Quantum mechanics is usually defined in terms of some loosely connected axioms and rules. Such a foundation is far from the beauty of, e.g., the `principles' underlying classical mechanics. Motivated, in addition, by notorious interpretation problems, there have been numerous attempts to modify or `complete' quantum mechanics. A first attempt was based on so-called hidden variables; its proponents essentially tried to expel the non-classical nature of quantum mechanics. More recent proposals intend to complete quantum mechanics not within mechanics proper but on a `higher (synthetic) level'; by means of a combination with gravitation theory (R Penrose), with quantum information theory (C M Caves, C A Fuchs) or with psychology and brain science (H P Stapp). I think it is fair to say that in each case the combination is with a subject that, per se , suffers from a very limited understanding that is even more severe than that of quantum mechanics. This was acceptable, though, if it could convincingly be argued that scientific progress desperately needs to join forces. Quantum mechanics of a closed system was a beautiful and well understood theory with its respective state being presented as a point on a deterministic trajectory in Liouville space---not unlike the motion of a classical N -particle system in its 6N -dimensional phase-space. Unfortunately, we need an inside and an outside view, we need an external reference frame, we need an observer. This unavoidable partition is the origin of most of the troubles we have with quantum mechanics. A pragmatic solution is introduced in the form of so-called measurement postulates: one of the various incompatible properties of the system under consideration is supposed to be realized (i.e. to become a fact, to be defined without fundamental dispersion) based on `instantaneous' projections within some externally selected measurement basis. As a result, the theory becomes essentially statistical rather than deterministic; furthermore there is an asymmetry between the observed and the observing. This is the point where consciousness may come in. Complemented by an introduction and several appendices, Henry Stapp's book consists essentially of three parts: theory, implications, and new developments. The theory part gives a very readable account of the Copenhagen interpretation, some aspects of a psychophysical theory, and, eventually, hints towards a quantum foundation of the brain--mind connection. The next part, `implications', summarizes some previous attempts to bridge the gap between the working rules of quantum mechanics and their possible consequences for our understanding of this world (Pauli, Everett, Bohm, Heisenberg). The last section, `new developments', dwells on some ideas about the conscious brain and its possible foundation on quantum mechanics. The book is an interesting and, in part, fascinating contribution to a field that continues to be a companion to `practical' quantum mechanics since its very beginning. It is doubtful whether such types of `quantum ontologies' will ever become (empirically) testable; right now one can hardly expect more than to be offered some consistent `grand picture', which the reader may find more or less acceptable or even rewarding. Many practicing quantum physicists, though, will remain unimpressed. The shift from synthetic ontology to analytic ontology is the foundation of the present work. This means that fundamental wholes are being partitioned into their ontologically subordinate components by means of `events'. The actual event, in turn, is an abrupt change in the Heisenberg state describing the quantum universe. The new state then defines the tendencies associated with the next actual event. To avoid infinite regression in terms of going from one state of tendencies to the next, consciousness is there to give these events a special `feel', to provide a status of `intrinsic actuality'. The brain of an alert human observer is similar in an important way to a quantum detection device: it can amplify small signals to large macroscopic effects. On the other hand, actual events are not postulated to occur exclusively in brains. They are more generally associated with the formation of records. Records are necessarily part of the total state of the universe: it is obvious that the state of the universe cannot undergo a Schrödinger dynamics and at the same time record its own history. `The full universe consists therefore of an exceedingly thin veneer of relatively sluggish, directly observable properties resting on a vast ocean or rapidly fluctuating unobservable ones.' The present ideas also bear on how the world should be seen to develop. While conventional cosmology encounters problems as to how to define the intial conditions, which would enter the governing equations of motion, here `the boundary conditions are set not at some initial time, but gradually by a sequence of acts that imposes a sequence of constraints. After any sequence of acts there remains a collection of possible worlds, some of which will be eliminated by the next act.' Connected with those acts is `meaning': there has always been some speculation about the special significance of local properties in our understanding of the world. One could argue that correlations (even the quantum correlations found, e.g., in the EPR-experiments) were as real as anything else. But also Stapp stresses the special role of locality: the `local observable properties, or properties similar to them are the natural, and perhaps exclusive, carriers of meaning in the quantum universe. From this point of view the quantum universe tends to create meaning.' This sounds like an absolute concept: meaning not with respect to something else, but defined intrinsically---not easy to digest. The role of consciousness in the developing quantum universe requires more attention. `The causal irrelevance of our thoughts within classical physics constitutes a serious deficiency of that theory, construed as a description of reality.' This is taken to be entirely different within quantum mechanics. `The core idea of quantum mechanics is to describe our activities as knowledge-seeking and knowledge-using agents.' `21st century science does not reduce human beings to mechanical automata. Rather it elevates human beings to agents whose free choices can, according to the known laws, actually influence their behaviour.' An example with respect to perception is discussed: `Why, when we look at a triangle, do we experience three lines joined at three points and not some pattern of neuron firings?' The brain `does not convert an actual whole triangle into some jumbled set of particle motions; rather it converts a concatenation of separate external events into the actualization of some single integrated pattern of neural activity that is congruent to the perceived whole triangle.' How convincing is this proposal? It is hard to tell. I think Henry Stapp did a good job, but there are tight limitations to any such endeavour. Quantum mechanics is often strange indeed, but it also gives rise to our classical world around us. For the emergence of classicality jumps and measurement projections (the basic phenomena connected with those fundamental events of choice) are not needed. Therefore, I doubt whether the explanation of the evolution of our world really allows (or requires) that much free choice. On the other hand, most scientist will agree that empirical science was not possible without free will: we could not ask independent questions if this asking was part of a deterministic trajectory. The fact that the result of a quantum measurement is indeterminate (within given probabilities) does certainly not explain free will. How about the type of measurment? The experimentalist will have to assume that he can select the pertinent observable within some limits. But given a certain design the so-called pointer basis (producing stable measurement results) is no longer a matter of free choice. `The main theme of classical physics is that we live in a clocklike universe.' Today it is often assumed that the universe was a big (quantum-) computer or a cellular automaton. Many would be all too happy to leave that rather restrictive picture behind. But where to go? Stapp suggests giving consciousness a prominent role: `The most profound alteration of the fundamental principles was to bring consciousness of human beings into the basic structure of the physical theory.' How far we are able to go in this direction will depend on the amount of concrete research results becoming available to support this view.
The Quantum theory deals with the microscopic structure of the Universe that describes the finer details of nature at the subatomic domain.To a physicist, quantum mechanics is one of the three great pillars supporting our intuition of evocative, bewildering and fascinating natural World as we continuously struggle with the inescapable strangeness of the subatomic domain as if something strange is always afoot.It is well accepted fact that quantum mechanics is a physical theory that describes the way things behave at subatomic level which is quite dazzling in its precision and explanatory power.A test of quantum electrodynamics, the oldest and best understood of the modern quantum theory that involves measuring the way an electron behaves in the vicinity of a magnetic force. Many of the technological and social changes that have revolutionized our lives have actually risen out of the fundamental theoretical research carried out with only motivation to understand the World in a better way than ever. For example, the invention of transistor actually came with the fundamental theoretical research on the Uncertainty Principle which states that the uncertainty of the position of a particle times the uncertainty of its velocity is always a constant. If we double the certainty of the position of the particle, we have to make half the certainty of its velocity and vice versa. Quantum theory is perhaps the prime example of the infinitely esoteric in the sense that it describes a World in which a particle really can be in several places at once and it moves from one place to another by exploring the entire Universe simultaneously-the theory of simultaneity. The diverse and complex Universe is actually made of a few tiny particles according to the rules of quantum theory which is so simple that can be summarized on the back of an envelope. The more we understand about the elemental nature of the Universe, the simpler it looks. We have already discovered that everything in the diverse and complex Universe is nothing but the different assemblies of atoms, and the wide variety of atoms are constructed using the three building blocks at the sub-atomic domain i.e. subatomic particles: protons, neutrons and electrons. We have also discovered that protons and neutrons ate made up of combination of three entities called quarks. And that is where things stop as far as recent discovery is concerned. But the recent progress in particle physics inspiring the quest for the ultimate unified theory of physics that can describe everything in the Universe in one go. The discovery of Boson particle certainty will revolutionaries the Newton's mass concept and gravity into whole new looks. To an optimistic point of view, we must hope the best out of the progress in physics.
Those defile the purity of mathematical and philosophical truthy who confound real quantities with their relations and sensible measures. —ISAAC NEWTON, Principia Before we say anything about quantum mechanics, let us take a quick look at the Newtonian (or ‘classical’) view of the physical universe. According to that view, nature consists of an enormous number of particles. When Newtonian physics is combined with the theory of the electromagnetic field, it becomes convenient to think of these particles as dimensionless (even if there is a kind of conceptual strain involved in trying to think of something as having a mass but not any size ), and as possessing electrical properties – negative charge, or positive charge, or neutrality. This leads to the well-known ‘solar system’ view of the atom – with the electrons whirling around the nucleons (neutrons and protons) just as the planets whirl around the sun. Out of atoms are built molecules; out of molecules, macroscopic objects, scaling from dust motes to whole planets and stars. These latter also fall into larger groupings – solar systems and galaxies – but these larger structures differ from the ones previously mentioned in being held together exclusively by gravitational forces. At every level, however, one has trajectories (ultimately that means the possibility of continuously tracing the movements of the elementary particles) and one has causality (ultimately that means the possibility of extrapolating from the history of the universe up to a given time to its whole sequence of future states).
Quantum theory is a phenomenally successful cornerstone of physics. But a recent poll among quantum physicists shows that there is still little agreement on what the theory tells us about physical reality. Yet precious bits of consensus are emerging. As always, Albert Einstein was ahead of his time. Quantum theory was still in its infancy, its formalism a mere sketch, and its implications only beginning to be realized. Yet Einstein, in 1917, already spotted what would trouble him throughout his lifetime. He concluded that the nascent theory, which he had helped initiate, seemed to leave “time and direction of elementary processes,” such as the spontaneous emission of radiation from a molecule, “to chance” 1. Einstein's conclusion was visionary. It was also incredibly bold, for it suggested a radical departure from the powerful, centuries-old deterministic and causal worldview of classical physics. But Einstein also immediately expressed his discomfort with the idea of fundamental chance. In fact, his worries were just the seed of what would turn into one of the longest and most heated debates in the history of physics. What does quantum theory mean, and what does it tell us about the nature of reality? Some of the brightest minds in physics locked horns over these issues. Besides Einstein, there were Niels Bohr, Erwin Schrödinger, Werner Heisenberg, Pascual Jordan, Carl Friedrich von Weizsäcker, Wolfgang Pauli, and Richard Feynman, just to name a few. Ask anyone today working on foundational questions in quantum theory and you are likely to hear that there is still no consensus on many of these questions—all the while, of course, everybody seems to be in perfect agreement on how to apply the quantum formalism when it comes to making experimental predictions. Remarkably, there has never been any serious attempt to find out what the current opinions of the community really are and how they may be correlated. We jumped on the opportunity and polled 33 participants at a 2011 conference on “Quantum Physics and the Nature of Reality” (Fig. 1) 2. (We hasten to add that our poll is to be understood as merely a snapshot and certainly cannot claim to be representative.) As soon as we had collected the questionnaires, the respondents eagerly asked to hear the results. Evidently, we had not been the only curious party. What did we find? The fundamental questions, it seems, still elicit radically different responses. Take the quantum state—represented by the wavefunction—as an illustration. The wavefunction is the central mathematical symbol of quantum mechanics. It allows us to make incredibly accurate predictions, be it in atomic, molecular, or solid-state physics. But how are we to interpret it? Is it itself a physical property, or does it merely represent our knowledge? Our poll revealed a tie between these two positions. And not only that: a third of respondents preferred a mix of both viewpoints—perhaps a sign that a more nuanced view, or even a synthesis of views, may be on the horizon. Only 3% of those polled thought that quantum states never refer to a single system but only to ensembles of systems. Perhaps this departure from the ensemble view—a view that, we suspect, remains more popular in the physics community at large—has to do with the fact that experiments with single quantum systems have become routine in today's quantum-information laboratories. Sharp disagreement was in evidence on another deep question. Abraham Pais, Einstein's biographer, recalled that “during one walk Einstein suddenly stopped, turned to me and asked whether I really believed that the moon exists only when I look at it” 3. Putting the issue differently, are the physical properties of objects well defined before we actually measure them? Half of the respondents in our poll believed that they sometimes were, while the other half said that they never were. These two positions correspond to radically different ways of understanding the function of measurement: either as simply ascertaining—at least sometimes—of what is already there, or as an act of genuine creation. The role of measurement is also at the heart of another perennial favorite of foundational discussions, the measurement problem. The measurement problem highlights a curious fact about quantum theory: while the act of measurement assumes a fundamental role, it is not described—not without interpretive contortions, anyway—by the dynamical law of quantum theory, the Schrödinger equation. For decades, the measurement problem was seen by many as the main stumbling block for quantum theory, sparking a storm of rivaling attempts to deal with this perceived issue. Today, the waters seem to have calmed and attention shifted elsewhere, as only less than a fourth of respondents consider the measurement problem “a severe difficulty threatening quantum mechanics.” Changing attitudes are also evident when it comes to the issue of chance Einstein had brought to light in 1917. Today, the question of the randomness of quantum events no longer seems to be all that contentious. Most of our respondents accepted randomness as irreducible or a fundamental concept in nature (or both). Less than one-tenth of respondents thought that quantum randomness was merely apparent rather than fundamental, and no one believed in a hidden determinism governing quantum events. We wish we could hear Einstein's opinion today. Why have attitudes and priorities changed? It's hard to say, but we think there may be several driving forces. The rapid ascent of quantum information science has not only led to applications such as secure cryptography and the promise of lightning-fast quantum computers, but has also shed new light on foundational problems and handed us new tools for addressing them. Our poll shows that these tools are considered a welcome addition, with three-fourths seeing quantum information as a breath of fresh air for foundational investigations. There is also optimism about the future technological development of quantum information, with more than 75% of respondents expecting a working and useful quantum computer to be realized within the next fifty years. Such optimism might be rooted in the astonishing experimental progress we have witnessed over the past decades, another driving force behind changing attitudes. We are now at stage where almost perfect experimental control of single quantum systems has been achieved. The 2012 Nobel Prize in physics was awarded for just such experiments. This has put at our fingertips the ability to actually carry out the thought experiments—or approximations thereof, at any rate—that the founders of quantum theory had dreamed up. Take Schrödinger's cat. In 1935, Schrödinger wanted to illustrate what seemed to him an absurd prediction of the new theory: that the strange quantum superpositions of the atomic world can be amplified to everyday objects. Schrödinger's object of choice was a cat in a specifically prepared box. Quantum theory then suggested that the state of the cat should become transformed into a bizarre quantum superposition of being simultaneously alive and dead. But what Schrödinger had intended as a “burlesque” 4 thought experiment is now approaching experimental reality. Over the last decades, researchers have become increasingly skilled in breeding small versions of Schrödinger's cat. While they don't involve actual cats, they do already involve large biological molecules. Our respondents, it seems, were inspired by such developments. A solid two-thirds majority declared that they don't expect any fundamental limit in this enterprise of observing larger and larger objects in superpositions of macroscopically distinct states. No limit, then, for quantum theory—something that Bohr had already suggested when he, in some of his early thought experiments, considered apparatuses that included macroscopic parts behaving in quantum-mechanical ways. There are other new trends. Why do people seem to be much more at ease with relativity theory than with quantum theory? For one, both special and general relativity theory are grounded in a few simple physical principles. By contrast, quantum theory is lacking such a foundation and is instead based on a rather abstract mathematical body. Today, several researchers are out to change this situation, trying to derive quantum theory from a small set of physical or information-theoretic principles. They hope that in this way, we will understand why we have this peculiar theory to begin with. A majority in our poll regarded such “reconstructions” of quantum theory as giving useful insights, indicating once more that any new tool that promises fresh insights is embraced with an open mind. To be sure, many (albeit not all) of the questions we asked in the poll are interpretive questions. This means that unless we should find out some day that quantum theory is in fact not always valid—in which case we would have to rethink the whole game—experiments arguably can't play the role of the arbiter. Some physicists will conclude from this that we need not bother with such questions, and relegate them to philosophy. We think this is too quick. Many ideas in physics didn't come out of thin air, but came about when someone started looking at a problem with a certain philosophical disposition. In this sense, we may think of the plurality of views in quantum mechanics as productive. Every interpretation highlights some aspect of quantum theory, is particularly suited for explaining particular phenomena, and may inspire new technologies—such as the quantum computer—or even new physics. What, then, does the future hold? Half of the respondents in our poll believe that in fifty years from now, we will probably still be coming together for conferences on the fundamental questions of quantum theory. But what kinds of questions will be on the agenda? Will we still be worrying about the same problems as today? Or will these problems have been solved—or found to be less relevant—and our focus shifted to new questions once again? Who knows. But the location of the conference where we conducted the poll may tell a story. It was the place of a monastery, and a central position in the battle between Catholics and Protestants during the seventeenth century. Many of the questions that were hotly debated back then are no longer of interest to many people today, and other, new questions have since taken center stage in our society. Maybe some of the battles over the interpretation of quantum theory will meet a similar fate.
Most philosophical work on quantum physics has concerned simple systems. And for good reason. Even one or two particle systems can exhibit the striking features we have come to associate with quantum physics—features such as entanglement, interference, and nonlocality. But as far as physics goes, such systems barely scrape the surface. In particular, they have only a finite number of degrees of freedom, which means their states are characterized by a finite number of independent parameters. The systems studied in fields such as high-energy particle physics and many-body physics, meanwhile, have uncountably many degrees of freedom. They are far more complicated than the usual philosophical fare.This is not troubling as long as the conceptual heart of quantum physics can be effectively condensed down. But what if philosophers' toy systems are fundamentally different from realistic ones? That would be a problem. And indeed, as Laura Ruetsche convincingly argues in Interpreting Quantum Theories, systems with uncountable degrees of freedom—what Ruetsche collectively calls QM∞—are fundamentally different from the systems that have become the stock and trade of philosophy of physics, in ways that change the interpretational project.Ruetsche's book does two things exceedingly well. The first is to provide a (comparatively) accessible and philosophically oriented introduction to the algebraic approach to quantum physics, which is essential for understanding QM∞. This is a valuable contribution. The algebraic approach is the setting for much recent philosophical work. And yet learning it is notoriously difficult, as even pedagogical texts are aimed at research-level mathematicians. Ruetsche's book is technically demanding, but it works to bring nonmathematicians along. It is, without a doubt, the best place to enter this literature.Second, the book sets the agenda for future work on QM∞, by effectively and judiciously drawing important foundational questions out of a sprawling and difficult physics literature. In this regard, it is a close cousin to John Earman's (1995) excellent Bangs, Crunches, Whimpers, and Shrieks, which has had a significant influence on subsequent philosophy of spacetime physics. Philosophers of physics will be addressing the questions Ruetsche has raised, in many cases for the first time, for years to come.Interpreting Quantum Theories centers on what might be called the problem of inequivalent representations. The quantum theories that philosophers are accustomed to are set in a mathematical structure known as a (separable) Hilbert space, which is an at-most countably infinite dimensional complex vector space. Rays in a Hilbert space represent possible states of a physical system, and self-adjoint operators on that Hilbert space correspond to properties of the system.To treat QM∞, meanwhile, physicists pass to a generalization of this formalism. Now one begins with an abstract algebra of operators corresponding to the various properties associated with the system. States in this more general framework are linear functionals on the algebra whose value at each operator is interpreted as the expectation value of a measurement of that property in that state.The trouble with this more general framework is that the interpretational tools of Hilbert space quantum theories do not directly apply. Some solace comes from recognizing that any (appropriate) algebra of operators admits a representation in terms of the operators on a Hilbert space. This suggests that one can always move back to the more familiar Hilbert space formalism. But this is a pyrrhic victory. In general these Hilbert space representations are neither unique nor empirically equivalent. In particular, these inequivalent representations, interpreted in the familiar way, yield disagreements about which algebraic states are physically realizable.Faced with this situation, Ruetsche presents several principled options—what she calls “pristine” interpretations of QM∞. The two most significant are what she calls “Hilbert Space Conservatism” and “Algebraic Imperialism.” The Conservative claims that, for a given system, there is one true Hilbert space representation, which should be interpreted in the familiar ways. The Imperialist, meanwhile, insists that only the abstract algebra matters: the physical states are the algebraic states, properties correspond to the operators in the algebra, and if our old methods do not apply, so much the worse for our methods.At this level of description, Imperialists may appear to have the advantage, since they need not fret over which representation to choose. But there's a catch. As we have seen, there is a sense in which Imperialists generally recognize a broader range of possible physical states. But Conservatives allow for more properties. This is because when one represents the abstract algebra as operators on a Hilbert space, the operators in the representation naturally approximate additional operators on that Hilbert space, in a way that is unavailable in the abstract setting. Thus each interpretation suffers from limitations that the other does not.To adjudicate between the interpretations, Ruetsche takes them to the trenches, to see which provides the resources to support the actual explanatory and representational practices of physics. After a masterful survey, she concludes that neither interpretation has all of the requisite resources. In particular, she argues, physicists regularly make essential use of operators that are only available to Conservatives, while making equally essential use of multiple inequivalent representations—which only Imperialists can support. More, the particular mix of Conservatism and Imperialism varies between applications, apparently ruling out a stable interpretation of the formalism that can be articulated independently of the messy details. We are left with what Ruetsche calls “adulterated” interpretations.Philosophers' practice notwithstanding, it might seem unsurprising that we cannot separate our interpretation of physical theories from the pragmatics of their application to the world. After all, we are interested in these theories only insofar as they are successfully applied. But Ruetsche believes the problem is more acute. It is not merely that pragmatic considerations enter the debate between Conservatives and Imperialists. Ruetsche argues that there may not be any consistent, general interpretation of QM∞ compatible with practice. And this, she claims, makes realism about QM∞ untenable.The idea that the applications of a broad class of our best physical theories undermine their consistent interpretation in a way that renders realism incoherent is striking. Insofar as Ruetsche's case is convincing, it should have serious repercussions for general philosophy of science—both because it bears on important debates and because it shows how generalist questions depend on the details of particular scientific theories and their applications. Indeed, Ruetsche's skepticism about the terms of the realism debate and her radical particularism should influence general philosophy of science. But that said, her argument ultimately leaves room for disagreement.Ruetsche's basic claim is that Conservatism and Imperialism each support practices that the other cannot and that both kinds of practice are essential. But there is an important asymmetry here. Conservatives suffer because they fail to represent putative physical possibilities appealed to in practice. Imperialists, meanwhile, need to justify that in certain applications, they may limit attention to a subset of the physical possibilities their interpretation admits, and then use resources that only make sense in those limited regimes.The trouble is that the Imperialists' opportunism is neither unusual in physics nor difficult to motivate. In spacetime physics, for instance, properties such as the total mass of the universe or global time can be defined only in very special cases. And yet such properties are used in practice, because often the salient spacetimes are precisely the ones in which these quantities make (approximate) sense. To make her case that adulteration in QM∞ undermines realism, Ruetsche would need to establish that the representation-dependent quantities used in applications of QM∞ are different in kind from analogous quantities that appear throughout physics. And here it is not clear that she succeeds.None of this undercuts the importance of the book, however. Indeed, Ruetsche acknowledges that her argument may depend on how one understands idealization in physics. And even if one takes the view just described, there is a great deal of work to do on how Imperialism can support the practices Ruetsche identifies—work that will surely proceed within the framework Ruetsche has laid out, by addressing questions Ruetsche has raised. And so, wherever our study of QM∞ takes us, Ruetsche's book is sure to play a central role.