting at a fundamental level in physics.

For decades, various versions of all that were taught as fact – vagueness, anthropocentrism, instrumentalism and all – in university physics courses. Few physicists claimed to understand it. None did, and so students’ questions were met with such nonsense as ‘If you think
you’ve understood quantum mechanics then you don’t.’ Inconsistency was defended as ‘complementarity’ or ‘duality’; parochialism was hailed as philosophical sophistication. Thus the theory claimed to stand outside the jurisdiction of normal (i.e. all) modes of criticism – a hallmark of bad philosophy.

Its combination of vagueness, immunity from criticism, and the prestige and perceived authority of fundamental physics opened the door to countless systems of pseudo-science and quackery supposedly based on quantum theory. Its disparagement of plain criticism and reason as being ‘classical’, and therefore illegitimate, has given endless comfort to those who want to defy reason and embrace any number of irrational modes of thought. Thus quantum theory – the deepest discovery of the physical sciences – has acquired a reputation for endorsing practically every mystical and occult doctrine ever proposed.

Not every physicist accepted the Copenhagen interpretation or its descendants. Einstein never did. The physicist David Bohm struggled to construct an alternative that was compatible with realism, and produced a rather complicated theory which I regard as the multiverse theory in heavy disguise – though he was strongly opposed to thinking of it in that way. And in Dublin in 1952 Schrödinger gave a lecture in which at one point he jocularly warned his audience that what he was about to say might ‘seem lunatic’. It was that, when his equation seems to be describing several different histories, they are ‘not alternatives but all really happen simultaneously’. This is the earliest known reference to the multiverse.

Here was an eminent physicist joking that he might be considered mad. Why? For claiming that his own equation – the very one for which he had won the Nobel prize – might be
true
.

Schrödinger never published that lecture, and seems never to have taken the idea further. Five years later, and independently, the physicist Hugh Everett published a comprehensive theory of the multiverse, now known as the
Everett interpretation
of quantum theory. Yet it took several more decades before Everett’s work was even noticed by more than a handful of physicists. Even now that it has become well known, it is endorsed by only a small minority. I have often been asked to explain this unusual phenomenon. Unfortunately I know of no entirely satisfactory explanation. But, to understand why it is perhaps not quite
as bizarre and isolated an event as it may appear, one has to consider the broader context of bad philosophy.

Error is the normal state of our knowledge, and is no disgrace. There is nothing bad about
false
philosophy. Problems are inevitable, but they can be solved by imaginative, critical thought that seeks good explanations. That is good philosophy, and good science, both of which have always existed in some measure. For instance, children have always learned language by making, criticizing and testing conjectures about the connection between words and reality. They could not possibly learn it in any other way, as I shall explain in
Chapter 16
.

Bad philosophy has always existed too. For instance, children have always been told, ‘Because I say so.’ Although that is not always intended as a philosophical position, it is worth analysing it as one, for in four simple words it contains remarkably many themes of false
and
bad philosophy. First, it is a perfect example of bad explanation: it could be used to ‘explain’ anything. Second, one way it achieves that status is by addressing only the form of the question and not the substance: it is about who said something, not what they said. That is the opposite of truth-seeking. Third, it reinterprets a request for
true explanation
(why should something-or-other be as it is?) as a request for
justification
(what entitles you to assert that it is so?), which is the justified-true-belief chimera. Fourth, it confuses the nonexistent
authority for ideas
with
human
authority (power) – a much-travelled path in bad political philosophy. And, fifth, it claims by this means to stand outside the jurisdiction of normal criticism.

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