Wednesday, March 25, 2015

No, the LHC will not make contact with parallel universes

Evidence for rainbow gravity by butterfly
production at the LHC.

The most recent news about quantum gravity phenomenology going through the press is that the LHC upon restart at higher energies will make contact with parallel universes, excuse me, with PARALLEL UNIVERSES. The telegraph even wants you to believe that this would disprove the Big Bang, and tomorrow maybe it will cause global warming, cure Alzheimer and lead to the production of butterflies at the LHC, who knows. This story is so obviously nonsense that I thought it would be unnecessary to comment on this, but I have underestimated the willingness of news outlets to promote shallow science, and also the willingness of authors to feed that fire.

This story is based on the paper:
    Absence of Black Holes at LHC due to Gravity's Rainbow
    Ahmed Farag Ali, Mir Faizal, Mohammed M. Khalil
    arXiv:1410.4765 [hep-th]
    Phys.Lett. B743 (2015) 295
which just got published in PLB. Let me tell you right away that this paper would not have passed my desk. I'd have returned it as major revisions necessary.

Here is a summary of what they have done. In models with large additional dimensions, the Planck scale, where effects of quantum gravity become important, can be lowered to energies accessible at colliders. This is an old story that was big 15 years ago or so, and I wrote my PhD thesis on this. In the new paper they use a modification of general relativity that is called "rainbow gravity" and revisit the story in this framework.

In rainbow gravity the metric is energy-dependent which it normally is not. This energy-dependence is a non-standard modification that is not confirmed by any evidence. It is neither a theory nor a model, it is just an idea that, despite more than a decade of work, never developed into a proper model. Rainbow gravity has not been shown to be compatible with the standard model. There is no known quantization of this approach and one cannot describe interactions in this framework at all. Moreover, it is known to lead to non-localities with are ruled out already. For what I am concerned, no papers should get published on the topic until these issues have been resolved.

Rainbow gravity enjoys some popularity because it leads to Planck scale effects that can affect the propagation of particles, which could potentially be observable. Alas, no such effects have been found. No such effects have been found if the Planck scale is the normal one! The absolutely last thing you want to do at this point is argue that rainbow gravity should be combined with large extra dimensions, because then its effects would get stronger and probably be ruled out already. At the very least you would have to revisit all existing constraints on modified dispersion relations and reaction thresholds and so on. This isn't even mentioned in the paper.

That isn't all there is to say though. In their paper, the authors also unashamedly claim that such a modification has been predicted by Loop Quantum Gravity, and that it is a natural incorporation of effects found in string theory. Both of these statements are manifestly wrong. Modifications like this have been motivated by, but never been derived from Loop Quantum Gravity. And String Theory gives rise to some kind of minimal length, yes, but certainly not to rainbow gravity; in fact, the expression of the minimal length relation in string theory is known to be incompatible with the one the authors use. The claims that this model they use has some kind of derivation or even a semi-plausible motivation from other theories is just marketing. If I had been a referee of this paper, I would have requested that all these wrong claims be scraped.

In the rest of the paper, the authors then reconsider the emission rate of black holes in extra dimension with the energy-dependent metric.

They erroneously state that the temperature diverges when the mass goes to zero and that it comes to a "catastrophic evaporation". This has been known to be wrong since 20 years. This supposed catastrophic evaporation is due to an incorrect thermodynamical treatment, see for example section 3.1 of this paper. You do not need quantum gravitational effects to avoid this, you just have to get thermodynamics right. Another reason to not publish the paper. To be fair though, this point is pretty irrelevant for the rest of the authors' calculation.

They then argue that rainbow gravity leads to black hole remnants because the temperature of the black hole decreases towards the Planck scale. This isn't so surprising and is something that happens generically in models with modifications at the Planck scale, because they can bring down the final emission rate so that it converges and eventually stops.

The authors then further claim that the modification from rainbow gravity affects the cross-section for black hole production, which is probably correct, or at least not wrong. They then take constraints on the lowered Planck scale from existing searches for gravitons (ie missing energy) that should also be produced in this case. They use the contraints obtained from the graviton limits to say that with these limits, black hole production should not yet have been seen, but might appear in the upcoming LHC runs. They should not of course have used the constaints from a paper that were obtained in a scenario without the rainbow gravity modification, because the production of gravitons would likewise be modified.

Having said all that, the conclusion that they come to that rainbow gravity may lead to black hole remnants and make it more difficult to produce black holes is probably right, but it is nothing new. The reason is that these types of models lead to a generalized uncertainty principle, and all these calculations have been done before in this context. As the authors nicely point out, I wrote a paper already in 2004 saying that black hole production at the LHC should be suppressed if one takes into account that the Planck length acts as a minimal length.

Yes, in my youth I worked on black hole production at the LHC. I gracefully got out of this when it became obvious there wouldn't be black holes at the LHC, some time in 2005. And my paper, I should add, doesn't work with rainbow gravity but with a Lorentz-invariant high-energy deformation that only becomes relevant in the collision region and thus does not affect the propagation of free particles. In other words, in contrast to the model that the authors use, my model is not already ruled out by astrophysical constraints. The relevant aspects of the argument however are quite similar, thus the similar conclusions: If you take into account Planck length effects, it becomes more difficult to squeeze matter together to form a black hole because the additional space-time distortion acts against your efforts. This means you need to invest more energy than you thought to get particles close enough to collapse and form a horizon.

What does any of this have to do with paralell universes? Nothing, really, except that one of the authors, Mir Faizal, told some journalist there is a connection. In the phys.org piece one can read:
""Normally, when people think of the multiverse, they think of the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, where every possibility is actualized," Faizal told Phys.org. "This cannot be tested and so it is philosophy and not science. This is not what we mean by parallel universes. What we mean is real universes in extra dimensions. As gravity can flow out of our universe into the extra dimensions, such a model can be tested by the detection of mini black holes at the LHC. We have calculated the energy at which we expect to detect these mini black holes in gravity's rainbow [a new theory]. If we do detect mini black holes at this energy, then we will know that both gravity's rainbow and extra dimensions are correct."
To begin with rainbow gravity is neither new nor a theory, but that addition seems to be the journalist's fault. For what the parallel universes are concerned, to get these in extra dimensions you would need to have additional branes next to our own one and there is nothing like this in the paper. What this has to do with the multiverse I don't know, that's an entirely different story. Maybe this quote was taken out of context.

Why does the media hype this nonsense? Three reasons I can think of. First, the next LHC startup is near and they're looking for a hook to get the story across. Black holes and parallel universes sound good, regardless of whether this has anything to do with reality. Second, the paper shamelessly overstates the relevance of the investigation, makes claims that are manifestly wrong, and fails to point out the miserable state that the framework they use is in. Third, the authors willingly feed the hype in the press.

Did the topic of rainbow gravity and the author's name, Mir Faizal, sound familiar? That's because I wrote about both only a month ago, when the press was hyping another nonsense story about black holes in rainbow gravity with the same author. In that previous paper they claimed that black holes in rainbow gravity don't have a horizon and nothing was mentioned about them forming remnants. I don't see how these both supposed consequences of rainbow gravity are even compatible with each other. If anything this just reinforces my impression that this isn't physics, it's just fanciful interpretation of algebraic manipulations that have no relation to reality whatsoever.

In summary: The authors work in a framework that combines rainbow gravity with a lowered Planck scale, which is already ruled out. They derive bounds on black hole production using existing data analysis that does not apply in the framework they use. The main conclusion that Planck length effects should suppress black hole production at the LHC is correct, but this has been known since 10 years at least. None of this has anything to do with parallel universes.

Monday, March 23, 2015

No, you cannot test quantum gravity with X-ray superradiance

I am always looking for new ways to repeat myself, so I cannot possibly leave out this opportunity to point out yet another possibility to not test quantum gravity. Chris Lee from Arstechnica informed the world last week that “Deflecting X-rays due to gravity may provide view on quantum gravity”, which is a summary of the paper

The idea is to shine light on a crystal at frequencies high enough so that it excites nuclear resonances. This excitation is delocalized, and the energy is basically absorbed and reemitted systematically, which leads to a propagation of the light-induced excitation through the crystal. How this propagation proceeds depends on the oscillations of the nuclei, which again depends on the local proper time. If you place the crystal in a gravitational field, the proper time will depend on the strength of the field. As a consequence, the propagation of the excitation through the crystal depends on the gradient of the gravitational field. The authors argue that in principle this influence of gravity on the passage of time in the crystal should be measurable.

They then look at a related but slightly different effect in which the crystal rotates and the time-dilatation resulting from the (non-inertial!) motion gives rise to a similar effect, though much larger in magnitude.

The authors do not claim that this experiment would be more sensitive than already existing ones. I assume that if it was so, they’d have pointed this out. Instead, they write the main advantage is that this new method allows to test both special and general relativistic effects in tabletop experiments.

It’s a neat paper. What does it have to do with quantum gravity? Well, nothing. Indeed the whole paper doesn’t say anything about quantum gravity. Quantum gravity, I remind you, is the quantization of the gravitational interaction, which plays no role for this whatsoever. Chris Lee in his Arstechnica piece explains
“Experiments like these may even be sensitive enough to see the influence of quantum mechanics on space and time.”
Which is just plainly wrong. The influence of quantum mechanics on space-time is far too weak to be measurable in this experiment, or in any other known laboratory experiment. If you figure out how to do this on a tabletop, book your trip to Stockholm right away. Though I recommend you show me the paper before you waste your money.

Here is what Chris Lee had to say about the question what he thinks it’s got to do with quantum gravity:
Deviations from general relativity aren’t the same as quantum gravity. And besides this, for all I can tell the authors haven’t claimed that they can test a new parameter regime that hasn’t been tested before. The reference to quantum gravity is an obvious attempt to sex up the piece and has no scientific credibility whatsoever.

Summary: Just because it’s something with quantum and something with gravity doesn’t mean it’s quantum gravity.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

No foam: New constraint on space-time fluctuations rules out stochastic Planck scale dispersion

The most abused word in science writing is “space-time foam.” You’d think is a technical term, but it isn’t – space-time foam is just a catch-all phrase for some sort of quantum gravitational effect that alters space-time at the Planck scale. The technical term, if there is any, would be “Planck scale effect”. And please note that I didn’t say quantum gravitational effects “at short distances” because that is an observer-dependent statement and wouldn’t be compatible with Special Relativity. It is generally believed that space-time is affected at high curvature, which is an observer-independent statement and doesn’t a priori have anything to do with distances whatsoever.

Having said that, you can of course hypothesize Planck scale effects that do not respect Special Relativity and then go out to find constraints, because maybe quantum gravity does indeed violate Special Relativity? There is a whole paper industry behind this since violations of Special Relativity tend to result in large and measurable consequences, in contrast to other quantum gravity effects, which are tiny. A lot of experiments have been conducted already looking for deviations from Special Relativity. And one after the other they have come back confirming Special Relativity, and General Relativity in extension. Or, as the press has it: “Einstein was right.”

Since there are so many tests already, it has become increasingly hard to still believe in Planck scale effects that violate Special Relativity. But players gonna play and haters gonna hate, and so some clever physicists have come up with models that supposedly lead to Einstein-defeating Planck scale effects which could be potentially observable, be indicators for quantum gravity, and are still compatible with existing observations. A hallmark of these deviations from Special Relativity is that the propagation of light through space-time becomes dependent on the wavelength of the light, an effect which is called “vacuum dispersion”.

There are two different ways this vacuum dispersion of light can work. One is that light of shorter wavelength travels faster than that of longer wavelength, or the other way round. This is a systematic dispersion. The other way is that the dispersion is stochastic, so that the light sometimes travels faster, sometimes slower, but on the average it moves still with the good, old, boring speed of light.

The first of these cases, the systematic one, has been constrained to high precision already, and no Planck scale effects have been seen. This has been discussed since a decade or so, and I think (hope!) that by now it’s pretty much off the table. You can always of course come up with some fancy reason for why you didn’t see anything, but this is arguably unsexy. The second case of stochastic dispersion is harder to come by because on the average you do get back Special Relativity.

I already mentioned in September last year that Jonathan Granot gave a talk at the 2014 conference on “Experimental Search for Quantum Gravity” where he told us he and collaborators had been working on constraining the stochastic case. I tentatively inquired if they saw any deviations from no effect and got a head shake, but was told to keep my mouth shut until the paper is out. To make a long story short, the paper has appeared now, and they don’t see any evidence for Planck scale effects whatsoever:
A Planck-scale limit on spacetime fuzziness and stochastic Lorentz invariance violation
Vlasios Vasileiou, Jonathan Granot, Tsvi Piran, Giovanni Amelino-Camelia
What they did for this analysis is to take a particularly pretty gamma ray burst, GRB090510. The photons from gamma ray bursts like this travel over a very long distances (some Gpc), during which the deviations from the expected travel time add up. The gamma ray spectrum can also extend to quite high energies (about 30 GeV for this one) which is helpful because the dispersion effect is supposed to become stronger with high energy.

What the authors do then is basically to compare the lower energy part of the spectrum with the higher energy part and see if they have a noticeable difference in the dispersion, which would tend to wash out structures. The answer is, no, there’s no difference. This in turn can be used to constrain the scale at which effects can set in, and they get a constraint a little higher than the Planck scale (1.6 times) at high confidence (99%).

It’s a neat paper, well done, and I hope this will put the case to rest.

Am I surprised by the finding? No. Not only because I knew the result since September, but also because the underlying models that give rise to such effects are theoretically unsatisfactory, at least for what I am concerned. This is particularly apparent for the systematic case. In the systematic case the models are either long ruled out already because they break Lorentz-invariance, or they result in non-local effects which are also ruled out already. Or, if you want to avoid both they are simply theoretically inconsistent. I showed this in a paper some years ago. I also mentioned in that paper that the argument I presented does not apply for the stochastic case. However, I added this because I simply wasn’t in the mood to spend more time on this than I already had. I am pretty sure you could use the argument I made also to kill the stochastic case on similar reasoning. So that’s why I’m not surprised. It is of course always good to have experimental confirmation.

While I am at it, let me clear out a common confusion with these types of tests. The models that are being constrained here do not rely on space-time discreteness, or “graininess” as the media likes to put it. It might be that some discrete models give rise to the effects considered here, but I don’t know of any. There are discrete models of space-time of course (Causal Sets, Causal Dynamical Triangulation, LQG, and some other emergent things), but there is no indication that any of these leads to an effect like the stochastic energy-dependent dispersion. If you want to constrain space-time discreteness, you should look for defects in the discrete structure instead.

And because my writer friends always complain the fault isn’t theirs but the fault is that of the physicists who express themselves sloppily, I agree, at least in this case. If you look at the paper, it’s full with foam, and it totally makes the reader believe that the foam is a technically well-defined thing. It’s not. Every time you read the word “space-time foam” make that “Planck scale effect” and suddenly you’ll realize that all it means is a particular parameterization of deviations from Special Relativity that, depending on taste, is more or less well-motivated. Or, as my prof liked to say, a paramterization of ignorance.

In summary: No foam. I’m not surprised. I hope we can now forget deformations of Special Relativity.

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

What physics says about the vacuum: A visit to the seashore.

[Image Source: www.wall321.com]
Imagine you are at the seashore, watching the waves. Somewhere in the distance you see a sailboat — wait, don’t fall asleep yet. The waves and I want to tell you a story about nothing.

Before quantum mechanics, “vacuum” meant the absence of particles, and that was it. But with the advent of quantum mechanics, the vacuum became much more interesting. The sea we’re watching is much like this quantum vacuum. The boats on the sea’s surface are what physicists call “real” particles; they are the things you put in colliders and shoot at each other. But there are also waves on the surface of the sea. The waves are like “virtual” particles; they are fluctuations around sea level that come out of the sea and fade back into it.

Virtual particles have to obey more rules than sea waves though. Because electric charge must be conserved, virtual particles can only be created together with their anti-particles that carry the opposite charge. Energy too must be conserved, but due to Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, we are allowed to temporarily borrow some energy from the vacuum, as long as we give it back quickly enough. This means that the virtual particle pairs can only exist for a short time, and the more energy they carry, the shorter the duration of their existence.

You cannot directly measure virtual particles in a detector, but their presence has indirect observable consequences that have been tested to great accuracy. Atomic nuclei, for example, carry around them a cloud of virtual particles, and this cloud shifts the energy levels of electrons orbiting around the nucleus.

So we know, not just theoretically but experimentally, that the vacuum is not empty. It’s full with virtual particles that constantly bubble in and out of existence.

Vizualization of a quantum field theory calculation showing virtual particles in the quantum vacuum.
Image Credits: Derek Leinweber


Let us go back to the seashore; I quite liked it there. We measure elevation relative to the average sea level, which we call elevation zero. But this number is just a convention. All we really ever measure are differences between heights, so the absolute number does not matter. For the quantum vacuum, physicists similarly normalize the total energy and momentum to zero because all we ever measure are energies relative to it. Do not attempt to think of the vacuum’s energy and momentum as if it was that of a particle; it is not. In contrast to the energy-momentum of particles, that of the vacuum is invariant under a change of reference frame, as Einstein’s theory of Special Relativity requires. The vacuum looks the same for the guy in the train and for the one on the station.

But what if we take into account gravity, you ask? Well, there is the rub. According to General Relativity, all forms of energy have a gravitational pull. More energy, more pull. With gravity, we are no longer free to just define the sea level as zero. It’s like we had suddenly discovered that the Earth is round and there is an absolute zero of elevation, which is at the center of the Earth.

In best manner of a physicist, I have left out a small detail, which is that the calculated energy of the quantum vacuum is actually infinite. Yeah, I know, doesn’t sound good. If you don’t care what the total vacuum energy is anyway, this doesn’t matter. But if you take into account gravity, the vacuum energy becomes measurable, and therefore it does matter.

The vacuum energy one obtains from quantum field theory is of the same form as Einstein’s Cosmological Constant because this is the only form which (in an uncurved space-time) does not depend on the observer. We measured the Cosmological Constant to have a small, positive, nonzero value which is responsible for the accelerated expansion of the universe. But why it has just this value, and why not infinity (or at least something huge), nobody knows. This “Cosmological Constant Problem” is one of the big open problems in theoretical physics today and its origin lies in our lacking understanding of the quantum vacuum.

But this isn’t the only mystery surrounding the sea of virtual particles. Quantum theory tells you how particles belong together with fields. The quantum vacuum by definition doesn’t have real particles in it, and normally this means that the field that it belongs to also vanishes. For these fields, the average sea level is at zero, regardless of whether there are boats on the water or aren’t. But for some fields the real particles are more like stones. They’ll not stay on the surface, they will sink and make the sea level rise. We say the field “has a non-zero vacuum expectation value.”

On the seashore, you now have to wade through the water, which will slow you down. This is what the Higgs-field does: It drags down particles and thereby effectively gives them mass. If you dive and kick the stones that sunk to the bottom hard enough, you can sometimes make one jump out of the surface. This is essentially what the LHC does, just call the stones “Higgs bosons.” I’m really getting into this seashore thing ;)

Next, let us imagine we could shove the Earth closer to the Sun. Oceans would evaporate and you could walk again without having to drag through the water. You’d also be dead, sorry about this, but what about the vacuum? Amazingly, you can do the same. Physicists say the “vacuum melts” rather than evaporates, but it’s very similar: If you pump enough energy into the vacuum, the level sinks to zero and all particles are massless again.

You may complain now that if you pump energy into the vacuum, it’s no longer vacuum. True. But the point is that you change the previously non-zero vacuum expectation value. To our best knowledge, it was zero in the very early universe and theoretical physicists would love to have a glimpse at this state of matter. For this however they’d have to achieve a temperature of 1015 Kelvin! Even the core of the sun “only” makes it to 107 Kelvin.

One way to get to such high temperature, if only in a very small region of space, is with strong electromagnetic fields.

In a recent paper, Hegelich, Mourou, and Rafelski estimated that with the presently most advanced technology high intensity lasers could get close to the necessary temperature. This is still far off reality, but it will probably one day become possible!

Back to the sea: Fluids can exist in a “superheated” state. In such a state, the medium is liquid even though its temperature is above the boiling point. Superheated liquids are “metastable,” this means if you give them any opportunity they will very suddenly evaporate into the preferred stable gaseous state. This can happen if you boil water in the microwave, so always be very careful taking it out.

The vacuum that we live in might be a metastable state: a “false vacuum.” In this case it will evaporate at some point, and in this process release an enormous amount of energy. Nobody really knows whether this will indeed happen. But even if it does happen, best present estimates date this event into the distant future, when life is no longer possible anyway because stars have run out of power. Particle physicist Joseph Lykken estimated something like a Googol years; that’s about 1090 times the present age of the universe.

According to some theories, our universe came into existence from another metastable vacuum state, and the energy that was released in this process eventually gave rise to all we see around us now. Some physicists, notably Lawrence Krauss, refer to this as creating a universe from “nothing.”


If you take away all particles, you get the quantum vacuum, but you still have space-time. If we had a quantum theory for space-time as well, you could take away space-time too, at least operationally. This might be the best description of a physical “nothing” that we can ever reach, but it still would not be an absolute nothing because even this state is still a mathematical “something”.

Now what exactly it means for mathematics to “exist” I better leave to philosophers. All I have to say about this is, well, nothing.


If you want to know more about the philosophy behind nothing, you might like Jim Holt’s book “Why does the world exist”, which I reviewed here

This post previously appeared at Starts With a Bang under the title “Everything you ever wanted to know about nothing”.

Wednesday, March 04, 2015

Can we prove the quantization of gravity with the Casimir effect? Probably not.

Quantum gravity phenomenology has hit the news again. This time the headline is that we can supposedly use the gravitational Casimir effect to demonstrate the existence of gravitons, and thereby the quantization of the gravitational field. You can read this on New Scientist or Spektrum (in German), and tomorrow you’ll read it in a dozen other news outlets, all of which will ignore what I am about to tell you now, namely (surpise) the experiment is most likely not going to detect any quantum gravitational effect.

The relevant paper is on the arxiv
I’m here for you. I went and read the paper. Then it turned out that the argument is based on another paper by Minter et al, which has a whooping 60 pages. Don’t despair, I’m here for you. I went and read that too. It’s only fun if it hurts, right? Luckily my attempted martyrdom wasn’t put to too much test because I recalled after the first 3 pages that I had read the Minter et al paper before. So what is this all about?

The Casmir effect is a force that is normally computed for quantum electrodynamics, where it acts between conducting, uncharged plates. The resulting force is a consequence of the boundary conditions on the plates. The relevant property of the setup in quantum electrodynamics is that the plates are conducting, which is what causes the boundary condition. Then, the quantum vacuum outside the plates is different from the vacuum between the plates, resulting in a net force. You can also do this calculation for other geometries with boundary conditions; it isn’t specific to the plates, this is just the simplest case.

The Casimir effect exists for all quantized fields, in principle, if you have suitable boundary conditions. It does also exist for gravity, if you perturbatively quantize it, and this has been calculated in the context of many cosmological models. Since compactified dimensions are also boundary conditions, the Casmir effect can be relevant for all extra-dimensional scenarios, where it tends to destabilize configurations.

In the new paper now, the author, James Quach, calculates the gravitational Casimir effect with a boundary condition where the fields do not abruptly jump, but are smooth, and he also takes into account a frequency-dependence in the reaction of the boundary to the vacuum fluctuations. The paper is very clearly written, and while I haven’t checked the calculation in detail it looks good to me. I also think it is a genuinely new result.

To estimate the force of the resulting Casmir effect one then needs to know how the boundary reacts to the quantum fluctuations in the vacuum. The author for this looks at two different case for which he uses other people’s previous findings. First, he uses an estimate for how normal materials scatter gravitational waves. Then he uses an estimate that goes back to the mentioned 60 pages paper how superconducting films supposedly scatter gravitational waves, due to what they dubbed the “Heisenberg-Coulomb Effect” (more about that in a moment). The relevant point to notice here is that in both cases the reaction of the material is that to a classical gravitational wave, whereas in the new paper the author looks at a quantum fluctuation.

Quach estimates that for normal materials the gravitational Casimir effect is ridiculously tiny and unobservable. Then he uses the claim in the Minter et al paper that superconducting materials have a hugely enhanced reaction to gravitational waves. He estimates the Casimir effect in this case and finds that it can be measureable.

The paper by Quach is very careful and doesn’t overstate this result. He very clearly spells out that this doesn’t so much test quantum gravity, but that it tests the Minter et al claim, the accuracy of which has previously been questioned. Quach writes explicitly:
“The origins of the arguments employed by Minter et al. are heuristical in nature, some of which we believe require a much more formal approach to be convincing. This is echoed in a review article […] Nevertheless, the work by Minter et al. do yield results which can be used to falsify their theory. The [Heisenberg-Coulomb] effect should enhance the Casimir pressure between superconducting plates. Here we quantify the size of this effect.”
Take away #1: The proposed experiment does not a priori test quantum gravity, it tests the controversial Heisenberg-Coulomb effect.

So what’s the Heisenberg-Coulomb effect? In their paper, Minter et al explain that a in a superconducting material, Cooper pairs aren’t localizable and thus don’t move like point particles. This means in particular they don’t move on geodesics. That by itself wouldn’t be so interesting, but their argument is that this is the case only for the negatively charged Cooper pairs, while the positively charged ions of the atomic lattice move pretty much on geodesics. So if a gravitational wave comes in, their argument, the positive and negative charges react differently. This causes a polarization, which leads to a restoring force.

You probably don’t feel like reading the 60 pages Minter thing, but have at least a look at the abstract. It explicitly uses the semi-classical approximation. This means the gravitational field is unquantized. This is essential, because they talk about stuff moving in a background spacetime. Quach in his paper uses the frequency-dependence from the Minter paper not for the semi-classical approximation, but for the response of each mode in the quantum vacuum. The semi-classical approximation in Quach’s case is flat space by assumption.

Take away #2: The new paper uses a frequency response derived for a classical gravitational wave and uses it for the quantized modes of the vacuum.

These two things could be related in some way, but I don’t see how it’s obvious that they are identical. The problem is that to use the Minter result you’d have to argue somehow that the whole material responds to the same mode at once. This is so if you have a gravitational wave that deforms the background, but I don’t see how it’s justified to still do this for quantum fluctuations. Note, I’m not saying this is wrong. I’m just saying I don’t see why it’s right. (Asked the author about it, no reply yet. I’ll keep you posted.)

We haven’t yet come to the most controversial part of the Minter argument though. That the superconducting material reacts with polarization and a restoring force seems plausible to me. But to get the desired boundary condition, Minter et al argue that the superconducting material reflects the incident gravitational wave. The argument seems to be basically that since the gravitational wave can’t pull apart the negative from the positive charges, it can’t trespass the medium at all. And since the reaction of the medium is electromagnetic in origin, it is hugely enhanced compared to the reaction of normal media.

I can’t follow this argument because I don’t see where the backreaction from the material on the gravitational wave is supposed to come from. The only way the superconducting material can affect the background is through the gravitational coupling, ie through its mass movement. And this coupling is tiny. What I think would happen is simply that the superconducting film becomes polarized and then when the force becomes too strong to allow further separation through the gravitational wave, it essentially moves as one, so no further polarization. Minter et al do in their paper not calculate the backreaction of the material to the background. This isn’t so surprising because backreaction in gravity is one of the thorniest math problems you can encounter in physics. As an aside, notice that the paper is 6 years old but unpublished. And so

Take away #3: It’s questionable that the effect which the newly proposed experiments looks for exists at all.

My summary then is the following: The new paper is interesting and it’s a novel calculation. I think it totally deserves publication in PRL and I have little doubt that the result (Eqs 15-18) is correct. I am not sure that using the frequency response to classical waves is good also for quantum fluctuations. And even if you buy this, the experiment doesn’t test for quantization of the gravitational field directly, but rather it tests for a very controversial behavior of superconducting materials. This controversial behavior has been argued to exist for classical gravitational waves though, not for quantized ones. Besides this, it’s a heuristic argument in which the most essential feature – the supposed reflection of gravitational waves – has not been calculated.

For these reasons, I very strongly doubt that the proposed experiment that looks for a gravitational contribution to the Casimir effect would find anything.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Are pop star scientists bad for science?

[Image Source: Asia Tech Hub]

In January, Lawrence Krauss wrote a very nice feature article for the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, titled “Scientists as celebrities: Bad for science or good for society?” In his essay, he reflects on the rise to popularity of Einstein, Sagan, Feynman, Hawking, and deGrasse Tyson.

Krauss, not so surprisingly, concludes that scientific achievement is neither necessary nor sufficient for popularity, and that society benefits from scientists’ voices in public debate. He does not however address the other part of the question that his essay’s title raises: Is scientific celebrity bad for science?

I have to admit that people who idolize public figures just weird me out. It isn’t only that I am generally suspicious of groups of any kinds and avoid crowds like the plague, but that there is something creepy about fans trying to outfan each other by insisting their stars are infallible. It’s one thing to follow the lives of popular figures, be happy for them and worry about them. It’s another thing to elevate their quotes to unearthly wisdom and preach their opinion like supernatural law.

Years ago, I unknowingly found myself in a group of Feynman fans who were just comparing notes about the subject of their adoration. In my attempt to join the discussion I happily informed them that I didn’t like Feynman’s books, didn’t like, in fact, his whole writing style. The resulting outrage over my blasphemy literally had me back out of the room.

Sorry, have I insulted your hero?

An even more illustrative case is that of Michael Hale making a rather innocent joke about a photo of Neil deGrasse Tyson on twitter, and in reply getting shot down with insults. You can find some (very explicit) examples in the writeup of his story “How I Became Thousands of Nerds' Worst Enemy by Tweeting a Photo.” After blowing up on twitter, his photo ended up on the facebook page “I Fucking Love Science.” The best thing about the ensuing facebook thread is the frustration of several people who apparently weren’t able to turn off notifications of new comments. The post has been shared more than 50,000 times, and Michael Hale now roasts in nerd hell somewhere between Darth Vader and Sauron.

Does this seem like scientist’s celebrity is beneficial to balanced argumentation? Is fandom ever supportive to rational discourse?

I partly suspect that Krauss, like many people his age and social status, doesn’t fully realize the side-effects that social media attention brings, the trolls in the blogosphere’s endless comment sections and the anonymous insults in the dark corners of forum threads. I agree with Krauss that it’s good that scientists voice their opinions in public. I’m not sure that celebrity is a good way to encourage people to think on their own. Neither, for that matter, are facebook pages with expletives in the title.

Be that as it may, pop star scientists serve, as Steve Fuller put it bluntly, as “marketing”
“The upshot is that science needs to devote an increased amount of its own resources to what might be called pro-marketing.”
Agreed. And for that reason, I am in favor of scientific celebrity, even though I doubt that idolization can ever bring insight. But let us turn now to the question what ill effects celebrity can have on science.

Many of those who become scientists report getting their inspiration from popular science books, shows, or movies. Celebrities clearly play a big role in this pull. One may worry that the resulting interest in science is then very focused on a few areas that are the popular topics of the day. However, I don’t see this worry having much to do with reality. What seems to happen instead is that young people, once their interest is sparked, explore the details by themselves and find a niche that they fit in. So I think that science benefits from popular science and its voices by inspiring young people to go into science.

The remaining worry that I can see is that scientific pop stars affect the interests of those already active in science. My colleagues always outright dismiss the possibility that their scientific opinion is affected by anything or anybody. It’s a nice demonstration of what psychologists call the “bias blind spot”. It is well documented that humans pay more attention to information that they receive repeatedly and in particular if it comes from trusted sources. This was once a good way to extract relevant information in a group of 300 fighting for survival. But in the age of instant connectivity and information overflow, it means that our interests are easy to play.

If you don’t know what I mean, imagine that deGrasse Tyson had just explained he read my recent paper and thinks it’s totally awesome. What would happen? Well, first of all, all my colleagues would instantly hate me and proclaim that my paper is nonsense without even having read it. Then however, a substantial amount of them would go and actually read it. Some of them would attempt to find flaws in it, and some would go and write follow-up papers. Why? Because the papal utterance would get repeated all over the place, they’d take it to lunch, they’d discuss it with their colleagues, they’d ask others for opinion. And the more they discuss it, the more it becomes interesting. That’s how the human brain works. In the end, I’d have what the vast majority of papers never gets: attention.

That’s a worry you can have about scientific celebrity, but to be honest it’s a very constructed worry. That’s because pop star scientists rarely if ever comment on research that isn’t already very well established. So the bottomline is that while it could be bad for science, I don’t think scientific celebrity is actually bad for science, or at least I can’t see how.

The above mentioned problem of skewing scientific opinions by selectively drawing attention to some works though is a real problem with the popular science media, which doesn’t shy away from commenting on research which is still far from being established. The better outlets, in the attempt of proving their credibility, stick preferably to papers of those already well-known and decorate their articles with quotes from more well-known people. The result is a rich-get-richer trend. On the very opposite side, there’s a lot of trash media that seem to randomly hype nonsense papers in the hope of catching readers with fat headlines. This preferably benefits scientists who shamelessly oversell their results. The vast majority of serious high quality research, in pretty much any area, goes largely unnoticed by the public. That, in my eyes, is a real problem which is bad for science.

My best advice if you want to know what physicists really talk about is to follow the physics societies or their blogs or journals respectively. I find they are reliable and trustworthy information sources, and usually very balanced because they’re financed by membership fees, not click rates. Your first reaction will almost certainly be that their news are boring and that progress seems incremental. I hate to spell it out, but that’s how science really is.

Thursday, February 19, 2015

New experiment doesn’t see fifth force, rules out class of dark energy models

Sketch of new experiment.
Fig 1 from arXiv:1502.03888

Three months ago, I told you about a paper that suggested a new way to look for certain types of dark matter fields, called “chameleon fields”. Chameleon fields can explain the observed accelerated expansion of the universe without the necessity to introduce a cosmological constant. Their defining feature is a “screening mechanism” that suppresses the field in the vicinity of matter. The Chameleon fields become noticeable between galaxies, where the average energy density is very thin, but the field is tiny and unmeasurable nearby massive objects, such as the Earth.

Or so we thought, until it was pointed out by Burrage, Copeland and Hinds that the fields should be observable in vacuum chambers, when measured not with massive probes but with light ones, such as for example single atoms. The idea is that the Chameleon field inside a vacuum chamber would not be suppressed, or not very much suppressed, and then atoms in the chamber are subject to a modified gravitational field, that is the usual gravitational field, plus the extra force from the Chameleon.

You might not believe it, but half a year after they proposed the experiment, it’s been done already, by a group of researchers from Berkeley and the University of Pennsylvania
    Atom-interferometry constraints on dark energy
    Paul Hamilton, Matt Jaffe, Philipp Haslinger, Quinn Simmons, Holger Müller, Justin Khoury
    arXiv:1502.03888 [physics.atom-ph]
I am stunned to say the least! I’m used to experiments taking a decade or two from the idea to planning. If they come into existence at all. So how awesome is this?

Here is what they did in the experiment.

They used a vacuum chamber in which there is an atom interferometer for a cloud of about 10 million Cesium atoms. The vacuum chamber also contains a massive sphere. The sphere serves to suppress the field on one arm of the interferometer, so that a phase difference resulting from the Chameleon field should become measurable. The atoms are each brought into superpositions somewhere above the sphere, and split into two wave-packages. They are directed with laser pulses, that make one wave-package go up – away from the sphere – and down again, and the other wave-package go down – towards the sphere – and up again. Then the phase-shift between the different wave-packages is measured. This phase-shift contains information about the gravitational field on each path.

They also make a measurement in which the sphere is moved aside entirely, so as to figure out what is the offset from the gravitational field of the Earth alone, which allows them to extract the (potential) influence of the Chameleon field by itself.

Their data doesn’t contain any evidence for an usual fifth force, so they can exclude the presence of the Chameleon field to some precision which derives from their data. Thanks to using atoms instead of more massive probes, their experiment is the first of which the precision is high enough to rule out part of the parameter space in which a dark energy field could have been found. The models for Chameleon fields have a second parameter, and part of this space isn’t excluded yet. However, if the experiment can be improved by some orders of magnitude, it might be possible to rule it out completely. This would mean then that we could discard of these models entirely.

It is always hard to explain how one can get excited about null results, but see: ruling out certain models frees up mental space for other ideas. Of course the people who have worked on it won’t be happy, but such is science. (Though Justin Khoury, who is originator of the idea, co-authored the paper and so seems content contributing to its demise.) The Chaemeleon isn’t quite dead yet, but I’m happy to report it’s on the way to the nirvana of deceased dark energy models.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Open peer review and its discontents.

Some days ago, I commented on an arxiv paper that had been promoted by the arxiv blog (which, for all I know, has no official connection with the arxiv). This blogpost had an aftermath that gave me something to think.

Most of the time when I comment on a paper that was previously covered elsewhere, it’s to add details that I found missing. More often than not, this amounts to a criticism which then ends up on this blog. If I like a piece of writing, I just pass it on with approval on twitter, G+, or facebook. This is to explain, in case it’s not obvious, that the negative tilt of my blog entries is selection bias, not that I dislike everything I haven’t written myself.

The blogpost in question pointed out shortcomings of a paper. Trying to learn from earlier mistakes, I was very explicit about what that means, namely that the conclusion in the paper isn’t valid. I’ve now written this blog for almost nine years, and it has become obvious that the careful and polite scientific writing style plainly doesn’t get across the message to a broader audience. If I write that a paper is “implausible,” my colleagues will correctly parse this and understand I mean it’s nonsense. The average science journalist will read that as “speculative” and misinterpret it, either accidentally or deliberately, as some kind of approval.

Scientists also have a habit of weaving safety nets with what Peter Woit once so aptly called ‘weasel words’, ambiguous phrases that allow them on any instance to claim they actually meant something else. Who ever said the LHC would discover supersymmetry? The main reason you most likely perceive the writing on my blog as “unscientific” is lack of weasel words. So I put my head out here on the risk of being wrong without means of backpedalling, and as a side-effect I often come across as actively offensive.

If I got a penny each time somebody told me I’m supposedly “aggressive” because I read Strunk’s `Elements of Style,’ then I’d at least get some money for writing. I’m not aggressive, I’m expressive! And if you don’t buy that, I’ll hit some adjectives over your head. You can find them weasel words in my papers though, in the plenty, with lots of ifs and thens and subjunctives, in nested subordinate clauses with 5 syllable words just to scare off anybody who doesn’t have a PhD.

In reaction to my, ahem, expressive blogpost criticizing the paper, I very promptly got an email from a journalist, Philipp Hummel, who was writing on an article about the paper for spectrum.de, the German edition of Scientific American. His article has meanwhile appeared, but since it’s in German, let me summarize it for you. Hummel didn’t only write about the paper itself, but also about the online discussion around it, and the author’s, mine, and other colleagues’ reaction to it.

Hummel wrote by email he found my blogpost very useful and that he had also contacted the author asking for a comment on my criticism. The author’s reply can be found in Hummel’s article. It says that he hadn’t read my blogpost, wouldn’t read it, and wouldn’t comment on it either because he doesn’t consider this proper ‘scientific means’ to argue with colleagues. The proper way for me to talk to him, he let the journalist know, is to either contact him or publish a reply on the arxiv. Hummel then asked me what I think about this.

To begin with I find this depressing. Here’s a young researcher who explicitly refuses to address criticism on his work, and moreover thinks this is proper scientific behavior. I could understand that he doesn’t want to talk to me, evil aggressive blogger that I am, but that he refuses to explain his research to a third party isn’t only bad science communication, it’s actively damaging the image of science.

I will admit I also find it slightly amusing that he apparently believes I must have an interest talking to him, or in him talking to me. That all the people whose papers I have once commented on show up wanting to talk is stuff of my nightmares. I’m happy if I never hear from them again and can move on. There’s lots of trash out there that needs to be beaten.

That paper and its author, me, and Hummel, we’re of course small fish in the pond, but I find this represents a tension that presently exists in much of the scientific community. A very prominent case was the supposed discovery of “arsenic life” a few years ago. The study was exposed flawed by online discussion. The arsenic authors refused to comment on this, arguing that:
“Any discourse will have to be peer-reviewed in the same manner as our paper was, and go through a vetting process so that all discussion is properly moderated […] This is a common practice not new to the scientific community. The items you are presenting do not represent the proper way to engage in a scientific discourse and we will not respond in this manner.”
Naïve as I am, I thought that theoretical physics is less 19th century than that. But now it seems to me this outdated spirit is still alive also in the physics community. There is a basic misunderstanding here about necessity and use of peer review, and the relevance of scientific publication.

The most important aspect of peer review is that it assures that a published paper has been read at least by the reviewers, which otherwise wouldn’t be the case. Public peer review will never work for all papers simply because most papers would never get read. It works just fine though for papers that receive much attention, and in these cases anonymous reviewers aren’t any better than volunteer reviewers with similar scientific credentials. Consequently, public peer review, when it takes place, should be taken as least as seriously as anonymous review.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that all scientific discourse should be conducted in public. Scientists need private space to develop their ideas. I even think that most of us go out with ideas way too early, because we are under too much pressure to appear productive. I would never publicly comment on a draft that was sent to me privately, or publicize opinions voiced in closed meetings. You can’t hurry thought.

However, the moment you make your paper publicly available you have to accept that it can be publicly commented on. It isn’t uncommon for researchers, even senior ones, to have stage fright upon arxiv submission for this reason. Now you’ve thrown your baby into the water and have to see whether it swims or sinks.

Don’t worry too much, almost all babies swim. That’s because most of my colleagues in theoretical physics entirely ignore papers that they think are wrong. They are convinced that in the end only truth will prevail and thus practice live-and-let-live. I used to do this too. But look at the evidence: it doesn’t work. The arxiv now is full with paid research so thin a sneeze could wipe it out. We seem to have forgotten that criticism is an integral part of science, it is essential for progress, and for cohesion. Physics leaves me wanting more every year. It is over-specialized into incredibly narrow niches, getting worse by the day.

Yes, specialization is highly efficient to optimize existing research programs, but it is counterproductive to the development of new ones. In the production line of a car, specialization allows to optimize every single move and every single screw. And yet, you’ll never arrive at a new model listening to people who do nothing all day than looking at their own screws. For new breakthroughs you need people who know a little about all the screws and their places and how they belong together. In that production line, the scientists active in public peer review are the ones who look around and say they don’t like their neighbor’s bolts. That doesn’t make for a new car, all right, but at least they do look around and they show that they care. The scientific community stands much to benefit from this care. We need them.

Clearly, we haven’t yet worked out a good procedure for how to deal with public peer review and with these nasty bloggers who won’t shut up. But there’s no going back. Public peer review is here to stay, so better get used to it.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Do black hole firewalls have observable consequences?

In a paper out last week Niayesh Afshordi and Yasaman Yazdi from Perimeter Institute study the possibility that black hole firewalls can be observed by their neutrino emission:
In their work, the authors assume that black holes are not black, but emit particles from some surface close by the black hole horizon. They look at the flux of particles that we should receive on Earth from this surface. They argue that highly energetic neutrinos, which have been detected recently but whose origin is presently unknown, might have originated at the black hole firewall.

The authors explain that from all possible particles that might be produced in such a black hole firewall, neutrinos are most likely to be measured on Earth, because the neutrinos interact only very weakly and have the best chances to escape from a hot and messy environment. In this sense their firewall has consequences different from what a hard surface would have, which is important because a hard surface rather than an event horizon has previously been ruled out. The authors make an ansatz for two different spectra of the neutrino emission, a power-law and a black-body law. They then use the distribution of black holes to arrive at an estimate for the neutrino flux on Earth.

Some experiments have recently measured neutrinos with very high energies. The origin of these highly energetic neutrinos is very difficult to explain from known astrophysical sources. It is presently not clear how they are produced. Afshordi and Yazdi suggest that these highly energetic neutrinos might come from the black hole firewalls if these have a suitable power-law spectrum.

It is a nice paper that tries to make contact between black hole thermodynamics and observation. This contact has so far only been made for primordial (light) black holes, but these have never been found. Afshordi and Yazdi instead look at massive and solar-mass black holes.

The idea of a black hole firewall goes back to a 2012 paper by Almheiri, Marolf, Polchinski, and Sully, hereafter referred to as AMPS. AMPS pointed out in their paper that what had become the most popular solution attempt to the black hole information loss problem is in fact internally inconsistent. They showed that four assumptions about black hole evaporation that were by many people believed to all be realized in nature could not simultaneously be true. These four assumptions are:
  1. Black hole evaporation does not destroy information.
  2. Black hole entropy counts microstates of the black hole.
  3. Quantum field theory is not significantly affected until close to the horizon.
  4. An infalling observer who crosses the horizon (when the black hole mass is still large) does not notice anything unusual.
The last assumption is basically the equivalence principle: An observer in a gravitational field cannot locally tell the difference to acceleration in flat space. A freely falling observer is not accelerated (by definition) and thus shouldn’t see anything. Assumption three is a quite weak version of knowing that quantum gravitational effects can’t just pop up anywhere in space that is almost flat. Assumption 3 and 4 are general expectations that don’t have much to do with the details of the attempted solution to the black hole information loss problem. The first two assumptions are what describe the specific scenario that supposedly solves the information loss problem. You may or may not buy into these.

These four assumptions are often assigned to black hole complementarity specifically, but that is mostly because the Susskind, Thorlacius, Uglum paper nicely happened to state these assumptions explicitly. The four assumptions are more importantly also believed to hold in string theory generally, which supposedly solves the black hole information loss problem via the gauge-gravity duality. Unfortunately, most articles in the popular science media have portrayed all these assumptions as known to be true, but this isn’t so. They are supported by string theory, so the contradiction is a conundrum primarily for everybody who believed that string theory solved the black hole information loss problem. If you do not, for example, commit to the strong interpretation of the Bekenstein-Hawking entropy (assumption 2), which is generally the case for all remnant scenarios, then you have no problem to begin with.

Now since AMPS have shown that the four assumptions are inconsistent, at least one of them has to be given up, and all the literature following their paper discussed back and forth which one should be given up. If you give up the equivalence principle, then you get the “firewall” that roasts the infalling observer. Clearly, that should be the last resort, since General Relativity is based on the equivalence principle. Giving up any of the other assumptions is more reasonable. Already for this reason, using the AMPS argument to draw the conclusion that black holes must be surrounded by a firewall is totally nutty.

As for my personal solution to the conundrum, I have simply shown that the four assumptions aren’t actually mutually incompatible. What makes them incompatible is a fifth assumption that isn’t explicitly stated in the above list, but enters later in the AMPS argument. Yes, I suffer from a severe case of chronic disagreeability, and I’m working hard on my delusions de grandeur, but this story shall be told another time.

The paper by Afshordi and Yazdi doesn’t make any use whatsoever of the AMPS calculation. They just assume that there is something emitting something close by the black hole horizon, and then they basically address the question what that something must do to explain the excess neutrino flux at high energies. This scenario has very little to do with the AMPS argument. In the AMPS paper the outgoing state is Hawking radiation, with suitable subtle entanglements so that it is pure and evolution unitary. The average energy of the emitted particles that is seen by the far away observer (us) is still zilch for large black holes. It is in fact typically below the background temperature of the cosmic microwave background, so the black holes won’t even evaporate until the universe has cooled some more (in some hundred billion years or so). It is only the infalling observer who notices something strange is going on if you drop assumption 4, which, I remind you, is already nutty.

So what is the merit of the paper?

Upon inquiry, Niayesh explained that the motivation for studying the emission of a possible black hole firewall in more general terms goes back to an earlier paper that he co-authored, arXiv:1212.4176. In this paper they argue (as so many before) that black holes are not the endstate of black hole collapse, but that instead spacetime ends already before the horizon (if you want to be nutty, be bold at least). This idea has some similarities with the fuzzball idea.

I am generally unenthusiastic about such solutions because I like black holes, and I don’t believe in anything that’s supposed to stabilize collapsing matter at small curvature. So I am not very convinced by their motivation. Their powerlaw ansatz is clearly constructed to explain a piece of data that currently wants explanation. To me their idea makes more sense when read backwards: Suppose the mysterious highly energetic neutrinos come from the vicinity of black holes. Given that we know the distribution of the black holes, what is the spectrum by which the neutrinos should have been emitted?

In summary: The paper doesn’t really have much to do with the black hole firewall, but it deals instead with an alternative end state of black hole collapse and asks for its observational consequences. The good thing about their paper is that they are making contact to observation, which is rare in an area plagued by lack of phenomenology, so I appreciate the intent. It would take more than a few neutrinos though to convince me that black holes don’t have a horizon.

Wednesday, February 04, 2015

Black holes don’t exist again. Newsflash: It’s a trap!

Several people have pointed me towards an article at phys.org about this paper
    Absence of an Effective Horizon for Black Holes in Gravity's Rainbow
    Ahmed Farag Ali, Mir Faizal, Barun Majumder
    arXiv:1406.1980 [gr-qc]
    Europhys.Lett. 109 (2015) 20001
Among other things, the authors claim to have solved the black hole information loss problem, and the phys.org piece praises them as using a “new theory.” The first author is cited saying: “The absence of an effective horizon means there is nothing absolutely stopping information from going out of the black hole.”

The paper uses a modification of General Relativity known under the name of “rainbow gravity” which means that the metric and so the space-time background is energy-dependent. Dependent on which energy, you ask rightfully. I don’t know. Everyone who writes papers on this makes their own pick. Rainbow gravity is an ill-defined framework that has more problems than I can list here. In the paper the authors motivate it, amazingly enough, by string theory.

The argument goes somewhat like this: rainbow gravity has something to do with deformed special relativity (DSR), some versions of which have something to do with a minimal length, which has something to do with non-commutative geometry, which has something to do with string theory. (Check paper if you don’t believe this is what they write.) This argument has more gaps than the sentence has words.

To begin with DSR was formulated in momentum space. Rainbow gravity is supposedly a formulation of DSR in position space, plus that it takes into account gravity. Except that it is known that the only ways to do DSR in position space in a mathematically consistent way either lead to violations of Lorentz-invariance (ruled out) or violations of locality (also ruled out).

This was once a nice idea that caused some excitement, but that was 15 years ago. For what I am concerned, papers on the topic shouldn’t be accepted for publication any more unless these problems are solved or at least attempted to be solved. At the very least the problems should be mentioned in an article on the topic. The paper in question doesn’t list any of these issues. Rainbow gravity isn’t only not new, it is also not a theory. It once may have been an idea from which a theory might have been developed, but this never happened. Now it’s a zombie idea that doesn’t die because journal editors think it must be okay if others have published papers on it too.

There is one way to make sense of rainbow gravity which is in the context of running coupling constants. Coupling constants, including Newton’s constant, aren’t actually constant, but depend on the energy scale that the physics is probed with. This is a well-known effect which can be measured for the interactions in the standard model and it is plausible that it should also exist for gravity. Since the curvature of spacetime depends on the strength of the gravitational coupling, the metric then becomes a function of the energy that it is probed with. This is to my knowledge also the only way to make sense of deformed special relativity. (I wrote a paper on this with Xavier and Roberto some years ago.) Alas, to see any effect from this you’d need to do measurements at Planckian energies (com), and the energy-dependent metric would only apply directly in the collision region.

In their paper the authors allude to some “measurement” that supposedly sets the energy in their metric. Unfortunately, there is never any observer doing any measurement, so one doesn’t know which energy it is. It’s just a word that they appeal to. What they do instead is making use of a known relation in some versions of DSR that prevents one from measuring distances below the Planck length. They then argue that if one cannot resolve structures below the Planck length then the horizon of a black hole cannot be strictly speaking defined. That quantum gravity effects should blur out the horizon to finite width is correct in principle.

Generally, all surfaces of zero width, like the horizon, are mathematical constructs. This is hardly a new insight, but it’s also not very meaningful. The “surface of the Earth” for example doesn’t strictly speaking exist either. You will still smash to pieces if you jump out of a window, you just can’t tell exactly where you will die. Similarly, that the exact location of the horizon cannot be measured doesn’t mean that the space-time does no longer have a causally disconnected region. You just can’t tell exactly when you enter it. The authors’ statement that:
“The absence of an effective horizon means there is nothing absolutely stopping information from going out of the black hole.”
is therefore logically equivalent to the statement that there is nothing absolutely stopping you at the surface of the Earth when you jump out the window.

The paper also contains a calculation. The authors first point out that in the normal metric of the Schwarzschild black hole an infalling observer needs a finite time to cross the horizon, but for a faraway observer it looks like it takes an infinite time. This is correct. If one calculates the time in the faraway observer’s coordinates it diverges if the infalling observer approaches the horizon. The authors then find out that it takes only a finite time to reach a surface that is still a Planck length away from the horizon. This is also correct. It’s also a calculation that normally is assigned to undergrad students.

They try to conclude from this that the faraway observer sees a crossing of the horizon in finite time, which doesn’t make sense because they’ve previously argued that one cannot measure exactly where the horizon is, though they never say who is measuring what and how. What it really means is that the faraway observer cannot exactly tell when the horizon is crossed. This is correct too, but since it takes an infinite time anyway, the uncertainty is also infinite. The authors then argue: “Divergence in time is actually an signal of breakdown of spacetime description of quantum theory of gravity, which occurs because of specifying a point in spacetime beyond the Planck scale.” The authors, in short, conclude that if an observer cannot tell exactly when he reaches a certain distance, he can never cross it. Thus the position at which the asymptotic time diverges is never reached. And the observer is never causally connected.

In their paper, this reads as follows:
“Even though there is a Horizon, as we can never know when a string cross it, so effectively, it appears as if there is no Horizon.”
Talking about strings here is just cosmetics, the relevant point is that they believe if you cannot tell exactly when you cross the horizon, you will never become causally disconnected, which just isn’t so.

The rest of the paper is devoted to trying to explain what this means, and the authors keep talking about some measurements which are never done by anybody. If you would indeed make a measurement that reaches the Planck energy (com) at the horizon, you could indeed locally induce a strong perturbation, thereby denting away the horizon a bit, temporarily. But this isn’t what the authors are after. They are trying to convince the reader that the impossibility of resolving distances arbitrarily well, though without actually making any measurement, bears some relevance for the causal structure of spacetime.

A polite way to summarize this finding is that the calculation doesn’t support the conclusion.

This paper is a nice example though to demonstrate what is going wrong in theoretical physics. It isn’t actually that the calculation is wrong, in the sense that the mathematical manipulations are most likely correct (I didn’t check in detail, but it looks good). The problem is that not only is the framework that they use ill-defined (in their version it is plainly lacking necessary definitions, notably the transformation behavior under a change of coordinate frame and the meaning of the energy scale that they use), but that they moreover misinterpret their results.

The authors do not only not mention the shortcomings of the framework that they use but also oversell it by trying to connect it to string theory. Even though they should know that the type of uncertainty that results from their framework is known to NOT be valid in string theory. And the author of the phys.org article totally bought into this. The tragedy is of course that for the authors their overselling has worked out just fine and they’ll most likely do it again. I’m writing this in the hope to prevent it, though on the risk that they’ll now hate me and never again cite any of my papers. This is how academia works these days, or rather, doesn’t work. Now I’m depressed. And this is all your fault for pointing out this article to me.

I can only hope that Lisa Zyga, who wrote the piece at phys.org, will learn from this that solely relying on the author’s own statements is never good journalistic practice. Anybody working on black hole physics could have told her that this isn’t a newsworthy paper.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

No, the “long sought-after link between the theories of quantum mechanics and general relativity” has not been found

[Image source: iPerceptions.]

The Physics arXiv blog has praised a paper called “On the weight of entanglement” and claimed that the author, David Edward Bruschi, found a new link between quantum mechanics and general relativity. Unfortunately, the paper is mostly wrong, and that what isn’t wrong isn’t new.

It is well known that quantum particles too must have gravitational fields and that measuring these gravitational fields would in principle tell us something about the quantization of gravity. Whenever you have a state in a superposition of two position states, its gravitational field too should be in a superposition. However, the gravitational field of all particles, elementary or composite, that display quantum properties is way too small to be measured. Even if you take the heaviest things that have yet been brought in superpositions of location you are still about 30 orders of magnitude off. I have done these estimates dozens of times.

The only way you can find larger effects is if you exploit secondary consequences of models that are not just perturbatively quantized gravity. For example the Schrödinger-Newton equation that assumes that the gravitational field remains classical even though particles are quantized can have odd side effects like preventing particle dispersion, or reducing the Heisenberg uncertainty. These effects can be somewhat larger, but they are still much too small to be measurable. The problem is always the same: gravity is weak, really weak. Nobody has ever measured the gravitational field of an atom. We measure gravitational fields of large things: balls, mountains, planets.

In the new paper, the author argues that entanglement “has weight.” By this he seems to mean that the full entangled state couples to gravity. It would be more surprising if that wasn’t so, but the treatment in the paper is problematic for several reasons.

The biggest problem is that the author in the paper uses semi-classical gravity. That means he couples the expectation value of the stress-energy to the space-time background, not the operator, which you would do were you using perturbatively quantized gravity. It is remarkable that he doesn’t discuss this at all. He doesn’t mention any problems with this approach (discussed here), neither does he mention tests of the Schrödinger-Newton equation (discussed here). This makes me think that he must be very new to the field.

Using the semi-classical limit in the case discussed in the paper is problematic because this semi-classical approach does not only break down when you have strong gravity. It also breaks down when you have a large quantum uncertainty in the distribution of the stress-energy. Here “large” means that the uncertainty is larger than the typical width of the distribution. This can be formally shown, but it is intuitively clear: In such cases the gravitational field also must have quantum properties. While these deviations from the semi-classical limit do exist at small energies, they are too weak to be measurable. That the semi-classical limit doesn’t work in these cases has been discussed by Ford and others 30 years ago, see for example these lecture notes from 1997, page 34, and the therein mentioned reference of Ford’s1982 paper.

By using semi-classical gravity and then looking at the non-relativistic case, the new paper basically reinvents the Schrödinger-Newton limit. To make this really clear: the Schrödinger-Newton limit in this case is widely believed to be wrong for good reasons. Using it is a non-standard assumption about perturbatively quantized gravity. The author doesn’t seem to be aware of this.

He then points out that the interference terms of the state makes a contribution to the distribution of stress-energy, which is correct. This has previous been done for superposition states. I am not aware that it has previously also been done for entangled states, but since it isn’t measureable for superpositions, it seems rather pointless to look at states that are even more difficult to create.

He then argues that measuring this term would tell you something about how quantum states couple to gravity. This is also correct. He goes on to find that this is more than 30 orders of magnitude too small to be measurable. I didn’t check the numbers but this sounds plausible. He then states that “one could hope to increase the above result” by certain techniques and that “this could in principle make the effect measurable”. This is either wrong or nonsense, depending on how you look at it. The effect is “in principle” measurable, yes. Quantum gravity is “in principle measurable”, we know this. The problem is that all presently known effect aren’t measurable in practice, including the effect mentioned in the paper, as I am sure the author will figure out at some point. I am very willing to be surprised of course.

As a side remark, for all I can tell the state that he uses isn’t actually an entangled state. It is formally written as an entangled state (in Eq (4)), but the states labeled |01>; and |10> are single particle states, see Eq(5). This doesn’t look like an entangled state but like a superposition of two plane waves with a phase-difference. Maybe this is a typo or I’m misreading this definition. Be that as it may, it doesn’t make much of a difference for the main problem of the paper, which is using the semi-classical limit. (Update: It’s probably a case of details gotten lost in notation, see note added below.)

The author, David Edward Bruschi, seems to be a fairly young postdoc. He probably doesn’t have much experience in the field so the lack of knowledge is forgivable. He lists in the acknowledgements Jacob Bekenstein, who also has formerly tried his hands on quantum gravity phenomenology and failed, though he got published with it. I am surprised to find Bei-Lok Hu in the acknowledgements because he’s a bright guy and should have known better. On the other hand, I have certainly found myself in acknowledgements of papers that I hadn’t even seen, and on some instances had to insist being removed from the acknowledgement list, so that might not mean much.

Don’t get me wrong, the paper isn’t actually bad. This would have been a very interesting paper 30 years ago. But we’re not living in the 1980s. Unfortunately the author doesn’t seem to be familiar with the literature. And the person who has written the post hyping this paper doesn’t seem to know what they were talking about either.

In summary: Nothing new to see here, please move on.


[Note added: It was suggested to me that the state |0> defined in the paper above Eq(5) was probably meant to be a product state already, so actually a |0>|0>. The creation operators in Eq(5) then act on the first or second zero respectively. Then the rest would make sense. I’m not very familiar with the quantum information literature, so I find this a very confusing notation. As I said above though, this isn’t the relevant point I was picking at.]

Monday, January 26, 2015

Book review: "Cracking the Particle Code of the Universe" by John Moffat

Cracking the Particle Code of the Universe: the Hunt for the Higgs Boson
By John W Moffat
Oxford University Press (2014)

John Moffat’s new book covers the history of the Standard Model of particle physics from its beginnings to the recent discovery of the Higgs boson – or, as Moffat cautiously calls it, the new particle most physicists believe is the Standard Model Higgs. But Cracking the Particle Code of the Universe isn’t just any book about the Standard Model: it’s about the model as seen through the eyes of an insider, one who has witnessed many fads and statistical fluctuations come and go. As an emeritus professor at the University of Toronto, Canada and a senior researcher at the nearby Perimeter Institute, Moffat has the credentials to do more than just explain the theory and the experiments that back it up: he also offers his own opinion on the interpretation of the data, the status of the theories and the community’s reaction to the discovery of the Higgs.

The first half of the book is mainly dedicated to introducing the reader to the ingredients of the Standard Model, the particles and their properties, the relevance of gauge symmetries, symmetry breaking, and the workings of particle accelerators. Moffat also explains some proposed extensions and alternatives to the Standard Model, such as technicolor, supersymmetry, preons, additional dimensions and composite Higgs models as well as models based on his own work. In each case he lays out the experimental situation and the technical aspects that speak for and against these models.

In the second half of the book, Moffat recalls how the discovery unfolded at the LHC and comments on the data that the collisions yielded. He reports from several conferences he attended, or papers and lectures that appeared online, and summarizes how the experimental analysis proceeded and how it was interpreted. In this, he includes his own judgment and relates discussions with theorists and experimentalists. We meet many prominent people in particle physics, including Guido Altarelli, Jim Hartle and Stephen Hawking, to mention just a few. Moffat repeatedly calls for a cautious approach to claims that the Standard Model Higgs has indeed been discovered, and points out that not all necessary characteristics have been found. He finds that the experimentalists are careful with their claims, but that the theoreticians jump to conclusions.

The book covers the situation up to March 2013, so of course it is already somewhat outdated; the ATLAS collaboration’s evidence for the spin-0 nature of the Higgs boson was only published in June 2013, for example. But this does not matter all that much because the book will give the dedicated reader the necessary background to follow and understand the relevance of new data.

Moffat’s writing sometimes gets quite technical, albeit without recourse to equations, and I doubt that readers will fully understand his elaborations without at least some knowledge of quantum field theory. He introduces the main concepts he needs for his explanations, but he does so very briefly; for example, his book features the briefest explanation of gauge invariance I have ever come across, and many important concepts, such as cross-sections or the relation between the masses of force-carriers and the range of the force, are only explained in footnotes. The glossary can be used for orientation, but even so, the book will seem very demanding for readers who encounter the technical terms for the first time. However, even if they are not able to follow each argument in detail, they should still understand the main issues and the conclusions that Moffat draws.

Towards the end of the book, Moffat discusses several shortcomings of the Standard Model, including the Higgs mass hierarchy problem, the gauge hierarchy problem, and the unexplained values of particle masses. He also briefly mentions the cosmological constant problem, as it is related to questions about the nature of the vacuum in quantum field theory, but on the whole he stands clear from discussing cosmology. He does, however, comment on the anthropic principle and the multiverse and does not hesitate to express his dismay about the idea.

While Moffat gives some space to discussing his own contributions to the field, he does not promote his point of view as the only reasonable one. Rather, he makes a point of emphasizing the necessity of investigating alternative models. The measured mass of the particle-that-may-be-the-Higgs is, he notes, larger than expected, and this makes it even more pressing to find models better equipped to address the problems with “naturalness” in the Standard Model.

I have met Moffat on various occasions and I have found him to be not only a great physicist and an insightful thinker, but also one who is typically more up-to-date than many of his younger colleagues. As the book also reflects, he closely follows the online presentations and discussions of particle physics and particle physicists, and is conscious of the social problems and cognitive biases that media hype can produce. In his book, Moffat especially criticizes bloggers for spreading premature conclusions.

Moffat’s recollections also document that science is a community enterprise and that we sometimes forget to pay proper attention to the human element in our data interpretation. We all like to be confirmed in our beliefs, but as my physics teacher liked to say “belief belongs into the church.” I find it astonishing that many theoretical physicists these days publicly express their conviction that a popular theory “must be” right even when still unconfirmed by data – and that this has become accepted behavior for scientists. A theoretician who works on alternative models today is seen too easily as an outsider (a non-believer), and it takes much courage, persistence, and stable funding sources to persevere outside mainstream, like Moffat has done for decade and still does. This is an unfortunate trend that many in the community do not seem to be aware of, or do not see why it is of concern, and it is good that Moffat in his book touches on this point.

In summary, Moffat’s new book is a well-done and well-written survey of the history, achievements, and shortcomings of the Standard Model of particle physics. It will equip the reader with all the necessary knowledge to put into context the coming headlines about new discoveries at the LHC and future colliders.

This review first appeared in Physics World on Dec 4th under the title "A strong model, with flaws".