Why Does the Universe Act as It Does?
Why does the world behave as it does? Why do planets go around the sun? Why do satellites travel in elliptical orbits? Why? To any parent of a young child, the rabbit hole of endless questions will sound familiar. Although your preschooler seems to be never satisfied with answers, we often reach a point in mature life, when we stop asking questions and instead accept the visible world around us as stable and obvious and unchanging. If we can resist this tendency to stop questioning, we realize that the chain of explanation never ends.
I left hard sciences behind when I chased Dickens down the path to an English degree and Atticus Finch to law school. But I’ve kept up a casual interest in physics and cosmology topics since. During a recent dinner party conversation with friends more accomplished in scientific fields than I, I commented that one of my recurring frustrations with law practice is the fungibility of argument and the lack of firm answers. My (uninformed) view was that scientific study must offer a respite from a world of uncertainty and imprecision. One friend recommended that I read Richard Feynman’s Cornell University lectures, telling me that even among the work of Noble laureate physicists, “there is no ‘there,’ there.”
Richard Feynman on What Scientists Do
In 1964, the then 46-year old physicist Richard Feynman gave a series of seven Messenger lectures at Cornell University. They were then transcribed and published under the title The Character of Physical Law. Feynman would win the Nobel Prize the next year for his work in quantum electrodynamics, which tied together all the varied phenomena present in light, radio, magnetism, and electricity. The lectures had been established as a course “on the evolution of civilization for the special purpose of raising the moral standard of our political, business, and social life.”
On their face, Feynman’s lectures provide a broad overview of major topics of physics and scientific inquiry: gravitation, conservation, symmetry, past and future, and probability and uncertainty. At the heart of each of these lectures, however, are the unifying questions of “what does a scientist do,” and “how does a scientist know what he’s doing is valid?”
Through these lectures, Feynman explains that scientists find explanations satisfying when they cease to be random but instead rely upon a generalized, unifying law. Recalling our opening question, “why do the planets go around the sun?,” Feynman explains that all objects travel in a straight line when left alone, but when that unchanging motion is combined with a gravitational force – the law of gravitation – the result is an ellipse and a planetary orbit.
Doubt and the Beauty of Nature’s Fabric
Feynman’s lectures contain an unexpected and marvelous surprise by acknowledging and embracing the role that doubt and uncertainty play in our relationship with the Universe. While I came to this book expecting concrete explanations and unraveled mysteries, Feynman makes the point again and again that while we may have figured out how the Universe works, we can have no insight into why it works the way it does.
In pondering the mathematical reality of gravity, that gravitational force between two objects is directly proportional to their masses, but inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them, Feynman states that there is no way to understand this mystery other than with mathematics. The formula, F=M1M2/r2 explains the reality of gravity, but with no further explanation of the mechanism. This can cause frustration, until we accept that the same impenetrable problem of mathematical truths is universal:
If this were the only law of this character it would be interesting and rather annoying. But what turns out to be true is that the more we investigate, the more laws we find, and the deeper we penetrate nature, the more this disease persists. Every one of our laws is a purely mathematical statement in rather complex and abstruse mathematics. Newton’s statement of the law of gravitation is relatively simple mathematics. It gets more and more abstruse and more and more difficult as we go on. Why? I have not the slightest idea. It is only my purpose here to tell you about this fact.
Feynman encourages us to become comfortable with doubt throughout the seven lectures. Once we become comfortable with the existence of doubt, we can appreciate what it is that can be said for certain about the known laws of the Universe. First, they are simple. Feynman makes this point about gravity:
But the most impressive fact is that gravity is simple. . . . It is simple, and therefore it is beautiful. It is simple in its pattern. I do not mean it is simple in its action – the motions of the various planets and the perturbations of one on the other can be quite complicated to work out, and to follow how all those stars in a globular cluster move is quite beyond our ability. It is complicated in its actions, but the basic pattern or the system beneath the whole thing is simple. This is common to all our laws; they all turn out to be simple things, although complex in their actual actions.
Second, the laws of the Universe are constant and (pun intended) universal. Our lives contain information streams of such complexity that for all our ability to decipher them, they might as well be random. And yet, beneath the visible chaos are simple patterns. We know this to be true because of the universality of these systems:
Finally, comes the universality of the gravitational law, and the fact that it extends over such enormous distances that Newton, in his mind, worrying about the solar system, was able to predict what would happen. . . ., where [a] little model of the solar system, two balls attracting, has to be expanded ten million million times to become the solar system. Then ten million million times larger again we find galaxies attracting each other by exactly the same law. Nature uses only the longest threads to weave her patterns, so each small piece of her fabric reveals the organization of the entire tapestry.
Multidisciplinary Thinking and the Universe of Ideas
On a basic level, Feynman’s lectures discuss the laws of physics and the mathematical underpinnings of those laws. But the reason that Feynman is so compelling on these topics is that he understands the greater human point to the intellectual struggle.
Feynman notes that, “we have a way of discussing the world, when we talk of it at various hierarchies, or levels.” At the most basic level are the fundamental laws of physics. Next are the properties of substances, such as surface tension or the manner in which they might bend light. Continuing to increase in complexity are collections of phenomena, such as a weather storm or a star. Next lie things like a muscle twitch, or nerve impulse, which is an “enormously complicated thing in the physical world.” Beyond that lie the organization of matter in even more elaborate complexity, like living beings. Finally are the highest level concepts, like man, history, evil, beauty, and hope.
Feynman asks us to consider what is the most beautiful, perfect, and mysterious? Is it the world of greatest complexity, or the most fundamental laws?
Which end is nearer to God? Beauty and hope, or the fundamental laws? I think that the right way, of course, is to say that what we have to look at is the whole structural interconnection of the thing; and that all the sciences, and not just the sciences but all the efforts of intellectual kinds, are an endeavor to see the connections of the hierarchies, to connect beauty to history, to connect history to man’s psychology, man’s psychology to the working of the brain, the brain to the neural impulse, the neural impulse to the chemistry, and so forth, up and down, both ways….
And I do not think either end is nearer to God. To stand at either end, and to walk off that end of the pier only, hoping that out in that direction is the complete understanding, is a mistake. And to stand with evil and beauty and hope, or to stand with the fundamental laws, hoping that way to get a deep understanding of the whole world, with that aspect alone, is a mistake.
It is, according to Feynman, those who are struggling to understand the world from both extremes who are making meaningful progress towards insight.
The great mass of workers in between, connecting one step to another, are improving all the time our understanding of the world, both from working at the ends and working in the middle, and in that way we are gradually understanding this tremendous world of interconnecting hierarchies.
If you haven’t jumped down the rabbit hole of Feynman’s writing yet, don’t wait any longer. I think Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman is a great place to start, but you can’t go wrong with any choice. Pair with Richard Feynman on the Value of Straight Talk.
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