Note: For a definition of unfamiliar terms, see our
glossary.
The fundamental particles of the universe that physicists have
identified—electrons, neutrinos, quarks, and so on—are the "letters" of
all matter. Just like their linguistic counterparts, they appear to have
no further internal substructure. String theory proclaims otherwise.
According to string theory, if we could examine these particles with
even greater precision—a precision many orders of magnitude beyond our
present technological capacity—we would find that each is not pointlike
but instead consists of a tiny, one-dimensional loop. Like an
infinitely thin rubber band, each particle contains a vibrating,
oscillating, dancing filament that physicists have named a string.
In the figure at right, we illustrate this essential idea of string
theory by starting with an ordinary piece of matter, an apple, and
repeatedly magnifying its structure to reveal its ingredients on ever
smaller scales. String theory adds the new microscopic layer of a
vibrating loop to the previously known progression from atoms through
protons, neutrons, electrons, and quarks.
Although it is by no means obvious, this simple replacement of
point-particle material constituents with strings resolves the
incompatibility between quantum mechanics and general relativity (which,
as currently formulated, cannot both be right). String theory
thereby unravels the central Gordian knot of contemporary theoretical
physics. This is a tremendous achievement, but it is only part of the
reason string theory has generated such excitement.
Field of dreams
In Einstein's day, the strong and weak forces had not yet been
discovered, but he found the existence of even two distinct
forces—gravity and electromagnetism—deeply troubling. Einstein did not
accept that nature is founded on such an extravagant design. This
launched his 30-year voyage in search of the so-called unified field
theory that he hoped would show that these two forces are really
manifestations of one grand underlying principle. This quixotic quest
isolated Einstein from the mainstream of physics, which, understandably,
was far more excited about delving into the newly emerging framework of
quantum mechanics. He wrote to a friend in the early 1940s, "I have
become a lonely old chap who is mainly known because he doesn't wear
socks and who is exhibited as a curiosity on special occasions."
Einstein was simply ahead of his time. More than half a century
later, his dream of a unified theory has become the Holy Grail of modern
physics. And a sizeable part of the physics and mathematics community is
becoming increasingly convinced that string theory may provide the
answer. From one principle—that everything at its most microscopic level
consists of combinations of vibrating strands—string theory provides a
single explanatory framework capable of encompassing all forces and all
matter.
String theory proclaims, for instance, that the observed particle
properties—that is, the different masses and other properties of both
the fundamental particles and the force particles associated with the
four forces of nature (the strong and weak nuclear forces,
electromagnetism, and gravity)—are a reflection of the various ways in
which a string can vibrate. Just as the strings on a violin or on a
piano have resonant frequencies at which they prefer to vibrate—patterns
that our ears sense as various musical notes and their higher
harmonics—the same holds true for the loops of string theory. But rather
than producing musical notes, each of the preferred mass and force
charges are determined by the string's oscillatory pattern. The electron
is a string vibrating one way, the up-quark is a string vibrating
another way, and so on.
Far from being a collection of chaotic experimental facts, particle
properties in string theory are the manifestation of one and the same
physical feature: the resonant patterns of vibration—the music, so to
speak—of fundamental loops of string. The same idea applies to the
forces of nature as well. Force particles are also associated with
particular patterns of string vibration and hence everything, all matter
and all forces, is unified under the same rubric of microscopic string
oscillations—the "notes" that strings can play.
A theory to end theories
For the first time in the history of physics we therefore have a
framework with the capacity to explain every fundamental feature upon
which the universe is constructed. For this reason string theory is
sometimes described as possibly being the "theory of everything" (T.O.E.)
or the "ultimate" or "final" theory. These grandiose descriptive terms
are meant to signify the deepest possible theory of physics—a theory
that underlies all others, one that does not require or even allow for a
deeper explanatory base.
In practice, many string theorists take a more down-to-earth approach
and think of a T.O.E. in the more limited sense of a theory that can
explain the properties of the fundamental particles and the properties
of the forces by which they interact and influence one another. A
staunch reductionist would claim that this is no limitation at all, and
that in principle absolutely everything, from the big bang to daydreams,
can be described in terms of underlying microscopic physical processes
involving the fundamental constituents of matter. If you understand
everything about the ingredients, the reductionist argues, you
understand everything.
The reductionist philosophy easily ignites heated debate. Many find
it fatuous and downright repugnant to claim that the wonders of life and
the universe are mere reflections of microscopic particles engaged in a
pointless dance fully choreographed by the laws of physics. Is it really
the case that feelings of joy, sorrow, or boredom are nothing but
chemical reactions in the brain—reactions between molecules and atoms
that, even more microscopically, are reactions between some of the
fundamental particles, which are really just vibrating strings?
In response to this line of criticism, Nobel laureate
Steven
Weinberg cautions in Dreams of a Final Theory:
At the other end of the spectrum are the opponents of
reductionism who are appalled by what they feel to be the bleakness of
modern science. To whatever extent they and their world can be reduced
to a matter of particles or fields and their interactions, they feel
diminished by that knowledge....I would not try to answer these critics
with a pep talk about the beauties of modern science. The reductionist
worldview is chilling and impersonal. It has to be accepted as it is,
not because we like it, but because that is the way the world works.
Some agree with this stark view, some don't.
Others have tried to argue that developments such as chaos theory
tell us that new kinds of laws come into play when the level of
complexity of a system increases. Understanding the behavior of an
electron or quark is one thing; using this knowledge to understand the
behavior of a tornado is quite another. On this point, most agree. But
opinions diverge on whether the diverse and often unexpected phenomena
that can occur in systems more complex than individual particles truly
represent new physical principles at work, or whether the principles
involved are derivative, relying, albeit in a terribly complicated way,
on the physical principles governing the enormously large number of
elementary constituents.
My own feeling is that they do not represent new and independent laws
of physics. Although it would be hard to explain the properties of a
tornado in terms of the physics of electrons and quarks, I see this as a
matter of calculational impasse, not an indicator of the need for new
physical laws. But again, there are some who disagree with this view.
A fresh start for science
What is largely beyond question, and is of primary importance to the
journey described in my book The Elegant Universe, is that even
if one accepts the debatable reasoning of the staunch reductionist,
principle is one thing and practice quite another. Almost everyone
agrees that finding the T.O.E. would in no way mean that psychology,
biology, geology, chemistry, or even physics had been solved or in some
sense subsumed. The universe is such a wonderfully rich and complex
place that the discovery of the final theory, in the sense we are
describing here, would not spell the end of science.
Quite the contrary: The discovery of the T.O.E.—the ultimate
explanation of the universe at its most microscopic level, a theory that
does not rely on any deeper explanation—would provide the firmest
foundation on which to build our understanding of the world. Its
discovery would mark a beginning, not an end. The ultimate theory would
provide an unshakable pillar of coherence forever assuring us that the
universe is a comprehensible place.
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What's in an apple (or anything else
for that matter)? Well, if you go down far enough in
scale, string theorists say, you'll find tiny, vibrating
loops of string. |
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