We humans take special relish in naming things.
But naming things can be a perilous responsibility...especially if we name a thing before understanding what we have named.
There are times I have thought that we should not name our children until long after they are born. How can we name a thing whose nature we don't yet understand?
My wife reminds me that this would make it difficult to call the children (the ones who are slow to the table) to dinner...but still.
Perhaps naming is less perilous in people than it is in things.
Take for example the luminiferous ether of the 19th century. We named it without understanding what it was, then after having named it we tried to identify its nature which was odd to say the least. The ether was said to be a fluid that filled the immensity of space, but which was millions of times more rigid than steel. At the same time, the ether was said to be massless, having no viscosity, completely transparent, non-dispersive, incompressible, and continuous at a very small scale.
In the end we came to the conclusion (though some dispute it) that the ether was not real. We had named something and had given a hundred-year-long ontological existence to something that was (ostensibly) not even real.
Many centuries before we did the same thing when we named the Dome of Fixed Stars. After much time, and centuries of confusion, we would unname the Dome of Fixed Stars through the titanic efforts of Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler and Newton. Naming the Dome of Fixed Stars was easy. But once named, the Dome of Fixed Stars acquired an all-to-great authority over our minds. We came to think of the Dome as sacrosanct...as true...and were loath to let it go. And thanks to this little knot of language and meaning (a name), science was impeded for centuries.
Unnaming the Dome was most difficult, indeed.
Take the atom, as an example. The meaning of the word atom implies an indivisable particle. But our name for the atom was, perhaps, premature. Do we not believe that the atom divides into electrons, quarks, gluons and a vast soup of virtual particles? Yes we do. Clearly, we named the atom before we understood what it was. And in so naming the atom, we confused future of science, perhaps slowing down what might have been progress had we been more careful with the language we employed.
Today we have named many things that we fail to understand...and while we admit that we don't understand the named objects, we proceed to name them nonetheless. Things like photons, quarks, electrons, neutrinos, dark matter, dark energy, and this is just a short list.
Even things we may pretend we understand hands down remain mysterious to us. The thing we call "space," for instance, hold more mystery than almost anything in nature.
Is space real? Does it exist? If it exists than we must not think of "space" as "nothing". And if it bends (as Einstein purported, and as many have since proven) then space must be something. But what is it.
There was a time when we made strict distinctions between space and matter. But since Rutherford showed us that all matter is mostly space, we have been forced to reconsider our position. That collection of molecules we call a Granny Smith Apple is infact an alloy of space and matter (with a great deal more space than matter). The matter exists as a "suspension" of sorts. And the configuration of the space and matter is what makes the Granny Smith a Granny Smith. There is very little difference between say a Granny Smith and a Golden Delicious. Its all in the configuration. Configuration is everything.
Some say that space is unmoving, that it is merely a reference work against which all matter moves. But if space bends on the large scale (and it does), might it not also bend or oscillate on the small scale? In other words, if I were to watch a Granny Smith apple floating through space, should I imagine it as a collection of fundamental particles passing through fixed points in space? Or should I think of the apple as carrying its own bit of space around with it? If the apple is an alloy of space and matter, isn't the latter more true? Don't the ways that space undulate inside the apple lead to things like color, taste, texture, and smell?
Yet there are many (perhaps a vast majority of scientists) who would tell us that space does not move. It may bend...we might permit that point (since Einstein suggested it and numberless experiments confirm it)...but to say that space moves--well that is something entirely different.
Electrons move. Photons move. Gluons move. These things we accept as instruments of motion. But space must not move. Space is a fixed thing that bends (on a massive scale) obediently under the influence of matter. Or is it?
What is an electron? A photon? A gluon? We have given these mysterious objects names, but truth be told, we don't even know what they are. Might they not be space in motion. Isn't it possible that we have subdivided a simple and basic element--space--into elements so small that we are thus led to misunderstand space as a whole? Perhaps we are straining at a gnat while swallowing a camel...or in other words, we might be so focused on the spray, that we fail to hear the ocean roaring all around us.
I guess what I'm saying is that the thing that keeps us from finding a TOE is a linguistic problem. We come to believe that the things we name (based upon mathematical formalities) are real and that we understand them. This may not be true. It is likely NOT true. If history can teach us anything, it is this: We once believed in the Dome of Fixed Stars, which is now defunct. We then believed in a luminiferous ether, which is now defunct. After that we believed in absolute space and time, which are now defunct. Today we believe in the conflicting tenants of general relativity and quantum mechanics. What have we named that has led to this confusion? What in our language is keeping us from the next leap in science?
Wick


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