Thursday, March 24, 2011

The problem with science snobs

1. Science snobs expect you to fail.
2. Science snobs make pessimistic false assumptions.
3. Science snobs have no imagination.

It's no secret that crackpots are quickly dismissed without a "fair" evaluation of their work; nor should it be any other way. We crackpots kind of ruined it for ourselves, making it a chore for scientists to try to listen to us. Yet, regardless of blame, the science snobs have been ruined.

For example, if one claims "I will be the next Einstein" or "I will win a Nobel prize", those are treated as properties of a crackpot, and one's work is treated as pseudoscience. These statements should be independent of a crackpot's work. Science snobs are making a false assumption (another trait usually attributed to crackpots) in assuming that it means your work is valueless, just because you may overstate its value.

Contrast this with sports. If someone says, "I'm going to go to the olympics!", they are encouraged and their lofty goals are admired. In various sports, there are scouts who are looking out for undiscovered talent. When found, that talent is valued and nurtured. There are no crackpot scouts, whose job is to evaluate crackpot theories, find the hidden gems, and then nurture the talent (with scholarships to schools that provide various other perks). No one accepts crackpots as "young" talent with potential to be properly developed.

If a child says "I'm going to grow up to be the president!", would a science snob parent say "Statistically speaking, you are almost certainly not. It is far more likely that you will grow up to have a job that you despise, and you are almost certain to be miserable."?

That brings us to imagination, and unrealistic hope. Many science snobs don't believe in the power of positive thinking. They probably wouldn't believe in thinking at all, if there were not a scientific principle to say it was so. While others may consider things like "I think, therefore I am", a science snob would rather hold that "There is insufficient evidence to assume that I am at all." Yes, for most, claiming "I will win a Nobel prize" is crazy, but crazy wishful thinking is not necessarily a bad thing.

To wit: If I believe I will win a Nobel prize, and operate on that assumption, I will not be blocked by any mental barriers that tell me I won't. If I assume that I won't win one -- that I won't discover anything new, that I won't be great -- then I will not even waste my time trying. And if I don't even try, I most certainly will not succeed. If I don't believe I will discover something amazing, then I will assume that any potential discoveries I make are not amazing, and I won't bother exploring them. Not everyone who has an improbable goal will succeed, but those who succeed the most never let themselves be limited by probability of failure.

I'm not saying that any individual should assume that any other individual will be great; I'm saying that assuming that any given individual will not be great is just as incorrect. Further, I think it is a certainty that eventually, a crackpot will prove to be correct. It's rare, but it's happened before and it will happen again. And for that matter, I will do it. I will win a Nobel prize. I will be the next Einstein. This is not a fact; it is a goal. But I can work to make it a reality. To make an improbable goal a reality, one must balance unrealistic hope with practical realism, and possess both simultaneously.

In this, we crackpots might typically benefit with a little more realism. We must pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and transform our crackpot theories into "proper science", generally doing so by ourselves, before we will be appreciated. And that's fine. It is the price of greatness. The value of an idea isn't the idea itself, but in how it can change yourself and others. The work of making an idea valuable is difficult.

It's unfortunate that our many failures have led others to discourage us from trying.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

No time for elaboration

After more thought on black hole singularities being coordinate singularities (or if I'm using the term wrong, rather: singularities that disappear depending on where you view them from), I figure that the solution that makes the most sense is that, uh...

Say you're outside a black hole and that most of its mass is in the singularity, but not all of it is. As you pass the event horizon and approach the singularity, suppose that rather than the singularity disappearing, that more and more of its mass appears as "normal matter" outside the singularity, which itself becomes less massive. You could approach it "forever" as it expands spatially the closer you are to it, and more of its mass would expand out of it until you realize that you're surrounded by a universe that came from the "shrinking" singularity that you're still chasing.

In order for that to be possible, the mass distribution of a black hole cannot be uniform or homogeneous or whatever. There would not be a hard boundary between outside and inside it (other than the event horizon, which is a precise boundary but there is no physical wall of matter or energy there). It would be distributed along something that looks like f(r) = 1/r or 1/r2, with the density at 0 undefined (representing the singularity), and the density approaching infinity as r approaches 0.


Extrapolating this idea from black holes to all matter, we get the following conjecture:

- All mass is non-homogeneous in terms of energy or mass distribution.
- All mass has a singularity at its center.

Basically this would mean that the concentration of any distinct quantity of mass is greatest at its center, and tapers off to blend seamlessly into the surrounding nothingness, rather than there being a distinct boundary between mass and surrounding space. Depending on how you look at the mass, it could be that it has no size and 100% of its mass is contained in a singularity, or half of its mass is, or just a tiny fraction of its mass is contained in the singularity, yet that still represents infinite density for that small mass.



We can extrapolate further and imagine that any mass can be described as a distinct unit in the same way. On the smallest scale, all particles could be viewed as individual masses with individual singularities. On a larger scale: If you were far enough away or warped space in the right way, all of Earth could be viewed as a combined mass with most of its matter contained in one singularity at its center. If you were outside the universe, most of it would be in one singularity, with some of its mass outside the singularity (and each particle of that outside mass containing its own singularity).



Then since we're speculating without restraint anyway, why not conjecture that all fundamental forces are due to non-homogeneity of geometry, IE. curvature of spacetime. Just as large-scale curvature effects gravity, small-scale curvature may effect electromagnetism and/or nuclear force.



Thrown in there is the idea that any mass might be described as a particle, depending on how and from where you viewed it. Thus, particles might be defined as an observer-defined quantization of matter into individual indivisible components. Then, just as a universe might be fully contained in a singularity, or might "spill out" into something with size (eg. a black hole) and divisible mass, so too might an elementary particle be a singularity or a divisible mass, depending on how it is viewed.



A simplification of this idea might be:
- All mass results in space-time curvature (already accepted with general relativity?)
- The point of maximum curvature of any curve in spacetime is always a singularity. (There are no "gentle bumps" in spacetime.)

The problem with crackpots

1. Crackpots do not form cohesive groups.

It may seem on the surface that there is a "scientists vs the cranks" team deathmatch going on, but the cranks don't make a good team. Sure, if you have a crackpot idea, often it is only other crackpots who will try to accept it, but they probably won't understand it. The same problem that crackpots have with science, they will have with other crackpots. If they were adept at understanding complex ideas, they would take to science. Instead, they take some variable knowledge of science, apply a thick layer of interpretation and imagination, and come to their own understanding independent of the rest of the world's knowledge. The same is done with other crackpot theories. The same minimal understanding combined with maximal interpretation and imagination is applied, and one crackpot's crackpot theory becomes another crackpot's alternate crackpot theory.

Similarly, cranks tend to be poor at the other side of communication: not just understanding ideas but expressing their own ideas clearly. This may simply be due to a lack of experience with the language of accepted science; ignoring convention in theory coincides with ignored convention in verbal expression.

Trying to have crackpots collaborate is a situation where someone with some degree of misunderstanding of science and some degree of inability to communicate their ideas, shares an idea with someone else with an overstated understanding of scientific principles and a tendency to invent interpretations of what they learn. The former crackpot will express an idea that is not only poorly supported, but likely poorly expressed. The latter crackpot will treat as science the former's ideas: Either it is misunderstood and claimed to be something it is not, or it is misunderstood and claimed to be wrong. Meanwhile the first crackpot gets to see what dealing with crackpots is like for scientists: They don't get your idea, but that doesn't stop them from talking about their own interpretations or take on the idea.

As a team, the crackpots consist of individuals who are not team players.

2. Crackpots do not accept that their idea is wrong.

A key distinguishing point between scientists and crackpots is that only the former will follow the math, and allow it to change their understanding. Crackpots tend not to need math to "believe in" a theory. The importance of math is almost like a light bulb in your head, that has to be switched on, and seen before it can be believed... All it takes is once that you have an idea that seems so right that you're certain of it, but then you see that the math says something different, and then you realize that what the math says makes more sense -- only you were previously blind to the alternatives. If you never experience that, you may never know the amazing truth in it, and being told so by scientists is just like being told more science: "I'll just believe my own interpretation of it, thanks."

The problem is that if math is never used to show the validity of a crackpot theory, it will certainly never be used to show the fallacy of a crackpot theory. So, just as a theory that "makes sense" is never shown to be correct, a theory that doesn't make sense is never shown to be false. As a crackpot, I may realize a false assumption or come to an incorrect consequence of my theory, yet there's no math to back it up, so it forever "still might be true". There are other interpretations and even wilder speculation to get around any problem in logic.

It is almost as if the crackpot is waiting for final proof of either the truth or fallacy of their theory, which never comes, and as long as it never comes, they will continue believing in it.

3. Crackpots are delusional nuts.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Convergent superficial alternate realities

A typical interpretation of the Schrodinger's cat thought experiment is that in one reality, the cat will die, and in another it will continue to live a long and prosperous life. If every probabilistic event has each outcome realized in a different reality, the butterfly effect implies that any 2 similar realities would quickly become very different. These could be called divergent alternate realities.

Special relativity can describe a much milder interpretation. If we assume that any cat must at some time die, then relativity of simultaneity tells us that that moment isn't the same for all possible observers. It's possible that for one observer the cat is dead, and for another it is still alive. This is the reality for each observer, however these might be called superficial alternate realities. The details such as timing of events are different in the different realities, but the cat's eventual death and the cause of its death are common. Further, if you bring any 2 observers to the same location and velocity, the description of their separate realities should merge. This might be called convergent alternate realities.

With these definitions and an acceptance of special relativity, convergent superficial alternate realities are a fact of nature. But are divergent alternate realities also real?

...

We would then be interested in determining the furthest extent to which alternate realities can diverge. We might do this by separating the properties of the universe into two categories: those that change depending on how they are observed (subjective), and those that don't (objective, absolute, or invariant).

Subjective aspects of reality:
time
distance

Invariant aspects of reality:
c
causality


Causality is a significant property in the Schrodinger's cat experiment. If indeed it is invariant, then it is possible for the experiment to be viewed with multiple superficial outcomes by multiple observers, but the state of the cat (dead or alive) as determined by the causal connection between events, would be convergent among different realities. It would either remain alive, or eventually die by the same causes in all realities.

Schrodinger's experiment relies on quantum phenomena translating to real-world events. Using the above interpretation, however, we can find a disconnect between the two: At the particle scale, we might describe reality according to subjective properties, but then as we back out to a human scale we may inadvertently switch to including an invariant property.

Much of the nature of particles is subjective. If distance is completely observer-dependent, then particle location, velocity, and even size can be subjective. Particles will be observed differently by different observers. It is possible that 2 observers do not even have the same particles in their respective realities. Yet, if causality is invariant, then particle interactions that cause other observable events must be invariant across multiple realities. Ie. causal relations must be realized in all realities regardless of how they may be differently observed.

Both quantum mechanics and special relativity can be interpreted as requiring alternate observational realities. They do not require the more extreme interpretations of parallel universes in which we each live out an infinite number of wildly different lives. Since causality is shown to be invariant in special relativity, it is likely that such wild interpretations where causality is subjective, are false.

In summary, it is possible that the physical details and makeup of different alternate realities are very different, and yet that all realities converge on a single consistent description of the universe.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

This is what makes time-travel possible. The flux capacitor.

I was thinking about the idea that time equals distance, and why you would be able to "move back" in distance but not in time. Then I realized that in a sense, you can. You just can't do it on a very large scale...



A simple example of how “relative time” implies that time-travel is effectively impossible.

As an example let us consider an event involving 2 particles A and B, moving away from a point or planet P, perhaps after an explosion. Let us consider it from the perspective of A moving relative to P, from which we observe that B is also moving away from P.

The notion of “universal time” suggests the idea that if time were to be “reversed”, then every process involving time would be reversed. A would move back toward P, as would B, and they would do so consistently along a single “time line”.

However, we know that universal time is not real, and that time is in fact relative. The aspect of that which is important in this example is that time according to A is not the same as time according to B.

Suppose that A did in fact reverse direction and began moving back toward P. Suppose that it's possible to consider this in a way where we can't distinguish between the reversal of time between A and P, vs a simple reversal of direction of travel of A relative to P. For all intents and purposes, a simple enough particle A moving back toward a simple enough particle P might be considered time-travel backwards.

However, the time defined by A and P is independent of the time between B and P. What is done to affect the former does not necessarily affect the latter. So while time can be considered going in reverse for A and P, particle B is continuing to move away from P, which we would call “forward in time”.

The same applies to any particles C, D, etc. So suppose we define a clock at P between particles P and C (or any set of particles that we wish). Manipulation of the relative time between A and P would not affect the relative time measured by P and C etc. So while A can be considered moving back in time toward P, that doesn't affect the time measured by the clock at P. A can move back in time and return to a state of P relative to A that is identical to a former state of P relative to A, yet it cannot simply return to a former state of P relative to B, C, etc. As observed by A, P has continued moving forward in time relative to everything else, including its own clocks.

Thus the effect of any sort of time-travel involving A and P will have no noticeable effect in a complex enough system involving multiple particles, or particles with their own internal time-related processes.

In conclusion, I submit that effective time-travel would not involve manipulation of a single variable called “time”; it would require manipulation of countless variables of time defined between all of the particles involved. In other words, time-travel is possible, but only relatively, not universally.

Addendum: Due to relativity of simultaneity, it would be impossible to choose an instant at which to begin a reversal of time, that would be agreed upon by all observers. So even if you could somehow time-reverse all of a complex system, you would lack the notion of a universal time-reversal along a single time-line. While from one perspective it may seem that everything suddenly reversed, from another perspective it may seem that some things reversed while others continued "forward", with various parts beginning to reverse at different time.

Time-travel as it is commonly understood is a notion that is tied to the classical idea of universal time, which people still use to define and understand their world, even though universal time is known to be incorrect.



To get more complicated, we might say that time is related to entropy in this way: When you have any 2 particles split from a single location, you introduce distance between them, which effectively defines a measure of time between them. The greater number of independent locations of particles relative to each other that you have, and the greater the distances between them, the harder it is to get everything back to the way it was previously.



We could say that time is simply the measure of distance between everything.

I've talked about the idea that time and distance are simply perceptual side-effects of the consistency of the underlying physical nature of the universe.

If this is so, then the mysterious imaginary spherical surface that you can describe around any point, which is defined by geometry or perhaps even defines geometry, may be a reflection of entropy. As time (radius) increases, the possible configurations that can fit on the sphere, ie entropy (sphere's surface), increases. This could be why at distances r from you, more "stuff" in the universe can fit around you the bigger r is.

If you have a strictly expanding universe (where no energy reverses outward direction, ie "goes back in time") then its entropy would be proportional to the area of the surface of a sphere of radius t (the age of the universe).

I'm sure that this is related to the holographic principle, which suggests something similar... but I'm not sure if it's a meaningful idea or not.

I'd like to think so, though. :) Time relativity has suggested that time and distance are illusory, and because I don't know of any need for additional dimensions, I've had this hunch-like feeling that the universe can be described completely in 2 dimensions. I've also figured that the universe is exactly like a black hole (and looks like a singularity from the outside), and so I've taken the holographic principle to heart as "something else that also suggests the universe might be 2 dimensional". It seems believable or somehow right -- I have "faith" in it -- yet I don't understand it enough to say why. It would certainly be nice if everything came together.

It certainly feels like a simplification of everything. Working with time relativity is "weird" and confusing, but in the end if it yields other interesting results everything might disappear in a puff of equivalence.

What is the universe? A singularity, which appears to be more due to geometry.
What is geometry? An effect of entropy.
What is entropy? An effect of distance, which is equivalent to time.
What is time? Nothing.

Could it be that the universe came from nothing, and all along, it has remained nothing?

...

Possibly, but until I can make sense of the meaning of that, I'm not going to claim it is so.



The ideas don't stop.

Perhaps then, a two dimensional universe with perceptual side-effects of time and length appears to us consistently as a 3-dimensional thing.

But, since entropy is proportional to the surface area (square of r) around any volume, yet the possible amount of matter in the volume is proportional to the cube of r, the same "magic" that allows us to consistently see a 2D universe in 3D would require that the more matter you pack into a volume, the smaller r must appear.

The result: space-time curvature.

Friday, February 4, 2011

20 points from Gryffindor

The crackpot index awards "20 points for suggesting that you deserve a Nobel prize."

For the record, I would like to officially deny that I ever said or implied that I deserve a Nobel prize.

Rather, I would like that they rename the Nobel prize after me. I think that I deserve to win that prize. Like, every year. Including past years.

And I'm not saying I deserve to win all those prizes. Most of them, perhaps. Whoever invented atoms probably deserves theirs. But still, I'd like to win them all. It would be nice.

The past winners can keep their certificates, though. Cuz I'm nice.

But like... I heard they gave a Nobel prize to the guy who invented dynamite! I mean, come on!

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Fake Science

In the future, relativity will make intuitive "common" sense. For now, it doesn't. The fact that Einstein figured it out despite it making no sense doesn't make him a fake, as some (who likely don't get relativity) might say, it makes him astounding.

Relativity is correct, and besides, this post isn't really about Einstein, but about crackpots. Before I quote this article, you should know that the answer is "No": Was Einstein a fake?
"In most cases it is a sad story," says Smolin. "Sometimes someone has been working for many years on an idea, and has clearly a huge investment in it. Sometimes it literally comes from someone living on a park bench in Rio or in a homeless shelter in New York.
...
In the end, Gaensler says, "I feel sorry for these people — because, after all, there might be someone out there now like Einstein, working in obscurity, who does have some truly new insight, but scientists just won't take him seriously because of all these other crackpots we've had to deal with."

With my limited experience, it seems that there are two main aspects of theoretical physics. The first involves knowing what the answer is (a hypothesis), and trying to find the proper math to specify or prove it. The second involves having the proper math, and trying to figure out what it means, which gives you a hypothesis. The process is iterative. You don't get the right answer or the right math from nowhere, but each iteration gives you a few more clues that lead to what's right.

In purely theoretical physics, imagination is the laboratory, and math is the apparatus.

There's a certain element of "making it up as you go along", but I don't think there's anything fake about that. If it were, then the only science that isn't fake is the description of things that are already known. Then we might as well merge science and history.

But I don't think that an idea on its own has some absolute value. The idea can change and so does its value, as it is developed. Showing that an idea is right or wrong changes its value. Even how easy it is to investigate the correctness of the idea affects its value. If for example you have an earth-shaking new idea that is correct, but it will take 200 years before anyone is able to show that it is correct or to use the idea in developing any other work, then that correct idea may have a low value for its first 200 years. And so I think it's up to us crackpots to express ideas in a valuable way... simply, clearly, unambiguously, backed up with math and logic, even empirical observations if possible, and most of all comprehensibly.

At that point, is it possible for a crackpot to get anyone capable of understanding it, to try? Presumably, the more important an idea is, the farther it is from accepted mainstream science, thus the more it will incline people to ignore it. For now I will say that the failing is on part of the crackpots, and not the rest of the world. Eventually I hope to have some evidence to evaluate the latter.

The first version of the paper on time relativity was an incomprehensible mess. Will the next version be good enough to convince anyone of anything?