Walter Isaacson Great Innovators e-book boxed set

by Walter Isaacson

  Now Einstein had two postulates: “the principle of relativity” and this new one, which he called “the light postulate.” He defined it carefully: “Light always propagates in empty space with a definite velocity V that is independent of the state of motion of the emitting body.”38 For example, when you measure the velocity of light coming from the headlight of a train, it will always be a constant 186,000 miles per second, even if the train is rushing toward you or backing away from you.

  Unfortunately, this light postulate seemed to be incompatible with the principle of relativity. Why? Einstein later used the following thought experiment to explain his apparent dilemma.

  Imagine that “a ray of light is sent along the embankment” of a railway track, he said. A man standing on the embankment would measure its speed as 186,000 miles per second as it zipped past him. But now imagine a woman who is riding in a very fast train carriage that is racing away from the light source at 2,000 miles per second. We would assume that she would observe the beam to be zipping past her at only 184,000 miles per second. “The velocity of propagation of a ray of light relative to the carriage thus comes out smaller,” Einstein wrote.

  “But this result comes into conflict with the principle of relativity,” he added. “For, like every other general law of nature, the law of the transmission of light must, according to the principle of relativity, be the same when the railway carriage is the reference body as it is when the embankment is the reference body.” In other words, Maxwell’s equations, which determine the speed at which light propagates, should operate the same way in the moving carriage as on the embankment. There should be no experiment you can do, including measuring the speed of light, to distinguish which inertial frame of reference is “at rest” and which is moving at a constant velocity.39

  This was an odd result. A woman racing along the tracks toward or away from the source of a light beam should see that beam zip by her with the exact same speed as an observer standing on the embankment would see that same beam zip by him. The woman’s speed relative to the train would vary, depending on whether she was running toward it or away from it. But her speed relative to the light beam coming from the train’s headlight would be invariant. All of this made the two postulates, Einstein thought, “seemingly incompatible.” As he later explained in a lecture on how he came to his theory, “the constancy of the velocity of light is not consistent with the law of the addition of velocities. The result was that I had to spend almost one year in fruitless thoughts.”40

  By combining the light postulate with the principle of relativity, it meant that an observer would measure the speed of light as the same whether the source was moving toward or away from him, or whether he was moving toward or away from the source, or both, or neither. The speed of light would be the same whatever the motion of the observer and the source.

  That is where matters stood in early May 1905. Einstein had embraced the relativity principle and elevated it to a postulate. Then, with a bit more trepidation, he had adopted as a postulate that the velocity of light was independent of the motion of its source. And he puzzled over the apparent dilemma that an observer racing up a track toward a light would see the beam coming at him with the same velocity as when he was racing away from the light—and with the same velocity as someone standing still on the embankment would observe the same beam.

  “In view of this dilemma, there appears to be nothing else to do than to abandon either the principle of relativity or the simple law of the propagation of light,” Einstein wrote.41

  Then something delightful happened. Albert Einstein, while talking with a friend, took one of the most elegant imaginative leaps in the history of physics.

  “The Step”

  It was a beautiful day in Bern, Einstein later remembered, when he went to visit his best friend Michele Besso, the brilliant but unfocused engineer he had met while studying in Zurich and then recruited to join him at the Swiss Patent Office. Many days they would walk to work together, and on this occasion Einstein told Besso about the dilemma that was dogging him.

  “I’m going to give it up,” Einstein said at one point. But as they discussed it, Einstein recalled, “I suddenly understood the key to the problem.” The next day, when he saw Besso, Einstein was in a state of great excitement. He skipped any greeting and immediately declared, “Thank you. I’ve completely solved the problem.”42

  Only five weeks elapsed between that eureka moment and the day that Einstein sent off his most famous paper, “On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies.” It contained no citations of other literature, no mention of anyone else’s work, and no acknowledgments except for the charming one in the last sentence: “Let me note that my friend and colleague M. Besso steadfastly stood by me in my work on the problem discussed here, and that I am indebted to him for several valuable suggestions.”

  So what was the insight that struck him while talking to Besso? “An analysis of the concept of time was my solution,” Einstein said. “Time cannot be absolutely defined, and there is an inseparable relation between time and signal velocity.”

  More specifically, the key insight was that two events that appear to be simultaneous to one observer will not appear to be simultaneous to another observer who is moving rapidly. And there is no way to declare that one of the observers is really correct. In other words, there is no way to declare that the two events are truly simultaneous.

  Einstein later explained this concept using a thought experiment involving moving trains. Suppose lightning bolts strike the train track’s embankment at two distant places, A and B. If we declare that they struck simultaneously, what does that mean?

  Einstein realized that we need an operational definition, one we can actually apply, and that would require taking into account the speed of light. His answer was that we would define the two strikes as simultaneous if we were standing exactly halfway between them and the light from each reached us at the exact same time.

  But now let us imagine how the event looks to a train passenger who is moving rapidly along the track. In a 1916 book written to explain this to nonscientists, he used the following drawing, in which the long train is the line on the top:

  Suppose that at the exact instant (from the viewpoint of the person on the embankment) when lightning strikes at points A and B, there is a passenger at the midpoint of the train, Mt, just passing the observer who is at the midpoint alongside the tracks, M. If the train was motionless relative to the embankment, the passenger inside would see the lightning flashes simultaneously, just as the observer on the embankment would.

  But if the train is moving to the right relative to the embankment, the observer inside will be rushing closer toward place B while the light signals are traveling. Thus he will be positioned slightly to the right by the time the light arrives; as a result, he will see the light from the strike at place B before he will see the light from the strike at place A. So he will assert that lightning hit at B before it did so at A, and the strikes were not simultaneous.

  “We thus arrive at the important result: Events that are simultaneous with reference to the embankment are not simultaneous with respect to the train,” said Einstein. The principle of relativity says that there is no way to decree that the embankment is “at rest” and the train “in motion.” We can say only that they are in motion relative to each other. So there is no “real” or “right” answer. There is no way to say that any two events are “absolutely” or “really” simultaneous.43

  This is a simple insight, but also a radical one. It means that there is no absolute time. Instead, all moving reference frames have their own relative time. Although Einstein refrained from saying that this leap was as truly “revolutionary” as the one he made about light quanta, it did in fact transform science. “This was a change in the very foundation of physics, an unexpected and very radical change that required all the courage of a young and revolutionary genius,” noted Werner Heisenberg, who later contributed to a similar feat with h
is principle of quantum uncertainty.44

  In his 1905 paper, Einstein used a vivid image, which we can imagine him conceiving as he watched the trains moving into the Bern station past the rows of clocks that were synchronized with the one atop the town’s famed tower. “Our judgments in which time plays a part are always judgments of simultaneous events,” he wrote. “If, for instance, I say, ‘That train arrives here at 7 o’clock,’ I mean something like this: ‘The pointing of the small hand of my watch to 7 and the arrival of the train are simultaneous events.’ ” Once again, however, observers who are moving rapidly relative to one another will have a different view on whether two distant events are simultaneous.

  The concept of absolute time—meaning a time that exists in “reality” and tick-tocks along independent of any observations of it—had been a mainstay of physics ever since Newton had made it a premise of his Principia 216 years earlier. The same was true for absolute space and distance.“Absolute, true, and mathematical time, of itself and from its own nature, flows equably without relation to anything external,” he famously wrote in Book 1 of the Principia. “Absolute space, in its own nature, without relation to anything external, remains always similar and immovable.”

  But even Newton seemed discomforted by the fact that these concepts could not be directly observed. “Absolute time is not an object of perception,” he admitted. He resorted to relying on the presence of God to get him out of the dilemma. “The Deity endures forever and is everywhere present, and by existing always and everywhere, He constitutes duration and space.”45

  Ernst Mach, whose books had influenced Einstein and his fellow members of the Olympia Academy, lambasted Newton’s notion of absolute time as a “useless metaphysical concept” that “cannot be produced in experience.” Newton, he charged, “acted contrary to his expressed intention only to investigate actual facts.”46

  Henri Poincaré also pointed out the weakness of Newton’s concept of absolute time in his book Science and Hypothesis, another favorite of the Olympia Academy. “Not only do we have no direct intuition of the equality of two times, we do not even have one of the simultaneity of two events occurring in different places,” he wrote.47

  Both Mach and Poincaré were, it thus seems, useful in providing a foundation for Einstein’s great breakthrough. But he owed even more, he later said, to the skepticism he learned from the Scottish philosopher David Hume regarding mental constructs that were divorced from purely factual observations.

  Given the number of times in his papers that he uses thought experiments involving moving trains and distant clocks, it is also logical to surmise that he was helped in visualizing and articulating his thoughts by the trains that moved past Bern’s clock tower and the rows of synchronized clocks on the station platform. Indeed, there is a tale that involves him discussing his new theory with friends by pointing to (or at least referring to) the synchronized clocks of Bern and the unsynchronized steeple clock visible in the neighboring village of Muni.48

  Peter Galison provides a thought-provoking study of the technological ethos in his book Einstein’s Clocks, Poincaré’s Maps. Clock coordination was in the air at the time. Bern had inaugurated an urban time network of electrically synchronized clocks in 1890, and a decade later, by the time Einstein had arrived, finding ways to make them more accurate and coordinate them with clocks in other cities became a Swiss passion.

  In addition, Einstein’s chief duty at the patent office, in partnership with Besso, was evaluating electromechanical devices. This included a flood of applications for ways to synchronize clocks by using electric signals. From 1901 to 1904, Galison notes, there were twenty-eight such patents issued in Bern.

  One of them, for example, was called “Installation with Central Clock for Indicating the Time Simultaneously in Several Places Separated from One Another.” A similar application arrived on April 25, just three weeks before Einstein had his breakthrough conversation with Besso; it involved a clock with an electromagnetically controlled pendulum that could be coordinated with another such clock through an electric signal. What these applications had in common was that they used signals that traveled at the speed of light.49

  We should be careful not to overemphasize the role played by the technological backdrop of the patent office. Although clocks are part of Einstein’s description of his theory, his point is about the difficulties that observers in relative motion have in using light signals to synchronize them, something that was not an issue for the patent applicants.50

  Nevertheless, it is interesting to note that almost the entire first two sections of his relativity paper deal directly and in vivid practical detail (in a manner so different from the writings of, say, Lorentz and Maxwell) with the two real-world technological phenomena he knew best. He writes about the generation of “electric currents of the same magnitude” due to the “equality of relative motion” of coils and magnets, and the use of “a light signal” to make sure that “two clocks are synchronous.”

  As Einstein himself stated, his time in the patent office “stimulated me to see the physical ramifications of theoretical concepts.”51 And Alexander Moszkowski, who compiled a book in 1921 based on conversations with Einstein, noted that Einstein believed there was “a definite connection between the knowledge acquired at the patent office and the theoretical results.”52

  “On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies”

  Now let’s look at how Einstein articulated all of this in the famous paper that the Annalen der Physik received on June 30, 1905. For all its momentous import, it may be one of the most spunky and enjoyable papers in all of science. Most of its insights are conveyed in words and vivid thought experiments, rather than in complex equations. There is some math involved, but it is mainly what a good high school senior could comprehend. “The whole paper is a testament to the power of simple language to convey deep and powerfully disturbing ideas,” says the science writer Dennis Overbye.53

  The paper starts with the “asymmetry” that a magnet and wire loop induce an electric current based only on their relative motion to one another, but since the days of Faraday there had been two different theoretical explanations for the current produced depending on whether it was the magnet or the loop that was in motion.54 “The observable phenomenon here depends only on the relative motion of the conductor and the magnet,” Einstein writes, “whereas the customary view draws a sharp distinction between the two cases in which either the one or the other of these bodies is in motion.”55

  The distinction between the two cases was based on the belief, which most scientists still held, that there was such a thing as a state of “rest” with respect to the ether. But the magnet-and-coil example, along with every observation made on light, “suggest that the phenomena of electrodynamics as well as of mechanics possess no properties corresponding to the idea of absolute rest.” This prompts Einstein to raise “to the status of a postulate” the principle of relativity, which holds that the laws of mechanics and electrodynamics are the same in all reference systems moving at constant velocity relative to one another.

  Einstein goes on to propound the other postulate upon which his theory was premised: the constancy of the speed of light “independent of the state of motion of the emitting body.” Then, with the casual stroke of a pen, and the marvelously insouciant word “superfluous,” the rebellious patent examiner dismissed two generations’ worth of accrued scientific dogma: “The introduction of a ‘light ether’ will prove to be superfluous, inasmuch as the view to be developed here will not require a ‘space at absolute rest.’ ”

  Using these two postulates, Einstein explained the great conceptual step he had taken during his talk with Besso. “Two events which, viewed from a system of coordinates, are simultaneous, can no longer be looked upon as simultaneous events when envisaged from a system which is in motion relative to that system.” In other words, there is no such thing as absolute simultaneity.

  In phrases so simple as to be seductiv
e, Einstein pointed out that time itself can be defined only by referring to simultaneous events, such as the small hand of a watch pointing to 7 as a train arrives. The obvious yet still astonishing conclusion: with no such thing as absolute simultaneity, there is no such thing as “real” or absolute time. As he later put it, “There is no audible tick-tock everywhere in the world that can be considered as time.”56

  Moreover, this realization also meant overturning the other assumption that Newton made at the beginning of his Principia. Einstein showed that if time is relative, so too are space and distance: “If the man in the carriage covers the distance w in a unit of time—measured from the train—then this distance—as measured from the embankment—is not necessarily also equal to w.”57

  Einstein explained this by asking us to picture a rod that has a certain length when it is measured while it is stationary relative to the observer. Now imagine that the rod is moving. How long is the rod?

  One way to determine this is by moving alongside the rod, at the same speed, and superimposing a measuring stick on it. But how long would the rod be if measured by someone not in motion with it? In that case, a way to measure the moving rod would be to determine, based on synchronized stationary clocks, the precise location of each end of the rod at a specific moment, and then use a stationary ruler to measure the distance between these two points. Einstein shows that these methods will produce different results.

  Why? Because the two stationary clocks have been synchronized by a stationary observer. But what happens if an observer who is moving as fast as the rod tries to synchronize those clocks? She would synchronize them differently, because she would have a different perception of simultaneity. As Einstein put it, “Observers moving with the moving rod would thus find that the two clocks were not synchronous, while observers in the stationary system would declare the clocks to be synchronous.”