HOW long is infinity? What is a singularity? Or a space-time foam? 杏吧原创s
create words for indescribable states of physical being. Yet if something cannot
be described鈥攕uch as the 鈥渁bsolute nothingness鈥� whose constituents formed
the Universe鈥攖hen does having a word, or a bunch of words, bring us closer
to comprehending it?
Some words actually hinder our understanding, because they delude us into
thinking that we have a grip on a problem. We seem to believe that as long as we
have a word for something, we鈥檙e in business, we can cope, we can hypothesise.
We can even write books that are published by the learned press. The reality is
that we confuse our invention鈥攖he word鈥攚ith the external state of
things. We mistake the word for what it is supposed to represent. Language is no
substitute for reality, nor is it interchangeable with it. We should not be
using words for what cannot be described in words. Of course, we must invent
words, create languages, because without them we can鈥檛 even begin to discuss
things, let alone think about them. The words I object to are the ones we create
to take the place of thought and understanding.
Nor should we confuse mathematical terms with physical reality. It鈥檚 possible
to have numbers which are less than zero, and we can divide space and time into
infinitesimal proportions, as Zeno of Elea did, so that Achilles never reaches
the tortoise. This should serve as a warning that mathematics may not
necessarily have meaning so far as the physical Universe is concerned.
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Yet we often ignore this principle. As a result, we mire ourselves in
meaningless hypotheses, like the medieval Schoolmen who endlessly debated what
happened when an 鈥渋rresistible鈥� force met an 鈥渋mmovable鈥� object. Empty words,
empty arguments. And we still do it, wasting our time and energy describing a
鈥渟ingularity鈥� that existed at the beginning of time as an 鈥渋nfinitesimal鈥� point
with zero volume, 鈥渋nfinite鈥� density, 鈥渋nfinite鈥� temperature and 鈥渋nfinite鈥�
pressure. Or using 鈥渟pace-time foam鈥� to indicate what things were like before
that, before the infinitesimal point with its infinite characteristics, when
space and time were all higgledy-piggledy and one couldn鈥檛 be told from the
other. Or, going back further, pronouncing on the 鈥渁bsolute nothingness鈥� that
preceded that, after which we describe the qualities and properties of this
absolute nothingness. We have regressed back to the Schoolmen, back to Zeno, and
call it scientific progress. We create a desert of mental chaos and call it
cosmic order. What we have are assertions, not science. Assertions are proof of
nothing, they tell us nothing鈥攅xcept about the asserter.
We are employing these words for metaphysics, not science. Perhaps we can be
indulgent and call it philosophy, another word that has an infinite variety of
meaning鈥攁nd an infinitesimal depth of tangibility. Or perhaps we should be
less indulgent and just call it bad science.
Its practitioners are鈥攎ake no mistake鈥攔eal scientists, real
physicists, real cosmologists. They may be called doctor or professor and hold
the posts or chairs to prove it. Our bookshelves groan and sag with their
publications, which feature terms in their titles such as astrophysics, quantum
mechanics, cosmogenesis or even God (another word that doesn鈥檛 have nearly
enough meaningful substance).
When we use terms such as singularity or space-time foam, or refer to the
absolute nothingness that gave birth to the Universe (鈥渙ne of those things that
happen from time to time鈥�, as the American cosmologist Edward Tryon reminds us),
we are saying only one thing: we do not know what we are talking about. This can
be interpreted in two ways. Either it鈥檚 patronising and insulting. Or it鈥檚 an
honest admission of our hopeless plight. Sometimes our physics breaks down, and
all we can do is hope that somebody will eventually be able to make sense of it,
if only partial, tentative, limping sense. For that is what science is meant to
do: make sense.