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  • richardmitnick 8:52 am on July 1, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Quantum bounds, Quantum Mechanics   

    From phys.org: “‘Quantum’ bounds not so quantum after all” 

    physdotorg
    phys.org

    July 1, 2016
    Lisa Zyga

    Quantum bounds are numbers (such as 4, 6, and 2√2) that naturally appear in quantum experiments, similar to how the number π emerges in circles. But just as how π pops up in a wide variety of areas beyond circles, in a new study physicists have found that quantum bounds are not exclusive to quantum theory but also emerge in purely classical experiments. The results suggest that attempts to define quantumness should not be concerned with quantum bounds, since there is nothing inherently quantum about them.

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    Components of the classical experiment that produces the same bounds that quantum experiments do. Credit: Frustaglia et al. ©2016 American Physical Society

    The physicists, Diego Frustaglia et al., at the University of Sevilla in Spain, have published a paper on the emergence of quantum bounds in classical experiments in a recent issue of Physical Review Letters.

    Different experiments, same bounds

    In their study, the researchers performed three classical experiments that correspond to three famous quantum experiments involving quantum bounds. These quantum experiments are a sequential version of the Bell inequality and two other related quantum inequalities, all of which are used to distinguish between quantum and classical phenomena.

    In order to show that a system exhibits quantum effects, these experiments traditionally attempt to show that a system can violate a quantum inequality. The greater the violation, the more quantum the system. The maximum violation of a quantum inequality is the quantum bound. The quantum bounds arise from probability distributions in the experiments and are specific numbers—for instance, the Bell inequality has a quantum bound of 2√2 (approximately 2.82), which is known as Tsirelson’s bound. The other two inequalities addressed here have quantum bounds of 4 and 6. Both theoretically and experimentally, no violation of a quantum inequality has ever surpassed these bounds.

    In the new study, the researchers showed that these same quantum bounds emerge in experiments in which classical waves travel along an ordinary transmission line. The researchers found that the probabilities originating from the detection of wave intensities at the end of the transmission line follow the same distribution as the probabilities of detecting violations of the quantum inequalities. Specifically, the classical experiments yield bounds of 2.78, 3.93, and 5.93 for the three analogous experiments. In all three cases, these values are actually slightly closer to their theoretical values mentioned above than the values obtained in quantum experiments are, providing strong evidence that both quantum and classical experiments produce the same bounds.

    Interpreting the results

    One of the many implications of the study is that it offers new insight into what it means to be quantum. By showing that quantum bounds are not unique to quantum theory, but are universal bounds, the findings show that ongoing attempts to define quantum theory should not focus on these bounds.

    Instead, the results provide a clue for finding a true quantum feature by revealing an important difference between the way in which the classical and quantum systems produce the same bounds. While the classical systems require some kind of extra resource, such as memory, the quantum systems do not. So a complete description of quantum theory should explain how quantum systems can violate the same bounds that classical systems do, but without using extra resources.

    As the researchers explain, this approach of investigating classical systems to better understand quantum mechanics tends to be the opposite of most research.

    “We somehow reverted the strategy followed by the founders of quantum theory,” Frustaglia told Phys.org. “In the early times of quantum mechanics, microscopic systems were subject to an intense questioning naturally biased towards classical physics. The result was a set of oddities interpreted as the paradigmatic features of the quantum realm: the particle-wave duality (is it a particle or a wave?), the Schrödinger’s cat (is it dead or alive?), and the Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle (where and how fast is it?).

    “As a consequence, it was soon understood that quantum systems should be interrogated in their own specific language, eventually provided by modern quantum theory. It is then pertinent to address the possibility of interrogating classical systems with questions inspired by quantum physics. This is what we did, indeed, finding that classical systems with an underlying wave mechanism answer these questions in the same way truly quantum systems do. But one has to choose your system carefully: one would not be able to make it by using plain balls, for instance.”

    In the future, the physicists plan to investigate how the universal bounds might emerge in the first place.

    “Our results show that the ‘quantum’ bounds are common to many physical theories,” said coauthor Adán Cabello at the University of Sevilla. “This suggests that the reason for these bounds is something very simple and arguably inherent to the kind of theories we are interested in: theories in which ‘measurements’ produce repeatable results which are not affected by some other measurements.

    “Surprisingly, this simple idea singles out many ‘quantum’ bounds. When we adopt this perspective, what is really significant is the fact that these bounds are actually reachable in nature. This shows that no hypothetical physical principle is acting and leads us to the conjecture that one of the physical principles that singles out quantum theory is precisely that one: There is no principle determining the probabilities of the outcomes of these ‘measurements.’

    “One plan is to prove that this simple idea is responsible for all quantum bounds. Another plan is to test whether it is really true that these bounds can be reached with quantum systems. So far, and only very recently, H. S. Poh et al. have confirmed the so-called Tsirelson bound, 2√2, with four significant digits, but there is absolutely no experimental evidence of whether we can ‘touch’ these bounds in other scenarios. Also, it would be great to derive quantum theory from the assumption that there are no laws of nature determining or limiting the probabilities of measurement outcomes, and that the whole machinery of the theory follows from the aesthetic preference in the way we define ‘measurements.'”

    Finally, the physicists also plan to investigate potential applications, such as building quantum technologies with the help of classical systems.

    “Although inefficient in the sense that they require more memory or space, classical systems are sometimes better to produce ‘quantum’ numbers than quantum systems themselves,” Frustaglia said. “In contrast to quantum systems, which are very sensitive to the environment, the wires in our experiment can be bent, moved, heated, etc., and the results are the same. This suggests a future in which quantum technologies are actually built using quantum systems plus classical systems imitating quantum systems. It also raises the question as to whether similar ‘quantum’ features with potential functionalities can emerge in other supports as complex networks of artificial or biological nature. An appropriate answer to this questions requires multidisciplinary efforts that we are presently considering.”

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    Phys.org™ (formerly Physorg.com) is a leading web-based science, research and technology news service which covers a full range of topics. These include physics, earth science, medicine, nanotechnology, electronics, space, biology, chemistry, computer sciences, engineering, mathematics and other sciences and technologies. Launched in 2004, Phys.org’s readership has grown steadily to include 1.75 million scientists, researchers, and engineers every month. Phys.org publishes approximately 100 quality articles every day, offering some of the most comprehensive coverage of sci-tech developments world-wide. Quancast 2009 includes Phys.org in its list of the Global Top 2,000 Websites. Phys.org community members enjoy access to many personalized features such as social networking, a personal home page set-up, RSS/XML feeds, article comments and ranking, the ability to save favorite articles, a daily newsletter, and other options.

     
  • richardmitnick 5:14 pm on June 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , Joseph Conlon, , Quantum Mechanics,   

    From Physics Today: “Questions and answers with Joseph Conlon” String Theory 

    Physics Today bloc

    Physics Today

    17 June 2016
    Jermey N. A. Matthews

    1
    Joseph Conlon. NO image credit.

    The apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” says University of Oxford theoretical physicist Joseph Conlon. The author of Why String Theory?, reviewed in this month’s issue of Physics Today, says that from an early age he was good at math—a critical skill for a string theorist—thanks to the influence of his father and uncle, both PhD mathematicians, and his mother, a physics teacher.

    2

    By age 18 Conlon had earned a bachelor’s degree in mathematics from the local University of Reading in the UK; he did it part-time, while still in secondary school. Conlon followed that up by obtaining his bachelor’s and PhD degrees in physics at the University of Cambridge. At Oxford, he now focuses on phenomenological applications of string theory to particle physics and cosmology. “One thing I certainly benefited from is that if you [pursue] a physics undergraduate degree, having already done a math undergraduate degree, then you don’t need to concentrate on the math; you can just concentrate on understanding the physics concepts,” says Conlon.

    For those who would question string theory’s validity because it can’t be experimentally tested, Conlon “presents a set of compelling arguments for the value of string theory while acknowledging its weaknesses and open challenges,” writes Gary Shiu in his Physics Today review. “Like courtroom juries, readers are encouraged to draw their own logical conclusions.” Conlon is also a cocreator of the public outreach website http://whystringtheory.com, which aims to be “a layman’s journey to the frontiers of physics.”

    Physics Today books editor Jermey Matthews and senior editor Steven Blau, a theoretical physicist by training, recently caught up with Conlon to discuss the book.

    PT: Why did you write the book?

    CONLON: It’s to answer the question I think lots of people are asking: Why are so many people working on string theory if this is something you can’t directly say is the true theory of the universe at the smallest possible scales?

    PT: So how would you answer the question “Why string theory?” for a nonexpert?

    CONLON: String theory has brought ideas and insights and results to so many different areas beyond its supposedly core area of quantum gravity. The analogy I use in the book is it’s like in a gold rush, you get rich by selling spades, rather than by finding nuggets. String theory has … been able to provide spades to lots of people across mathematics and theoretical physics in so many different topics. And this is why so many people are interested in it.

    PT: What inspired you to study string theory?

    CONLON: I guess it was a fairly natural thing for me to do, given my interests and inclinations at the time. When I was in Cambridge, I was training in particle theory, and I was trying to learn as much particle theory as I could. You take courses on quantum field theory, you take courses on the standard model, you take a course in string theory.

    The reason I wanted to carry on with the PhD in string theory was the feeling that lots of the standard model was carved out and understood in the 1970s and 1980s. String theory seemed more like something where I could get in and feel it wasn’t already done by the generation that came before.

    The Standard Model of elementary particles (more schematic depiction), with the three generations of matter, gauge bosons in the fourth column, and the Higgs boson in the fifth.
    The Standard Model of elementary particles (more schematic depiction), with the three generations of matter, gauge bosons in the fourth column, and the Higgs boson in the fifth

    PT: Were you ever tempted by any of the other alternative approaches to quantum gravity like loop quantum gravity or dynamic causal histories?

    CONLON: Not really. I was never really exposed to them. As an undergraduate, it wasn’t something I learned or particularly had the option of learning then. And I haven’t been particularly tempted since then. From quite early on in my work on string theory I’ve been more interested in connecting it to experiments and observation. It’s great that people work on the formal problems of quantum gravity, but it’s not really my style of physics.

    PT: As you were writing the book, was there something that you were hoping to be able to convey but said, “this is just too tough a nut to crack”? Did you have to leave anything on the table?

    CONLON: Yes. There was a series of results around 1995 that were very important, involving D-branes. I ended up covering this less than I thought I would. And it partly was because I felt it was hard to try and convey to a general reader what was important about them without just dropping into buzz words.

    PT: And, conversely, is there anything that you were particularly proud you were able to get across in simple language?

    CONLON: I guess you have to ask the readers that. There are things I learned about—for example, the monstrous moonshine [a mathematical theory involving symmetries and related to conformal field theories] is a topic which I learned more about in the process of writing the book. I enjoyed writing about that because I learned about it at a slightly more technical level. It was a discovery process for me, too.

    PT: According to the Physics Today review, your book also touches on “the sociology of string theory.” Was that your intention?

    CONLON: Yes. Science is always more interesting when it’s done by humans, rather than [being] just abstract results. There’s also [a danger] you can get in if you look at someone very big [successful] and you say, “Gosh, they’ve gotten all these fantastic results. I can never possibly be like them. I’ll never be smart enough.”

    But people are good at different things. Even though you might not be able to get the results that person did, you’ve got skills that they don’t have. I tried to convey that there are many, many different ways of being a good theoretical physicist. And part of that was by talking about the sociology, the different types of people who do the subject and do it successfully.

    PT: Was explaining string theory to the general public a particular itch you wanted to scratch, or are you interested in writing other popular books?

    CONLON: A bit of both. I thought string theory was being misrepresented, particularly in the general press, that there was this [notion] that string theory primarily was a theory of quantum gravity. And so string theory would then … compete with other theories of quantum gravity. And this is something I wanted to argue against because most people who work on string theory don’t focus on quantum gravity. That was the itch I wanted to scratch.

    The book was also a chance to kind of let go the other side of my brain [used to write research papers] … and just write freely.

    PT: What is your next project?

    CONLON: In the process of finishing the book, basically I stopped doing research for six to nine months. So for the next two or three years I just want to do research because I enjoy doing research. And then I think I would like to write another book. I don’t know yet what it would be on.

    PT: What books are you currently reading?

    CONLON: I’ve got two on the go. The longer one, which I’m about halfway through, is [Winston] Churchill’s series The Second World War (Houghton Mifflin, ca. 1948–ca. 1953). And then the sort of more easy reading is one by Apollo astronaut (and physicist) Walter Cunningham, The All-American Boys: An Insider’s Look at the U.S. Space Program (revised edition, iPicturebooks, 2010).

    See the full article here .

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    The mission of Physics Today is to be a unifying influence for the diverse areas of physics and the physics-related sciences.

    It does that in three ways:

    • by providing authoritative, engaging coverage of physical science research and its applications without regard to disciplinary boundaries;
    • by providing authoritative, engaging coverage of the often complex interactions of the physical sciences with each other and with other spheres of human endeavor; and
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  • richardmitnick 4:31 pm on June 17, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Institute for Quantum Computing U Waterloo, Noncontextuality, , Quantum Mechanics, , What does it mean to say the world is quantum?   

    From PI: “New Experiment Clarifies How The Universe Is Not Classical” 

    Perimeter Institute
    Perimeter Institute

    June 17, 2016
    Erin Bow

    “This is a great example of what’s possible when Perimeter and IQC work together. We can start with these exciting, abstract ideas and convert them to things we can actually do in our labs.”
    – Kevin Resch, Faculty member, Institute for Quantum Computing

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    From left to right: Matthew Pusey (Perimeter postdoctoral researcher), Kevin Resch (IQC and University of Waterloo faculty member), Robert Spekkens (Perimeter faculty member), and Michael Mazurek (University of Waterloo and IQC PhD student) interact in a quantum optics lab at the Institute for Quantum Computing. No image credit.

    Theorists from Perimeter and experimentalists from the Institute for Quantum Computing have found a new way to test whether the universe is quantum, a test that will have widespread applicability: they’ve proven the failure of noncontextuality in the lab.
    _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

    What does it mean to say the world is quantum? It’s a surprisingly difficult question to answer, and most casual discussions on the point are heavy on the hand-waving, with references to cats in boxes.

    If we are going to turn the quantum-ness of the universe to our advantage through technologies like quantum computing, our definition of what it means to be quantum – or, more broadly, what it means to be non-classical – needs to be more rigorous. That’s one of the aims of the field of quantum foundations, and the point of new joint research carried out by theorists at Perimeter and experimentalists at the University of Waterloo’s Institute for Quantum Computing (IQC).

    “We need to make precise the notion of non-classicality,” says Robert Spekkens, a faculty member at Perimeter, who led the work from the theoretical side. “We need to find phenomena that defy classical explanation, and then subject those phenomena to direct experimental tests.”

    One candidate for something that defies classical explanation is the failure of noncontextuality.

    “You can think of noncontextuality as the ‘if it walks like a duck’ principle,” says Matthew Pusey, a postdoctoral researcher at Perimeter who also worked on the project.

    As the saying has it, if something walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck. The principle of noncontextuality pushes that further, and says that if something walks like a duck and quacks like a duck and you can’t tell it apart from a duck in any experiment, not even in principle, then it must be a duck.

    Though noncontextuality is not something we often think about, it is a feature one would expect to hold in experiments. Indeed, it’s so intuitive that it seems silly to say it aloud: if you can’t tell two things apart, even in principle, then they’re the same. Makes sense, right?

    But in the quantum universe, it’s not quite true.

    Under quantum theory, two preparations of a system can return identical results in every conceivable test. But researchers run into trouble when they try to define exactly what those systems are doing. It turns out that in quantum mechanics, any model that assigns the systems well-defined properties requires them to be different. That’s a violation of the principle of noncontextuality.

    To understand what’s happening, imagine a yellow box that spits out a mix of polarized photons – half polarized horizontally and half polarized vertically. A different box – imagine it to be orange – spits out a different mix of photons, half polarized diagonally and half polarized anti-diagonally.

    Now measure the polarization of the photons from the yellow box and of the photons from the orange box. You can measure any polarization property you like, as much as you like. Because of the way the probabilities add up, the statistics of any measurement performed on photons from the yellow box are going to be identical to the statistics of the same measurement performed on photons from the orange box. In each case, the average polarization is always zero.

    “Those two kinds of boxes, according to quantum theory, cannot be distinguished,” says Spekkens. “All the measurements are going to see exactly the same thing.”

    You might think, following the principle of noncontextuality, that since the yellow and orange boxes produce indistinguishable mixes of photons, they can be described by the same probability distributions. They walk like ducks, so you can describe them both as ducks. But as it turns out, that doesn’t work.

    In a noncontextual world, the fact that the yellow-box photons and orange-box photons are indistinguishable would be explained in the natural way: by the fact that the probability distribution over properties are the same. But the quantum universe resists such explanations – it can be proven mathematically that those two mixtures of photons cannot be described by the same distribution of properties.

    “So that’s the theoretical result,” says Spekkens. “If quantum theory is right, then we can’t have a noncontextual model.”

    But can such a theoretical result be tested? Theorists from Perimeter and experimentalists from IQC set out to discover that very thing.

    Kevin Resch, a faculty member at IQC and the Department of Physics and Astronomy at the University of Waterloo, as well as a Perimeter Affiliate, worked on the project from the experimental end in his lab.

    “The original method of testing noncontextuality required two or more preparation procedures that give exactly the same statistics,” he says. “I would argue that that’s basically not possible, because no experiments are perfect. The method described in our paper allows contextuality tests to deal with these imperfections.”

    While previous attempts to test for the predicted failure of noncontextuality have had to resort to assuming things like noiseless measurements that are not achievable in practice, the Perimeter and IQC teams wanted to avoid such unrealistic assumptions. They knew they couldn’t eliminate all error, so they designed an experiment that could make meaningful tests of noncontextuality even in the presence of error.

    Pusey hit on a clever idea to fight statistical error with statistical inference. Ravi Kunjwal, a doctoral student at the Institute for Mathematical Sciences in Chennai, India, who was visiting at the time, helped define what a test of noncontextuality should look like operationally. Michael Mazurek, a doctoral student with Waterloo’s Department of Physics and Astronomy and IQC, built the experimental apparatus – single photon emitters and detectors, just as in the yellow-and-orange box example above – and ran the tests.

    “The interesting part of the experiment is that it looks really simple on paper,” says Mazurek. “But it wasn’t simple in practice. The analysis that we did and the standards that we held ourselves to required us to really get on top of the small systematic errors that are present in every experiment. Characterizing those errors and compensating for them was quite challenging.”

    At one point, Mazurek used half a roll of masking tape to keep optical fibres from moving around in response to tiny shifts in temperature. Nothing about this experiment was easy, and much of it can only be described with statistics and diagrams. But in the end, the team made it work.

    The result: an experiment that definitively shows the failure of noncontextuality. Like the pioneering work on Bell’s theorem, this research clarifies what it means for the world to be non-classical, and confirms that non-classicality experimentally.

    Importantly, and in contrast to previous tests of contextuality, this experiment renders its verdict without assuming any idealizations, such as noiseless measurements or statistics being exactly the same. This opens a new range of possibilities.

    Researchers in several fields are working to find “quantum advantages” – that is, things we can do if we harness the quantum-ness of the world that would not be possible in the classical world. Examples include quantum cryptography and quantum computation. Such advantages are the beams and girders of any future quantum technology we might be able to build. Noncontextuality can help researchers understand these quantum advantages.

    “We now know, for example, that for certain kinds of cryptographic tasks and computational tasks, the failure of noncontextuality is the resource,” says Spekkens.

    In other words, contextuality is the steel out of which the beams and girders are made.

    “This is a great example of what’s possible when Perimeter and IQC work together,” says Resch, Canada Research Chair in Optical Quantum Technologies. “We can start with these exciting, abstract ideas and convert them to things we can actually do in our labs.”

    See the full article here .

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    About Perimeter

    Perimeter Institute is a leading centre for scientific research, training and educational outreach in foundational theoretical physics. Founded in 1999 in Waterloo, Ontario, Canada, its mission is to advance our understanding of the universe at the most fundamental level, stimulating the breakthroughs that could transform our future. Perimeter also trains the next generation of physicists through innovative programs, and shares the excitement and wonder of science with students, teachers and the general public.

     
  • richardmitnick 12:12 pm on May 21, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , Quantum Mechanics,   

    From WIRED: “New Evidence Could Overthrow the Standard View of Quantum Mechanics” 

    Wired logo

    WIRED

    05.21.16
    Dan Falk

    1
    Olena Shmahalo/Quanta Magazine

    Of the many counterintuitive features of quantum mechanics, perhaps the most challenging to our notions of common sense is that particles do not have locations until they are observed. This is exactly what the standard view of quantum mechanics, often called the Copenhagen interpretation, asks us to believe. Instead of the clear-cut positions and movements of Newtonian physics, we have a cloud of probabilities described by a mathematical structure known as a wave function. The wave function, meanwhile, evolves over time, its evolution governed by precise rules codified in something called the Schrödinger equation. The mathematics are clear enough; the actual whereabouts of particles, less so. Until a particle is observed, an act that causes the wave function to “collapse,” we can say nothing about its location. Albert Einstein, among others, objected to this idea. As his biographer Abraham Pais wrote: “We often discussed his notions on objective reality. I recall 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.”

    But there’s another view—one that’s been around for almost a century—in which particles really do have precise positions at all times. This alternative view, known as pilot-wave theory or Bohmian mechanics, never became as popular as the Copenhagen view, in part because Bohmian mechanics implies that the world must be strange in other ways. In particular, a 1992 study claimed to crystalize certain bizarre consequences of Bohmian mechanics and in doing so deal it a fatal conceptual blow. The authors of that paper concluded that a particle following the laws of Bohmian mechanics would end up taking a trajectory that was so unphysical—even by the warped standards of quantum theory—that they described it as “surreal.”

    Nearly a quarter-century later, a group of scientists has carried out an experiment in a Toronto laboratory that aims to test this idea. And if their results, first reported* earlier this year, hold up to scrutiny, the Bohmian view of quantum mechanics—less fuzzy but in some ways more strange than the traditional view—may be poised for a comeback.

    Saving Particle Positions

    Bohmian mechanics was worked out by Louis de Broglie in 1927 and again, independently, by David Bohm in 1952, who developed it further until his death in 1992. (It’s also sometimes called the de Broglie–Bohm theory.) As with the Copenhagen view, there’s a wave function governed by the Schrödinger equation. In addition, every particle has an actual, definite location, even when it’s not being observed. Changes in the positions of the particles are given by another equation, known as the “pilot wave” equation (or “guiding equation”). The theory is fully deterministic; if you know the initial state of a system, and you’ve got the wave function, you can calculate where each particle will end up.

    That may sound like a throwback to classical mechanics, but there’s a crucial difference. Classical mechanics is purely “local”—stuff can affect other stuff only if it is adjacent to it (or via the influence of some kind of field, like an electric field, which can send impulses no faster than the speed of light). Quantum mechanics, in contrast, is inherently nonlocal. The best-known example of a nonlocal effect—one that Einstein himself considered, back in the 1930s—is when a pair of particles are connected in such a way that a measurement of one particle appears to affect the state of another, distant particle. The idea was ridiculed by Einstein as “spooky action at a distance.” But hundreds of experiments, beginning in the 1980s, have confirmed that this spooky action is a very real characteristic of our universe.

    In the Bohmian view, nonlocality is even more conspicuous. The trajectory of any one particle depends on what all the other particles described by the same wave function are doing. And, critically, the wave function has no geographic limits; it might, in principle, span the entire universe. Which means that the universe is weirdly interdependent, even across vast stretches of space. The wave function “combines—or binds—distant particles into a single irreducible reality,” as Sheldon Goldstein, a mathematician and physicist at Rutgers University, has written.

    The differences between Bohm and Copenhagen become clear when we look at the classic “double slit” experiment, in which particles (let’s say electrons) pass through a pair of narrow slits, eventually reaching a screen where each particle can be recorded. When the experiment is carried out, the electrons behave like waves, creating on the screen a particular pattern called an “interference pattern.” Remarkably, this pattern gradually emerges even if the electrons are sent one at a time, suggesting that each electron passes through both slits simultaneously.

    Those who embrace the Copenhagen view have come to live with this state of affairs—after all, it’s meaningless to speak of a particle’s position until we measure it. Some physicists are drawn instead to the Many Worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, in which observers in some universes see the electron go through the left slit, while those in other universes see it go through the right slit—which is fine, if you’re comfortable with an infinite array of unseen universes.

    By comparison, the Bohmian view sounds rather tame: The electrons act like actual particles, their velocities at any moment fully determined by the pilot wave, which in turn depends on the wave function. In this view, each electron is like a surfer: It occupies a particular place at every specific moment in time, yet its motion is dictated by the motion of a spread-out wave. Although each electron takes a fully determined path through just one slit, the pilot wave passes through both slits. The end result exactly matches the pattern one sees in standard quantum mechanics.

    2
    Lucy Reading-Ikkanda for Quanta Magazine

    For some theorists, the Bohmian interpretation holds an irresistible appeal. “All you have to do to make sense of quantum mechanics is to say to yourself: When we talk about particles, we really mean particles. Then all the problems go away,” said Goldstein. “Things have positions. They are somewhere. If you take that idea seriously, you’re led almost immediately to Bohm. It’s a far simpler version of quantum mechanics than what you find in the textbooks.” Howard Wiseman, a physicist at Griffith University in Brisbane, Australia, said that the Bohmian view “gives you a pretty straightforward account of how the world is…. You don’t have to tie yourself into any sort of philosophical knots to say how things really are.”

    But not everyone feels that way, and over the years the Bohm view has struggled to gain acceptance, trailing behind Copenhagen and, these days, behind Many Worlds as well. A significant blow came with the paper known as “ESSW,”** an acronym built from the names of its four authors. The ESSW paper claimed that particles can’t follow simple Bohmian trajectories as they traverse the double-slit experiment. Suppose that someone placed a detector next to each slit, argued ESSW, recording which particle passed through which slit. ESSW showed that a photon could pass through the left slit and yet, in the Bohmian view, still end up being recorded as having passed through the right slit. This seemed impossible; the photons were deemed to follow “surreal” trajectories, as the ESSW paper put it.

    The ESSW argument “was a striking philosophical objection” to the Bohmian view, said Aephraim Steinberg, a physicist at the University of Toronto. “It damaged my love for Bohmian mechanics.”

    But Steinberg has found a way to rekindle that love. In a paper published*** in Science Advances, Steinberg and his colleagues—the team includes Wiseman, in Australia, as well as five other Canadian researchers—describe what happened when they actually performed the ESSW experiment. They found that the photon trajectories aren’t surrealistic after all—or, more precisely, that the paths may seem surrealistic, but only if one fails to take into account the nonlocality inherent in Bohm’s theory.

    The experiment that Steinberg and his team conducted was analogous to the standard two-slit experiment. They used photons rather than electrons, and instead of sending those photons through a pair of slits, they passed through a beam splitter, a device that directs a photon along one of two paths, depending on the photon’s polarization. The photons eventually reach a single-photon camera (equivalent to the screen in the traditional experiment) that records their final position. The question “Which of two slits did the particle pass through?” becomes “Which of two paths did the photon take?”

    Importantly, the researchers used pairs of entangled photons rather than individual photons. As a result, they could interrogate one photon to gain information about the other. When the first photon passes through the beam splitter, the second photon “knows” which path the first one took. The team could then use information from the second photon to track the first photon’s path. Each indirect measurement yields only an approximate value, but the scientists could average large numbers of measurements to reconstruct the trajectory of the first photon.

    The team found that the photon paths do indeed appear to be surreal, just as ESSW predicted: A photon would sometimes strike one side of the screen, even though the polarization of the entangled partner said that the photon took the other route.

    But can the information from the second photon be trusted? Crucially, Steinberg and his colleagues found that the answer to the question “Which path did the first photon take?” depends on when it is asked.

    At first—in the moments immediately after the first photon passes through the beam splitter—the second photon is very strongly correlated with the first photon’s path. “As one particle goes through the slit, the probe [the second photon] has a perfectly accurate memory of which slit it went through,” Steinberg explained.

    But the farther the first photon travels, the less reliable the second photon’s report becomes. The reason is nonlocality. Because the two photons are entangled, the path that the first photon takes will affect the polarization of the second photon. By the time the first photon reaches the screen, the second photon’s polarization is equally likely to be oriented one way as the other—thus giving it “no opinion,” so to speak, as to whether the first photon took the first route or the second (the equivalent of knowing which of the two slits it went through).

    The problem isn’t that Bohm trajectories are surreal, said Steinberg. The problem is that the second photon says that Bohm trajectories are surreal—and, thanks to nonlocality, its report is not to be trusted. “There’s no real contradiction in there,” said Steinberg. “You just have to always bear in mind the nonlocality, or you miss something very important.”

    Faster Than Light

    Some physicists, unperturbed by ESSW, have embraced the Bohmian view all along and aren’t particularly surprised by what Steinberg and his team found. There have been many attacks on the Bohmian view over the years, and “they all fizzled out because they had misunderstood what the Bohm approach was actually claiming,” said Basil Hiley, a physicist at Birkbeck, University of London (formerly Birkbeck College), who collaborated with Bohm on his last book, The Undivided Universe. Owen Maroney, a physicist at the University of Oxford who was a student of Hiley’s, described ESSW as “a terrible argument” that “did not present a novel challenge to de Broglie–Bohm.” Not surprisingly, Maroney is excited by Steinberg’s experimental results, which seem to support the view he’s held all along. “It’s a very interesting experiment,” he said. “It gives a motivation for taking de Broglie–Bohm seriously.”

    On the other side of the Bohmian divide, Berthold-Georg Englert, one of the authors of ESSW (along with Marlan Scully, George Süssman and Herbert Walther), still describes their paper as a “fatal blow” to the Bohmian view. According to Englert, now at the National University of Singapore, the Bohm trajectories exist as mathematical objects but “lack physical meaning.”

    On a historical note, Einstein lived just long enough to hear about Bohm’s revival of de Broglie’s proposal—and he wasn’t impressed, dismissing it as too simplistic to be correct. In a letter to physicist Max Born, in the spring of 1952, Einstein weighed in on Bohm’s work:

    “Have you noticed that Bohm believes (as de Broglie did, by the way, 25 years ago) that he is able to interpret the quantum theory in deterministic terms? That way seems too cheap to me. But you, of course, can judge this better than I.”

    But even for those who embrace the Bohmian view, with its clearly defined particles moving along precise paths, questions remain. Topping the list is an apparent tension with special relativity, which prohibits faster-than-light communication. Of course, as physicists have long noted, nonlocality of the sort associated with quantum entanglement does not allow for faster-than-light signaling (thus incurring no risk of the grandfather paradox or other violations of causality). Even so, many physicists feel that more clarification is needed, especially given the prominent role of nonlocality in the Bohmian view. The apparent dependence of what happens here on what may be happening there cries out for an explanation.

    “The universe seems to like talking to itself faster than the speed of light,” said Steinberg. “I could understand a universe where nothing can go faster than light, but a universe where the internal workings operate faster than light, and yet we’re forbidden from ever making use of that at the macroscopic level—it’s very hard to understand.”

    *Science paper:
    Experimental nonlocal and surreal Bohmian trajectories

    **Science paper:
    Surrealistic Bohm Trajectories

    See the full article here .

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  • richardmitnick 8:45 am on May 8, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: "Physics: Material to meaning", , , , Quantum Mechanics, Robert P. Crease, Sean Carroll   

    From Nature: “Physics: Material to meaning” Book Review 

    Nature Mag
    Nature

    Published online:
    04 May 2016
    Robert P. Crease

    Robert P. Crease assesses Sean Carroll’s attempt to construct morality out of quantum field theory.

    I don’t think I have ever read anything with a bigger ambition than The Big Picture, physicist Sean Carroll’s latest book.

    1
    The Big Picture: On the Origins of Life, Meaning, and the Universe Itself
    Sean Carroll Dutton: 2016. ISBN: 9780525954828

    Physics, Carroll writes, gives us a complete picture of the foundations of nature. Although that view has had an enormous impact on cosmology, materials science and other scientific fields, its implications for meaning and morality have yet to be determined. “Our values,” writes Carroll, “have not yet caught up to our best ontology.” In this book, he conducts a quest to catch up.

    Carroll creates his big picture as follows. Quantum field theory provides a unified perspective on the subatomic realm. Carroll calls that the “Core Theory”, noting that its behaviour is fully captured by a formula called a Feynman path integral. Some features of the macro world can be directly tethered to it; others, including many concepts of thermodynamics, cannot. He calls these “emergent” features, ways of talking about the world that are not incompatible with Core Theory, yet cannot be grounded in it.

    2
    A bubble-chamber image showing the decay of a positive kaon particle. CERN.

    In the fun parts of The Big Picture, Carroll demonstrates the absurdity of adding to the Core Theory to explain the possibility of things such as an afterlife or a transcendent underlying purpose. These are easy targets. The narrative begins to get awkward when it comes to, say, conscious experiences. These, Carroll writes, are “not part of the fundamental architecture of reality”; they are emergent, a handy way of talking about what brains do. Like entropy, he argues, consciousness is a concept that “we invent to give ourselves more useful and efficient descriptions of the world”. He calls his approach “poetic naturalism”. By using “poetic”, he means to give his blessing to ways of describing the world other than through fundamental physics — ways that, he says, can be meaningful if they are useful and don’t violate the Core Theory.

    Carroll has a fluid, often engaging style, and the passages that explain science — including his appendix about the Feynman path integral — are excellent. The book brims, however, with avuncular clichés such as “Life is short, and certainty never happens”. Carroll confidently defines many concepts, including belief and consciousness, as if 2,500 years of philosophy have yielded little relevant to the subject; he dismisses the task of drawing careful distinctions and heeding subtleties as “ontologically fastidious”. All he finds in philosophical literature are a few interesting puzzles. It’s like getting a whirlwind tour of a city from a tour guide who doesn’t live there, but enthusiastically gives you capsule descriptions of favourite sites.

    It is hardly surprising, therefore, that Carroll’s philosophical conclusions sound profound but leave us with disappointingly empty propositions, such as, “Morality exists only insofar as we make it so, and other people might not pass judgments in the same way that we do.” Outlining his own moral approach, Carroll offers a poetic naturalist’s version of the Ten Commandments, the “Ten Considerations”: greetings-card-like homilies such as “It Takes All Kinds”.

    What’s fascinating about The Big Picture is that Carroll’s clarity and directness make its fundamental assumptions easy to spot, and whether you like this book will depend on whether you share them. Laboratories, as Carroll well knows, are workshops, controlled environments with unusual equipment, regulated conditions and specially trained workers. He writes from the perspective of such a worker who has come to believe that a mathematical physicist’s way of thinking is just how people think — or should think — about everything, even when they are not in a workshop or when they ponder values or the existence of God. Carroll describes deciding how to be morally good, for instance, as similar to a dinner-table conversation in which, like scientists collaborating, we “talk to others about their desires and how we can work together, and reason about how to make it happen”. Our group, he adds, “may include both vegetarians and omnivores, but with a good-faith effort”, universal satisfaction should result.

    Reality, too, is just what things look like from a physicist’s perspective — and if it looks different to others, that is an illusion. When Carroll discusses time, he means the quantity that scientists measure. Everyday experience leads us to think that time flows in one direction, but he assures us that “in reality, both directions of time are created equal”. The ontologically fastidious would say, “Not so fast!” Time as lived by humans is something else again. Both outside and even inside workshops, to be bored or expectant, to hear a melody or to plan and execute an action is not to register one moment after another, but to retain previous ones and anticipate the next in an asymmetrical flow. Determining time in the workshop is an elaborate process, and assumes that you can mark it off as you can space, and then measure the spatial movement of something, whether it is the motions of heavenly bodies in ancient times or electronic transitions in caesium atoms in ours. Yet according to Carroll, this is real time.

    If we accept the strict ontology of the workshop, as Carroll does, then we get his big picture and regard lived time, conscious experience and the rest of pre-workshop life as poetic and emergent. But there are broader ontologies in which the same things — which belong to the world described by the humanities and branches of biology, for instance — are regarded as fundamental, and as the driving force for workshop activity. Carroll’s is a naturalistic metaphysics.

    Carroll brings tremendous passion to his writing. He is sure that honest human beings who care about the world make an effort to understand it as he does. He is right that science springs from certain basic human impulses to achieve goals and ward off threats. But where do his passion and certainty about this come from? They, too, are imported from and continue to be rooted in pre-workshop life. To find a way to talk about how scientific workshops emerge from life rather than the other way around — that would be a big picture indeed.

    See the full article here .

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    Nature is a weekly international journal publishing the finest peer-reviewed research in all fields of science and technology on the basis of its originality, importance, interdisciplinary interest, timeliness, accessibility, elegance and surprising conclusions. Nature also provides rapid, authoritative, insightful and arresting news and interpretation of topical and coming trends affecting science, scientists and the wider public.

     
  • richardmitnick 7:48 am on May 8, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Quantum Mechanics,   

    From Ethan Siegel: “Ask Ethan: Can we use quantum entanglement to communicate faster-than-light?” 

    Starts with a Bang

    5.7.16
    Ethan Siegel

    NanoSail-D poses after a successful laboratory deployment test  NASA
    NanoSail-D poses after a successful laboratory deployment test NASA

    Einstein called it spooky, but if we figure it out right, can we learn about distant star systems instantaneously?

    “Trying to understand the way nature works involves a most terrible test of human reasoning ability. It involves subtle trickery, beautiful tightropes of logic on which one has to walk in order not to make a mistake in predicting what will happen.”

    1
    -Richard Feynman

    Earlier this month, billionaire Yuri Milner and astrophysicist Stephen Hawking teamed up to announce the Breakthrough Starshot, an incredibly ambitious plan to send the first human-created spacecraft to other star systems within our galaxy. While a giant laser array could, feasibly, launch a low mass, microchip-sized spaceship towards another star at some ~20% the speed of light, it’s unclear how such an underpowered, small device like that would ever communicate across the vastness of interstellar space. But Olivier Manuel had an idea that he submitted for Ask Ethan:

    It’s a long shot, but could quantum entanglement be used for communication?

    Imagine you have two coins, where each one can turn up either heads or tails. You have one and I have one, and we’re located extremely far away from each other. We each toss them up in the air, catch them, and slap them down on the table. When we reveal the flip, we fully expect that there’s a 50/50 chance that each one of us will uncover a “heads” result and a 50/50 shot we’ll each get a “tails.” In the normal, unentangled Universe, your results and my results are completely independent of one another: if you get a “heads” result, there’s still a 50/50 shot for my coin to either display “heads” or “tails.” But under some circumstances, these results could be entangled, meaning that if we do this experiment and you get a “heads” result, you’ll know with 100% certainty that my coin is displaying “tails,” even before I told you. You’d know it instantaneously, even if we were separated by light years and not even a single second had passed.

    2
    The quantum mechanical Bell test for half-integer spin particles. Image credit: Wikimedia Commons user Maksim, under a c.c.a.-s.a.-3.0 license.

    In quantum physics, we normally entangle not coins but individual particles like electrons or photons, where, for example, each photon can have a spin of either +1 or -1. If you measure the spin of one of them, you instantaneously know the spin of the other, even if it’s halfway across the Universe. Until you measure the spin of either one, they both exist in an indeterminate state; but once you measure even one, you immediately know both. We’ve done an experiment on Earth where we’ve separated two entangled photons by many miles, measuring their spins within nanoseconds of one another. What we find is that if we measure one of them to be +1, we know the other to be -1 at least 10,000 times faster than the speed of light would enable us to communicate.

    A quantum optics setup. Image credit Matthew Broome
    A quantum optics setup. Image credit Matthew Broome

    So now to Olivier’s question: could we use this property — quantum entanglement — to communicate from a distant star system to our own? The answer to that is yes, if you consider making a measurement at a distant location a form of communication. But when you say communicate, typically you want to know something about your destination. You could, for example, keep an entangled particle in an indeterminate state, send it aboard a spacecraft bound for the nearest star, and tell it to look for signs of a rocky planet in that star’s habitable zone. If you see one, make a measurement that forces the particle you have to be in the +1 state, and if you don’t see one, make a measurement that forces the particle you have to be in the -1 state.

    3
    Artist’s impression of a sunset from the world Gliese 667 Cc, in a trinary star system. Image credit: ESO/L. Calçada.

    Therefore, you reason, the particle you have back on Earth will then either be in the -1 state when you measure it, telling you that your spacecraft found a rocky planet in the habitable zone, or it will be in the +1 state, telling you that it didn’t find one. If you know the measurement has been made, you should then be able to make your own measurement, and instantly know the state of the other particle, even if it’s many light years away.

    4
    The wave pattern for electrons passing through a double slit. If you measure “which slit” the electron goes through, you destroy the quantum interference pattern shown here. Image credit: Dr. Tonomura and Belsazar of Wikimedia Commons, under c.c.a.-s.a.-3.0.

    It’s a brilliant plan, but there’s a problem: entanglement only works if you ask a particle, “what state are you in?” If you force an entangled particle into a particular state, you break the entanglement, and the measurement you make on Earth is completely independent of the measurement at the distant star. If you had simply measured the distant particle to be +1 or -1, then your measurement, here on Earth, of either -1 or +1 (respectively) would give you information about the particle located light years away. But by forcing that distant particle to be +1 or -1, that means, no matter the outcome, your particle here on Earth has a 50/50 shot of being +1 or -1, with no bearing on the particle so many light years distant.

    5
    A quantum eraser experiment setup, where two entangled particles are separated and measured. No alterations of one particle at its destination affect the outcome of the other. Image credit: Wikimedia Commons user Patrick Edwin Moran, under c.c.a.-s.a.-3.0.

    This is one of the most confusing things about quantum physics: entanglement can be used to gain information about a component of a system when you know the full state and make a measurement of the other component(s), but not to create-and-send information from one part of an entangled system to the other. As clever of an idea as this is, Olivier, there’s still no faster-than-light communication.

    6
    Quantum teleportation, an effect (erroneously) touted as faster-than-light travel. In reality, no information is being exchanged faster than light. Image credit: American Physical Society, via http://www.csm.ornl.gov/SC99/Qwall.html.

    Quantum entanglement is a wonderful property that we can exploit for any number of purposes, such as for the ultimate lock-and-key security system. But faster-than-light communication? Understanding why that’s not possible requires us to understand this key property of quantum physics: that forcing even part of an entangled system into one state or another doesn’t allow you to gain information about that forcing from measuring the remainder of the system. As Niels Bohr once famously put it:

    If quantum mechanics hasn’t profoundly shocked you, you haven’t understood it yet.

    The Universe plays dice with us all the time, much to Einstein’s chagrin. But even our best attempts to cheat at the game are thwarted by nature itself. If only all referees and umpires were as consistent as the laws of quantum physics!

    See the full article here .

    Please help promote STEM in your local schools.

    STEM Icon

    Stem Education Coalition

    “Starts With A Bang! is a blog/video blog about cosmology, physics, astronomy, and anything else I find interesting enough to write about. I am a firm believer that the highest good in life is learning, and the greatest evil is willful ignorance. The goal of everything on this site is to help inform you about our world, how we came to be here, and to understand how it all works. As I write these pages for you, I hope to not only explain to you what we know, think, and believe, but how we know it, and why we draw the conclusions we do. It is my hope that you find this interesting, informative, and accessible,” says Ethan

     
  • richardmitnick 8:24 am on May 6, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , Quantum Mechanics, Reality and measurement,   

    From Science Alert: “Reality doesn’t exist until we measure it, quantum experiment confirms” 

    ScienceAlert

    Science Alert

    1 JUN 2015 [this cool article just appeared or re-appeared in social media.]
    FIONA MACDONALD

    1

    Australian scientists have recreated a famous experiment and confirmed quantum physics’s bizarre predictions about the nature of reality, by proving that reality doesn’t actually exist until we measure it – at least, not on the very small scale.

    That all sounds a little mind-meltingly complex, but the experiment poses a pretty simple question: if you have an object that can either act like a particle or a wave, at what point does that object ‘decide’?

    Our general logic would assume that the object is either wave-like or particle-like by its very nature, and our measurements will have nothing to do with the answer. But quantum theory predicts that the result all depends on how the object is measured at the end of its journey. And that’s exactly what a team from the Australian National University has now found.

    “It proves that measurement is everything. At the quantum level, reality does not exist if you are not looking at it,” lead researcher and physicist Andrew Truscott said in a press release.

    Known as John Wheeler’s delayed-choice thought experiment, the experiment was first proposed back in 1978 using light beams bounced by mirrors, but back then, the technology needed was pretty much impossible. Now, almost 40 years later, the Australian team has managed to recreate the experiment using helium atoms scattered by laser light.

    “Quantum physics predictions about interference seem odd enough when applied to light, which seems more like a wave, but to have done the experiment with atoms, which are complicated things that have mass and interact with electric fields and so on, adds to the weirdness,” said Roman Khakimov, a PhD student who worked on the experiment.

    To successfully recreate the experiment, the team trapped a bunch of helium atoms in a suspended state known as a Bose-Einstein condensate, and then ejected them all until there was only a single atom left.

    Bose-Einstein-condensates making waves a many-particle phenomenon
    Bose-Einstein-condensates making waves a many-particle phenomenon

    This chosen atom was then dropped through a pair of laser beams, which made a grating pattern that acted as a crossroads that would scatter the path of the atom, much like a solid grating would scatter light.

    They then randomly added a second grating that recombined the paths, but only after the atom had already passed the first grating.

    When this second grating was added, it led to constructive or destructive interference, which is what you’d expect if the atom had travelled both paths, like a wave would. But when the second grating was not added, no interference was observed, as if the atom chose only one path.

    The fact that this second grating was only added after the atom passed through the first crossroads suggests that the atom hadn’t yet determined its nature before being measured a second time.

    So if you believe that the atom did take a particular path or paths at the first crossroad, this means that a future measurement was affecting the atom’s path, explained Truscott. “The atoms did not travel from A to B. It was only when they were measured at the end of the journey that their wave-like or particle-like behaviour was brought into existence,” he said.

    Although this all sounds incredibly weird, it’s actually just a validation for the quantum theory that already governs the world of the very small. Using this theory, we’ve managed to develop things like LEDs, lasers and computer chips, but up until now, it’s been hard to confirm that it actually works with a lovely, pure demonstration such as this one.

    The full results* have been published in Nature Physics.

    *Science paper:
    Wheeler’s delayed-choice gedanken experiment with a single atom

    See the full article here .

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  • richardmitnick 2:36 pm on April 30, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Quantum Mechanics,   

    From Ethan Siegel: “Can We Use Quantum Entanglement To Communicate Faster-Than-Light?” 

    Starts with a Bang

    4.30.16
    Ethan Siegel

    1
    The concept art of a solar sail (Japan’s IKAROS project) at a distant planet or star system. Image credit: Andrzej Mirecki of Wikimedia Commons, under a c.c.a.-s.a.-3.0 license.

    Earlier this month, billionaire Yuri Milner and astrophysicist Stephen Hawking teamed up to announce the Breakthrough Starshot, an incredibly ambitious plan to send the first human-created spacecraft to other star systems within our galaxy. While a giant laser array could, feasibly, launch a low mass, microchip-sized spaceship towards another star at some ~20% the speed of light, it’s unclear how such an underpowered, small device like that would ever communicate across the vastness of interstellar space. But Olivier Manuel had an idea that he submitted for Ask Ethan:

    It’s a long shot, but could quantum entanglement be used for communication?

    It’s certainly worth considering. Let’s take a look at the idea.

    1
    Two coins: one showing heads and the other showing tails. Image credit: United States Mint, public domain.

    Imagine you have two coins, where each one can turn up either heads or tails. You have one and I have one, and we’re located extremely far away from each other. We each toss them up in the air, catch them, and slap them down on the table. When we reveal the flip, we fully expect that there’s a 50/50 chance that each one of us will uncover a “heads” result and a 50/50 shot we’ll each get a “tails.” In the normal, unentangled Universe, your results and my results are completely independent of one another: if you get a “heads” result, there’s still a 50/50 shot for my coin to either display “heads” or “tails.” But under some circumstances, these results could be entangled, meaning that if we do this experiment and you get a “heads” result, you’ll know with 100% certainty that my coin is displaying “tails,” even before I told you. You’d know it instantaneously, even if we were separated by light years and not even a single second had passed.

    2
    The quantum mechanical Bell test for half-integer spin particles. Image credit: Wikimedia Commons user Maksim, under a c.c.a.-s.a.-3.0 license.

    In quantum physics, we normally entangle not coins but individual particles like electrons or photons, where, for example, each photon can have a spin of either +1 or -1. If you measure the spin of one of them, you instantaneously know the spin of the other, even if it’s halfway across the Universe. Until you measure the spin of either one, they both exist in an indeterminate state; but once you measure even one, you immediately know both. We’ve done an experiment on Earth where we’ve separated two entangled photons by many miles, measuring their spins within nanoseconds of one another. What we find is that if we measure one of them to be +1, we know the other to be -1 at least 10,000 times faster than the speed of light would enable us to communicate.

    3
    By creating two entangled photons from a pre-existing system and separating them by great distances, we can know information about the state of one by measuring the state of the other. Image credit: Melissa Meister, of laser photons through a beam splitter, under c.c.-by-2.0 generic, from https://www.flickr.com/photos/mmeister/3794835939.

    So now to Olivier’s question: could we use this property — quantum entanglement — to communicate from a distant star system to our own? The answer to that is yes, if you consider making a measurement at a distant location a form of communication. But when you say communicate, typically you want to know something about your destination. You could, for example, keep an entangled particle in an indeterminate state, send it aboard a spacecraft bound for the nearest star, and tell it to look for signs of a rocky planet in that star’s habitable zone. If you see one, make a measurement that forces the particle you have to be in the +1 state, and if you don’t see one, make a measurement that forces the particle you have to be in the -1 state.

    4
    Artist’s impression of a sunset from the world Gliese 667 Cc, in a trinary star system. Image credit: ESO/L. Calçada.

    Therefore, you reason, the particle you have back on Earth will then either be in the -1 state when you measure it, telling you that your spacecraft found a rocky planet in the habitable zone, or it will be in the +1 state, telling you that it didn’t find one. If you know the measurement has been made, you should then be able to make your own measurement, and instantly know the state of the other particle, even if it’s many light years away.

    5
    The wave pattern for electrons passing through a double slit. If you measure “which slit” the electron goes through, you destroy the quantum interference pattern shown here. Image credit: Dr. Tonomura and Belsazar of Wikimedia Commons, under c.c.a.-s.a.-3.0.

    It’s a brilliant plan, but there’s a problem: entanglement only works if you ask a particle, “what state are you in?” If you force an entangled particle into a particular state, you break the entanglement, and the measurement you make on Earth is completely independent of the measurement at the distant star. If you had simply measured the distant particle to be +1 or -1, then your measurement, here on Earth, of either -1 or +1 (respectively) would give you information about the particle located light years away. But by forcing that distant particle to be +1 or -1, that means, no matter the outcome, your particle here on Earth has a 50/50 shot of being +1 or -1, with no bearing on the particle so many light years distant.

    6
    A quantum eraser experiment setup, where two entangled particles are separated and measured. No alterations of one particle at its destination affect the outcome of the other. Image credit: Wikimedia Commons user Patrick Edwin Moran, under c.c.a.-s.a.-3.0.

    This is one of the most confusing things about quantum physics: entanglement can be used to gain information about a component of a system when you know the full state and make a measurement of the other component(s), but not to create-and-send information from one part of an entangled system to the other. As clever of an idea as this is, Olivier, there’s still no faster-than-light communication.

    7
    Quantum teleportation, an effect (erroneously) touted as faster-than-light travel. In reality, no information is being exchanged faster than light. Image credit: American Physical Society, via http://www.csm.ornl.gov/SC99/Qwall.html.

    Quantum entanglement is a wonderful property that we can exploit for any number of purposes, such as for the ultimate lock-and-key security system. But faster-than-light communication? Understanding why that’s not possible requires us to understand this key property of quantum physics: that forcing even part of an entangled system into one state or another doesn’t allow you to gain information about that forcing from measuring the remainder of the system. As Niels Bohr once famously put it:

    If quantum mechanics hasn’t profoundly shocked you, you haven’t understood it yet.

    The Universe plays dice with us all the time, much to Einstein’s chagrin. But even our best attempts to cheat at the game are thwarted by nature itself. If only all referees and umpires were as consistent as the laws of quantum physics!

    See the full article here .

    Please help promote STEM in your local schools.

    STEM Icon

    Stem Education Coalition

    “Starts With A Bang! is a blog/video blog about cosmology, physics, astronomy, and anything else I find interesting enough to write about. I am a firm believer that the highest good in life is learning, and the greatest evil is willful ignorance. The goal of everything on this site is to help inform you about our world, how we came to be here, and to understand how it all works. As I write these pages for you, I hope to not only explain to you what we know, think, and believe, but how we know it, and why we draw the conclusions we do. It is my hope that you find this interesting, informative, and accessible,” says Ethan

     
  • richardmitnick 3:38 pm on April 25, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Quantum Mechanics   

    From phys.org: “Scientists take next step towards observing quantum physics in real life” 

    physdotorg
    phys.org

    April 25, 2016

    1
    An artist’s impression of the membrane coupled to a laser beam. The periodic pattern makes the device highly reflective, while the thin tethers allow for ultra-low mechanical dissipation. Credit: Felix Fricke

    Small objects like electrons and atoms behave according to quantum mechanics, with quantum effects like superposition, entanglement and teleportation. One of the most intriguing questions in modern science is if large objects – like a coffee cup – could also show this behavior. Scientists at the TU Delft have taken the next step towards observing quantum effects at everyday temperatures in large objects. They created a highly reflective membrane, visible to the naked eye, that can vibrate with hardly any energy loss at room temperature. The membrane is a promising candidate to research quantum mechanics in large objects.

    The team has reported their results* in Physical Review Letters.

    Swing

    “Imagine you’re given a single push on a playground swing. Now imagine this single push allows you to gleefully swing non-stop for nearly a decade. We have created a millimeter-sized version of such a swing on a silicon chip”, says prof. Simon Gröblacher of the Kavli Institute of Nanoscience at the TU Delft.

    Tensile stress

    “In order to do this, we deposit ultra-thin films of ceramic onto silicon chips. This allows us to engineer a million psi of tensile stress, which is the equivalent of 10,000 times the pressure in a car tire, into millimeter-sized suspended membranes that are only eight times thicker than the width of DNA”, explains dr. Richard Norte, lead author of the publication. “Their immense stored energies and ultra-thin geometry mean that these membranes can oscillate for tremendously long times by dissipating only small amounts of energy.”

    Super-mirrors

    To efficiently monitor the motion of the membranes with a laser they need to be extremely reflective. In such a thin structure, this can only be achieved by creating a meta-material through etching a microscopic pattern into the membrane. “We actually made the thinnest super-mirrors ever created, with a reflectivity exceeding 99%. In fact, these membranes are also the world’s best force sensors at room temperature, as they are sensitive enough to measure the gravitational pull between two people 100 km apart from each other”, Richard Norte says.

    Room temperture

    “The high-reflectivity, in combination with the extreme isolation, allows us to overcome a major hurdle towards observing quantum physics with massive objects, for the first time, at room temperature”, says Gröblacher. Because even a single quantum of vibration is enough to heat up and destroy the fragile quantum nature of large objects (in a process called decoherence), researchers have relied on large cryogenic systems to cool and isolate their quantum devices from the heat present in our everyday environments. Creating massive quantum oscillators which are robust to decoherence at room temperature has remained an elusive feat for physicists.

    This is extremely interesting from a fundamental theoretical point of view. One of the strangest predictions of quantum mechanics is that things can be in two places at the same time. Such quantum ‘superpositions’ have now been clearly demonstrated for tiny objects such as electrons or atoms, where we now know that quantum theory works very well.

    Coffee cup

    But quantum mechanics also tells us that the same rules should also apply for macroscopic objects: a coffee cup can be on the table and in the dishwasher at the same time, or Schrödinger’s cat can be in a quantum superposition of being dead and alive. This is however not something we see in our daily lives: the coffee cup is either clean or dirty and the cat is either dead or alive. Experimentally demonstrating a proverbial cat that is simultaneously dead and alive at ambient temperatures is still an open question in quantum mechanics. The steps taken in this research might allow to eventually observe ‘quantum cats’ on everyday life scales and temperatures.

    *Science paper:
    Mechanical Resonators for Quantum Optomechanics Experiments at Room Temperature

    See the full article here .

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  • richardmitnick 4:58 pm on April 17, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Quantum Mechanics   

    From NOVA: “Can Quantum Computing Reveal the True Meaning of Quantum Mechanics?” 

    PBS NOVA

    NOVA

    24 Jun 2015 [NOVA just put this up in social media.]
    Scott Aaronson

    Quantum mechanics says not merely that the world is probabilistic, but that it uses rules of probability that no science fiction writer would have had the imagination to invent. These rules involve complex numbers, called “amplitudes,” rather than just probabilities (which are real numbers between 0 and 1). As long as a physical object isn’t interacting with anything else, its state is a huge wave of these amplitudes, one for every configuration that the system could be found in upon measuring it. Left to itself, the wave of amplitudes evolves in a linear, deterministic way. But when you measure the object, you see some definite configuration, with a probability equal to the squared absolute value of its amplitude. The interaction with the measuring device “collapses” the object to whichever configuration you saw.

    Those, more or less, are the alien laws that explain everything from hydrogen atoms to lasers and transistors, and from which no hint of an experimental deviation has ever been found, from the 1920s until today. But could this really be how the universe operates? Is the “bedrock layer of reality” a giant wave of complex numbers encoding potentialities—until someone looks? And what do we mean by “looking,” anyway?

    1
    Could quantum computing help reveal what the laws of quantum mechanics really mean? Adapted from an image by Flickr user Politropix under a Creative Commons license.

    There are different interpretive camps within quantum mechanics, which have squabbled with each other for generations, even though, by design, they all lead to the same predictions for any experiment that anyone can imagine doing. One interpretation is Many Worlds, which says that the different possible configurations of a system (when far enough apart) are literally parallel universes, with the “weight” of each universe given by its amplitude.

    Multiverse. Image credit: public domain, retrieved from https://pixabay.com/
    Multiverse. Image credit: public domain, retrieved from https://pixabay.com/

    In this view, the whole concept of measurement—and of the amplitude waves collapsing on measurement—is a sort of illusion, playing no fundamental role in physics. All that ever happens is linear evolution of the entire universe’s amplitude wave—including a part that describes the atoms of your body, which (the math then demands) “splits” into parallel copies whenever you think you’re making a measurement. Each copy would perceive only itself and not the others. While this might surprise people, Many Worlds is seen by many (certainly by its proponents, who are growing in number) as the conservative option: the one that adds the least to the bare math.

    A second interpretation is Bohmian mechanics, which agrees with Many Worlds about the reality of the giant amplitude wave, but supplements it with a “true” configuration that a physical system is “really” in, regardless of whether or not anyone measures it. The amplitude wave pushes around the “true” configuration in a way that precisely matches the predictions of quantum mechanics. A third option is Niels Bohr’s original “Copenhagen Interpretation,” which says—but in many more words!—that the amplitude wave is just something in your head, a tool you use to make predictions. In this view, “reality” doesn’t even exist prior to your making a measurement of it—and if you don’t understand that, well, that just proves how mired you are in outdated classical ways of thinking, and how stubbornly you insist on asking illegitimate questions.

    But wait: if these interpretations (and others that I omitted) all lead to the same predictions, then how could we ever decide which one is right? More pointedly, does it even mean anything for one to be right and the others wrong, or are these just different flavors of optional verbal seasoning on the same mathematical meat? In his recent quantum mechanics textbook, the great physicist Steven Weinberg reviews the interpretive options, ultimately finding all of them wanting. He ends with the hope that new developments in physics will give us better options. But what could those new developments be?

    In the last few decades, the biggest new thing in quantum mechanics has been the field of quantum computing and information. The goal here, you might say, is to “put the giant amplitude wave to work”: rather than obsessing over its true nature, simply exploit it to do calculations faster than is possible classically, or to help with other information-processing tasks (like communication and encryption). The key insight behind quantum computing was articulated by Richard Feynman in 1982: to write down the state of n interacting particles each of which could be in either of two states, quantum mechanics says you need 2n amplitudes, one for every possible configuration of all n of the particles. Chemists and physicists have known for decades that this can make quantum systems prohibitively difficult to simulate on a classical computer, since 2n grows so rapidly as a function of n.

    But if so, then why not build computers that would themselves take advantage of giant amplitude waves? If nothing else, such computers could be useful for simulating quantum physics! What’s more, in 1994, Peter Shor discovered that such a machine would be useful for more than physical simulations: it could also be used to factor large numbers efficiently, and thereby break most of the cryptography currently used on the Internet. Genuinely useful quantum computers are still a ways away, but experimentalists have made dramatic progress, and have already demonstrated many of the basic building blocks.

    I should add that, for my money, the biggest application of quantum computers will be neither simulation nor codebreaking, but simply proving that this is possible at all! If you like, a useful quantum computer would be the most dramatic demonstration imaginable that our world really does need to be described by a gigantic amplitude wave, that there’s no way around that, no simpler classical reality behind the scenes. It would be the final nail in the coffin of the idea—which many of my colleagues still defend—that quantum mechanics, as currently understood, must be merely an approximation that works for a few particles at a time; and when systems get larger, some new principle must take over to stop the exponential explosion.

    But if quantum computers provide a new regime in which to probe quantum mechanics, that raises an even broader question: could the field of quantum computing somehow clear up the generations-old debate about the interpretation of quantum mechanics? Indeed, could it do that even before useful quantum computers are built?

    At one level, the answer seems like an obvious “no.” Quantum computing could be seen as “merely” a proposed application of quantum mechanics as that theory has existed in physics books for generations. So, to whatever extent all the interpretations make the same predictions, they also agree with each other about what a quantum computer would do. In particular, if quantum computers are built, you shouldn’t expect any of the interpretive camps I listed before to concede that its ideas were wrong. (More likely that each camp will claim its ideas were vindicated!)

    At another level, however, quantum computing makes certain aspects of quantum mechanics more salient—for example, the fact that it takes 2n amplitudes to describe n particles—and so might make some interpretations seem more natural than others. Indeed that prospect, more than any application, is why quantum computing was invented in the first place. David Deutsch, who’s considered one of the two founders of quantum computing (along with Feynman), is a diehard proponent of the Many Worlds interpretation, and saw quantum computing as a way to convince the world (at least, this world!) of the truth of Many Worlds. Here’s how Deutsch put it in his 1997 book “The Fabric of Reality”:

    “Logically, the possibility of complex quantum computations adds nothing to a case [for the Many Worlds Interpretation] that is already unanswerable. But it does add psychological impact. With Shor’s algorithm, the argument has been writ very large. To those who still cling to a single-universe world-view, I issue this challenge: explain how Shor’s algorithm works. I do not merely mean predict that it will work, which is merely a matter of solving a few uncontroversial equations. I mean provide an explanation. When Shor’s algorithm has factorized a number, using 10500 or so times the computational resources that can be seen to be present, where was the number factorized? There are only about 1080 atoms in the entire visible universe, an utterly minuscule number compared with 10500. So if the visible universe were the extent of physical reality, physical reality would not even remotely contain the resources required to factorize such a large number. Who did factorize it, then? How, and where, was the computation performed?”

    As you might imagine, not all researchers agree that a quantum computer would be “psychological evidence” for Many Worlds, or even that the two things have much to do with each other. Yes, some researchers reply, a quantum computer would take exponential resources to simulate classically (using any known algorithm), but all the interpretations agree about that. And more pointedly: thinking of the branches of a quantum computation as parallel universes might lead you to imagine that a quantum computer could solve hard problems in an instant, by simply “trying each possible solution in a different universe.” That is, indeed, how most popular articles explain quantum computing, but it’s also wrong!

    The issue is this: suppose you’re facing some arbitrary problem—like, say, the Traveling Salesman problem, of finding the shortest path that visits a collection of cities—that’s hard because of a combinatorial explosion of possible solutions. It’s easy to program your quantum computer to assign every possible solution an equal amplitude. At some point, however, you need to make a measurement, which returns a single answer. And if you haven’t done anything to boost the amplitude of the answer you want, then you’ll see merely a random answer—which, of course, you could’ve picked for yourself, with no quantum computer needed!

    For this reason, the only hope for a quantum-computing advantage comes from interference: the key aspect of amplitudes that has no classical counterpart, and indeed, that taught physicists that the world has to be described with amplitudes in the first place. Interference is customarily illustrated by the double-slit experiment, in which we shoot a photon at a screen with two slits in it, and then observe where the photon lands on a second screen behind it. What we find is that there are certain “dark patches” on the second screen where the photon never appears—and yet, if we close one of the slits, then the photon can appear in those patches. In other words, decreasing the number of ways for the photon to get somewhere can increase the probability that it gets there! According to quantum mechanics, the reason is that the amplitude for the photon to land somewhere can receive a positive contribution from the first slit, and a negative contribution from the second. In that case, if both slits are open, then the two contributions cancel each other out, and the photon never appears there at all. (Because the probability is the amplitude squared, both negative and positive amplitudes correspond to positive probabilities.)

    Likewise, when designing algorithms for quantum computers, the goal is always to choreograph things so that, for each wrong answer, some of the contributions to its amplitude are positive and others are negative, so on average they cancel out, leaving an amplitude close to zero. Meanwhile, the contributions to the right answer’s amplitude should reinforce each other (being, say, all positive, or all negative). If you can arrange this, then when you measure, you’ll see the right answer with high probability.

    It was precisely by orchestrating such a clever interference pattern that Peter Shor managed to devise his quantum algorithm for factoring large numbers. To do so, Shor had to exploit extremely specific properties of the factoring problem: it was not just a matter of “trying each possible divisor in a different parallel universe.” In fact, an important 1994 theorem of Bennett, Bernstein, Brassard, and Vazirani shows that what you might call the “naïve parallel-universe approach” never yields an exponential speed improvement. The naïve approach can reveal solutions in only the square root of the number of steps that a classical computer would need, an important phenomenon called the Grover speedup. But that square-root advantage turns out to be the limit: if you want to do better, then like Shor, you need to find something special about your problem that lets interference reveal its answer.

    What are the implications of these facts for Deutsch’s argument that only Many Worlds can explain how a quantum computer works? At the least, we should say that the “exponential cornucopia of parallel universes” almost always hides from us, revealing itself only in very special interference experiments where all the “universes” collaborate, rather than any one of them shouting above the rest. But one could go even further. One could say: To whatever extent the parallel universes do collaborate in a huge interference pattern to reveal (say) the factors of a number, to that extent they never had separate identities as “parallel universes” at all—even according to the Many Worlds interpretation! Rather, they were just one interfering, quantum-mechanical mush. And from a certain perspective, all the quantum computer did was to linearly transform the way in which we measured that mush, as if we were rotating it to see it from a more revealing angle. Conversely, whenever the branches do act like parallel universes, Many Worlds itself tells us that we only observe one of them—so from a strict empirical standpoint, we could treat the others (if we liked) as unrealized hypotheticals. That, at least, is the sort of reply a modern Copenhagenist might give, if she wanted to answer Deutsch’s argument on its own terms.

    There are other aspects of quantum information that seem more “Copenhagen-like” than “Many-Worlds-like”—or at least, for which thinking about “parallel universes” too naïvely could lead us astray. So for example, suppose Alice sends n quantum-mechanical bits (or qubits) to Bob, then Bob measures qubits in any way he likes. How many classical bits can Alice transmit to Bob that way? If you remember that n qubits require 2n amplitudes to describe, you might conjecture that Alice could achieve an incredible information compression—“storing one bit in each parallel universe.” But alas, an important result called Holevo’s Theorem says that, because of the severe limitations on what Bob learns when he measures the qubits, such compression is impossible. In fact, by sending n qubits to Bob, Alice can reliably communicate only n bits (or 2n bits, if Alice and Bob shared quantum correlations in advance), essentially no better than if she’d sent the bits classically. So for this task, you might say, the amplitude wave acts more like “something in our heads” (as the Copenhagenists always said) than like “something out there in reality” (as the Many-Worlders say).

    But the Many-Worlders don’t need to take this lying down. They could respond, for example, by pointing to other, more specialized communication problems, in which it’s been proven that Alice and Bob can solve using exponentially fewer qubits than classical bits. Here’s one example of such a problem, drawing on a 1999 theorem of Ran Raz and a 2010 theorem of Boaz Klartag and Oded Regev: Alice knows a vector in a high-dimensional space, while Bob knows two orthogonal subspaces. Promised that the vector lies in one of the two subspaces, can you figure out which one holds the vector? Quantumly, Alice can encode the components of her vector as amplitudes—in effect, squeezing n numbers into exponentially fewer qubits. And crucially, after receiving those qubits, Bob can measure them in a way that doesn’t reveal everything about Alice’s vector, but does reveal which subspace it lies in, which is the one thing Bob wanted to know.

    So, do the Many Worlds become “real” for these special problems, but retreat back to being artifacts of the math for ordinary information transmission?

    To my mind, one of the wisest replies came from the mathematician and quantum information theorist Boris Tsirelson, who said: “a quantum possibility is more real than a classical possibility, but less real than a classical reality.” In other words, this is a new ontological category, one that our pre-quantum intuitions simply don’t have a good slot for. From this perspective, the contribution of quantum computing is to delineate for which tasks the giant amplitude wave acts “real and Many-Worldish,” and for which other tasks it acts “formal and Copenhagenish.” Quantum computing can give both sides plenty of fresh ammunition, without handing an obvious victory to either.

    So then, is there any interpretation that flat-out doesn’t fare well under the lens of quantum computing? While some of my colleagues will strongly disagree, I’d put forward Bohmian mechanics as a candidate. Recall that David Bohm’s vision was of real particles, occupying definite positions in ordinary three-dimensional space, but which are jostled around by a giant amplitude wave in a way that perfectly reproduces the predictions of quantum mechanics. A key selling point of Bohm’s interpretation is that it restores the determinism of classical physics: all the uncertainty of measurement, we can say in his picture, arises from lack of knowledge of the initial conditions. I’d describe Bohm’s picture as striking and elegant—as long as we’re only talking about one or two particles at a time.

    But what happens if we try to apply Bohmian mechanics to a quantum computer—say, one that’s running Shor’s algorithm to factor a 10,000-digit number, using hundreds of thousands of particles? We can do that, but if we do, talking about the particles’ “real locations” will add spectacularly little insight. The amplitude wave, you might say, will be “doing all the real work,” with the “true” particle positions bouncing around like comically-irrelevant fluff. Nor, for that matter, will the bouncing be completely deterministic. The reason for this is technical: it has to do with the fact that, while particles’ positions in space are continuous, the 0’s and 1’s in a computer memory (which we might encode, for example, by the spins of the particles) are discrete. And one can prove that, if we want to reproduce the predictions of quantum mechanics for discrete systems, then we need to inject randomness at many times, rather than only at the beginning of the universe.

    But it gets worse. In 2005, I proved a theorem that says that, in any theory like Bohmian mechanics, if you wanted to calculate the entire trajectory of the “real” particles, you’d need to solve problems that are thought to be intractable even for quantum computers. One such problem is the so-called collision problem, where you’re given a cryptographic hash function (a function that maps a long message to a short “hash value”) and asked to find any two messages with the same hash. In 2002, I proved that, at least if you use the “naïve parallel-universe” approach, any quantum algorithm for the collision problem requires at least ~H1/5 steps, where H is the number of possible hash values. (This lower bound was subsequently improved to ~H1/3 by Yaoyun Shi, exactly matching an upper bound of Brassard, Høyer, and Tapp.) By contrast, if (with godlike superpower) you could somehow see the whole histories of Bohmian particles, you could solve the collision problem almost instantly.

    What makes this interesting is that, if you ask to see the locations of Bohmian particles at any one time, you won’t find anything that you couldn’t have easily calculated with a standard, garden-variety quantum computer. It’s only when you ask for the particles’ locations at multiple times—a question that Bohmian mechanics answers, but that ordinary quantum mechanics rejects as meaningless—that you’re able to see multiple messages with the same hash, and thereby solve the collision problem.

    My conclusion is that, if you believe in the reality of Bohmian trajectories, you believe that Nature does even more computational work than a quantum computer could efficiently simulate—but then it hides the fruits of its labor where no one can ever observe it. Now, this sits uneasily with a principle that we might call “Occam’s Razor with Computational Aftershave.” Namely: In choosing a picture of physical reality, we should be loath to posit computational effort on Nature’s part that vastly exceeds what could ever in principle be observed. (Admittedly, some people would probably argue that the Many Worlds interpretation violates my “aftershave principle” even more flagrantly than Bohmian mechanics does! But that depends, in part, on what we count as “observation”: just our observations, or also the observations of any parallel-universe doppelgängers?)

    Could future discoveries in quantum computing theory settle once and for all, to every competent physicist’s satisfaction, “which interpretation is the true one”? To me, it seems much more likely that future insights will continue to do what the previous ones did: broaden our language, strip away irrelevancies, clarify the central issues, while still leaving plenty to argue about for people who like arguing. In the end, asking how quantum computing affects the interpretation of quantum mechanics is sort of like asking how classical computing affects the debate about whether the mind is a machine. In both cases, there was a range of philosophical positions that people defended before a technology came along, and most of those positions still have articulate defenders after the technology. So, by that standard, the technology can’t be said to have “resolved” much! Yet the technology is so striking that even the idea of it—let alone the thing itself—can shift the terms of the debate, which analogies people use in thinking about it, which possibilities they find natural and which contrived. This might, more generally, be the main way technology affects philosophy.

    See the full article here .

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    NOVA is the highest rated science series on television and the most watched documentary series on public television. It is also one of television’s most acclaimed series, having won every major television award, most of them many times over.

     
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