Interactions: Conversation with Adam Becker

Post by Zoe Budrikis.

Quantum mechanics is a standard part of every undergraduate physics degree, but often it’s presented as “Here’s a mathematical formalism that works, end of story.” What is Real? by Adam Becker, released last week, tackles the history of how physicists have thought about the interpretation of quantum mechanics, starting with the Copenhagen interpretation but continuing through various dissenting views, such as Bohm’s pilot wave theory and Everett’s many worlds interpretation. His focus is as much on the politics and personalities that have shaped how we think about the field as it is on science and philosophy, which makes for an enlightening and entertaining read — I got through much of the book on a snowy Saturday at home, having difficulty putting it down.

We asked Adam some questions about the book and the stories behind it.

Becker_What Is Real_courtesy Basic Books

{credit}Basic Books{/credit}

You mention on your website you’ve been wanting to write this book for years. What kicked off your interest in the foundations of quantum mechanics?

There wasn’t any single event—it was a gradual process. I read pop science books that seemed very clear when it came to relativity, but didn’t do a very good job with quantum physics. I figured I’d understand what they were talking about once I actually took a quantum mechanics class, but that just made things worse, not better. After I asked one too many questions about quantum measurement, one professor told me (in a tone of utter disdain) that if I was interested in that kind of question, I should go off to the Philosophy Department. When I did, I started getting some very different (and much more clear) answers than I was getting from most of the physicists. And not everyone in the Physics Department was unwilling to entertain questions about quantum physics: in particular, I was lucky enough to take a course with David Mermin as an undergraduate. After spending time talking with Mermin and with philosophers of science, I was hooked: I had to understand what was going on in the quantum world. Of course, I still don’t!

Are there any anecdotes from the history of quantum foundations that didn’t make it into the final book that you’d like to share with us?

There are so many great stories that made it into the book (Bell’s silence on the subject of Bertlmann’s socks might be my favorite), and there are also many good ones that didn’t. For example, von Neumann threw serious shade at Dirac’s textbook when he was writing his own, which was amazing to see. I don’t know about my favorite story, but here’s a fun one that I think is very revealing about the personalities involved: Abner Shimony (a prominent philosopher of physics) and Louis de Broglie (who needs no introduction). Shimony was one of the leaders of the four-person team that proposed the first experimental test of Bell’s theorem, known as CHSH after their initials. Shimony sent a preprint of the CHSH paper to Bell, of course, but he also sent a preprint to de Broglie, along with a letter. “I felt that courtesy demanded a letter in French, and I drafted one, but had a French professor friend correct the grammar and locutions,” said Shimony. “De Broglie replied, with the utmost courtesy, in handwriting that resembled the Declaration of Independence.” So Shimony sent back another letter in French, and had a French professor correct his grammar again. After another round or so of this, a mutual friend told Shimony that de Broglie was deeply impressed by Shimony’s letters. De Broglie said that “here is one American who knows how to write a proper letter.” But when their mutual friend offered to introduce Shimony to de Broglie, Shimony balked. “Of course I refused,” Shimony said, “because I obviously could not sustain the game!”

I understand if you’re reticent to answer this, because in your book you’ve obviously put a lot of work into presenting the various interpretations of quantum mechanics equitably, but I’d love to know: which alternative to Copenhagen do you actually prefer? Or are you still waiting for a satisfying interpretation?

Adam Becker_credit John Castillo

{credit}John Castillo{/credit}

The short answer is that I’m still waiting. The longer answer is that I go back and forth on liking all of the available options and liking none of them. (I don’t include Copenhagen in this, because it’s not a real interpretation.) Each interpretation has its appeal, and its problems. All of the interpretations are strange, of course—they’re guaranteed to be strange as a result of Bell’s theorem, the Bell-Kochen-Specker theorem, and other results. So strangeness isn’t a problem. But there’s the question of logical coherence, of presenting an internally consistent picture of the world, even if it’s a deeply alien one. And there’s also the question of reproducing not just the successes of quantum mechanics, but also those of quantum field theory and the Standard Model. The different interpretations attempt to meet these challenges in different ways. Many of them look promising, but right now I don’t think any of them can lay claim to an unequivocal solution to all of these problems. For example, pilot-wave theory is definitely coherent (even its opponents will generally concede that), but it’s unclear whether there’s a way to get QFT out of it. The many-worlds interpretation can definitely account for QFT, but there’s serious debate over its internal coherence. So for now, I’m on the fence, but I’m happy here. It’s certainly better to have serious debate over interesting options, even if I’m not convinced by any one of them, than it is to have debate stifled with a pseudo-solution like the Copenhagen interpretation.

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Interactions: Conversation with Philip Ball

Post by Gaia Donati

Philip Ball talks about his latest book “Beyond Weird” — an exploration of the meanings of quantum theory and a tale of a continued effort to make sense of it. Call it counter-intuitive, challenging or puzzling — just don’t call it weird.

Ball1

How did the idea for “Beyond Weird” take shape?

Over the past several years I found myself writing various articles about aspects of quantum mechanics, such as the classical–quantum transition and decoherence, uncertainty relations, quantum computing. It began to dawn on me that many of the standard “stories” we science writers — and often scientists themselves, especially when speaking to a general audience — fall back on to convey what happens in quantum physics are incomplete, misleading or plain wrong. Partly this is due to poor metaphors used to talk about what pioneers like Bohr and Einstein said; partly it’s because conceptual and technical advances have reshaped the narrative in the past few decades, for example by realising in the laboratory what were previously considered just thought experiments. So the book is an attempt to bring the presentation of quantum mechanics up to date, and to get away from the habit of referring to a ‘weird’ kind of behaviour bound up with ‘wave–particle duality’, ‘two paths at once’ and so on.

In the book it looks like you wish to deconstruct some statements and comments associated with the theory of quantum mechanics and its interpretation(s)— noting the limitations of these statements and the confusions stemming from these — in order to usher in a more positive message taking the form of a ‘quantum reconstruction’ — finding new axioms for quantum mechanics. Do you view your book as a manifesto?

If the book is a manifesto, then it’s for ceasing to use the shaky old clichés and find better language, better images. But what are these? I’m not sure we yet know, though I tentatively suggest a few. It is definitely not a manifesto for a particular interpretation of quantum mechanics, although I do think that the informational perspective has brought a fresh and fruitful view — literally so, given the technologies which it spawns. In this respect, I also wanted to point out that these ‘quantum technologies’ are not merely applications of quantum mechanics: they bind practical potential very closely to the fundamentals. Then even so, regarding quantum mechanics as ‘all about information’ is not without its problems either.

One big point I wanted to make is that we need to try harder to get away from ‘explaining’ quantum mechanics with classical stories. The idea that a particle ‘takes both paths at once’ through the double slit is a prime example: we think in terms of classical paths that happen to be weirdly simultaneous. I don’t think that helps. The same applies to ‘spooky action at a distance’: quantum nonlocality isn’t the technical term to that, it’s the alternative.

What do you hope the readers to take away from the book? What reactions do you expect?

I hope the readers will take away a fresh perspective on how to think about the counter-intuitive aspects of quantum mechanics, and feel dissatisfied with articles that merely say ‘quantum is weird’. I would be very happy if we could hear less about Schrödinger’s cat in the future too.

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Interactions: Juan Knaster

Post by Giulia Pacchioni

Juan Knaster, project leader of IFMIF/EVEDA, answers our questions.
Knaster3What made you want to be a physicist?

Since childhood I have been obsessed with nature around me. Watching insect life, flowers, clouds moving, stars, moon, sunsets… Certainly Sagan’s television documentaries ‘Cosmos’ in the early 80s made a breakthrough in my spirit, but possibly the reading a few years later of the Spanish translation of Gamow’s Biography of Physics led me to be interested in nuclear fusion.

Gamow is the γ of the revolutionary αβγ-paper that unravelled nucleosynthesis in stars; possibly this led me unconsciously to my professional drive towards nuclear fusion from my teenage years, concurrently with the 80s Reagan–Gorbachov political move towards the research world’s adventure of ITER. I dreamt since I was a teenager to work for ITER. As soon as I finished my studies, I joined nuclear fusion research in CIEMAT in the last phases of design and start of construction of the TJ-II, the successful Spanish stellarator which remains in operation. After few years in CERN, where I matured professionally in the best possible environment I could have dreamt of, I re-joined the world’s fusion program through ITER.

I studied physics wishing to work for this beautiful dream of human kind, as old as humanity, of harnessing the fire of stars, and we are now very close! ITER will make a breakthrough in human history, since we will harness fire for the 2nd time in our history on Earth: this time the real one. Coming back to the question, before I keep on digressing… Fusion energy development led me to become a physicist.

Which historical figure would you most like to have dinner with — and why?

That’s a tricky question. I don’t think there is only one historical figure I wish to have dinner with.

I am fascinated with Neoplatonism, which was the philosophical consolidation of Gnosticism, which we could understand as the esoteric branch of a new religion, Christianity, that they attempted to eradicate following Council of Nicaea in 325 a.d. The line of thought of ‘oneness’ in the Universe, with humans  being not only observers, but very special actors in this united perception, pervades all cultures in all times, like flowers blooming in a field. Among these flowers, if I had to choose historical figures to have dinner with, possibly I would select Plotinus or Iambliqus as prominent figures of Neoplatonism, or moving east possibly the zen Chinese patriarch Huineng from the 7th century, whom I adore for his deeply Neoplatonic views; or the 11th century Persian Sufist Suhrawardi; or Pico della Mirandola, one of the fathers of the Rennaissance; or Boehme in 18th century; or Hegel in the 19th century; or Husserl or Jung in the 20th century.

Eating is one of my private pleasures, so possibly ascetic individuals like most of those previously mentioned would not be good company for a dinner; then, if I had to choose someone to really have a good time with, possibly I would choose Jung, with whom I know I would get along very well because of so many common interests in life. I am certainly persuaded that we would enjoy more than one dinner together, addressing topics of common interests combining my physics background with his studies on Hermetism, accompanied with a nice glass of red wine. He was interested in modern physics, and he collaborated with Pauli; some of the dreams he analyses in his Psychology and Alchemy are Pauli’s.

What are you working on, and what do you hope will be the impact of your research?

I am leading a European-Japanese research project, IFMIF/EVEDA, that aims to overcome the pending technological challenges to construct a fusion-relevant neutron source. The project is framed by the Broader Approach Agreement between Europe and Japan in the field of Fusion energy research. IFMIF, the International Fusion Materials Irradiation Facility, is a project whose concept was proposed in the mid-70s, but it demands a high-current linear accelerator, a liquid metal facility and an irradiation facility with unprecedented performances, that frankly were rather science fiction during its first serious attempt with FMIT, the Fusion Materials Irradiation Test facility, in the mid-80s in the US.

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Behind the paper: Serendipitous encounters

Post by Iulia Georgescu

If you meet an editor of the Nature journals they will likely assure you that to get published you just need good science. But, the truth is there is some luck involved too – especially for interdisciplinary work. Sometimes the editors accidentally come across gems of papers. Bart Verberck and Liesbeth Venema tell two such stories.

Bart Verberck: Mathematics and lizards

One of the most pleasant aspects of being a Nature Physics editor is the need to be in touch with the scientific community, which means a fair share of your time is spent away from your desk, at conferences and institutes.

On one such occasion, I found myself attending a conference called “Science of the Future” in Kazan, Russia.  The event was memorable for a number of reasons.  On the plane from Moscow to Kazan, for example, I happened to sit next to a French physicist checking his presentation for the conference, in which he referred to a (Physical Review B) paper I had co-authored back in the day when I was an active researcher.  And at the conference, as soon as I had expressed an interest in seeing the museum–room of Yevgeny Zavoisky — credited with the discovery of electron paramagnetic resonance, at the University of Kazan — hey presto, I was given a tour.

The scope of the conference was extremely broad; in one session of plenary talks one could hear from a historian (a first for me), a bioinformatician, a physicist and a mathematician.  The mathematician was Stanislav Smirnov, recipient of the 2010 Fields Medal.  His presentation touched on percolation and cellular automata, a subject I had been fascinated by for many years.

At the conference dinner, I approached Smirnov.  I wanted to know his opinion on Stephen Wolfram’s viewpoint that cellular automata are a sort of governing principle in nature, as expressed in his book A New Kind of Science.  After chatting a bit, Smirnov mentioned he was involved in a piece of work at the boundary between mathematics and biology.  He wondered whether, scope-wise, it would fit Nature

I would have loved to see the work submitted to Nature Physics, but, when I got an e-mail from Smirnov a few weeks later, asking for advice on where and how to submit, I did the honourable thing and put him in touch with Liesbeth Venema from Nature.  He submitted the paper — on how the pattern formation on the skin of a particular type of lizard is governed by, yes, a cellular automaton — to Nature, where it successfully went through peer review.  The paper’s publication in 2017 coincided with the centenary of “On Growth and Form” by D’Arcy Thompson and was on the cover of Nature.  Of course, I wrote a research highlight  about it in Nature Physics.

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Liesbeth Venema: Pyramids and robots

Another main attraction of being a Nature manuscript editor has always been, for me, the chance to learn a new scientific topic every week. This never gets boring. Admittedly, it helps if lizards are involved. Or sharks, spiders and tree frogs – all have played their parts in Nature papers I handled over the years.  Continue reading

Nature Reviews Physics is coming!

Post by Giulia Pacchioni

A new Reviews journal in physics will launch soon, publishing Reviews, Perspectives, Roadmaps and much more across the whole spectrum of physics. How will it look like and why will it be relevant for you? Find all the answers in this amazing short video that the PhD comics guys created to introduce the new title to its future readers and authors!

You can also read more about how the journal plans to bring new types of content to the scene in the blog post More or more diverse? by the chief editor Iulia Georgescu. Stay tuned!