At the end of November 1915, Einstein wrote an ecstatic letter to his lifelong friend Michele Besso, telling him that his wildest dreams had come true: ‘General covariance. Mercury’s perihelion with wonderful accuracy.’ These two verbless sentences say it all. Einstein was convinced that general covariance had deep physical consequences and had led him to one of the greatest triumphs of all time. Yet, barely two and a half years later, he admitted, in response to a quite penetrating criticism from a mathematician called Erich Kretschmann, that general covariance had no physical significance at all.
In a way, this is obvious. Space-time is a beautiful sculpture. What makes it beautiful is the way in which its parts are put together. The fact that one can paint coordinate lines on the finished product and measure distance on the sculpture between points on it labelled by the arbitrary coordinates clearly leaves the sculpture exactly the same. All this changing of coordinates is purely formal. It tells you nothing about the true rules that make the sculpture.
Belatedly, Einstein came to see that his whole drive to achieve general covariance as a deep physical principle had no foundation in fact. It was just a formal mathematical necessity. Ever determined to find new and even more beautiful laws of nature, he never felt the need to go back and see exactly how his sculpture was actually created. In a book I wrote some years ago on the discovery of dynamics, I commented on the fact that Kepler (so very like Einstein in his dogged holding on to an idea that eventually transformed physics) never realized quite what a wonderful discovery he had made. I likened him to
a boy who finds for the first time a ripe horse-chestnut with the outer shell intact. Cherishing the golden and curiously shaped object, he might take it home, quite unaware of the shiny brown and perfectly smooth conker ready to spring from the shell on application of a little directed pressure. That was Kepler’s fate: he died without an inkling of what his nut really contained.
The same thing happened to Einstein. Realizing while still at Prague the sort of thing he needed, he hurried to a shop called ‘Mathematics’ owned by his friend Grossmann in Zurich. Straight off the shelf, at a bargain price, he bought a wonderful device called the Ricci tensor. Three years later, after agonizing struggles, he learned how to turn the handles properly, and out popped the advance of Mercury’s perihelion and the exact light deflection at eclipses.
But it never entered his head to ask how the device actually worked. He died only half aware of the miracle he had created.
CHAPTER 11
General Relativity: The Timeless Picture
THE GOLDEN AGE OF GENERAL RELATIVITY
Strange as it may seem, general relativity was little studied for about forty years. This was not for want of admiration, for it was soon recognized as a supreme achievement. Confirmation of the predicted bending of starlight near the Sun by Arthur Eddington’s eclipse expedition in 1919, communicated by telegram to The Times, made Einstein into a world celebrity overnight. The problem was that there seemed to be little one could do except wonder at the miracle of the theory he had created.
The main difficulty was the extreme weakness of all readily accessible gravitational fields. Apart from three small differences from Newtonian theory, which were all reasonably well confirmed, no further experimental tests seemed possible. A further problem was the mathematical complexity of the theory. Its solutions contained fascinating structures, above all black holes, but it was decades before these were discovered and fully understood. Finally, interest in general relativity was overshadowed by the discovery in 1925/6 of quantum mechanics. In fact, truly active research in general relativity commenced only in 1955, ironically the year Einstein died, with a conference held in Bern (where Einstein had worked as a patent clerk in 1905) to mark the fiftieth anniversary of special relativity.
Since then, research has concentrated in three main fields. First, there have been tremendous experimental advances, made possible above all by technological developments, including space exploration. The foundations and some detailed predictions of the theory have been tested to a very high accuracy. Particularly important was the discovery a quarter of a century ago of the first binary pulsar, observations of which have provided strong evidence for the existence of the gravitational waves predicted by the theory. General relativity has also played a crucial role in observational astronomy and cosmology.
There have been two broad avenues of theoretical research. First, general relativity has been studied as a classical four-dimensional geometrical theory of space-time, a systematical and beautiful development of Minkowski’s pioneering work. Roger Penrose has probably done more than anyone else in this field, though many others, including Stephen Hawking, have made very important contributions. Second, the desire to understand the connection between general relativity and quantum mechanics (Box 2) has stimulated much work. Here it is necessary to distinguish two programmes. The less ambitious one accepts space-time as a classical background and seeks to establish how quantum fields behave in it. This work culminated in the amazing discovery by Hawking that black holes have a temperature and emit radiation. In Black Holes and Time Warps, Kip Thorne has given a gripping account of this story. Although the full significance of Hawking’s discovery is still far from understood, nobody doubts its importance for the more ambitious programme, which is to transform general relativity itself into a quantum theory (Box 2). This transformation, which has not yet been achieved, is called the quantization of general relativity.
In fact, many researchers believe that it is a mistake to try to quantize general relativity directly before gravity has been unified with the other forces of nature. This they hope to achieve through superstring theory. However, a substantial minority believe that general relativity contains fundamental features likely to survive in any future theory, and that a direct attempt at its quantization is therefore warranted. This is my standpoint. In particular, I regard general relativity as a classical theory of time. It must surely be worth trying to establish its quantum form. Even if we have to await a future theory for the final details, the quantization of general relativity should give us important hints about the quantum theory of time.
It was the desire to quantize general relativity that led to the work described in this chapter. One important approach, called canonical quantization, is based on analysis of the dynamical structure of the classical theory. This is how general relativity came to be studied in detail as a dynamical theory nearly half a century after its creation as a geometrical space-time theory. The ‘hidden dynamical core’, or deep structure, of the theory was revealed. The decisive analysis was made in the late 1950s by Paul Dirac and the American physicists Richard Arnowitt, Stanley Deser and Charles Misner. They created a particularly elegant theory, now known universally as the ADM formalism. (Because it is regarded as controversial by some, the initials are occasionally reshuffled as MAD or DAM.)