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Comment: Robert P Crease<br />

that lay beyond science itself. These popularizations<br />

encountered an enthusiastic<br />

audience. Artists, novelists, poets and<br />

journalists were fascinated by the non-<br />

Newtonian features of quantum mechanics,<br />

including discontinuity, uncertainty,<br />

unpredictability, and differences across<br />

scales and areas where scientists could<br />

not take themselves out of measurements.<br />

Quantum terms and concepts – including<br />

quantum leap, uncertainty principle,<br />

complementarity, Schrödinger’s cat and<br />

parallel worlds – eventually appeared in<br />

everyday language in sparkling prose and<br />

flamboyant metaphors.<br />

But has the cultural impact of quantum<br />

mechanics been simply to supply us with a<br />

storehouse of unusual, vivid and sometimes<br />

pretentious or even loopy images? Or has<br />

the cumulative effect been more serious,<br />

and reshaped how even non-scientists view<br />

the world?<br />

To some extent, the quantum’s impact<br />

on artists, writers and philosophers was<br />

that it helped free themselves from their<br />

own Newtonian-inspired misconceptions.<br />

A year or two after the discovery of the<br />

uncertainty principle in 1927, for instance,<br />

the writer D H Lawrence penned the following<br />

poem fragment.<br />

I like relativity and quantum theories<br />

Because I don’t understand them.<br />

And they make me feel as if space shifted<br />

About like a swan that can’t settle,<br />

Refusing to sit still and be measured;<br />

And as if the atom were an impulsive thing<br />

Always changing its mind.<br />

Lawrence’s playfully negative remarks<br />

may suggest that his attraction is superficial:<br />

he likes relativity and quantum theories<br />

because they connect better with his<br />

experiences of the world as quixotic and<br />

immeasurable. A similar sentiment was<br />

expressed by the Austrian-Mexican artist<br />

Wolfgang Paalen in 1942 when he wrote<br />

excitedly that quantum mechanics heralds<br />

“a new order in which science will no longer<br />

pretend to a truth more absolute than that<br />

of poetry”. The outcome, he continued, will<br />

be to legitimize the value of the humanities,<br />

and “science will understand the value of<br />

art as complementary to her own”.<br />

Meanwhile, in 1958 when the New York<br />

University philosopher William Barrett<br />

reviewed 20th century scientific developments,<br />

including quantum mechanics, he<br />

concluded that they paint an image of man<br />

“that bears a new, stark, more nearly naked,<br />

and more questionable aspect”. We have<br />

been forced to confront our “solitary and<br />

groundless condition” not only through<br />

existentialist philosophy but also via science<br />

itself, which has triggered “a denudation,<br />

a stripping down, of this being who has<br />

now to confront himself at the centre of all<br />

his horizons”.<br />

physicsworld.com<br />

Popular physics A couple walks past “Quantum Field-X3”, an installation by Japanese artist Hiro Yamagata,<br />

outside the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain.<br />

Such remarks suggest that humanists<br />

embraced quantum mechanics because<br />

they experienced the Newtonian universe<br />

as a cold and constricting place in which<br />

they felt defensive and marginalized – with<br />

the news of the strangeness of the quantum<br />

domain coming almost as a relief. But if this<br />

is the only reason humanists found developments<br />

of the quantum world liberating, it<br />

was surely their own doing, for they were<br />

relying far too seriously on science to begin<br />

with in understanding their own experience.<br />

A new humanism<br />

In 1967 the critic and novelist John Updike<br />

wrote a brief reflection on the photographs<br />

and amateur films taken in Dealey Plaza<br />

in Dallas, Texas on 22 November 1963, in<br />

the few momentous seconds when President<br />

John F Kennedy’s motorcade drove<br />

through and he was hit by an assassin’s<br />

bullets. The more closely and carefully the<br />

frames were examined, Updike noted, the<br />

less sense the things in them made. Who<br />

was the “umbrella man” sporting an open<br />

umbrella despite it being a sunny day? Who<br />

was the “tan-coated man” who first runs<br />

away, then is seen in “a gray Rambler driven<br />

by a Negro?” What about the blurry figure<br />

in the window next to the one from which<br />

the shots were fired? Were these innocent<br />

bystanders or part of a conspiracy?<br />

“We wonder,” Updike wrote, “whether<br />

a genuine mystery is being concealed here<br />

26 Physics World March 2013<br />

Reuters/Vincent West

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