Abstract The strange behaviour of photons described in the last chapter immediately raises all sorts of difficult questions about the meaning of quantum theory. We might be encouraged to look for this meaning by going back to the theory’s mathematical formalism, perhaps by trying to find out how we might better interpret some of its elements. However, it is a central argument of this book that, no matter where we look, we are always led back to philosophy. At first sight, this might seem to be an odd thing to claim. After all, modem textbooks on quantum physics and chemistry rarely (if ever) discuss philosophy. We accept that the behaviour of photons is strange, but surely it is something that we can at least study experimentally—do we need philosophy in these circumstances? The answer is most certainly yes. Quantum theory directly challenges our understanding of the nature of matter and radiation, and the process of measurement at their most elementary levels, and we cannot go forward unless we adopt some kind of interpretation, some way of trying to make sense of it all. As we will see, this interpretation has to be based on some philosophical position.
Abstract The strange behaviour of photons described in the last chapter immediately raises all sorts of difficult questions about the meaning of quantum theory. We might be encouraged to look for this meaning by going back to the theory’s mathematical formalism, perhaps by trying to find out how we might better interpret some of its elements. However, it is a central argument of this book that, no matter where we look, we are always led back to philosophy. At first sight, this might seem to be an odd thing to claim. After all, modem textbooks on quantum physics and chemistry rarely (if ever) discuss philosophy. We accept that the behaviour of photons is strange, but surely it is something that we can at least study experimentally—do we need philosophy in these circumstances? The answer is most certainly yes. Quantum theory directly challenges our understanding of the nature of matter and radiation, and the process of measurement at their most elementary levels, and we cannot go forward unless we adopt some kind of interpretation, some way of trying to make sense of it all. As we will see, this interpretation has to be based on some philosophical position.
Abstract The strange behaviour of photons described at the end of the last chapter immediately raises all sorts of questions about the meaning of quantum theory. We might be encouraged to look for this meaning by going back to the theory’s mathematical structure: perhaps by trying to find out how we might better interpret some of its elements. However, it is a central argument of this book that, no matter where we look, we are always led back to philosophy. At first sight, this might seem to be an odd thing to claim. After all, modern textbooks on quantum physics and chemistry rarely (if ever) discuss philosophy. We accept that the behaviour of photons is strange, but surely it is something that we can at least study experimentally-do we need philosophy in these circumstances? But this is the whole point. Quantum theory directly challenges our understanding of the nature of the fundamental particles and the process of measurement, and we cannot go forward unless we adopt some kind of interpretation. As we will see, this interpretation has to be based on some philosophical position.
Introduction Chapter 1 dealt with one of the deepest mysteries in modern science: how to explain consciousness. This Part deals with another mystery: how to make sense of quantum mechanics. Both involve a problem of reconciliation with the classical worldview, which is one hint that the two mysteries might be related. A second is that, unlike classical physics, which makes no reference to or allowance for consciousness, quantum theory raises the issue of consciousness and its relationship to the physical world in a very direct way. These hints do not necessarily mean there is a connection between the two mysteries, but by the end of this Part I hope to have shown why it would be natural to look for one. My more immediate aim here is to give the social scientific reader an introductory understanding of the experimental findings of quantum theory, its key concepts, and the debates about its interpretation. The discussion assumes no prior knowledge of quantum physics and makes no use of mathematics. Quantum theory without equations might seem like an oxymoron, and certainly reading this Part will not enable anyone to use quantum theory. But to a perhaps surprising degree it is possible to understand quantum theory without being able to use it. Its findings can be communicated in ordinary language, and the same goes for its main concepts and interpretive debates. One consequence of this has been the emergence of a virtual cottage industry of books on quantum theory for a lay audience. Most are written by physicists, and many are quite good. However, it is not just popular treatments that do without equations: much of the professional philosophical literature does as well. (I draw on both kinds of literature below.) Philosophers of physics are trained to understand the math, of course, which is necessary for a full appreciation of the issues.
The difficulties of the old quantum theory were largely dispelled by the development of quantum mechanics in the 1920s. First Heisenberg (1925) developed the rather abstract matrix mechanics and soon after Schro¨dinger (1926; see also Eckart, 1926) developed the physically more appealing wave mechanics. Subsequently he showed them to be mathematically equivalent. The physicists were greatly relieved; now they had once again a mathematical formalism that enabled the results of experiments to be calculated. It was possible to move forward. It is certainly a very elegant and indeed beautiful formalism, and does enable the results of many physical measurements to be calculated with great accuracy. It is used daily by atomic and nuclear physicists; there is no other way to make calculations. From the earliest days there has been intense debate about the interpretation of quantum mechanics, and it shows no signs of being settled; if anything it is becoming more intense over the years. As Penrose has remarked, no one understands quantum mechanics. Feynman (1967; see also Sykes, 1994) also admitted that ‘nobody understands quantum mechanics’, and Einstein once remarked: ‘I have thought a hundred times as much about the quantum problems as I have about general relativity theory’ (Pais, 1994, p. 57). It should therefore be evident that the most that can be done here is to try to show where the real difficulties lie, and how the failure to recognize that quantum mechanics is an essentially statistical theory has led to a series of confusing quantum paradoxes. It is just these paradoxes that have often been used to support theological speculations. It is useful to ask what ‘understanding quantum mechanics’ actually means. Certainly it means being able to calculate the results of many measurements. The same applies to Newton’s theory of gravitation, which we understand in the sense that we can use it as a basis of calculation, although we do not really understand the gravitational force itself. Very often, especially in modern physics, the mathematical formalism does not give us the sort of intuitive physical feeling for what is going on that we often obtain from classical mechanics. Perhaps we can never achieve more than this for quantum mechanics. In classical mechanics we can assume that a property that is measured objectively exists prior to the interaction of the measuring apparatus with the observed system. Quantum mechanics, however, ‘is incompatible with the proposition that measurement discovers some unknown but pre-existing property’ (Peres, 1997, p. 14). There is an important distinction between mysteries and absurdities. We may be forced to live with mysteries, but there is no reason why we should put up with absurdities such as the wave-particle duality, tunnelling through potential barriers, acausal events and the collapse of the wave function. These are the quantum paradoxes that will be discussed later on. They arise within the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics and are solved by other interpretations. These alternative interpretations enable us to make conjectures about what is going on, even though we cannot understand it in detail. This is acceptable and a stimulus to further research. It is certainly difficult enough to understand quantum mechanics, but there is no need to try to visualize logical absurdities in the effort to do so. Quantum mechanics is a mathematical formalism that makes it possible to calculate the results of some experiments. Anything more than this, such as questions about the interpretation of what is measured and whether it tells us what is actually going on in the system being studied, belongs to philosophy. Thus we are concerned here with what is essentially a philosophical debate; if it were just a matter of physics the debate would have been settled long ago. One of the difficulties is that it invokes the results of experiments and uses the language of quantum mechanics. Inevitably this language uses philosophical terms and then it is easy to give the impression that the philosophical propositions are in some way entailed by the physical results. These in turn can influence theological thinking. In order to be quite clear which arguments are justified and which are not, it is essential to separate the three levels of discourse: physical, philosophical and theological. Our task is to relate these together, and this immediately raises the traditional problems of the philosophy of science, including the relation of experiment to theory, and of theory to explanation. We begin by discussing experiments, distinguishing between those that are real and those that are imaginary.
In the Preface to this book, we started with Alice and Bob having very different views of their observations. Alice used an optical telescope and reported nothing unusual about a distant galaxy that she could see. Bob, on the other hand, detected intense radio activity in that galaxy. Our question was: who has the true view of that galaxy? We advised the reader that the answer is not Alice . Neither is it Bob . The answer is not both of them , nor is it neither of them . It is not a trick question either. So what is the answer that this book would supply? Our answer will come presently. While this book has set forth a definite mathematical perspective on empirical physics, it has contained quite a lot of commentary that might be disparaged as metaphysics or philosophy. Such commentary is generally frowned on in science, because it has no empirical content. It is vacuous. In our defense, we point out the obvious: science is not a robotic activity; it is carried out by humans and these are driven by their metaphysical, philosophical, and emotional imperatives. For instance, the hard-core scientific view that quantum theory needs no interpretation but only application is itself a philosophy. It is no more than a conditioned response, based on opinion and subscription to current scientific norms. It is, indeed, a philosophy of how to do quantum mechanics. So we all do it, in one way or another. Our concern in this book is that the way that we do it should be based soundly on scientific principles. The quantized detector approach that we describe and use in this book is our attempt to do just that. There is an excellent paper on all of this that has the provocative title “Quantum Theory Needs No Interpretation,” by Fuchs and Peres (2000). It seems on the face of it to dismiss any sort of “interpretation” of quantum mechanics. In fact, close reading of it confirms (to us at least) the agenda that we have set out in this book. Yes, quantum mechanics needs no interpretation, when it is being applied to processes that take place in the information void .
Despite scholarly consensus on the empirical facts, ever since its inception in the 1920s there has been deep disagreement about how to interpret quantum theory. “To interpret a physical theory is to say what the world would be like, if the theory were true.” All scientific theories require interpretation, since strictly speaking what they describe are our experiences of the world rather than the world itself. Thus, whether we are trying to explain or merely describe the world, we are always engaged in inference. To make inferences we need a context for interpretation. For any given claim this context is provided locally by related theories, more broadly by disciplinary paradigms, and ultimately by worldview claims about the nature of reality. The challenge in interpreting scientific theories is to integrate them into this hierarchy of knowledge. Usually this is not too difficult. New theories often require adjustments to nearby theories, but in doing so we can rely on paradigms to make them cohere. More rarely paradigmatic assumptions are themselves challenged, but in that case scientists can fall back on their worldview to make sense of the needed changes. By implication, the most difficult interpretive problems arise when our worldview is called into question, which leaves us without any frame of reference on which to fall back. Quantum theory poses a worldview problem. Prior to the quantum revolution the classical worldview could not be tested scientifically and so it was essentially metaphysical. Even though it corresponded to our experience of material objects, we lacked proof that it adequately represented the deep structure of reality. By giving us access to that deep structure for the first time, quantum mechanics made it possible to do such a test, or “experimental metaphysics.” Unfortunately, the results seemed to contradict classical assumptions, at least on the sub-atomic level.
The relation between Physics and Philosophy brings to mind the proverbial marriage of high drama; the parties do not approve of each other, but separated they cannot live. Philosophers find physicists shallow, and many physicists claim that they find philosophic speculations useless or worse. Mostly both display a lack of knowledge and understanding of the methods and goals of the other. A few researchers have tried to bridge this gap and explore the worlds of both parties. Michael Redhead has worked in this borderland, and when he retired from his chair in Cambridge, a symposium was arranged to honour him. The talks presented on this occasion are now published in a volume presenting much food for thought to both philosophers and physicists. The essays in this publication do not offer easy reading; not too many readers will have the preparation to penetrate the technical arguments offered. The authors are well acquainted with both philosophical argumentation and mathematical formalism, and, following the lead of Professor Redhead, they combine these in intricate and suggestive ways. Only a close reading can offer understanding of the points of view taken by the various authors. Browsing and mere reading defines the scenery, exploring it demands much more. Many of the nine essays included investigate the meaning of terms used loosely in physics contexts: locality, beables, symmetries and time in relativity. All essays utilize the mathematical structures of physics, but the approach is mainly philosophical; concepts like reality and metaphysics are applied. Some writings are more physical in their treatment of technical questions relating to modern quantum theory. Bohmian mechanics, localized quantum states and gauge symmetries are discussed in detail. It is, however, found that these present interpretational problems that are usually glossed over in purely physical treatments. For an old sceptic like myself, it is quite refreshing to find that many assertions, taken for granted in our textbooks, are indeed doubtful and offer conceptual or technical difficulties. This insight is what a philosophical analysis can offer the working physicist; future progress may well arise from such realizations. However, the results offered by philosophical analysis are usually found unsatisfactory; the hope that philosophy can suggest novel directions for the theory remains unfounded. Philosophers can learn that modern physics rests on a very shaky conceptual foundation. The theory has evolved by a combination of serendipity and opportunism. The beast that finally has emerged is neither well founded nor internally consistent. Its only merit is that it works. That offers the ultimate philosophical problem of modern physics. If the present book can help the philosopher to behold this challenging but overwhelming wilderness, then it serves a useful purpose indeed. But the prospective researcher has to learn to master the difficult language used by the natives, who are not always friendly. I enjoyed reading the book immensely, but the technical difficulty of the text made my understanding remain mostly superficial. I hope to have the time to return some of the essays, and look into the references and issues involved. The work is genuinely what it promises: a guide From Physics to Philosophy .