A COMEDY OF ERRORS
OR
WHOSE GOOSE GOT COOKED?

By John Newell

Oh boy! This is going to be fun! 


This is in response to a letter to the editor by James H. Cooke in the fall 2005 issue of The College, St. John College's Alumni Magazine ("A Clear Account" p.9).  Mr. Cooke's letter was in response to a letter of mine, published in the Spring 2005 issue of The College ("Weird Science" p. 8), which was a response to Rosemary Harty's articles on Einstein in the Winter 2005 issue ("On Einstein" inside cover and "Einstein Comes to St. John's" p. 14-19). 

Given that history, one might expect me to submit this response to The College, but the butchering that my initial letter received at the hands of the editor, as well as the general incompetence on this matter which the editorial staff has exhibited do not lead me to conclude that my letter would be either welcome or well treated there, so I have posted my response here where it won't be subject to biased, or uninformed, editing.

Mr. Cooke's 'clarification' invites a response on a number of different levels. For those who find his credentials as a former tutor to be an important component of this 'debate', I first provide a response on that level. For those of you who would rather deal with the real issue, I have a response on that level as well

The question of the usefulness of textbooks is an entirely different issue that opens the flood gates to any and all things that St. John's could do differently or 'better' (at least in the eyes of the [perhaps lone, or even deranged] party who advocates them), but I'll leave that issue alone.

To start, then, here is the full text of my original letter to The College (http://www.hellos.com/books/thecoleg.html). The sections marked in red are the portions that were deleted or changed by The College. I think you will see that my message was changed rather remarkably. Nearly the whole critique of hero-worship, and most of the humor have disappeared. A further quibble (which may be more than a quibble as it bears on the title that the editor chose for the piece) is the change of my line "Weird science? You better believe it" to "Weird science? You'd better believe it." Now, "You'd better believe it" is a standard idiom in English and means something like "you bet" or "yes." I used the variant "You better believe it" in the hope of causing the reader to contemplate the more literal meaning: that you are compelled to believe--you have to believe it. If you don't, you will be ignored, rejected, 'corrected,' insulted, or ridiculed (don't I know it). I figured that johnnies were careful enough readers to notice and puzzle out that change, and I was disappointed that the editor 'corrected' it without consulting me.

 
Credentials

These days, even the most proper school children whisper to each other a devilish admonition against making assumptions, taking delight in the clever word play that permits them to use a 'bad' word: Don't assume anything, lest you make an ass out of you and me. The use and misuse of assumptions is something that will become thematic in this discussion, so I call the reader's attention to this impish dictum and ask them to bear its wisdom in mind.

Mr. Cooke begins confidently, "I'm sure many Johnnies could respond to Mr. Newell's comments." Hmm. Well yes. I'm sure that many could merely respond (after all, we all were taught to respond at St. John's), but I believe that Mr. Cooke was attempting to say a bit more, something like: I'm sure many Johnnies could point out the flaws in Mr. Newell's comments. If this is Mr. Cooke's implied meaning, he's in for a bit of a jolt. 

Next Mr. Cooke references his credentials as a former tutor and requests the editor to "allow" him the privilege (I suppose) of being the one to deal with me. I take the publication of the letter and the headline given to it ("A Clear Account") as the editor's endorsement of Mr. Cooke as the best qualified and most cogent of the alleged "many" who have lined up to take issue with my comments. So who is this champion who strides forth to challenge me? What is his quality? Is this a fearsome Achilles, or a showy Alexandros? An unconquerable Samson, or a doomed Goliath? Lancelot the brave, or brave, brave Sir Robin (whose exploits are recounted in Monty Python's Holy Grail)? We shall see, shortly.

The College's champion closes his remarks by lamenting that textbooks are not used at St. John's, and then says generically, and insultingly (including all of us graduates instead of merely yours truly), "when Johnnies face the original literature without pedagogical support, something else is at risk, and that something is the substance." In the context of a reply to my letter, one can only conclude that the authoritative Mr. Cooke is implying that I am in need of some exposure to "pedagogical support." The assumption behind the champion's implication is that I am nothing more than a sophomoric undergraduate who needs to be put in his place. 

Perhaps if Mr. Cooke had noted that I graduated from St. John's in 1986 (as indicated at the end of my letter), he might have wondered what I have been doing since. Perhaps if he had made some inquiries, he would have learned that I hold a Ph.D. in four fields. Perhaps if he had inquired further, he would have learned that one of the areas that I have specialized in is the History of Science, and another is the Philosophy of Science. And perhaps a further inquiry would have informed him that I have spent many afternoons attending talks offered by the University of Pittsburgh's prestigious Center for Philosophy of Science featuring the very persons who write the textbooks with which he is so enamored. I am not in need of the textbooks that Mr. Cooke loves so much, but perhaps they are in need of me.

A good scientist (or scholar, or tutor) does his homework instead of jumping to conclusions. A wise man looks before he leaps. By assuming that I was ill-informed, the ex-tutor evidently chose a different approach, and I cannot say where it will land him. This is only speculation, but perhaps this different approach, coupled with his love for textbooks and his hubristic brashness have some bearing on his status as a former tutor, and one of such short tenure (1999-2001--hmm, two years, who's looking sophomoric now?). And perhaps we will find more reasons to be glad that he is no longer a tutor once we look more closely at his argument.


 
Substance

Everyone is free to pick the causes they wish to champion. And the choices they make say something about them. For example, a wise man chooses wisely. I find Mr. Cooke's choice to be a bit odd (I'm tempted to call it 'kooky', but I won't, as I am not sure how he pronounces his last name). Perhaps you will too.

After his rhetorical introductory remarks, the heroic Mr. Cooke offers his first bit of 'clarification,' saying something about where the twin paradox is neither stated nor resolved, and then providing us with a rehash of it (complete with references and an illustrative example, the paradoxically non-paradoxical "Gasoline Paradox"). I have read, reread, and reread my letter again and again, and nowhere do I find any reference to the twin paradox, or its origin, in it.

In my letter, I did refer to real experiments with atomic clocks on airplanes and with muons. These experiments provide concrete, confirmable, repeatable evidence of the way that nature behaves (hmm, the scientific method, has anyone championing twentieth century physics heard of that?). I was, and I will, remain as silent as a statue of a smiling Buddha on the matter of the twin paradox. Why? Because the twin paradox is a thought experiment, which to my mind means that it is an act of imagination, and it is not wise to enter into a debate about what will, did, or is likely to occur in the land or neighborhood of make believe. Everyone is free to imagine what they like, so there is nothing scientific about the 'findings' of such an exercise. Sure, you might use what you imagine as a hypothesis and then construct an experiment to test it, but this is not the way that thought experiments have been used in twentieth century physics. They've been used as substitutes for actual experiments, and as a data field for constructing theories, and that's just way off base. So I'll leave the twin paradox alone.

I will, however, extract one sentence from Mr. Cooke's discussion of the twin paradox because it appears to go hand in hand with his conclusion about the gasoline paradox, and so appears to be the focus of his criticism of my letter ("Wigner's point was that many things are path-dependent. The only weirdness is that time happens to be one of those things"). What, then, does this pre-eminent champion have to say about my letter? Where have I gone wrong? What crushing blow has he to deliver? He says, "The situation is not at all symmetrical, and both the earthling and the rocketeer agree that the earthling's world line is nearly straight, while the rocketeer's world line is bent." 

What?! Is that all?! I could have said it better myself. In fact, maybe I did (note to the editor of The College: Oops I did it again; twisted an idiom so that it says something unexpected. Did you catch it?). Let me quote my own letter:

When the travelers return to their earthbound comrades, there should be a grand argument as each group asserts that the other group's clocks were running slow. Instead, there is agreement: the travelers are younger than they would be if they had stayed at home (p. 8-9).
Oh my! It turns out that The College's champion--the one specially picked out from the supposed crowd to put me in my place or make me look foolish--actually agrees with me. We are both saying that you can tell whose world line was straighter. In fact, aside from Mr. Cooke's fancy jargon ('path-dependent', 'world lines', and talk of 'straightness'), and his use of the word 'time' where I prefer 'clocks' in quotes, we are saying exactly the same thing. And, since I have nothing against the jargon (except that it refers to things that a general audience may not be familiar with), and since Einstein basically defines time as the readings provided by a 'standard clock,' even these trivial instances of difference fade into agreement. 

So, hmm. What a disappointment! Opposition like this ranks right up there with the fearsome crack suicide squad of the Judean People's Front (as seen in Monty Python's Life of Brian), and Flip ("I'll punch you right in the fist with my face") Wilson. To turn an old saying all topsy-turvy: with opposition like this, who needs supporters? (Note to the editor of The College: the saying that I am referring to is, "With friends like these, who needs enemies?" To suit the situation, I first changed it to "With enemies like this, who needs friends," and then I changed the vocabulary because Mr. Cooke doesn't really qualify as an enemy.) Would somebody please be so kind as to inform Mr. Cooke that, when he wants to correct someone or disagree, he ought to have a position that differs from that of the person he is correcting or disagreeing with. His current pedagogical methodology would seem to involve agreeing by being disagreeable. The more I learn about Mr. Cooke, the less I wonder why he is a former tutor.

Yet the absurdity of this situation deserves some comment and reflection (and maybe a chuckle or two). If you think about it, the formidable Mr. Cooke does place me in quite a bind, for it is quite ridiculous to argue against someone who repeats your position right back to you, even if they do it with an attitude or rhetoric that suggests that you are wrong and they are right.

So where do we stand? The great champion has handed right back to me the very premise that I used to show that the evidence currently suggests that the earth is at rest at the center of the universe. 

***News Flash!***

Former Tutor Involved in Shooting Incident

  ANNAPOLIS, MD: An unnamed former tutor from St. John's College was hospitalized for what appeared to be a self-inflicted wound late yesterday. Police officials are still investigating the incident, but witnesses say that the tutor accidentally put his foot in his mouth while he was shooting his mouth off, and, in this way, he managed to shoot himself in the foot. 
  A sheriff's deputy said that an investigation was being conducted in order to determine if this was an isolated incident, or if the former tutor has a history of reckless self-endangerment. Hospital officials refused to comment, other than to say that the patient had been treated and released.
 

As a great and clear thinking individual, I guess he is compelled to agree with me on that account as well. I wonder if he regards it as progress, for he apparently objects to me suggesting that it is weird. (He says that the "only weirdness" is that time is path-dependent.)

Yet this little venture into absurdity was just a bit of fun. It, too, was not the main point of my original letter. It does, however, help to underscore the fact that the evidence is at odds with a strict interpretation of the theory, as reflected, say, by the following comments in the winter 2005 article:

The constancy of the velocity of light is one principle, and the other one is the relativity principle, which is that the laws of physics have to be the same; there's no special frame of reference. (Mr. Kutler, p. 16)

...it seemed to prove...that our notion of absolute space and time was an illusion. (D. Macdonald, p. 17)

Please note: I am not arguing against these interpretations or saying that they are wrong (they are correct interpretations of the theory as Einstein articulated it), I am trying to emphasize that these interpretations do not correlate with the evidence, which is to say that the theory does not correlate with the evidence. For if we can tell whose world line is straighter when comparing two coordinate systems that are moving relative to each other, then there is a "special frame of reference," an absolute space; namely, the coordinate system with the straightest world lines. And we have a simple test to help us find it: just keep comparing 'clocks' in different systems until you find the one in which the 'clock' runs the fastest.

So here's where I think things get weird:  The fact that we can tell whose world line is straighter sucks the relativity right out of the Theory of Relativity. To my mind, when a theory can't even live up to its own name, it's time to look for a new theory; especially under the following circumstances:

  • The theory evidently was formulated on the basis of an act of imagination (recall my comments above on thought experiments); namely, something like what is described in the winter 2005 issue of The College
    • "Einstein was able to think about light moving through the aether in a different, imaginative way, and that made all the difference. 'He tried to think about sitting on the hump of a wave. Just sitting there at 300,000 kilometers-per-second, what would it be like?' Thought experiments like those led Einstein to new questions..." (p. 19);
    • "...Maxwell's conclusions on electromagnetic radiation led Einstein to wonder what would happen if a source of electromagnetic radiation--a light bulb, for example--were moving and he stood still." (p. 18)
    • "Einstein wasn't such a good mathematician says Flaumenhaft. 'He was imaginative...'" (p. 18) 
    • For the record, when I think of things like moving at the speed of light, I imagine something quite different from what Einstein imagines, and the things I imagine correlate better with the experiments, because I don't have to imagine what the experimental evidence is.
  • From the very start, the theory just steamrolled its way over rational considerations, such as:
    • What does it mean for two bodies to be spatially separated when there is nothing between them?
    • How, if there is no aether and light is a wave, can nothingness undulate?
    • How does a beam of light (or the spacetime of a given coordinate system) 'know' that it must 'adjust' its speed (or the rate of its clocks and the lengths of distances in only a particular direction) so as to have the same measured speed in all frames of reference?
    • How does a beam of light (or a given spactime coordinate system) manage to accomplish that adjustment?
    • How was c established as the universal speed limit?
    • What kind of metaphysics defines time as the position of the hands of a clock?
    • Is the light postulate even necessary? [for a discussion of this see my letter to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette]
  • The physical world is one coherent thing, but we use two incompatible approaches to explain it, Relativity and Quantum Physics. 
  • Relativity and Quantum Physics are incompatible even though the same theorist (Einstein) played a key role in developing both of them.
  • Both theories are routinely described by their own adherents as being absurd, weird, incredible, violating common sense, and the like.

  • What a strange situation! You can't tell the adherents from the protesters! (We could call situations like this 'The Cooke Paradox'). When, one wonders, will the world wake up and pay attention to what is being said by both sides? I'm afraid that many of us are too dazzled by Einstein's reputation as a 'genius':--or the rationalizations devised to put the right 'spin' on experimental results--to trust our gut instincts. For examples, consider the following excerpts from the pro-Einstein article in the winter 2005 issue of The College (which is typical of many articles and books on Relativity and Quantum Physics):
    • "...with the Einstein paper I had to carefully go over each word to make sure I understood what he was saying--so much of it was counterintuitive to my mind" (Erin Hanlon p. 16)
    • "...empiricists like Francis Bacon...belive you keep experimenting and experimenting and you're very slow to theorize. Einstein didn't obey those rules. He theorized first and the experimentation came later. He loved his theories, and he believed in them" (Mr. Kutler p. 16-17)
    • "Even after all his years of working through the paper with students, Swentzell finds there are some concepts Einstein presents that just 'hit you in the stomach sometimes'

    • 'You can see how it's all derived, but then to imagine walking around this world of ours and as you're walking down the hall, to suddenly think that what you're calling 'now' means a different set of events in the universe than for somebody who's sitting down in their office. Everything changes. That's the part,' he says, 'that's just too weird. That's when you have to go home and sleep on it and get the equations out to guide you.'" (p. 17)
        .  Note: There is a lot of emphasis on the effectiveness of 'the equations' by defenders of twentieth century physics. Such a line of reasoning did not save Ptolemy's theory and I don't think it will save Einstein's. Additionally, the possession of equations does not establish any kind of link between a theory and reality. Equations can be manufactured for any number of totally fantastic sets of laws of nature, so letting the equations be your guide could be the mathematical equivalent of flying off with Tinkerbell to Neverland. My advice: proceed at your own risk.
    • "Einstein's 1905 paper on special relativity was certainly one of the highlights of my time at St. John's, and not just because it seemed to prove the absurd--that our notion of absolute space and time was an illusion...I felt like we were proving the absurd with very simple, rational tools." (David Macdonald p. 17)
    • "With Einstein, you don't so much understand it as you get used to it. It flatly contradicts everything that seems to make common sense." (Peter Pesic, p. 18)
    • "The types of questions tutors and students ponder in class can be both wondrous and perplexing, agrees Harvey Flaumenhaft. 'What does it really mean to say it's 5 o'clock in two different places? What does a law of nature have to look like to be reasonable?" (p. 18)
    • "It's so concentrated that what you're doing is unpacking the significance of very simply stated assumptions that turn everything you've been thinking about the framework of the world upside down" (Mr. Flaumenhaft p. 18)
    • "[Einstein's] ideas about the actual workings of the universe and his semi-hidden, semi-mystical cosmology seemed all jumbled together. I tried to disaggregate them, but with little luck." (Akiba Covitz p. 18)
    • "Wilson says he can still be 'befuddled' by the subtleties of the paper when he stops to think about them." (p. 19)
  • String Theory, the theory cobbled together to marry these quarreling, malformed siblings, is even more fantastical than the other two taken in combination. One result of it should be (though good luck trying to get a physicist to admit it) that things like planets, people, toasters, and corvettes should magically appear out of thin air, or disappear back into it, all the time. 
  • There's a considerably simpler way to explain all of this.
I do realize that this is not the news that everyone (or anyone) wants to hear, and I have been apologetic on the few occasions when I have brought it up. You can see that in the full version of my letter (and you can see it in my letter to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette). I am sensitive to the feeling of achievement that many Johnnies get from feeling that they have wrestled with Einstein himself in their senior math tutorial, a feeling that was nicely conveyed by these quotes in the winter 2005 issue of The College:
In this issue of The College, tutors and alumni describe working through the paper as one of the most remarkable experiences they've had at the college--one that stays with them long after they've moved on to other pursuits. (inside cover)

When [Wilson] returned to Annapolis in 1973, seniors in math tutorial were reading the paper, "That was an important shift, and I was really glad to see it. It motivates students--'this is really the paper that Einstein wrote? And I'm reading it?'" (p. 14)

The point of my letter was to try to temper this exuberance with some sober reflection on what we are getting so excited about. I also wanted to encourage those who struggled to understand Einstein by suggesting that the problem did not lie with them, but with the fact that it is always very difficult to try to understand nonsense. As Peter Pesic said, "With Einstein, you don't so much understand it as you get used to it" (p. 18). And even after you think you get a handle on it, it keeps slipping out of your hands like a wriggling fish. Why does it do that? Because it is fundamentally incoherent. That is to say, the incoherence lies at the level of the assumptions (call them postulates if you like) that go into the theory. Once you swallow them, the indigestion is inevitable. 

The hope that I have for St. John's is that it will graduate from an approach to Einstein that leaves the student gazing upward in stupefaction to one that allows the student to stand above Einstein and see his work for what it is (and what it isn't). I realize that there are those at the college who treasure the experience of pure perplexity and wonder, and the marvels of twentieth century physics may strike them as a gold mine from which they may extract that experience for themselves or produce it for others, but finding yourself at a loss in the face of nonsense is quite different than being awed by truth or a fundamental question. By approaching Einstein's work from the proper perspective, we would not be diminishing the multitude of things that truly deserve our awe and respect. If the college needs my help in devising such an approach, I am willing to lend a hand. 


In my letter, I said that one of the questions that always bothered me was how Einstein's theory got accepted in the first place. Part of the answer lies in the fact that the culture has become enamored with irrationality, perhaps (again, in part) as a reaction against the misnamed 'Rationalists.' Certainly, Einstein's current role as a pop icon is fed by his image as a mad scientist who helped to demonstrate that the world 'truly is' a wacky, incomprehensible place.

Nietzsche, who graced the cover of the issue of The College that contained my letter, urged us to be not only suspicious of, but actively opposed to the idols of the tribe (that Nietzsche himself is now one those idols creates a paradox that we could call 'The Nietzsche Paradox,' but there are probably four or five paradoxes contending for that name already out there). I am not an advocate of revolution for its own sake, but I think we could use a dose of his revolutionary fever to help us break free of the idols that we have slipped into worshipping, especially the ones that have been leading us in the wrong directions. The criticisms (and alternatives) that I have to offer are not limited to physics, for indeed, the entire system (if something as disjointed as our current understanding of the world can be termed a 'system') is badly in need of a total overhaul.

To borrow an image from Plato's Republic, we are all troglodytes. Those of us who attended St. John's took a chance on gaining our freedom (facio liberos ex...), and many of us succeeded. However, being free to wander about inside the cave--even in the company of the greatest minds--is no guarantee that one will ever find the way out. It is possible, when spelunking, to lose your way and get confused. The way inwards can seem like the way out, and digging you own way can be frustrating and futile. When the routes advocated by the great thinkers all lead to dead ends, and even the common wisdom advises you 'to make a niche for yourself' and 'settle down,' can despair be far behind?

Hope, however, springs eternal. There are unexplored routes in this cave, passages where the air seems fresher and the going is not so rough, steep, or dizzying. I have stolen away from the paths of men to explore some of these regions, and think that others might find them not only enlightening, but a whole lot more fun, and, in many ways, rewarding. 

You know, at the end of my initial letter, I said I was headed to the bar. Looks like it's time for another trip. Care to join me?
 Yours,
John Newell, A '86