Albert Einstein and
the Theory of Relativity
Albert Einstein
1879-1955
Special Relativity
As a patent clerk in Switzerland, Einstein began to think about how moving observers see events differently from stationary observers. He was led to the
FIRST POSTULATE OF SPECIAL RELATIVITY: observers can never detect uniform motion except relative to other objects.
This is part of our common experience. When you sit in a train waiting for it to go, and the train on the adjacent track starts to move, there are sometimes a few moments when you are not sure which train is moving. It is only after you see your absence of motion with respect to background objects that you realize the other train is moving.
But if you are at rest or your are moving at a constant velocity in deep space and you see another space ship pass you by moving at a constant velocity, you would not be able to tell which spaceship is really moving. This means there is NO SUCH THING AS ABSOLUTE REST, "everything is relative." Another way to say this is that the laws of physics do not distinguish between observers moving at a CONSTANT VELOCITY with respect to each other.
SECOND POSTULATE OF SPECIAL RELATIVITY: Unlike the velocity of massive objects, the speed of light is a constant and is the same for all observers independent of their CONSTANT VELOCITY toward or away from the light source.
Believe it or not, all of the above was enough for Einstein to come up with his famous equation E=mc2. (I leave it as a homework problem for you to do the same---just kidding!)
Part of the reason for this result is that if a massive object is moving from the point of view of one observer, but at rest as seen by another observer, then one observer would seem to measure zero energy of the object while the other observer would measure a finite energy. It turns out that for the laws of physics to be consistent in the two "reference frames" of two observers moving with constant speed with respect to each other the has to be an energy associated with a body at rest, not just a body in motion.
All of these effects are only when the velocity of objects approach the speed of light. The effects are hard to understand and feel in our daily lives because we are always experiencing much smaller velocities at which Newtonian physics dominates.
General Relativity
First note that SPECIAL RELATIVITY effects show up for fast moving objects which are in relative motion but where the relative motion has CONSTANT VELOCITY. GENERAL RELATIVITY INCORPORATES FAST MOTIONS AND ACCELERATION.
General Relativity: the Principle of Equivalence
Einstein first noted that freely falling in a gravitational field results in a constant acceleration (velocity changes but at a constant rate). He then realized that it is impossible for an observer to distinguish between freely falling in a gravitational field, and some other mechanism of uniform acceleration such as a rocket. This is the PRINCIPLE OF EQUIVALENCE
Einstein was then led to consider that since acceleration describes how objects move through space and time, and free fall in gravity and any uniform acceleration were indistinguishable, that gravity's effect on objects may actually be describable by it direct influence on space itself. This turned out to be a profound insight.
A physical picture of what is going on is something like the following: Consider a very large trampoline with nothing on the trampoline pad. The trampoline pad remains flat and parallel to the ground. Now place a heavy bowling ball at the center of the trampoline pad. The center of the pad will sag downward. If we assume the analogy that the trampoline pad represents space-time, and the bowling ball a gravitating object, then the sagging of the trampoline represents the curvature of space time under the influence of gravity. We can now see that if we take a lighter ball, and place it at the edge of the trampoline bad, it will roll down toward the bowling ball. This attraction to the bowling ball is because the path toward the bowling ball through space is favorably curved. In general relativity, however, it is not only balls that would follow that curved path but light as well.
Consequences of the Principle of Equivalence
Here, I summarize the differences between Newton's theory of gravitation and the theory of gravitation implied by the General Theory of Relativity. They make essentially identical predictions as long as the strength of the gravitational field is weak, which is our usual experience. However, there are crucial predictions where the two theories diverge, and thus can be tested with careful experiments.
The orientation of Mercury's orbit is found to precess in space over time, as indicated in the adjacent figure (the magnitude of the effect is greatly exaggerated in this figure). This is commonly called the "precession of the perihelion", because it causes the position of the perihelion to move. Only part of this can be accounted for by perturbations in Newton's theory. There is an extra 43 seconds of arc per century in this precession that is predicted by the Theory of General Relativity and observed to occur (a second of arc is 1/3600 of an angular degree). This effect is extremely small, but the measurements are very precise and can detect such small effects very well. Einstein's theory predicts that the direction of light propagation should be changed in a gravitational field, contrary to the Newtonian predictions. Precise observations indicate that Einstein is right, both about the effect and its magnitude. A striking consequence is gravitational lensing. The General Theory of Relativity predicts that light coming from a strong gravitational field should have its wavelength shifted to larger values (what astronomers call a "red shift"), again contrary to Newton's theory. Once again, detailed observations indicate such a red shift, and that its magnitude is correctly given by Einstein's theory.
The Modern Theory of Gravitation
For interested students, more about Einstein and his work see Albert Einstein Online
"I am exhausted. But the success is glorious.”
It was a hundred years ago this November, and Albert Einstein was enjoying a rare moment of contentment. Days earlier, on November 25, 1915, he had taken to the stage at the Prussian Academy of Sciences in Berlin and declared that he had at last completed his agonizing, decade-long expedition to a new and deeper understanding of gravity. The general theory of relativity, Einstein asserted, was now complete.
The month leading up to the historic announcement had been the most intellectually intense and anxiety-ridden span of his life. It culminated with Einstein’s radically new vision of the interplay of space, time, matter, energy and gravity, a feat widely revered as one of humankind’s greatest intellectual achievements.
At the time, general relativity’s buzz was only heard by a coterie of thinkers on the outskirts of esoteric physics. But in the century since, Einstein’s brainchild has become the nexus for a wide range of foundational issues, including the origin of the universe, the structure of black holes and the unification of nature’s forces, and the theory has also been harnessed for more applied tasks such as searching for extrasolar planets, determining the mass of distant galaxies and even guiding the trajectories of wayward car drivers and ballistic missiles. General relativity, once an exotic description of gravity, is now a powerful research tool.
The quest to grasp gravity began long before Einstein. During the plague that ravaged Europe from 1665 to 1666, Isaac Newton retreated from his post at the University of Cambridge, took up refuge at his family’s home in Lincolnshire, and in his idle hours realized that every object, whether on Earth or in the heavens, pulls on every other with a force that depends solely on how big the objects are—their mass—and how far apart they are in space—their distance. School kids the world over have learned the mathematical version of Newton’s law, which has made such spectacularly accurate predictions for the motion of everything from hurled rocks to orbiting planets that it seemed Newton had written the final word on gravity. But he hadn’t. And Einstein was the first to become certain of this.
**********
In 1905 Einstein discovered the special theory of relativity, establishing the famous dictum that nothing—no object or signal—can travel faster than the speed of light. And therein lies the rub. According to Newton’s law, if you shake the Sun like a cosmic maraca, gravity will cause the Earth to immediately shake too. That is, Newton’s formula implies that gravity exerts its influence from one location to another instantaneously. That’s not only faster than light, it’s infinite.
Relativity: The Special and the General Theory Published on the hundredth anniversary of general relativity, this handsome edition of Einstein's famous book places the work in historical and intellectual context while providing invaluable insight into one of the greatest scientific minds of all time. Buy
Einstein would have none of it. A more refined description of gravity must surely exist, one in which gravitational influences do not outrun light. Einstein dedicated himself to finding it. And to do so, he realized, he would need to answer a seemingly basic question: How does gravity work? How does the Sun reach out across 93 million miles and exert a gravitational pull on the Earth? For the more familiar pulls of everyday experience—opening a door, uncorking a wine bottle—the mechanism is manifest: There is direct contact between your hand and the object experiencing the pull. But when the Sun pulls on the Earth, that pull is exerted across space—empty space. There is no direct contact. So what invisible hand is at work executing gravity’s bidding?
Newton himself found this question deeply puzzling, and volunteered that his own failure to identify how gravity exerts its influence meant that his theory, however successful its predictions, was surely incomplete. Yet for over 200 years, Newton’s admission was nothing more than an overlooked footnote to a theory that otherwise agreed spot on with observations.
In 1907 Einstein began to work in earnest on answering this question; by 1912, it had become his full-time obsession. And within that handful of years, Einstein hit upon a key conceptual breakthrough, as simple to state as it is challenging to grasp: If there is nothing but empty space between the Sun and the Earth, then their mutual gravitational pull must be exerted by space itself. But how?
Einstein’s answer, at once beautiful and mysterious, is that matter, such as the Sun and the Earth, causes space around it to curve, and the resulting warped shape of space influences the motion of other bodies that pass by.
Here’s a way to think about it. Picture the straight trajectory followed by a marble you’ve rolled on a flat wooden floor. Now imagine rolling the marble on a wooden floor that has been warped and twisted by a flood. The marble won’t follow the same straight trajectory because it will be nudged this way and that by the floor’s curved contours. Much as with the floor, so with space. Einstein envisioned that the curved contours of space would nudge a batted baseball to follow its familiar parabolic path and coax the Earth to adhere to its usual elliptical orbit.
It was a breathtaking leap. Until then, space was an abstract concept, a kind of cosmic container, not a tangible entity that could effect change. In fact, the leap was greater still. Einstein realized that time could warp, too. Intuitively, we all envision that clocks, regardless of where they’re located, tick at the same rate. But Einstein proposed that the nearer clocks are to a massive body, like the Earth, the slower they will tick, reflecting a startling influence of gravity on the very passage of time. And much as a spatial warp can nudge an object’s trajectory, so too for a temporal one: Einstein’s math suggested that objects are drawn toward locations where time elapses more slowly.
Still, Einstein’s radical recasting of gravity in terms of the shape of space and time was not enough for him to claim victory. He needed to develop the ideas into a predictive mathematical framework that would precisely describe the choreography danced by space, time and matter. Even for Albert Einstein, that proved to be a monumental challenge. In 1912, struggling to fashion the equations, he wrote to a colleague that “Never before in my life have I tormented myself anything like this.” Yet, just a year later, while working in Zurich with his more mathematically attuned colleague Marcel Grossmann, Einstein came tantalizingly close to the answer. Leveraging results from the mid-1800s that provided the geometrical language for describing curved shapes, Einstein created a wholly novel yet fully rigorous reformulation of gravity in terms of the geometry of space and time.
But then it all seemed to collapse. While investigating his new equations Einstein committed a fateful technical error, leading him to think that his proposal failed to correctly describe all sorts of commonplace motion. For two long, frustrating years Einstein desperately tried to patch the problem, but nothing worked.
Einstein, tenacious as they come, remained undeterred, and in the fall of 1915 he finally saw the way forward. By then he was a professor in Berlin and had been inducted into the Prussian Academy of Sciences. Even so, he had time on his hands. His estranged wife, Mileva Maric, finally accepted that her life with Einstein was over, and had moved back to Zurich with their two sons. Though the increasingly strained family relations weighed heavily on Einstein, the arrangement also allowed him to freely follow his mathematical hunches, undisturbed day and night, in the quiet solitude of his barren Berlin apartment.
By November, this freedom bore fruit. Einstein corrected his earlier error and set out on the final climb toward the general theory of relativity. But as he worked intensely on the fine mathematical details, conditions turned unexpectedly treacherous. A few months earlier, Einstein had met with the renowned German mathematician David Hilbert, and had shared all his thinking about his new gravitational theory. Apparently, Einstein learned to his dismay, the meeting had so stoked Hilbert’s interest that he was now racing Einstein to the finish line.
A series of postcards and letters the two exchanged throughout November 1915 documents a cordial but intense rivalry as each closed in on general relativity’s equations. Hilbert considered it fair game to pursue an opening in a promising but as yet unfinished theory of gravity; Einstein considered it atrociously bad form for Hilbert to muscle in on his solo expedition so near the summit. Moreover, Einstein anxiously realized, Hilbert’s deeper mathematical reserves presented a serious threat. His years of hard work notwithstanding, Einstein might get scooped.
The worry was well-founded. On Saturday, November 13, Einstein received an invitation from Hilbert to join him in Göttingen on the following Tuesday to learn in “very complete detail” the “solution to your great problem.” Einstein demurred. “I must refrain from traveling to Göttingen for the moment and rather must wait patiently until I can study your system from the printed article; for I am tired out and plagued by stomach pains besides.”
But that Thursday, when Einstein opened his mail, he was confronted by Hilbert’s manuscript. Einstein immediately wrote back, hardly cloaking his irritation: “The system you furnish agrees—as far as I can see—exactly with what I found in the last few weeks and have presented to the Academy.” To his friend Heinrich Zangger, Einstein confided, “In my personal experience I have not learnt any better the wretchedness of the human species as on occasion of this theory....”
A week later, on November 25, lecturing to a hushed audience at the Prussian Academy, Einstein unveiled the final equations constituting the general theory of relativity.
No one knows what happened during that final week. Did Einstein come up with the final equations on his own or did Hilbert’s paper provide unbidden assistance? Did Hilbert’s draft contain the correct form of the equations, or did Hilbert subsequently insert those equations, inspired by Einstein’s work, into the version of the paper that Hilbert published months later? The intrigue only deepens when we learn that a key section of the page proofs for Hilbert’s paper, which might have settled the questions, was literally snipped away.
In the end, Hilbert did the right thing. He acknowledged that whatever his role in catalyzing the final equations might have been, the general theory of relativity should rightly be credited to Einstein. And so it has. Hilbert has gotten his due too, as a technical but particularly useful way of expressing the equations of general relativity bears the names of both men.
Of course, the credit would only be worth having if the general theory of relativity were confirmed through observations. Remarkably, Einstein could see how that might be done.
**********
General relativity predicted that beams of light emitted by distant stars would travel along curved trajectories as they passed through the warped region near the Sun en route to Earth. Einstein used the new equations to make this precise—he calculated the mathematical shape of these curved trajectories. But to test the prediction astronomers would need to see distant stars while the Sun is in the foreground, and that’s only possible when the Moon blocks out the Sun’s light, during a solar eclipse.
The next solar eclipse, of May 29, 1919, would thus be general relativity’s proving ground. Teams of British astronomers, led by Sir Arthur Eddington, set up shop in two locations that would experience a total eclipse of the Sun—in Sobral, Brazil, and on Príncipe, off the west coast of Africa. Battling the challenges of weather, each team took a series of photographic plates of distant stars momentarily visible as the Moon drifted across the Sun.
During the subsequent months of careful analysis of the images, Einstein waited patiently for the results. Finally, on September 22, 1919, Einstein received a telegram announcing that the eclipse observations had confirmed his prediction.
Newspapers across the globe picked up the story, with breathless headlines proclaiming Einstein’s triumph and catapulting him virtually overnight into a worldwide sensation. In the midst of all the excitement, a young student, Ilse Rosenthal-Schneider, asked Einstein what he would have thought if the observations did not agree with general relativity’s prediction. Einstein famously answered with charming bravado, “I would have been sorry for the Dear Lord because the theory is correct.”
Indeed, in the decades since the eclipse measurements, there have been a great many other observations and experiments—some ongoing—that have led to rock-solid confidence in general relativity. One of the most impressive is an observational test that spanned nearly 50 years, among NASA’s longest-running projects. General relativity claims that as a body like the Earth spins on its axis, it should drag space around in a swirl somewhat like a spinning pebble in a bucket of molasses. In the early 1960s, Stanford physicists set out a scheme to test the prediction: Launch four ultra-precise gyroscopes into near-Earth orbit and look for tiny shifts in the orientation of the gyroscopes’ axes that, according to the theory, should be caused by the swirling space.
It took a generation of scientific effort to develop the necessary gyroscopic technology and then years of data analysis to, among other things, overcome an unfortunate wobble the gyroscopes acquired in space. But in 2011, the team behind Gravity Probe B, as the project is known, announced that the half-century-long experiment had reached a successful conclusion: The gyroscopes’ axes were turning by the amount Einstein’s math predicted.
There is one remaining experiment, currently more than 20 years in the making, that many consider the final test of the general theory of relativity. According to the theory, two colliding objects, be they stars or black holes, will create waves in the fabric of space, much as two colliding boats on an otherwise calm lake will create waves of water. And as such gravitational waves ripple outward, space will expand and contract in their wake, somewhat like a ball of dough being alternately stretched and compressed.
In the early 1990s, a team led by scientists at MIT and Caltech initiated a research program to detect gravitational waves. The challenge, and it’s a big one, is that if a tumultuous astrophysical encounter occurs far away, then by the time the resulting spatial undulations wash by Earth they will have spread so widely that they will be fantastically diluted, perhaps stretching and compressing space by only a fraction of an atomic nucleus.
Nevertheless, researchers have developed a technology that just might be able to see the tiny telltale signs of a ripple in the fabric of space as it rolls by Earth. In 2001, two four-kilometer-long L-shaped devices, collectively known as LIGO (Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory), were deployed in Livingston, Louisiana, and Hanford, Washington. The strategy is that a passing gravitational wave would alternately stretch and compress the two arms of each L, leaving an imprint on laser light racing up and down each arm.
In 2010, LIGO was decommissioned, before any gravitational wave signatures had been detected—the apparatus almost certainly lacked the sensitivity necessary to record the tiny twitches caused by a gravitational wave reaching Earth. But now an advanced version of LIGO, an upgrade expected to be ten times as sensitive, is being implemented, and researchers anticipate that within a few years the detection of ripples in space caused by distant cosmic disturbances will be commonplace.
Success would be exciting not because anyone really doubts general relativity, but because confirmed links between the theory and observation can yield powerful new applications. The eclipse measurements of 1919, for example, which established that gravity bends light’s trajectory, have inspired a successful technique now used for finding distant planets. When such planets pass in front of their host stars, they slightly focus the star’s light causing a pattern of brightening and dimming that astronomers can detect. A similar technique has also allowed astronomers to measure the mass of particular galaxies by observing how severely they distort the trajectory of light emitted by yet more distant sources. Another, more familiar example is the global positioning system, which relies on Einstein’s discovery that gravity affects the passage of time. A GPS device determines its location by measuring the travel time of signals received from various orbiting satellites. Without taking account of gravity’s impact on how time elapses on the satellites, the GPS system would fail to correctly determine the location of an object, including your car or a guided missile.
Physicists believe that the detection of gravitational waves has the capacity to generate its own application of profound importance: a new approach to observational astronomy.
Since the time of Galileo, we have turned telescopes skyward to gather light waves emitted by distant objects. The next phase of astronomy may very well center on gathering gravitational waves produced by distant cosmic upheavals, allowing us to probe the universe in a wholly new way. This is particularly exciting because waves of light could not penetrate the plasma that filled space until a few hundred thousand years after the Big Bang—but waves of gravity could. One day we may thus use gravity, not light, as our most penetrating probe of the universe’s earliest moments.
Because waves of gravity ripple through space somewhat as waves of sound ripple through air, scientists speak of “listening” for gravitational signals. Adopting that metaphor, how wonderful to imagine that the second centennial of general relativity may be cause for physicists to celebrate having finally heard the sounds of creation.
Editors' Note, September 29, 2015: An earlier version of this article inaccurately described how GPS systems operate. The text has been changed accordingly.
Everything in the Universe has gravity – and feels it too. Yet this most common of all fundamental forces is also the one that presents the biggest challenges to physicists.
Albert Einstein's theory of general relativity has been remarkably successful in describing the gravity of stars and planets, but it doesn't seem to apply perfectly on all scales.
General relativity has passed many years of observational tests, from Eddington's measurement of the deflection of starlight by the Sun in 1919 to the recent detection of gravitational waves.
However, gaps in our understanding start to appear when we try to apply it to extremely small distances, where the laws of quantum mechanics operate, or when we try to describe the entire universe.
Our new study, published in Nature Astronomy, has now tested Einstein's theory on the largest of scales.
We believe our approach may one day help resolve some of the biggest mysteries in cosmology, and the results hint that the theory of general relativity may need to be tweaked on this scale.
Faulty model?
Quantum theory predicts that empty space, the vacuum, is packed with energy. We do not notice its presence because our devices can only measure changes in energy rather than its total amount.
However, according to Einstein, the vacuum energy has a repulsive gravity – it pushes the empty space apart. Interestingly, in 1998, it was discovered that the expansion of the Universe is in fact accelerating (a finding awarded with the 2011 Nobel Prize in physics).
However, the amount of vacuum energy, or dark energy as it has been called, necessary to explain the acceleration is many orders of magnitude smaller than what quantum theory predicts.
Hence the big question, dubbed "the old cosmological constant problem", is whether the vacuum energy actually gravitates – exerting a gravitational force and changing the expansion of the universe.
If yes, then why is its gravity so much weaker than predicted? If the vacuum does not gravitate at all, what is causing the cosmic acceleration?
We don't know what dark energy is, but we need to assume it exists in order to explain the Universe's expansion.
Similarly, we also need to assume there is a type of invisible matter presence, dubbed dark matter, to explain how galaxies and clusters evolved to be the way we observe them today.
These assumptions are baked into scientists' standard cosmological theory, called the lambda cold dark matter (LCDM) model – suggesting there is 70 percent dark energy, 25 percent dark matter, and 5 percent ordinary matter in the cosmos. And this model has been remarkably successful in fitting all the data collected by cosmologists over the past 20 years.
But the fact that most of the Universe is made up of dark forces and substances, taking odd values that don't make sense, has prompted many physicists to wonder if Einstein's theory of gravity needs modification to describe the entire universe.
A new twist appeared a few years ago when it became apparent that different ways of measuring the rate of cosmic expansion, dubbed the Hubble constant, give different answers – a problem known as the Hubble tension.
The disagreement, or tension, is between two values of the Hubble constant.
One is the number predicted by the LCDM cosmological model, which has been developed to match the light left over from the Big Bang (the cosmic microwave background radiation).
The other is the expansion rate measured by observing exploding stars known as supernovas in distant galaxies.
Many theoretical ideas have been proposed for ways of modifying LCDM to explain the Hubble tension. Among them are alternative gravity theories.
Digging for answers
We can design tests to check if the universe obeys the rules of Einstein's theory.
General relativity describes gravity as the curving or warping of space and time, bending the pathways along which light and matter travel. Importantly, it predicts that the trajectories of light rays and matter should be bent by gravity in the same way.
Together with a team of cosmologists, we put the basic laws of general relativity to test. We also explored whether modifying Einstein's theory could help resolve some of the open problems of cosmology, such as the Hubble tension.
To find out whether general relativity is correct on large scales, we set out, for the first time, to simultaneously investigate three aspects of it. These were the expansion of the Universe, the effects of gravity on light, and the effects of gravity on matter.
Using a statistical method known as the Bayesian inference, we reconstructed the gravity of the Universe through cosmic history in a computer model based on these three parameters.
We could estimate the parameters using the cosmic microwave background data from the Planck satellite, supernova catalogs as well as observations of the shapes and distribution of distant galaxies by the SDSS and DES telescopes.
We then compared our reconstruction to the prediction of the LCDM model (essentially Einstein's model).
We found interesting hints of a possible mismatch with Einstein's prediction, albeit with rather low statistical significance.
This means that there is nevertheless a possibility that gravity works differently on large scales, and that the theory of general relativity may need to be tweaked.
Our study also found that it is very difficult to solve the Hubble tension problem by only changing the theory of gravity.
The full solution would probably require a new ingredient in the cosmological model, present before the time when protons and electrons first combined to form hydrogen just after the Big Bang, such as a special form of dark matter, an early type of dark energy, or primordial magnetic fields.
Or, perhaps, there's a yet unknown systematic error in the data.
That said, our study has demonstrated that it is possible to test the validity of general relativity over cosmological distances using observational data. While we haven't yet solved the Hubble problem, we will have a lot more data from new probes in a few years.
This means that we will be able to use these statistical methods to continue tweaking general relativity, exploring the limits of modifications, to pave the way to resolving some of the open challenges in cosmology.
Kazuya Koyama, Professor of Cosmology, University of Portsmouth and Levon Pogosian, Professor of Physics, Simon Fraser University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Leave a Comment