Authors: Walter Isaacson
The paper went on to expand Einstein’s thought experiment about two particles that have collided (or have flown off in opposite directions from the disintegration of an atom) and therefore have properties that are correlated. We can take measurements of the first particle, the authors asserted, and from that gain knowledge about the second particle “without in any way disturbing the second particle.” By measuring the position of the first particle, we can determine precisely the position of the second particle. And we can do the same for the momentum. “In accordance with our criterion for reality, in the first case we must consider the quantity P as being an element of reality, in the second case the quantity Q is an element of reality.”
In simpler words: at any moment the second particle, which we have not observed, has a position that is real and a momentum that is real. These two properties are features of reality that quantum mechanics does not account for; thus the answer to the title’s question should be no, quantum mechanics’ description of reality is not complete.
8
The only alternative, the authors argued, would be to claim that the process of measuring the first particle affects the reality of the position and momentum of the second particle. “No reasonable definition of reality could be expected to permit this,” they concluded.
Wolfgang Pauli wrote Heisenberg a long and angry letter.“Einstein has once again expressed himself publicly on quantum mechanics (together with Podolsky and Rosen—no good company, by the way),” he fumed. “As is well known, every time that happens it is a catastrophe.”
9
When the EPR paper reached Niels Bohr in Copenhagen, he realized that he had once again been cast in the role, which he played so well at the Solvay Conferences, of defending quantum mechanics from yet another Einstein assault. “This onslaught came down on us as a bolt from the blue,” a colleague of Bohr’s reported. “Its effect on Bohr was remarkable.” He had often reacted to such situations by wandering around and muttering, “Einstein . . . Einstein . . . Einstein!” This time
he added some collaborative doggerel as well: “Podolsky, Opodolsky, Iopodolsky, Siopodolsky . . .”
10
“Everything else was abandoned,” Bohr’s colleague recalled. “We had to clear up such a misunderstanding at once.”Even with such intensity, it took Bohr more than six weeks of fretting, writing, revising, dictating, and talking aloud before he finally sent off his response to EPR.
It was longer than the original paper. In it Bohr backed away somewhat from what had been an aspect of the uncertainty principle: that the mechanical disturbance caused by the act of observation was a cause of the uncertainty. He admitted that in Einstein’s thought experiment, “there is no question of a mechanical disturbance of the system under investigation.”
11
This was an important admission. Until then, the disturbance caused by a measurement had been part of Bohr’s physical explanation of quantum uncertainty. At the Solvay Conferences, he had rebutted Einstein’s ingenious thought experiments by showing that the simultaneous knowledge of, say, position and momentum was impossible at least in part because determining one attribute caused a disturbance that made it impossible to then measure the other attribute precisely.
However, using his concept of complementarity, Bohr added a significant caveat. He pointed out that the two particles were part of one whole phenomenon. Because they have interacted, the two particles are therefore “entangled.” They are part of one whole phenomenon or one whole system that has one quantum function.
In addition, the EPR paper did not, as Bohr noted, truly dispel the uncertainty principle, which says that it is not possible to know
both
the precise position and momentum of a particle
at the same moment.
Einstein is correct, that if we measure the
position
of particle A, we can indeed know the
position
of its distant twin B. Likewise, if we measure the
momentum
of A, we can know the
momentum
of B. However, even if we can
imagine
measuring the position and then the momentum of particle A, and thus ascribe a “reality” to those attributes in particle B, we cannot
in fact
measure
both
these attributes precisely at any one time for particle A, and thus we cannot know them both precisely for particle B. Brian Greene, discussing Bohr’s response, has put it simply: “If you don’t have both of these attributes of the right-moving particle in
hand, you don’t have them for the left-moving particle either. Thus there is no conflict with the uncertainty principle.”
12
Einstein continued to insist, however, that he had pinpointed an important example of the incompleteness of quantum mechanics by showing how it violated the principle of separability, which holds that two systems that are spatially separated have an independent existence. It likewise violated the related principle of locality, which says that an action on one of these systems cannot immediately affect the other. As an adherent of field theory, which defines reality using a spacetime continuum, Einstein believed that separability was a fundamental feature of nature. And as a defender of his own theory of relativity, which rid Newton’s cosmos of spooky action at a distance and decreed instead that such actions obey the speed limit of light, he believed in locality as well.
13
Despite his success as a quantum pioneer, Erwin Schrödinger was among those rooting for Einstein to succeed in deflating the Copenhagen consensus. Their alliance had been forged at the Solvay Conferences, where Einstein played God’s advocate and Schrödinger looked on with a mix of curiosity and sympathy. It was a lonely struggle, Einstein lamented in a letter to Schrödinger in 1928: “The Heisenberg-Bohr tranquilizing philosophy—or religion?—is so delicately contrived that, for the time being, it provides a gentle pillow for the true believer from which he cannot very easily be aroused.”
14
So it was not surprising that Schrödinger sent Einstein a congratulatory note as soon as he read the EPR paper. “You have publicly caught dogmatic quantum mechanics by its throat,” he wrote. A few weeks later, he added happily, “Like a pike in a goldfish pond it has stirred everyone up.”
15
Schrödinger had just visited Princeton, and Einstein was still hoping, in vain, that Flexner might be convinced to hire him for the Institute. In his subsequent flurry of exchanges with Schrödinger, Einstein began conspiring with him on ways to poke holes in quantum mechanics.
“I do not believe in it,” Einstein declared flatly. He ridiculed as “spiritualistic” the notion that there could be “spooky action at a distance,” and he attacked the idea that there was no reality beyond our ability to observe things. “This epistemology-soaked orgy ought to burn itself out,” he said. “No doubt, however, you smile at me and think that, after all, many a young whore turns into an old praying sister, and many a young revolutionary becomes an old reactionary.”
16
Schrödinger did smile, he told Einstein in his reply, because he had likewise edged from revolutionary to old reactionary.
On one issue Einstein and Schrödinger diverged. Schrödinger did not feel that the concept of locality was sacred. He even coined the term that we now use,
entanglement,
to describe the correlations that exist between two particles that have interacted but are now distant from each other. The quantum states of two particles that have interacted must subsequently be described together, with any changes to one particle instantly being reflected in the other, no matter how far apart they now are. “Entanglement of predictions arises from the fact that the two bodies at some earlier time formed in a true sense
one
system, that is were interacting, and have left behind
traces
on each other,” Schrödinger wrote. “If two separated bodies enter a situation in which they influence each other, and separate again, then there occurs what I have just called
entanglement
of our knowledge of the two bodies.”
17
Einstein and Schrödinger together began exploring another way—one that did not hinge on issues of locality or separation—to raise questions about quantum mechanics. Their new approach was to look at what would occur when an event in the quantum realm, which includes subatomic particles, interacted with objects in the macro world, which includes those things we normally see in our daily lives.
In the quantum realm, there is no definite location of a particle, such as an electron, at any given moment. Instead, a mathematical function, known as a wave function, describes the probability of finding the particle in some particular place. These wave functions also describe quantum states, such as the probability that an atom will, when observed, be decayed or not. In 1925, Schrödinger had come up with his famous equation that described these waves, which spread and
smear throughout space. His equation defined the probability that a particle, when observed, will be found in a particular place or state.
18
According to the Copenhagen interpretation developed by Niels Bohr and his fellow pioneers of quantum mechanics, until such an observation is made, the reality of the particle’s position or state consists only of these probabilities. By measuring or observing the system, the observer causes the wave function to collapse and one distinct position or state to snap into place.
In a letter to Schrödinger, Einstein gave a vivid thought experiment showing why all this discussion of wave functions and probabilities, and of particles that have no definite positions until observed, failed his test of completeness. He imagined two boxes, one of which we know contains a ball. As we prepare to look in one of the boxes, there is a 50 percent chance of the ball being there. After we look, there is either a 100 percent or a 0 percent chance it is in there. But all along,
in reality,
the ball was in one of the boxes. Einstein wrote:
I describe a state of affairs as follows: the probability is ½ that the ball is in the first box. Is that a complete description? no: A complete statement is: the ball
is
(or is not) in the first box. That is how the characterization of the state of affairs must appear in a complete description. yes: Before I open them, the ball is by no means in
one
of the two boxes. Being in a definite box comes about only when I lift the covers.
19
Einstein clearly preferred the former explanation, a statement of his realism. He felt that there was something incomplete about the second answer, which was the way quantum mechanics explained things.
Einstein’s argument is based on what appears to be common sense. However, sometimes what seems to make sense turns out not to be a good description of nature. Einstein realized this when he developed his relativity theory; he defied the accepted common sense of the time and forced us to change the way we think about nature. Quantum mechanics does something similar. It asserts that particles do not have a definite state except when observed, and two particles can be in an entangled state so that the observation of one determines a property of the other instantly. As soon as any observation is made, the system goes into a fixed state.
20
Einstein never accepted this as a complete description of reality, and along these lines he proposed another thought experiment to Schrödinger a few weeks later, in early August 1935. It involved a situation in which quantum mechanics would assign only probabilities, even though common sense tells us that there is
obviously
an underlying reality that exists with certainty. Imagine a pile of gunpowder that, due to the instability of some particle, will combust at some point, Einstein said. The quantum mechanical equation for this situation “describes a sort of blend of not-yet and already-exploded systems.” But this is not “a
real
state of affairs,” Einstein said, “for
in reality
there is just no intermediary between exploded and not-exploded.”
21
Schrödinger came up with a similar thought experiment—involving a soon-to-be-famous fictional feline rather than a pile of gunpowder—to show the weirdness inherent when the indeterminacy of the quantum realm interacts with our normal world of larger objects. “In a lengthy essay that I have just written, I give an example that is very similar to your exploding powder keg,” he told Einstein.
22
In this essay, published that November, Schrödinger gave generous credit to Einstein and the EPR paper for “providing the impetus” for his argument. It poked at a core concept in quantum mechanics, namely that the timing of the emission of a particle from a decaying nucleus is indeterminate until it is actually observed. In the quantum world, a nucleus is in a “superposition,” meaning it exists simultaneously as being decayed and undecayed until it is observed, at which point its wave function collapses and it becomes either one or the other.
This may be conceivable for the microscopic quantum realm, but it is baffling when one imagines the intersection between the quantum realm and our observable everyday world. So, Schrödinger asked in his thought experiment, when does the system stop being in a superposition incorporating both states and snap into being one reality?
This question led to the precarious fate of an imaginary creature, which was destined to become immortal whether it was dead or alive, known as Schrödinger’s cat:
One can even set up quite ridiculous cases. A cat is penned up in a steel chamber, along with the following device (which must be secured against direct interference by the cat): in a Geiger counter there is a tiny
bit of radioactive substance,
so
small, that
perhaps
in the course of the hour one of the atoms decays, but also, with equal probability, perhaps none; if it happens, the counter tube discharges and through a relay releases a hammer which shatters a small flask of hydrocyanic acid. If one has left this entire system to itself for an hour, one would say that the cat still lives
if
meanwhile no atom has decayed. The psi-function of the entire system would express this by having in it the living and dead cat (pardon the expression) mixed or smeared out.
23