String Theorys Strange Second Life 20160915
String Theorys Strange Second Life 20160915
String Theorys Strange Second Life 20160915
By K.C. Cole
String theory strutted onto the scene some 30 years ago as perfection itself, a promise of elegant
simplicity that would solve knotty problems in fundamental physics — including the notoriously
intractable mismatch between Einstein’s smoothly warped space-time and the inherently jittery,
quantized bits of stuff that made up everything in it.
It seemed, to paraphrase Michael Faraday, much too wonderful not to be true: Simply replace
infinitely small particles with tiny (but finite) vibrating loops of string. The vibrations would sing out
quarks, electrons, gluons and photons, as well as their extended families, producing in harmony
every ingredient needed to cook up the knowable world. Avoiding the infinitely small meant avoiding
a variety of catastrophes. For one, quantum uncertainty couldn’t rip space-time to shreds. At last, it
seemed, here was a workable theory of quantum gravity.
Even more beautiful than the story told in words was the elegance of the math behind it, which had
the power to make some physicists ecstatic.
To be sure, the theory came with unsettling implications. The strings were too small to be probed by
experiment and lived in as many as 11 dimensions of space. These dimensions were folded in on
themselves — or “compactified” — into complex origami shapes. No one knew just how the
dimensions were compactified — the possibilities for doing so appeared to be endless — but surely
some configuration would turn out to be just what was needed to produce familiar forces and
particles.
For a time, many physicists believed that string theory would yield a unique way to combine
quantum mechanics and gravity. “There was a hope. A moment,” said David Gross, an original player
in the so-called Princeton String Quartet, a Nobel Prize winner and permanent member of the Kavli
Institute for Theoretical Physics at the University of California, Santa Barbara. “We even thought for
a while in the mid-’80s that it was a unique theory.”
And then physicists began to realize that the dream of one singular theory was an illusion. The
complexities of string theory, all the possible permutations, refused to reduce to a single one that
described our world. “After a certain point in the early ’90s, people gave up on trying to connect to
the real world,” Gross said. “The last 20 years have really been a great extension of theoretical tools,
but very little progress on understanding what’s actually out there.”
Many, in retrospect, realized they had raised the bar too high. Coming off the momentum of
completing the solid and powerful “standard model” of particle physics in the 1970s, they hoped the
story would repeat — only this time on a mammoth, all-embracing scale. “We’ve been trying to aim
for the successes of the past where we had a very simple equation that captured everything,” said
Robbert Dijkgraaf, the director of the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, New Jersey. “But
now we have this big mess.”
Like many a maturing beauty, string theory has gotten rich in relationships, complicated, hard to
handle and widely influential. Its tentacles have reached so deeply into so many areas in theoretical
physics, it’s become almost unrecognizable, even to string theorists. “Things have gotten almost
postmodern,” said Dijkgraaf, who is a painter as well as mathematical physicist.
The mathematics that have come out of string theory have been put to use in fields such as
cosmology and condensed matter physics — the study of materials and their properties. It’s so
ubiquitous that “even if you shut down all the string theory groups, people in condensed matter,
people in cosmology, people in quantum gravity will do it,” Dijkgraaf said.
“It’s hard to say really where you should draw the boundary around and say: This is string theory;
this is not string theory,” said Douglas Stanford, a physicist at the IAS. “Nobody knows whether to
say they’re a string theorist anymore,” said Chris Beem, a mathematical physicist at the University
of Oxford. “It’s become very confusing.”
String theory today looks almost fractal. The more closely people explore any one corner, the more
structure they find. Some dig deep into particular crevices; others zoom out to try to make sense of
grander patterns. The upshot is that string theory today includes much that no longer seems stringy.
Those tiny loops of string whose harmonics were thought to breathe form into every particle and
force known to nature (including elusive gravity) hardly even appear anymore on chalkboards at
conferences. At last year’s big annual string theory meeting, the Stanford University string theorist
Eva Silverstein was amused to find she was one of the few giving a talk “on string theory proper,”
she said. A lot of the time she works on questions related to cosmology.
Even as string theory’s mathematical tools get adopted across the physical sciences, physicists have
been struggling with how to deal with the central tension of string theory: Can it ever live up to its
initial promise? Could it ever give researchers insight into how gravity and quantum mechanics
might be reconciled — not in a toy universe, but in our own?
“The problem is that string theory exists in the landscape of theoretical physics,” said Juan
Maldacena, a mathematical physicist at the IAS and perhaps the most prominent figure in the field
today. “But we still don’t know yet how it connects to nature as a theory of gravity.” Maldacena now
acknowledges the breadth of string theory, and its importance to many fields of physics — even
those that don’t require “strings” to be the fundamental stuff of the universe — when he defines
string theory as “Solid Theoretical Research in Natural Geometric Structures.”
Eva Silverstein, a professor of physics at Stanford University, applies string theory to problems in
cosmology.
One high point for string theory as a theory of everything came in the late 1990s, when Maldacena
revealed that a string theory including gravity in five dimensions was equivalent to a quantum field
theory in four dimensions. This “AdS/CFT” duality appeared to provide a map for getting a handle on
gravity — the most intransigent piece of the puzzle — by relating it to good old well-understood
quantum field theory.
This correspondence was never thought to be a perfect real-world model. The five-dimensional space
in which it works has an “anti-de Sitter” geometry, a strange M.C. Escher-ish landscape that is not
remotely like our universe.
But researchers were surprised when they dug deep into the other side of the duality. Most people
took for granted that quantum field theories — “bread and butter physics,” Dijkgraaf calls them —
were well understood and had been for half a century. As it turned out, Dijkgraaf said, “we only
understand them in a very limited way.”
These quantum field theories were developed in the 1950s to unify special relativity and quantum
mechanics. They worked well enough for long enough that it didn’t much matter that they broke
down at very small scales and high energies. But today, when physicists revisit “the part you thought
you understood 60 years ago,” said Nima Arkani-Hamed, a physicist at the IAS, you find “stunning
structures” that came as a complete surprise. “Every aspect of the idea that we understood quantum
field theory turns out to be wrong. It’s a vastly bigger beast.”
Researchers have developed a huge number of quantum field theories in the past decade or so, each
used to study different physical systems. Beem suspects there are quantum field theories that can’t
be described even in terms of quantum fields. “We have opinions that sound as crazy as that, in
This virtual explosion of new kinds of quantum field theories is eerily reminiscent of physics in the
1930s, when the unexpected appearance of a new kind of particle — the muon — led a frustrated I.I.
Rabi to ask: “Who ordered that?” The flood of new particles was so overwhelming by the 1950s that
it led Enrico Fermi to grumble: “If I could remember the names of all these particles, I would have
been a botanist.”
Physicists began to see their way through the thicket of new particles only when they found the
more fundamental building blocks making them up, like quarks and gluons. Now many physicists are
attempting to do the same with quantum field theory. In their attempts to make sense of the zoo,
many learn all they can about certain exotic species.
Conformal field theories (the right hand of AdS/CFT) are a starting point. You start with a simplified
type of quantum field theory that behaves the same way at small and large distances, said David
Simmons-Duffin, a physicist at the IAS. If these specific kinds of field theories could be understood
perfectly, answers to deep questions might become clear. “The idea is that if you understand the
elephant’s feet really, really well, you can interpolate in between and figure out what the whole
thing looks like.”
Juan
Maldacena, a physicist at the Institute for Advanced Study, developed what has become one of string
theory’s greatest successes.
Like many of his colleagues, Simmons-Duffin says he’s a string theorist mostly in the sense that it’s
become an umbrella term for anyone doing fundamental physics in underdeveloped corners. He’s
currently focusing on a physical system that’s described by a conformal field theory but has nothing
to do with strings. In fact, the system is water at its “critical point,” where the distinction between
gas and liquid disappears. It’s interesting because water’s behavior at the critical point is a
complicated emergent system that arises from something simpler. As such, it could hint at dynamics
behind the emergence of quantum field theories.
Beem focuses on supersymmetric field theories, another toy model, as physicists call these
deliberate simplifications. “We’re putting in some unrealistic features to make them easier to
handle,” he said. Specifically, they are amenable to tractable mathematics, which “makes it so a lot
of things are calculable.”
Toy models are standard tools in most kinds of research. But there’s always the fear that what one
learns from a simplified scenario does not apply to the real world. “It’s a bit of a deal with the devil,”
Beem said. “String theory is a much less rigorously constructed set of ideas than quantum field
theory, so you have to be willing to relax your standards a bit,” he said. “But you’re rewarded for
that. It gives you a nice, bigger context in which to work.”
It’s the kind of work that makes people such as Sean Carroll, a theoretical physicist at the California
Institute of Technology, wonder if the field has strayed too far from its early ambitions — to find, if
not a “theory of everything,” at least a theory of quantum gravity. “Answering deep questions about
quantum gravity has not really happened,” he said. “They have all these hammers and they go
looking for nails.” That’s fine, he said, even acknowledging that generations might be needed to
develop a new theory of quantum gravity. “But it isn’t fine if you forget that, ultimately, your goal is
describing the real world.”
It’s a question he has asked his friends. Why are they investigating detailed quantum field theories?
“What’s the aspiration?” he asks. Their answers are logical, he says, but steps removed from
developing a true description of our universe.
Instead, he’s looking for a way to “find gravity inside quantum mechanics.” A paper he recently
wrote with colleagues claims to take steps toward just that. It does not involve string theory.
The
amplituhedron is a multi-dimensional object that can be used to calculate particle interactions.
Physicists such as Chris Beem are applying techniques from string theory in special geometries
where “the amplituhedron is its best self,” he says.
Using the physical intuition offered by strings, physicists produced a powerful formula for getting
the answer to the embedded sphere question, and much more. “They got at these formulas using
tools that mathematicians don’t allow,” Córdova said. Then, after string theorists found an answer,
the mathematicians proved it on their own terms. “This is a kind of experiment,” he explained. “It’s
an internal mathematical experiment.” Not only was the stringy solution not wrong, it led to Fields
Medal-winning mathematics. “This keeps happening,” he said.
String theory has also made essential contributions to cosmology. The role that string theory has
played in thinking about mechanisms behind the inflationary expansion of the universe — the
moments immediately after the Big Bang, where quantum effects met gravity head on — is
“surprisingly strong,” said Silverstein, even though no strings are attached.
Still, Silverstein and colleagues have used string theory to discover, among other things, ways to see
potentially observable signatures of various inflationary ideas. The same insights could have been
found using quantum field theory, she said, but they weren’t. “It’s much more natural in string
theory, with its extra structure.”
Inflationary models get tangled in string theory in multiple ways, not least of which is the multiverse
— the idea that ours is one of a perhaps infinite number of universes, each created by the same
mechanism that begat our own. Between string theory and cosmology, the idea of an infinite
landscape of possible universes became not just acceptable, but even taken for granted by a large
number of physicists. The selection effect, Silverstein said, would be one quite natural explanation
for why our world is the way it is: In a very different universe, we wouldn’t be here to tell the story.
This effect could be one answer to a big problem string theory was supposed to solve. As Gross put
it: “What picks out this particular theory” — the Standard Model — from the “plethora of infinite
possibilities?”
Silverstein thinks the selection effect is actually a good argument for string theory. The infinite
landscape of possible universes can be directly linked to “the rich structure that we find in string
theory,” she said — the innumerable ways that string theory’s multidimensional space-time can be
folded in upon itself.
Nima Arkani‐Hamed, a physicist at the IAS, argues that this is the most exciting time for theoretical
physics since the development of quantum mechanics in the 1920s.
“Once the elementary things we’re probing spaces with are strings instead of particles,” said Beem,
the strings “see things differently.” If it’s too hard to get from A to B using quantum field theory,
reimagine the problem in string theory, and “there’s a path,” Beem said.
In cosmology, string theory “packages physical models in a way that’s easier to think about,”
Silverstein said. It may take centuries to tie together all these loose strings to weave a coherent
picture, but young researchers like Beem aren’t bothered a bit. His generation never thought string
theory was going to solve everything. “We’re not stuck,” he said. “It doesn’t feel like we’re on the
verge of getting it all sorted, but I know more each day than I did the day before – and so
presumably we’re getting somewhere.”
Stanford thinks of it as a big crossword puzzle. “It’s not finished, but as you start solving, you can
tell that it’s a valid puzzle,” he said. “It’s passing consistency checks all the time.”
“Maybe it’s not even possible to capture the universe in one easily defined, self-contained form, like
a globe,” Dijkgraaf said, sitting in Robert Oppenheimer’s many windowed office from when he was
Einstein’s boss, looking over the vast lawn at the IAS, the pond and the woods in the distance.
Einstein, too, tried and failed to find a theory of everything, and it takes nothing away from his
genius.
“Perhaps the true picture is more like the maps in an atlas, each offering very different kinds of
information, each spotty,” Dijkgraaf said. “Using the atlas will require that physics be fluent in many
languages, many approaches, all at the same time. Their work will come from many different
directions, perhaps far-flung.”
Arkani-Hamed believes we are in the most exciting epoch of physics since quantum mechanics
appeared in the 1920s. But nothing will happen quickly. “If you’re excited about responsibly
attacking the very biggest existential physics questions ever, then you should be excited,” he said.
“But if you want a ticket to Stockholm for sure in the next 15 years, then probably not.”