https://www.scientificamerican.com/artic...-thinking/
EXCERPT (John Horgan): . . . Physicists pride themselves on their rationality, yet they are as prone to existential dread as the rest of us, if not more so...
[...] Physicists have proposed different multiverse theories inspired by quantum mechanics, string theory and inflation, a speculative theory of cosmic creation. What the theories all have in common is a lack of evidence—or even the hope of evidence. So what explains their popularity?
Here is my guess: physicists are freaked out by the mortality of our little universe. What was born must die, and according to the big bang theory, our cosmos was born 14 billion years ago, and it will die at some unspecified time in the far future. The multiverse, like God, is eternal. It had no beginning; it will have no end. If you find that proposition reassuring, perhaps you shouldn’t read this critique of multiverse theories.
Determinism, physics-style, assumes that reality is strictly physical. Everything that happens, including our choices, results from physical forces, like gravity pushing and pulling physical objects. Moreover every present moment is associated with a single unique past and a single unique future. I do not like determinism because it subverts free will and makes us more likely to accept that the way things are is the way they must be.
But I can see the upside of determinism. The world often seems disturbingly out of control. We have the sense that at any moment bad things might happen, on scales small and large. A truck might strike you as you cross the street, absent-mindedly brooding over quantum mechanics. A nearby supernova might bathe the earth in lethal radiation. Millions of my fellow citizens might become enthralled by a thuggish buffoon. A mutant virus might suddenly emerge from who knows where and kill millions of people.
We desperately want to believe that beneath the apparent randomness, someone or something is in control. God, for many people, is the tough but fair chief executive running this seemingly chaotic cosmic corporation. It is hard for us to see Her/His/Their plan, but She/He/They surely know what She/He/They are doing.
If you find the God hypothesis implausible, then perhaps an extreme form of determinism, called superdeterminism, might serve as a substitute. Superdeterminism attempts to eliminate several puzzling features of quantum mechanics, including the apparent randomness of quantum events and intrusive role of measurement. Two physicists I admire, Sabine Hossenfelder and Gerard ’t Hooft, have promoted the theory.
According to superdeterminism, the universe is not careening wildly into an unknowable future. It is gliding serenely, undeviatingly, along a rigid track laid down at the beginning of time. As a free-will fanatic I do not find this perspective comforting, but I understand why others do. If determinism is true, there is nothing you can do to change things, so sit back and enjoy the ride. Everything is as it should be—or must be.
The one physics principle that is hard to spin positively is the second law of thermodynamics. It decrees that all the creative energy in the universe will eventually dissipate, becoming useless heat. The marvelous, intricate structures that we see around us—stars, planets, cathedrals, oaks, dragonflies, human beings—will vanish. The universe will descend into heat death, a state in which nothing ever happens. Clever physicists have imagined ways in which we can escape this dismal fate, but their proposals do not seem much more plausible than the heaven hypothesis.
I don’t find any physics hypotheses very consoling. I wish I did. I have been brooding over death a lot lately because of my advanced age and the precarious state of the world. I have my consolations. I am a writer and father, so I fantasize about people reading my books after I’m gone, and I envision my son and daughter living good, fulfilling lives and possibly having children of their own. These wishful visions require civilization to continue, so I persuade myself that civilization, in spite of its manifest flaws, is pretty good and getting better. That’s how I manage my terror... (MORE - missing details)
EXCERPT (John Horgan): . . . Physicists pride themselves on their rationality, yet they are as prone to existential dread as the rest of us, if not more so...
[...] Physicists have proposed different multiverse theories inspired by quantum mechanics, string theory and inflation, a speculative theory of cosmic creation. What the theories all have in common is a lack of evidence—or even the hope of evidence. So what explains their popularity?
Here is my guess: physicists are freaked out by the mortality of our little universe. What was born must die, and according to the big bang theory, our cosmos was born 14 billion years ago, and it will die at some unspecified time in the far future. The multiverse, like God, is eternal. It had no beginning; it will have no end. If you find that proposition reassuring, perhaps you shouldn’t read this critique of multiverse theories.
Determinism, physics-style, assumes that reality is strictly physical. Everything that happens, including our choices, results from physical forces, like gravity pushing and pulling physical objects. Moreover every present moment is associated with a single unique past and a single unique future. I do not like determinism because it subverts free will and makes us more likely to accept that the way things are is the way they must be.
But I can see the upside of determinism. The world often seems disturbingly out of control. We have the sense that at any moment bad things might happen, on scales small and large. A truck might strike you as you cross the street, absent-mindedly brooding over quantum mechanics. A nearby supernova might bathe the earth in lethal radiation. Millions of my fellow citizens might become enthralled by a thuggish buffoon. A mutant virus might suddenly emerge from who knows where and kill millions of people.
We desperately want to believe that beneath the apparent randomness, someone or something is in control. God, for many people, is the tough but fair chief executive running this seemingly chaotic cosmic corporation. It is hard for us to see Her/His/Their plan, but She/He/They surely know what She/He/They are doing.
If you find the God hypothesis implausible, then perhaps an extreme form of determinism, called superdeterminism, might serve as a substitute. Superdeterminism attempts to eliminate several puzzling features of quantum mechanics, including the apparent randomness of quantum events and intrusive role of measurement. Two physicists I admire, Sabine Hossenfelder and Gerard ’t Hooft, have promoted the theory.
According to superdeterminism, the universe is not careening wildly into an unknowable future. It is gliding serenely, undeviatingly, along a rigid track laid down at the beginning of time. As a free-will fanatic I do not find this perspective comforting, but I understand why others do. If determinism is true, there is nothing you can do to change things, so sit back and enjoy the ride. Everything is as it should be—or must be.
The one physics principle that is hard to spin positively is the second law of thermodynamics. It decrees that all the creative energy in the universe will eventually dissipate, becoming useless heat. The marvelous, intricate structures that we see around us—stars, planets, cathedrals, oaks, dragonflies, human beings—will vanish. The universe will descend into heat death, a state in which nothing ever happens. Clever physicists have imagined ways in which we can escape this dismal fate, but their proposals do not seem much more plausible than the heaven hypothesis.
I don’t find any physics hypotheses very consoling. I wish I did. I have been brooding over death a lot lately because of my advanced age and the precarious state of the world. I have my consolations. I am a writer and father, so I fantasize about people reading my books after I’m gone, and I envision my son and daughter living good, fulfilling lives and possibly having children of their own. These wishful visions require civilization to continue, so I persuade myself that civilization, in spite of its manifest flaws, is pretty good and getting better. That’s how I manage my terror... (MORE - missing details)