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One of the more bizarre discoveries in science is the concept of particle entanglement. In what Einstein famously bashed as “spooky action at a distance,” his understanding of the physical universe didn’t allow for the idea of a non-local causality event. Fifty years later, this dude named Bell proved it.  In physics, causality means what it sounds like. All events must have a preceding event—meaning that there is a prior cause for all things that happen. When we try to understand how things got to be where they are now, this idea becomes problematic. As Aristotle once postulated: What was the first mover?

 Non-local causality is something of a mind-bender. Causal relationships lay the foundation of all science; if events didn’t happen in a predictable way, it would be impossible to study them. The phenomenon of particle entanglement can be reasonably predicted, which is the ultimate test of any theory—what can be expected. When we combine two chemicals, we can predict the reaction or result according to electron sub-shell theory. Chemical reactions are considered to be local causality or chain reactions.

So, entangled, they say. Like what—hair in a fan? Not really, it means two particles so intricately involved that their connection allows them to respond to change simultaneously, without delay, over any distance. When one observer changes the “spin” of an entangled particle -in theory, over any distance; be it less than a nanometer or more than a gazillion light-years away- the other entangled particle’s spin changes simultaneously, at the exact moment. Actually, the farthest reported measurement I could find was just over 650 miles— but you get the point.

Entanglement puts the idea of independent systems to the test. Is the universe (meaning all the shit Horatio didn’t see) constructed by separate building blocks, or is it somehow directly interconnected? More on that later. First, let’s get through some fundamentals.

What is particle spin? Briefly, it’s all about the polarization (+ or -) of a particle. For example, when we measure a photon energy wave, we observe that it oscillates perpendicular to the direction of travel. With linear momentum, either the spin for a photon is up (+1) or down (-1).

Spin is not necessarily a particle’s orbit around a nucleus; like an electron as a moon analogy, it’s about its magnetic deflection.  The word “spin” also has nothing to do with axial rotation, like how a planet spins, although I have to say that it would be truly bizarre if it did. Spin is all about a particle’s magnetic property. Physicists called it “spin” because when you can’t accurately describe a thing, you have to use an analogy, and that can create many misconceptions.

Because photons don’t pair like electrons, they have whole integer spin: 1,2,3 and are force carriers called bosons; think Higgs boson. Named after a really clever Indian physicist named Satyendra Nath Bose, bosons change the state of whatever they interact with.  The reason why sunrays fade materials is that light is comprised of many small energy packets called photons.  The amount of energy in a single photon packet is a measurable constant called Planck’s constant; yep, you guessed it—Max Planck. You get to name what you discover; a tradition that arguably goes all the way back to the first dude named Adam.

Max decided to call these packets quanta; science types group them in with other energy packets: electrons, protons, etc., and call them all particles. Although particles show wave-like properties, they are not just waves. Check the story of Arthur Compton and the Compton effect. Sounds like a cool band name, doesn’t it?

In the non-quantum world or classical world, a spinning object creates a magnetic charge. When a photon travels through a magnetic field, it deflects depending on its magnetic orientation—hence the word spin. The spin-charge of a particle, its energy level, never changes, but its polarization (+, -) can. In geographic terms, up is (+↑) and down (-↓). Electron spin is essential because it determines the atom’s magnetic charge—or even if there is one. According to the orbital model of electron sub-shell theory (seriously, you’ll have to look that one up), oppositely charged electron spins cancel each other out. The spin of the odd out electron determines the molecule’s (+ or -) charge. Without getting our feet wet in the fluid arguments on superposition, it is safe to say that an atom’s magnetic charge plays a significant role in chemistry. It’s how atoms combine to make chemical compounds. How particles (quanta) mechanically interact with atoms and other infinitesimal stuff is called Quantum Mechanics.

The next thing I’d like to address is time.

Time and causality interconnect in that time is a measurement of the rate of change in a system. In other words, by applying more energy, we can accelerate the rate of change in a process. Like adding energy to a pan, holding water accelerates the rate of evaporation.

Time is thought of as linear progression. Similar to the linear momentum depicted above, moments of time pass like the frequency, or interval, of a set of linear progression waves. In the search for an accurate time measuring device, this dude (I’m pretty sure that if he wasn’t Swiss, he was probably influenced by one as a youngster) thought that by measuring cesium particle oscillation (resonance) we get a really accurate clock. And he was right. In fact, since 1967, the official second was set at 9,192,631,770 cycles of a cesium atom bouncing between two energy states. What would we do without geeks?

This measurement is only valid on earth because, with gravity, something very odd happens. Time on earth is not the same as time in space (look-up gravitational time dilation). In fact, the clocks on satellites circling the planet have to be regularly synced with clocks on the ground. From this observation, we can reason that time changes at a different rate in space than on earth. This is due to relativity.

What’s odd about this is, like the water in the pan, time changes only the local system affected. If you flew out and back a light-year and your twin was left on earth, your twin will have aged at a faster rate.

In nature, nothing is static. Everything is in a state of evolution—the word evolution literally means change. We usually think of change as a chain-driven process. We heat the pan, radiating molecules in the metal. These excite molecules in the water, causing the bonds between oxygen and hydrogen to break, then . . . well, you get it. So, did the energy applied speed up time, or just the process? It’s relative.

So, time becomes a relative thing. What’s relativity? Just what it sounds like—rates of change which depend on the things around it. We certainly see such things -like heating the water- apply energy, and change happens more rapidly. This is the stuff of thermodynamics.

All that science is cool, but what is really happening with non-local causality?

First off, I’d say it lends to the argument that all things are holistically interconnected and not just dependent on the casualty relationship of the interdependent parts. This causality relationship (A.K.A. reductionism) results from humans trying to make sense of the plethora of empirical evidence in the universe that allows for our continued existence.

The holistic theory is another interpretive way of viewing the universe. For a system to remain stable, all the constituent parts have to rely on each other; they must act in concert. In biological ecosystems, this reliance is referred to as symbiotic. One bio-organisms continued existence is directly dependent upon another. Without one, the other cannot exist.

 In order to get a better understanding of how systems work, science reduces them to their constituent parts. But this can lead to false concepts of reality. Like how string theory views time as interdependent strings. Which, although sexy, is unmeasurable and untestable.

One of the more remarkable things about our universe is that it can be understood by rational argument or theory. These theories can be tested. But what is rational? Well, there is no standard, or measuring device, that we can use to test if something is rational. Still, we can say what is irrational, like saying an engine can operate without fuel. This guy Doyle -the dude that created Sherlock Holmes- related that if you remove the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Science operates similarly by using the Falsification Principle.  Instead of trying out a theory by inductive (probability) reasoning to prove how it can be true, it must be tested with the intent to prove it false. Pare away the false things, and the truth will become more in focus.

Non-local causality also occurs within the expression of Human Will. I believe the statement that humans are unpredictable is well supported. But before you conjure up a counter-argument, let me say that the qualities that make up a person are undefinable. When describing any person, we can only use analogy. Humans are intrinsically analogistic because, well . . . there is no perfect form or absolute pattern to compare them. We can say that this person’s actions may be more humane, or “my son is looking less and less human every day.” Still, again these observations are subjective, not objective, comparisons which by definition are analogistic.

But back to this Will thing. Will is not perceived in physics because particles of matter don’t choose whether they will get up and go to work. They act “out of necessity,” as old Aristotle framed it. This is a fundamental truth. Matter behaves in a very predictable manner, never changing in its nature. As new epiphanies like entanglement develop, science is forced to rethink what we know about the natural or material world. When we think about the universe operating holistically, we quickly understand how well ordered it truly is. Can order indeed form from randomness? Check out Chaos Theory.

If you’re a little rusty on this physis stuff, check out:  https://phys.libretexts.org

It’s a great place to look physics stuff up.