Learnability of machine learning is provably an undecidable?—part 3: closure

Update on 23 January 2019, 17:55 IST:

In this series of posts, which was just a step further from the initial, brain-storming kind of a stage, I had come to the conclusion that based on certain epistemological (and metaphysical) considerations, Ben-David et al.’s conclusion (that learnability can be an undecidable) is logically untenable.

However, now, as explained here [^], I find that this particular conclusion which I drew, was erroneous. I now stand corrected, i.e., I now consider Ben-David et al.’s result to be plausible. Obviously, it merits a further, deeper, study.

However, even as acknowledging the above-mentioned mistake, let me also hasten to clarify that I still stick to my other positions, especially the central theme in this series of posts. The central theme here was that there are certain core features of the set theory which make implications such as Godel’s incompleteness theorems possible. These features (of the set theory) demonstrably carry a glaring epistemological flaw such that applying Godel’s theorem outside of its narrow technical scope in mathematics or computer science is not permissible. In particular, Godel’s incompleteness theorem does not apply to knowledge or its validation in the more general sense of these terms. This theme, I believe, continues to hold as is.

Update over.


Gosh! I gotta get this series out of my hand—and also head! ASAP, really!! … So, I am going to scrap the bits and pieces I had written for it earlier; they would have turned this series into a 4- or 5-part one. Instead, I am going to start entirely afresh, and I am going to approach this topic from an entirely different angle—a somewhat indirect but a faster route, sort of like a short-cut. Let’s get going.


Statements:

Open any article, research paper, book or a post, and what do you find? Basically, all these consist of sentences after sentences. That is, a series of statements, in a way. That’s all. So, let’s get going at the level of statements, from a “logical” (i.e. logic-thoretical) point of view.

Statements are made to propose or to identify (or at least to assert) some (or the other) fact(s) of reality. That’s what their purpose is.


The conceptual-level consciousness as being prone to making errors:

Coming to the consciousness of man, there are broadly two levels of cognition at which it operates: the sensory-perceptual, and the conceptual.

Examples of the sensory-perceptual level consciousness would consist of reaching a mental grasp of such facts of reality as: “This object exists, here and now;” “this object has this property, to this much degree, in reality,” etc. Notice that what we have done here is to take items of perception, and put them into the form of propositions.

Propositions can be true or false. However, at the perceptual level, a consciousness has no choice in regard to the truth-status. If the item is perceived, that’s it! It’s “true” anyway. Rather, perceptions are not subject to a test of truth- or false-hoods; they are at the very base standards of deciding truth- or false-hoods.

A consciousness—better still, an organism—does have some choice, even at the perceptual level. The choice which it has exists in regard to such things as: what aspect of reality to focus on, with what degree of focus, with what end (or purpose), etc. But we are not talking about such things here. What matters to us here is just the truth-status, that’s all. Thus, keeping only the truth-status in mind, we can say that this very idea itself (of a truth-status) is inapplicable at the purely perceptual level. However, it is very much relevant at the conceptual level. The reason is that at the conceptual level, the consciousness is prone to err.

The conceptual level of consciousness may be said to involve two different abilities:

  • First, the ability to conceive of (i.e. create) the mental units that are the concepts.
  • Second, the ability to connect together the various existing concepts to create propositions which express different aspects of the truths pertaining to them.

It is possible for a consciousness to go wrong in either of the two respects. However, mistakes are much more easier to make when it comes to the second respect.

Homework 1: Supply an example of going wrong in the first way, i.e., right at the stage of forming concepts. (Hint: Take a concept that is at least somewhat higher-level so that mistakes are easier in forming it; consider its valid definition; then modify its definition by dropping one of its defining characteristics and substituting a non-essential in it.)

Homework 2: Supply a few examples of going wrong in the second way, i.e., in forming propositions. (Hint: I guess almost any logical fallacy can be taken as a starting point for generating examples here.)


Truth-hood operator for statements:

As seen above, statements (i.e. complete sentences that formally can be treated as propositions) made at the conceptual level can, and do, go wrong.

We therefore define a truth-hood operator which, when it operates on a statement, yields the result as to whether the given statement is true or non-true. (Aside: Without getting into further epistemological complexities, let me note here that I reject the idea of the arbitrary, and thus regard non-true as nothing but a sub-category of the false. Thus, in my view, a proposition is either true or it is false. There is no middle (as Aristotle said), or even an “outside” (like the arbitrary) to its truth-status.)

Here are a few examples of applying the truth-status (or truth-hood) operator to a statement:

  • Truth-hood[ California is not a state in the USA ] = false
  • Truth-hood[ Texas is a state in the USA ] = true
  • Truth-hood[ All reasonable people are leftists ] = false
  • Truth-hood[ All reasonable people are rightists ] = false
  • Truth-hood[ Indians have significantly contributed to mankind’s culture ] = true
  • etc.

For ease in writing and manipulation, we propose to give names to statements. Thus, first declaring

A: California is not a state in the USA

and then applying the Truth-hood operator to “A”, is fully equivalent to applying this operator to the entire sentence appearing after the colon (:) symbol. Thus,

Truth-hood[ A ] <==> Truth-hood[ California is not a state in the USA ] = false


Just a bit of the computer languages theory: terminals and non-terminals:

To take a short-cut through this entire theory, we would like to approach the idea of statements from a little abstract perspective. Accordingly, borrowing some terminology from the area of computer languages, we define and use two types of symbols: terminals and non-terminals. The overall idea is this. We regard any program (i.e. a “write-up”) written in any computer-language as consisting of a sequence of statements. A statement, in turn, consists of certain well-defined arrangement of words or symbols. Now, we observe that symbols (or words) can be  either terminals or non-terminals.

You can think of a non-terminal symbol in different ways: as higher-level or more abstract words, as “potent” symbols. The non-terminal symbols have a “definition”—i.e., an expansion rule. (In CS, it is customary to call an expansion rule a “production” rule.) Here is a simple example of a non-terminal and its expansion:

  • P => S1 S2

where the symbol “=>” is taken to mean things like: “is the same as” or “is fully equivalent to” or “expands to.” What we have here is an example of an abstract statement. We interpret this statement as the following. Wherever you see the symbol “P,” you may substitute it using the train of the two symbols, S1 and S2, written in that order (and without anything else coming in between them).

Now consider the following non-terminals, and their expansion rules:

  • P1 => P2 P S1
  • P2 => S3

The question is: Given the expansion rules for P, P1, and P2, what exactly does P1 mean? what precisely does it stand for?

Answer:

  • P1 => (P2) P S1 => S3 (P) S1 => S3 S1 S2 S1

In the above, we first take the expansion rule for P1. Then, we expand the P2 symbol in it. Finally, we expand the P symbol. When no non-terminal symbol is left to expand, we arrive at our answer that “P1” means the same as “S3 S1 S2 S1.” We could have said the same fact using the colon symbol, because the colon (:) and the “expands to” symbol “=>” mean one and the same thing. Thus, we can say:

  • P1: S3 S1 S2 S1

The left hand-side and the right hand-side are fully equivalent ways of saying the same thing. If you want, you may regard the expression on the right hand-side as a “meaning” of the symbol on the left hand-side.

It is at this point that we are able to understand the terms: terminals and non-terminals.

The symbols which do not have any further expansion for them are called, for obvious reasons, the terminal symbols. In contrast, non-terminal symbols are those which can be expanded in terms of an ordered sequence of non-terminals and/or terminals.

We can now connect our present discussion (which is in terms of computer languages) to our prior discussion of statements (which is in terms of symbolic logic), and arrive at the following correspondence:

The name of every named statement is a non-terminal; and the statement body itself is an expansion rule.

This correspondence works also in the reverse direction.

You can always think of a non-terminal (from a computer language) as the name of a named proposition or statement, and you can think of an expansion rule as the body of the statement.

Easy enough, right? … I think that we are now all set to consider the next topic, which is: liar’s paradox.


Liar’s paradox:

The liar paradox is a topic from the theory of logic [^]. It has been resolved by many people in different ways. We would like to treat it from the viewpoint of the elementary computer languages theory (as covered above).

The simplest example of the liar paradox is , using the terminology of the computer languages theory, the following named statement or expansion rule:

  • A: A is false.

Notice, it wouldn’t be a paradox if the same non-terminal symbol, viz. “A” were not to appear on both sides of the expansion rule.

To understand why the above expansion rule (or “definition”) involves a paradox, let’s get into the game.

Our task will be to evaluate the truth-status of the named statement that is “A”. This is the “A” which comes on the left hand-side, i.e., before the colon.

In symbolic logic, a statement is nothing but its expansion; the two are exactly and fully identical, i.e., they are one and the same. Accordingly, to evaluate the truth-status of “A” (the one which comes before the colon), we consider its expansion (which comes after the colon), and get the following:

  • Truth-hood[ A ] = Truth-hood[ A is false ] = false           (equation 1)

Alright. From this point onward, I will drop explicitly writing down the Truth-hood operator. It is still there; it’s just that to simplify typing out the ensuing discussion, I am not going to note it explicitly every time.

Anyway, coming back to the game, what we have got thus far is the truth-hood status of the given statement in this form:

  • A: “A is false”

Now, realizing that the “A” appearing on the right hand-side itself also is a non-terminal, we can substitute for its expansion within the aforementioned expansion. We thus get to the following:

  • A: “(A is false) is false”

We can apply the Truth-hood operator to this expansion, and thereby get the following: The statement which appears within the parentheses, viz., the “A is false” part, itself is false. Accordingly, the Truth-hood operator must now evaluate thus:

  • Truth-hood[ A ] = Truth-hood[ A is false] = Truth-hood[ (A is false) is false ] = Truth-hood[ A is true ] = true            (equation 2)

Fun, isn’t it? Initially, via equation 1, we got the result that A is false. Now, via equation 2, we get the result that A is true. That is the paradox.

But the fun doesn’t stop there. It can continue. In fact, it can continue indefinitely. Let’s see how.

If only we were not to halt the expansions, i.e., if only we continue a bit further with the game, we could have just as well made one more expansion, and got to the following:

  • A: ((A is false) is false) is false.

The Truth-hood status of the immediately preceding expansion now is: false. Convince yourself that it is so. Hint: Always expand the inner-most parentheses first.

Homework 3: Convince yourself that what we get here is an indefinitely long alternating sequence of the Truth-hood statuses that: A is false, A is true, A is false, A is true

What can we say by way of a conclusion?

Conclusion: The truth-status of “A” is not uniquely decidable.

The emphasis is on the word “uniquely.”

We have used all the seemingly simple rules of logic, and yet have stumbled on to the result that, apparently, logic does not allow us to decide something uniquely or meaningfully.


Liar’s paradox and the set theory:

The importance of the liar paradox to our present concerns is this:

Godel himself believed, correctly, that the liar paradox was a semantic analogue to his Incompleteness Theorem [^].

Go read the Wiki article (or anything else on the topic) to understand why. For our purposes here, I will simply point out what the connection of the liar paradox is to the set theory, and then (more or less) call it a day. The key observation I want to make is the following:

You can think of every named statement as an instance of an ordered set.

What the above key observation does is to tie the symbolic logic of proposition with the set theory. We thus have three equivalent ways of describing the same idea: symbolic logic (name of a statement and its body), computer languages theory (non-terminals and their expansions to terminals), and set theory (the label of an ordered set and its enumeration).

As an aside, the set in question may have further properties, or further mathematical or logical structures and attributes embedded in itself. But at its minimal, we can say that the name of a named statement can be seen as a non-terminal, and the “body” of the statement (or the expansion rule) can be seen as an ordered set of some symbols—an arbitrarily specified sequence of some (zero or more) terminals and (zero or more) non-terminals.

Two clarifications:

  • Yes, in case there is no sequence in a production at all, it can be called the empty set.
  • When you have the same non-terminal on both sides of an expansion rule, it is said to form a recursion relation.

An aside: It might be fun to convince yourself that the liar paradox cannot be posed or discussed in terms of Venn’s diagram. The property of the “sheet” on which Venn’ diagram is drawn is, by some simple intuitive notions we all bring to bear on Venn’s diagram, cannot have a “recursion” relation.

Yes, the set theory itself was always “powerful” enough to allow for recursions. People like Godel merely made this feature explicit, and took full “advantage” of it.


Recursion, the continuum, and epistemological (and metaphysical) validity:

In our discussion above, I had merely asserted, without giving even a hint of a proof, that the three ways (viz., the symbolic logic of statements or  propositions, the computer languages theory, and the set theory) were all equivalent ways of expressing the same basic idea (i.e. the one which we are concerned about, here).

I will now once again make a few more observations, but without explaining them in detail or supplying even an indication of their proofs. The factoids I must point out are the following:

  • You can start with the natural numbers, and by using simple operations such as addition and its inverse, and multiplication and its inverse, you can reach the real number system. The generalization goes as: Natural to Whole to Integers to Rationals to Reals. Another name for the real number system is: the continuum.
  • You can use the computer languages theory to generate a machine representation for the natural numbers. You can also mechanize the addition etc. operations. Thus, you can “in principle” (i.e. with infinite time and infinite memory) represent the continuum in the CS terms.
  • Generating a machine representation for natural numbers requires the use of recursion.

Finally, a few words about epistemological (and metaphysical) validity.

  • The concepts of numbers (whether natural or real) have a logical precedence, i.e., they come first. The entire arithmetic and the calculus must come before does the computer-representation of some of their concepts.
  • A machine-representation (or, equivalently, a set-theoretic representation) is merely a representation. That is to say, it captures only some aspects or attributes of the actual concepts from maths (whether arithmetic or the continuum hypothesis). This issue is exactly like what we saw in the first and second posts in this series: a set is a concrete collection, unlike a concept which involves a consciously cast unit perspective.
  • If you try to translate the idea of recursion into the usual cognitive terms, you get absurdities such as: You can be your child, literally speaking. Not in the sense that using scientific advances in biology, you can create a clone of yourself and regard that clone to be both yourself and your child. No, not that way. Actually, such a clone is always your twin, not child, but still, the idea here is even worse. The idea here is you can literally father your own self.
  • Aristotle got it right. Look up the distinction between completed processes and the uncompleted ones. Metaphysically, only those objects or attributes can exist which correspond to completed mathematical processes. (Yes, as an extension, you can throw in the finite limiting values, too, provided they otherwise do mean something.)
  • Recursion by very definition involves not just absence of completion but the essence of the very inability to do so.

Closure on the “learnability issue”:

Homework 4: Go through the last two posts in this series as well as this one, and figure out that the only reason that the set theory allows a “recursive” relation is because a set is, by the design of the set theory, a concrete object whose definition does not have to involve an epistemologically valid process—a unit perspective as in a properly formed concept—and so, its name does not have to stand for an abstract mentally held unit. Call this happenstance “The Glaring Epistemological Flaw of the Set Theory” (or TGEFST for short).

Homework 5: Convince yourself that any lemma or theorem that makes use of Godel’s Incompleteness Theorem is necessarily based on TGEFST, and for the same reason, its truth-status is: it is not true. (In other words, any lemma or theorem based on Godel’s theorem is an invalid or untenable idea, i.e., essentially, a falsehood.)

Homework 6: Realize that the learnability issue, as discussed in Prof. Lev Reyzin’s news article (discussed in the first part of this series [^]), must be one that makes use of Godel’s Incompleteness Theorem. Then convince yourself that for precisely the same reason, it too must be untenable.

[Yes, Betteridge’s law [^] holds.]


Other remarks:

Remark 1:

As “asymptotical” pointed out at the relevant Reddit thread [^], the authors themselves say, in another paper posted at arXiv [^] that

While this case may not arise in practical ML applications, it does serve to show that the fundamental definitions of PAC learnability (in this case, their generalization to the EMX setting) is vulnerable in the sense of not being robust to changing the underlying set theoretical model.

What I now remark here is stronger. I am saying that it can be shown, on rigorously theoretical (epistemological) grounds, that the “learnability as undecidable” thesis by itself is, logically speaking, entirely and in principle untenable.

Remark 2:

Another point. My preceding conclusion does not mean that the work reported in the paper itself is, in all its aspects, completely worthless. For instance, it might perhaps come in handy while characterizing some tricky issues related to learnability. I certainly do admit of this possibility. (To give a vague analogy, this issue is something like running into a mathematically somewhat novel way into a known type of mathematical singularity, or so.) Of course, I am not competent enough to judge how valuable the work of the paper(s) might turn out to be, in the narrow technical contexts like that.

However, what I can, and will say is this: the result does not—and cannot—bring the very learnability of ANNs itself into doubt.


Phew! First, Panpsychiasm, and immediately then, Learnability and Godel. … I’ve had to deal with two untenable claims back to back here on this blog!

… My head aches….

… Code! I have to write some code! Or write some neat notes on ML in LaTeX. Only then will, I guess, my head stop aching so much…

Honestly, I just downloaded TensorFlow yesterday, and configured an environment for it in Anaconda. I am excited, and look forward to trying out some tutorials on it…

BTW, I also honestly hope that I don’t run into anything untenable, at least for a few weeks or so…

…BTW, I also feel like taking a break… May be I should go visit IIT Bombay or some place in konkan. … But there are money constraints… Anyway, bye, really, for now…


A song I like:

(Marathi) “hirvyaa hirvyaa rangaachi jhaaDee ghanadaaTa”
Music: Sooraj (the pen-name of “Shankar” from the Shankar-Jaikishan pair)
Lyrics: Ramesh Anavakar
Singers: Jaywant Kulkarni, Sharada


[Any editing would be minimal; guess I will not even note it down separately.] Did an extensive revision by 2019.01.21 23:13 IST. Now I will leave this post in the shape in which it is. Bye for now.

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My small contribution towards the controversies surrounding the important question of “1, 2, 3, …”

As you know, I have been engaged in writing about scalars, vectors, tensors, and CFD.

However, at the same time, while writing my notes, I also happened to think of the “1, 2, 3, …” controversy. Here is my small, personal, contribution to the same.


The physical world evidently consists of a myriad variety of things. Attributes are the metaphysically inseparable aspects that together constitute the identity of a thing. To exist is to exist with all the attributes. But getting to know the identity of a thing does not mean having a knowledge of all of its attributes. The identity of a thing is grasped, or the thing is recognized, on the basis of just a few attributes/characteristics—those which are the defining attributes (including properties, characteristics, actions, etc.), within a given context.

Similarities and differences are perceptually evident. When two or more concretely real things possess the same attribute, they are directly perceived as being similar. Two mangoes are similar, and so are two bananas. The differences between two or more things of the same kind are the differences in the sizes of those attribute(s) which are in common to them. All mangoes share a great deal of attributes between them, and the differences in the two mangoes are not just the basic fact that they are two separate mangoes, but also that they differ in their respective colors, shapes, sizes, etc.

Sizes or magnitudes (lit.: “bigness”) refer to sizes of things; sizes do not metaphysically exist independent of the things of which they are sizes.

Numbers are the concepts that can be used to measure the sizes of things (and also of their attributes, characteristics, actions, etc.).


It is true that sizes can be grasped and specified without using numbers.

For instance, we can say that this mango is bigger than that. The preceding statement did not involve any number. However, it did involve a comparative statement that ordered two different things in accordance with the sizes of some common attribute possessed by each, e.g., the weight of, or the volume occupied by, each of the two mangoes. In the case of concrete objects such as two mangoes differing in size, the comparative differences in their sizes are grasped via direct perception; one mango is directly seen/felt as being bigger than the other; the mental process involved at this level is direct and automatic.

A certain issue arises when we try to extend the logic to three or more mangoes. To say that the mango A is bigger than the mango B, and that the mango B is bigger than the mango C, is perfectly fine.

However, it is clear from common experience that the size-wise difference between A and B may not exactly be the same as the size-wise difference between B and C. The simple measure: “is bigger than”, thus, is crude.

The idea of numbers is the means through which we try to make the quantitative comparative statements more refined, more precise, more accurately capturing of the metaphysically given sizes.

An important point to note here is that even if you use numbers, a statement involving sizes still remains only a comparative one. Whenever you say that something is bigger or smaller, you are always implicitly adding: as in comparison to something else, i.e., some other thing. Contrary to what a lot of thinkers have presumed, numbers do not provide any more absolute a standard than what is already contained in the comparisons on which a concept of numbers is based.


Fundamentally, an attribute can metaphysically exist only with some definite size (and only as part of the identity of the object which possesses that attribute). Thus, the idea of a size-less attribute is a metaphysical impossibility.

Sizes are a given in the metaphysical reality. Each concretely real object by itself carries all the sizes of all its attributes. An existent or an object, i.e., when an object taken singly, separately, still does possess all its attributes, with all the sizes with which it exists.

However, the idea of measuring a size cannot arise in reference to just a single concrete object. Measurements cannot be conducted on single objects taken out of context, i.e., in complete isolation of everything else that exists.

You need to take at least two objects that differ in sizes (in the same attribute), and it is only then that any quantitative comparison (based on that attribute) becomes possible. And it is only when some comparison is possible that a process for measurements of sizes can at all be conceived of. A process of measurement is a process of comparison.

A number is an end-product of a certain mathematical method that puts a given thing in a size-wise quantitative relationship (or comparison) with other things (of the same kind).


Sizes or magnitudes exist in the raw nature. But numbers do not exist in the raw nature. They are an end-product of certain mathematical processes. A number-producing mathematical process pins down (or defines) some specific sense of what the size of an attribute can at all be taken to mean, in the first place.

Numbers do not exist in the raw nature because the mathematical methods which produce them themselves do not exist in the raw nature.

A method for measuring sizes has to be conceived of (or created or invented) by a mind. The method settles the question of how the metaphysically existing sizes of objects/attributes are to be processed via some kind of a comparison. As such, sure, the method does require a prior grasp of the metaphysical existents, i.e., of the physical reality.

However, the meaning of the method proper itself is not to be located in the metaphysically differing sizes themselves; it is to be located in how those differences in sizes are grasped, processed, and what kind of an end-product is produced by that process.

Thus, a mathematical method is an invention of using the mind in a certain way; it is not a discovery of some metaphysical facts existing independent of the mind grasping (and holding, using, etc.) it.

However, once invented by someone, the mathematical method can be taught to others, and can be used by all those who do know it, but only in within the delimited scope of the method itself, i.e., only in those applications where that particular method can at all be applied.


The simplest kind of numbers are the natural numbers: 1, 2, 3, \dots. As an aside, to remind you, natural numbers do not include the zero; the set of whole numbers does that.

Reaching the idea of the natural numbers involves three steps:

(i) treating a group of some concrete objects of the same kind (e.g. five mangoes) as not only a collection of so many separately existing things, but also as if it were a single, imaginary, composite object, when the constituent objects are seen as a group,

(ii) treating a single concrete object (of the same aforementioned kind, e.g. one mango) not only as a separately existing concrete object, but also as an instance of a group of the aforementioned kind—i.e. a group of the one,

and

(iii) treating the first group (consisting of multiple objects) as if it were obtained by exactly/identically repeating the second group (consisting of a single object).

The interplay between the concrete perception on the one hand and a more abstract, conceptual-level grasp of that perception on the other hand, occurs in each of the first two steps mentioned above. (Ayn Rand: “The ability to regard entities as mental units \dots” [^].)

In contrast, the synthesis of a new mental process that is suitable for making quantitative measurements, which means the issue in the third step, occurs only at an abstract level. There is nothing corresponding to the process of repetition (or for that matter, to any method of quantitative measurements) in the concrete, metaphysically given, reality.

In the third step, the many objects comprising the first group are regarded as if they were exact replicas of the concrete object from the second (singular) group.

This point is important. Primitive humans would use some uniform-looking symbols like dots (.) or circles (\bullet) or sticks (`|‘), to stand for the concrete objects that go in making up either of the aforementioned two groups—the group of the many mangoes vs. the group of the one mango. Using the same symbol for each occurrence of a concrete object underscores the idea that all other facts pertaining to those concrete objects (here, mangoes) are to be summarily disregarded, and that the only important point worth retaining is that a next instance of an exact replica (an instance of an abstract mango, so to speak) has become available.

At this point, we begin representing the group of five mangoes as G_1 = \lbrace\, \bullet\,\bullet\,\bullet\,\bullet\,\bullet\, \rbrace, and the single concretely existing mango as a second abstract group: G_2 = \lbrace\,\bullet\,\rbrace.


Next comes a more clear grasp of the process of repetition. It is seen that the process of repetition can be stopped at discrete stages. For instance:

  1. The process P_1 produces \lbrace\,\bullet\,\rbrace (i.e. the repetition process is stopped after taking \bullet once).
  2. The process P_2 produces \lbrace\,\bullet\,\bullet\,\rbrace (i.e. the repetition process is stopped after taking \bullet twice)
  3. The process P_3 produces \lbrace\,\bullet\,\bullet\,\bullet\,\rbrace (i.e. the repetition process is stopped after taking \bullet thrice)
    etc.

At this point, it is recognized that each output or end-product that a terminated repetition-process produces, is precisely identical to certain abstract group of objects of the first kind.

Thus, each of the P_1 \equiv \lbrace\,\bullet\,\rbrace, or P_2 \equiv \lbrace\,\bullet\,\bullet\,\rbrace, or  P_3 \equiv \lbrace\,\bullet\,\bullet\,\bullet\,\rbrace, $\dots$ is now regarded as if it were a single (composite) object.

Notice how we began by saying that P_1, P_2, P_3 etc. were processes, and then ended up saying that we now see single objects in them.

Thus, the size of each abstract group of many objects (the groups of one, of two, of three, of n objects) gets tied to a particular length of a terminated process, here, of repetitions. As the length of the process varies, so does the size of its output i.e. the abstract composite object.

It is in this way that a process (here, of repetition) becomes capable of measuring the size of the abstract composite object. And it does so in reference to the stage (or the length of repetitions) at which the process was terminated.

It is thus that the repetition process becomes a process of measuring sizes. In other words, it becomes a method of measurement. Qua a method of measurement, the process has been given a name: it is called “counting.”

The end-products of the terminated repetition process, i.e., of the counting process, are the mathematical objects called the natural numbers.


More generally, what we said for the natural numbers also holds true for any other kind of a number. Any kind of a number stands for an end-product that is obtained when a well-defined process of measurement is conducted to completion.

An uncompleted process is just that: a process that is still continuing. The notion of an end-product applies only to a process that has come to an end. Numbers are the end-products of size-measuring processes.

Since an infinite process is not a completed process, infinity is not a number; it is merely a short-hand to denote some aspect of the measurement process other than the use of the process in measuring a size.

The only valid use of infinity is in the context of establishing the limiting values of sequences, i.e., in capturing the essence of the trend in the numbers produced by the nature (or identity) of a given sequence-producing process.

Thus, infinity is a concept that helps pin down the nature of the trend in the numbers belonging to a sequence. On the other hand, a number is a product of a process when it is terminated after a certain, definite, length.

With the concept of infinity, the idea that the process never terminates is not crucial; the crucial thing is that you reach an independence  from the length of a sequence. Let me give you an example.

Consider the sequence for which the n-th term is given by the formula:

S_n = \dfrac{1}{n}.

Thus, the sequence is: 1, \dfrac{1}{2}, \dfrac{1}{3}, \dfrac{1}{4}, \dots.

If we take first two terms, we can see that the value has decreased, from 1 to 0.5. If we go from the second to the third term, we can see that the value has decreased even further, to 0.3333. The difference in the decrement has, however, dropped; it has gone from 1 - \dfrac{1}{2} = 0.5 to \dfrac{1}{2} - \dfrac{1}{3} =  0.1666666\dots. Go from the third to the fourth term, and we can see that while the value goes still down, and the decrement itself also has decreased, it has now become 0.08333 . Thus, two trends are unmistakable: (i) the value keeps dropping, but (ii) the decrement also becomes sluggish.  If the values were to drop uniformly, i.e. if the decrement were to stay the same, we would have immediately hit 0, and then gone on to the negative numbers. But the second factor, viz., that the decrement itself is progressively decreasing, seems to play a trick. It seems intent on keeping you afloat, above the 0 value. We can verify this fact. No matter how big n might get, it still is a finite number, and so, its reciprocal is always going to be a finite number, not zero. At the same time, we now have observed that the differences between the subsequent reciprocals has been decreasing. How can we capture this intuition? What we want to say is this: As you go further and further down in the sequence, the value must become smaller and ever smaller. It would never actually become 0. But it will approach 0 (and no number other than 0) better and still better. Take any small but definite positive number, and we can say that our sequence would eventually drop down below the level of that number, in a finite number of steps. We can say this thing for any given definite positive number, no matter how small. So long as it is a definite number, we are going to hit its level in a finite number of steps. But we also know that since n is positive, our sequence is never going to go so far down as to reach into the regime of the negative numbers. In fact, as we just said, let alone the range of the negative numbers, our sequence is not going to hit even 0, in finite number of steps.

To capture all these facts, viz.: (i) We will always go below the level any positive real number R, no matter how small R may be, in a finite number of steps, (ii) the number of steps n required to go below a specified R level would always go on increasing as R becomes smaller, and (iii) we will never reach 0 in any finite number of steps no matter how large n may get, but will always experience decrement with increasing n, we say that:

the limit of the sequence S_n as n approaches infinity is 0.

The word “infinity” in the above description crucially refers to the facts (i) and (ii), which together clearly establish the trend in the values of the sequence S_n. [The fact (iii) is incidental to the idea of “infinity” itself, though it brings out a neat property of limits, viz., the fact that the limit need not always belong to the set of numbers that is the sequence itself. ]


With the development of mathematical knowledge, the idea of numbers does undergo changes. The concept number gets more and more complex/sophisticated, as the process of measurement becomes more and more complex/sophisticated.

We can form the process of addition starting from the process of counting.

The simplest addition is that of adding a unit (or the number 1) to a given number. We can apply the process of addition by 1, to the number 1, and see that the number we thus arrive at is 2. Then we can apply the process of addition by 1, to the number 2, and see that the number we thus arrive at is 3. We can continue to apply the logic further, and thereby see that it is possible to generate any desired natural number.

The so-called natural numbers thus state the sizes of groups of identical objects, as measured via the process of counting. Since natural numbers encapsulate the sizes of such groups, they obviously can be ordered by the sizes they encapsulate. One way to see how the order 1, then 2, then 3, \dots, arises is to observe that in successively applying the process of addition starting from the number 1, it is the number 2 which comes immediately after the number $1$, but before the number 3, etc.

The process of subtraction is formed by inverting the process of addition, i.e., by seeing the logic of addition in a certain, reverse, way.

The process of addition by 1, when repeatedly applied to a given natural number, is capable of generating all the natural numbers greater than the given number. The process of subtraction by 1, when repeatedly applied to a given natural number, is capable of generating all the natural numbers smaller than the given number.

When the process of subtraction by 1 is applied right to the number 1 itself, we reach the idea of the zero. [Dear Indian, now you know that the idea of the number zero was not all that breath-taking, was it?]

In a further development, the idea of the negative numbers is established.


Thus, the concept of numbers develops from the natural numbers (1, 2, 3, \dots) to whole numbers (0, 1, 2, \dots) to integers (\dots, -2, -1, 0, 1, 2, \dots).

At each such a stage, the idea of what a number means—its definition—undergoes a definite change; at any such a stage, there is a well-defined mathematical process, of increasing conceptual complexity, of measuring sizes, whose end-products that idea of numbers represents.


The idea of multiplication follows from that of repeated additions; the idea of division follows from that of the repeated subtractions; the two process are then recognized as the multiplicative inverses of each other. It’s only then that the idea of fractions follows. The distinction between the rational and irrational fractions is then recognized, and then, the concept of numbers gets extended to include the idea of the irrational as well as rational numbers.

A crucial lesson learnt from this entire expansion of knowledge of what it means to be a number, is the recognition of the fact that for any well-defined and completed process of measurement, there must follow a certain number (and only that unique number, obviously!).


Then, in a further, distinct, development, we come to recognize that while some process must exist to produce a number, any well-defined process producing a number would do just as well.

With this realization, we then come to a stage whereby, we can think of conceptually omitting specifying any specific process of measurement.

We thus come to retain only the fact while some process must be specified, any valid process can be, and then, the end-product still would be just a number.

It is with this realization that we come to reach the idea of the real numbers.


The purpose of forming the idea of real numbers is that they allow us to form statements that would hold true for any number qua a number.


The crux of the distinction of the real numbers from any of the preceding notion of numbers (natural, whole, integers) is the following statement, which can be applied to real numbers, and only to real numbers—not to integers.

The statement is this: there is an infinity of real numbers existing between any two distinct real numbers R_1 and R_2, no matter how close they might be to each other.

There is a wealth of information contained in that statement, but if some aspects are to be highlighted and appreciated more than the others, they would be these:

(i) Each of the two numbers R_1 and R_2 are recognized as being an end-product of some or the other well-defined process.

The responsibility of specifying what precise size is meant when you say R_1 or R_2 is left entirely up to you; the definition of real numbers does not take that burden. It only specifies that some well-defined process must exist to produce R_1 as well as R_2, so that what they denote indeed are numbers.

A mathematical process may produce a result that corresponds to a so-called “irrational” number, and yet, it can be a definite process. For instance, you may specify the size-measurement process thus: hold in a compass the distance equal to the diagonal of a right-angled isoscales triangle having the equal sides of 1, and mark this distance out from the origin on the real number-line. This measurement process is well-specified even if \sqrt{2} can be proved to be an irrational number.

(ii) You don’t have to specify any particular measurement process which might produce a number strictly in between R_1 and R_2, to assert that it’s a number. This part is crucial to understand the concept of real numbers.

The real numbers get all their power precisely because their idea brings into the jurisdiction of the concept of numbers not only all those specific definitions of numbers that have been invented thus far, but also all those definitions which ever possibly would be. That’s the crucial part to understand.

The crucial part is not the fact that there are an infinity of numbers lying between any two R_1 and R_2. In fact, the existence of an infinity of numbers is damn easy to prove: just take the average of R_1 and R_2 and show that it must fall strictly in between them—in fact, it divides the line-segment from R_1 to R_2 into two equal halves. Then, take each half separately, and take the average of its end-points to hit the middle point of that half. In the first step, you go from one line-segment to two (i.e., you produce one new number that is the average). In the next step, you go from the two segments to the four (i.e. in all, three new numbers). Now, go easy; wash-rinse-repeat! … The number of the numbers lying strictly between R_1 and R_2 increases without bound—i.e., it blows “up to” infinity. [Why not “down to” infinity? Simple: God is up in his heavens, and so, we naturally consider the natural numbers rather than the negative integers, first!]

Since the proof is this simple, obviously, it just cannot be the real meat, it just cannot be the real reason why the idea of real numbers is at all required.

The crucial thing to realize here now is this part: Even if you don’t specify any specific process like hitting the mid-point of the line-segment by taking average, there still would be an infinity of numbers between the end-points.


Another closely related and crucial thing to realize is this part: No matter what measurement (i.e. number-producing) process you conceive of, if it is capable of producing a new number that lies strictly between the two bounds, then the set of real numbers has already included it.

Got it? No? Go read that line again. It’s important.

This idea that

“all possible numbers have already been subsumed in the real numbers set”

has not been proven, nor can it be—not on the basis of any of the previous notions of what it means to be a number. In fact, it cannot be proven on the basis of any well-defined (i.e. specified) notion of what it means to be a number. So long as a number-producing process is specified, it is known, by the very definition of real numbers, that that process would not exhaust all real numbers. Why?

Simple. Because, someone can always spin out yet another specific process that generates a different set of numbers, which all would still belong only to the real number system, and your prior process didn’t cover those numbers.

So, the statement cannot be proven on the basis of any specified system of producing numbers.

Formally, this is precisely what [I think] is the issue at the core of the “continuum hypothesis.”

The continuum hypothesis is just a way of formalizing the mathematician’s confidence that a set of numbers such as real numbers can at all be defined, that a concept that includes all possible numbers does have its uses in theory of measurements.

You can’t use the ideas like some already defined notions of numbers in order to prove the continuum hypothesis, because the hypothesis itself is at the base of what it at all means to be a number, when the term is taken in its broadest possible sense.


But why would mathematicians think of such a notion in the first place?

Primarily, so that those numbers which are defined only as the limits (known or unknown, whether translatable using the already known operations of mathematics or otherwise) of some infinite processes can also be treated as proper numbers.

And hence, dramatically, infinite processes also can be used for measuring sizes of actual, metaphysically definite and mathematically finite, objects.

Huh? Where’s the catch?

The catch is that these infinite processes must have limits (i.e., they must have finite numbers as their output); that’s all! (LOL!).


It is often said that the idea of real numbers is a bridge between algebra and geometry, that it’s the counterpart in algebra of what the geometer means by his continuous curve.

True, but not quite hitting the bull’s eye. Continuity is a notion that geometer himself cannot grasp or state well unless when aided by the ideas of the calculus.

Therefore, a somewhat better statement is this: the idea of the real numbers is a bridge between algebra and calculus.

OK, an improvement, but still, it, too, misses the mark.

The real statement is this:

The idea of real numbers provides the grounds in algebra (and in turn, in the arithmetics) so that the (more abstract) methods such as those of the calculus (or of any future method that can ever get invented for measuring sizes) already become completely well-defined qua producers of numbers.

The function of the real number system is, in a way, to just go nuts, just fill the gaps that are (or even would ever be) left by any possible number system.


In the preceding discussion, we had freely made use of the 1:1 correspondence between the real numbers and the beloved continuous curve of our school-time geometry.

This correspondence was not always as obvious as it is today; in fact, it was a towering achievement of, I guess, Descartes. I mean to say, the algebra-ization of geometry.

In the simplest (1D) case, points on a line can be put in 1:1 correspondence with real numbers, and vice-versa. Thus, for every real number there is one and only one point on the real-number line, and for any point actually (i.e. well-) specified on the real number-line, there is one and only one real number corresponding to it.

But the crucial advancement represented by the idea of real numbers is not that there is this correspondence between numbers (an algebraic concept) and geometry.

The crux is this: you can (or, rather, you are left free to) think of any possible process that ends up cutting a given line segment into two (not necessarily equal) halves, and regardless of the particular nature of that process, indeed, without even having to know anything about its particular nature, we can still make a blanket statement:

if the process terminates and ends up cutting the line segment at a certain geometrical point, then the number which corresponds to that geometrical point is already included in the infinite set of real numbers.


Since the set of real numbers exhausts all possible end-products of all possible infinite limiting processes too, it is fully capable of representing any kind of a continuous change.


We in engineering often model the physical reality using the notion of the continuum.

Inasmuch as it’s a fact that to any arbitrary but finite part of a continuum there does correspond a number, when we have the real number system at hand, we already know that this size is already included in the set of real numbers.

Real numbers are indispensable to us the engineers—theoretically speaking. It gives us the freedom to invent any new mathematical methods for quantitatively dealing with continua, by giving us the confidence that all that they would produce, if valid, is already included in the numbers-set we already use; that our numbers-set will never ever let us down, that it will never ever fall short, that we will never ever fall in between the two stools, so to speak. Yes, we could use even the infinite processes, such as those of the calculus, with confidence, so long as they are limiting.

That’s the [theoretical] confidence which the real number system brings us [the engineers].


A Song I Don’t Like:

[Here is a song I don’t like, didn’t ever like, and what’s more, I am confident, I would never ever like either. No, neither this part of it nor that. I don’t like any part of it, whether the partition is made “integer”-ly, or “real”ly.

Hence my confidence. I just don’t like it.

But a lot of Indian [some would say “retards”] do, I do acknowledge this part. To wit [^].

But to repeat: no, I didn’t, don’t, and wouldn’t ever like it. Neither in its 1st avataar, nor in the 2nd, nor even in an hypothetically \pi-th avataar. Teaser: Can we use a transcendental irrational number to denote the stage of iteration? Are fractional derivatives possible?

OK, coming back to the song itself. Go ahead, listen to it, and you will immediately come to know why I wouldn’t like it.]

(Hindi) “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 \n …” [OK, yes, read the finite sequence before the newline character, using Hindi.]
Credits: [You go hunt for them. I really don’t like it.]


PS: As usual, I may come back and make this post even better. BTW, in the meanwhile, I am thinking of relying on my more junior colleagues to keep me on the track towards delivering on the promised CFD FDP. Bye for now, and take care…

 

The electron really always waves at you

First, a couple of notes, touching on the topic I discussed the last time.

1. Yesterday, I did unpack one of the cartons in which I had packed some of the books while making the move from Mumbai to Pune (after my job less in January this year). Turns out that Feynman’s QED book was right in this first carton that I opened!

So, I immediately consulted the index at the end of the book, and then went over the pages related to “diffraction.” The diffraction-related footnote is on p. 59, though Feynman begins the discussion of diffraction mainly from p. 53. (The index mentions p. 46–49, but that passage is mostly about diffraction grating, not about electrons or photons going through a single slit.)

However, even in this footnote, Feynman does not directly state that those outer fringes do make an appearance in the single-slit diffraction. The last time, I thought he does clarify the matter. So, there must have been a confusion in my recall.

The uncertainty principle is dealt with in the footnote beginning on p. 55. Chances are, I confused between his indirect denial of the uncertainty principle (which is present), and a noting about the outer fringes (which is not). Possible. My memory, I keep telling you, is not much reliable.

2. I then tried to recall where I had read the analogy between (i) the classical particles with the example of bullets and (ii) the quantum mechanical electron.

I now realize that, in an at least indirect way, it is none other than Feynman himself!

In his Lectures book, III volume, first chapter (the same one I referred to the last time!), Feynman first takes the example of bullets and draws a probability curve; see figure 1 (b) here [^]. He then draws an exactly analogous (i.e. misleading) probability curve—the one just one central band—for water waves, in figure 2(b), and then, also for the electrons, figure 3 (b).

Though Feynman does not directly make any statement to the effect that the single-slit diffraction has only a single band, it is obvious from the flow of the contents of his lecture—in particular, the more or less direct analogy to the bullets—that he makes it far too easier for people to draw the sort of wrong conclusions which we discussed the last time.

Feynman, thus, makes QM sound more mysterious than it actually is.

[And, of course, since it’s Fyenman, Americans, esp. Californians, will never agree with me on the last statement.]

* * * * *   * * * * *   * * * * *

On another note, in the course of attempting to build a computer simulation, I have now come to notice a certain set of factors which indicate that there is a scope to formulate a rigorous theorem to the effect that it will always be logically impossible to remove all the mysteries of quantum mechanics.

… Yes, you read it right. … More on it, later!

* * * * *   * * * * *   * * * * *

A Song I Like:
(Hindi) “uljhan sulajhe naa…”
Singer: Asha Bhosale
Music: Ravi
Lyrics: Sahir Ludhiyanvi

 

[E&OE]

 

The electron always waves at you

This post has reference to Aatish Bhatia’s post on the subject matter bearing the title: “Hey There Little Electron, Why Won’t You Tell Me Where You Came From?” dated 27th September 2014 and published at the “Empirical Zeal” blog [^].

The post being referred to may immediately be perused.

“… Here’s the setup. On the table in front of me there’s a box with two thin slit-like openings at one end. We’re shooting particles into this box through these slits. I did the experiment with photons, i.e. chunks of light, but others have done it with electrons and […] For convenience, I’m going to call the objects in this experiment electrons but think of that word as a stand-in for any kind of stuff that comes in chunks, really. [bold emphases added] …”

Concerning the differences between electrons and photons, it would appear that it is not essential to look into all details of the proceedings that occurred when the present author defended his PhD thesis in mechanical engineering; however inasmuch as an inclusion of a reference increases the total number of references being cited for this post, the same [^] may perhaps be found in order.

“… And indeed, if you do this experiment with only one slit open, they behave just like baseballs, hitting the wall in a single band behind the open slit. …”

Further research is needed to develop a deeper understanding of the term: “single band.”

“… You can watch the electrons coming in one at a time in this video produced by scientists at Hitachi in 1989. …”

It is with great pleasure that the present author wishes to recall the inclusion of this video clip at the time of his conference presentation; the simulation he presented however was for photons.

“…Did the electron go through the left slit?

No! Because when you cover up the right slit, the stripey pattern disappears and you get a boring single band instead. …”

As has been mentioned above, more research is needed to develop a deeper understanding of the term: “single band.”

“…Did the electron go through the right slit?

No! For the same reason as above. When you cover up the left slit, instead of the stripey pattern you get a single band. …”

However, in the light of the further and deeper study of the reference post, it would appear that when the term “single band” is being used, the meaning being indicated is that of only one band as would be produced by a classical i.e. non-quantum mechanical particle.

“…As MIT professor Allan Adams puts it, that pretty much exhausts all the logical possibilities!…”

The quantitative logical closure contained in the salient reference which has been alluded to in the main reference post would be of great theoretical interest in general.

Therefore, it is one of the intermediate and urgent proposals of the present post to peruse this reference in an expeditious manner.

As Heisenberg and others taught us, although language fails us, it’s possible to come up with rules that correctly predict how tiny things behave. Those rules are quantum mechanics. You can learn these rules for yourself by reading Richard Feynman’s classic book QED…

It is further proposed to also include this reference in the literature review on a priority basis.

Kindly refer to Appendix A for details of the funds and employment opportunities needed. Kindly refer to Appendix B for details of justifications thereof.

* * * * *   * * * * *   * * * * *

OK. I have had enough of this“research” talk (i.e. write). So let me switch back to writing in my usual blogsome way.

I think that Aatish makes a conceptual mistake here.

The electron always, say, “waves at you.” It does so even when it goes through only a single slit.

What you observe with two (or more) slits is an interference pattern. There of course is no interference pattern when only one slit is kept open. But even in this case, what you observe is not a single classical band (as for a heap of grains), but a diffraction pattern containing many fringes.

Many people, esp. science popularizers, make this error. They present QM as if a single— and by implication, classical—band is observed when one the two slits is closed.

… What could be the source of this error? Where might have it begun?

It was Feynman who highlighted the conceptual importance of the double-slit interference arrangement. He also wrote his text book in a very informal and attractive style. He has enormously influenced some two generations by now, including the pop-sci book writers. May be there was something to the way he presented this material, which misled people?

Check out the informal diagrams Feynman includes in his Lectures, esp. fig. 1.3, part (b) [^].

He draws each of the two single-slit probability curves with only single humps. Look at the curve for P2 more carefully. It gradually decreases in magnitude and becomes zero as you go up (i.e., along the positive x-axis; here the x-axis is taken vertically). However, no hint is given that this P2 curve would then once again increase in magnitude (or go to the right in this diagram) as you continue going further up, and it will thus have another, relatively much smaller peak—and then, an entire infinite series of similar (and progressively more and more faint) peaks.

In diffraction, these other peaks often are almost undetectably faint. For instance, see the two diagrams that appear just above the “Problem” section, here [^]. In fact, in terms of brightness/faintness, the first diagram just above the “Problem” section is only schematic; it depicts the other fringes with much more brightness than actually is the case. The diagram above it (i.e. the graph) is a better representation of the relative magnitudes involved. (Another point: These outer fringes in the single-slit diffraction also happen to be relatively very faint when compared to the intensity of the interference bands which appear when both the slits are kept open.)

However, in the context of the single-slit, Feynman doesn’t explicitly say anything at all about the diffraction phenomenon—either in the text or in the diagram.

People then must have over-interpreted his diagram, and wrongly thought that (i) when an electron goes through a single slit, it behaves exactly similar to how grains falling through a chute behave, and (ii) when both slits are open, the electron somehow begins to behave something like a wave, something like a superposing quantum particle.

Thus, the idea being advanced is: single-slit means classical grain nature (Bhatia uses the example of baseballs); double-slit means in part a wave nature, as in QM. This characterization is wrong.

The faulty interpretation also makes QM sound more mysterious than it actually is.

Since Feynman’s double-slit diagrams anyway were only schematic (observe that the curves for P1 and P2 are manually drawn and therefore they are not precisely symmetrical), he could have shown a bit of the fringing effect in the single-slit too, with the usual note: diagram not drawn to scale. That single feature would have saved a significant error in so many popular expositions.

Feynman himself does explicitly note the fact of appearances of fringes even in the single-slit diffraction, but only in his later QED book—and only by way of a footnote. (Sorry, can’t locate it for you. I don’t have the book ready with me right now—it is still packed in a carton when I moved from Mumbai to Pune after my job-loss in January. But I do remember that it is in the early parts of the book, very probably in chapter i.e. lecture 1.)

Since I have exhausted my ‘net bandwidth for this month, I couldn’t go through the MIT professor Allan Adam’s video that Aatish Bhatia refers to. (It’s more than 1 hour long.) Instead, I checked out his PDF course notes, to see if he too makes this common mistake. … Well, that way, I didn’t actually expect Adam to repeat this mistake, but since Bhatia makes an enthusiastic reference to it, I wanted to check out. The relevant course notes are here, L2 [(.PDF) ^]. As expected, the notes don’t actually commit the mistake, but still, they repeat the same omission (of diffraction). Adam says in his notes (p. 7–8)

Hence, determining through which slit an electron passes does away with the interference pattern.

He could add an explicit mention of the diffraction pattern.

Though both electrons and photons would show a similar behaviour, it should be easiest to demonstrate the diffraction effect using light rather than electrons. My unpublished simulation of the PhD times showed a gradual “morphing” from a full double-slit interference pattern to a full single-slit diffraction pattern, as the detection efficiency of the photon detector placed near only one of the two slits was increased. Very natural. Check out Adam’s maths on p. 6:

A(y) = A_0 \left( e^{i\theta_1(y)} + e^{i\theta_2(y)} \right)

Split it up keeping two different terms A_1 and A_2, even if we assume A_1 = A_2:

A(y) = A_1 e^{i\theta_1(y)} + A_2 e^{i\theta_2(y)}

Gradually take, say A_1, to zero. You gradually transition from interference to diffraction.

Why might Bhatia have made the error? Here is a speculation.

He mentions the experiment with photons, which he did have an opportunity to perform, as an undergraduate student.

It’s possible that the geometrical scaling of the experimental arrangement was such that the outer diffraction fringes got placed outside the detection limits of the CCD camera. It’s also possible that they ran the experiment mainly to bring out the particle nature well, and so, they effectively “expanded” the time axis a great deal (by using a very low flux rate). Now, for the single-slit version, the outer diffraction fringes are very faint, as compared to the big fringe in the middle. Therefore, in the actual experimentation, enough particles might not have been registered at the locations of these outer diffraction fringes, at least over the relatively shorter duration of the experiment.

Eleven years later, as he began sharing the joy and excitement of seeing the quantum nature in action from memory, he might have focused a bit more on the dramatic features of the experimental measurements and forgotten the correct theory that helps explain it. Possible.

Or, it is also possible that this bit simply skipped his attention. Quantum theory actually is a very big theory—it has a very large scope. As a typical university student, your goal is to master its mathematical tools. It’s easily possible that you skip over some of the rudiments rather quickly. It happens to almost everyone. The initially unintuitive nature of QM isn’t the only thing that people get used to; they also keep adding many small details in their understanding, because no one book can possibly cover all such details, applications, etc.

Anyway, he would know best.

… I have already dropped a comment at his blog, mentioning the concepts-wise serious nature of this mistake. It sets people—the newcomers, the layman—on a wrong path. It did that to me, for more than 5 years (in fact almost a decade, perhaps more, if you count the time from the very first exposure to the wave-particle duality, which was sometime in XI or XII standard in my case).

* * * * *   * * * * *   * * * * *

A Song I Like:

[A very careful study of this song is advisable. There will be examination, once the song is over.]

(Marathi) “hee gulaabee hawaa, veD laavi jeevaa…”
Singer: Vaishali Samant
Music: Avadhoot Gupte
Lyrics: Guru Thakur

[Open Book Examination: Peruse online resources such as the material made available here [^] and here[^], and use it in order to determine whether the above-mentioned song may be deemed to be based on the North Indian Classical “raaga” “marwaa,” or otherwise. Provide detailed explanatory comments in similar English.

Extra Credit: Imagine how, in an Indian classical music concert held, for example in Goa, how Shobhaa ShiroDkar (i.e. Shobhaa GurTu) could have rendered this song. Then, using her Marathi song “maajhiyaa priyaalaa” as the propaedeutic for “ucchaaraNa bhed” and voice culture, render the above song the way GurTu would have, attempting to your fullest capacity an imitation of her voice and scale. Submit the evidence of your attempt via a CD-quality recording.

Extra Extra Credit: Repeat the aforementioned exercise (including GurTu’s voice and scale), but using another “raag” of the “maarwaa thaaT,” viz. “puriyaa kalyaaN!”]

 

[E&OE]