How I Came to Love Uncertainty and Stop Worrying

The mathematics of quantum theory are actually quite simple, despite its intimidating reputation. It's easier to answer a wide range of problems in quantum physics than, say, general relativity if you learn the ins and outs of it. And the majority of the deeper problems that lie beneath the surface are covered up by the ease of computation—and the confidence that comes with using the theory.

deeper problems, such as the absurdity of quantum mechanics. Yes, it is one of science's most successful theories, if not the most successful. Yes, you will receive all the mathematical tools necessary to become familiar with its inner workings during a typical high school education.

Our basic sense about the macroscopic world is completely at odds with the claims that quantum physics makes about the subatomic world. You have a good chance of catching the ball if I throw it your way because you are aware that it will only follow one path. We don't need to worry about what the Andromeda Galaxy is doing right now if we make arrangements for supper because it is so far away and highly unlikely to interfere with our plans. You can be certain that someone did, in fact, walk through your doorway if you saw them doing it.

And yet, when we look at the subatomic world, all these seemingly logical claims fall apart. Multiple states of a particle can coexist simultaneously. They can take several routes simultaneously. Particles may appear out of the blue in strange locations. No matter how far apart they are from one another, particles can still maintain entanglement, a phantom-like connection. We can only rely on hazy probabilities in order to make predictions about the results of experiments. What we can know is fundamentally constrained.

When I first understood the entire scope of quantum weirdness in school, my brain and my preconceptions of how the world functions fell apart. My initial response was awe and amazement at the depth and complexity of the subatomic universe. And after that, shock. Heartbreak. Confusion. Torment. I experienced a whirlwind of feelings as I failed to transition from awed astonishment to thoughtful understanding.

Although I learned these essential concepts in my undergraduate and graduate quantum mechanics and modern physics classes, they did not really address the serious philosophical issues that these concepts raise. In my case, that kind of reckoning didn't occur until more than ten years after receiving my PhD.Many years after I ought to have started struggling with quantum theory's philosophical aspects, I was surprised to find—and relieved to find—that the theory's own historical development paralleled my own concerns.

It's difficult to understand, counterintuitive, and illogical to apply quantum mechanics. What I discovered on my trip is that this illogicality and uncertainty are not flaws but rather a feature that gives us a fresh perspective on daily life. I finally came to the conclusion that perhaps we should just accept quantum physics as it is—and let quantum mechanics interpret our own lives—instead of trying to make sense of it.

But I had to go through the four stages of what I've come to refer to as "quantum grief" in order to arrive at this, somewhat unconventional but ultimately liberating, vantage point.

Stage 1: Perplexity

The strange phenomenon known as wave-particle duality was the first enigma I came across when I was a student of the hidden secrets of the subatomic realm. There are two types of objects in the macroscopic world as it is described by classical physics, which was the dominant physical theory before the discovery of quantum mechanics: waves and particles. Particles are typically tiny, spatially localised, and have a known, quantifiable position. Everyone would be able to tell that you are highlighting that particular particle and not another one if you chose to point at a specific particle.

On the other hand, waves have no specific location in space and just exist somewhere, vaguely. A wave is much more challenging to identify.

In fact, classical thinking, which is based on our intuitions of the macroscopic world, is insufficient to represent every part of the cosmos, as scientifically proved by quantum physics. Even the Copenhagen interpretation falls into the trap of traditional, binary, yes/no thinking, which the subatomic world is attempting to warn us to avoid. Instead, we should try to establish an interpretation and argue that it is the right one.

After years of apathy and hostility, this is the mental model I finally adopted: Let's use the quantum world to understand our own instead of attempting to make sense of the quantum world. It may seem ludicrous to think about quantum behaviour, but that is only because we are accustomed to living in a classical universe. 

As an illustration, I could start living my life genuinely accepting the unpredictability of the future and make goals and aspirations without the weight of specific expectations. I could see how my actions affected people all over the world and how even modest acts of generosity or kindness might have a big impact. I conceded that I can't possibly know everything as thoroughly as I would like to. I overcame my tendency to make binary, either/or decisions by allowing circumstances, options, and even people to be more nuanced than that. Schrödinger, Heisenberg, and the others began to sound more and more like therapists as I continued to apply these ideas in my daily life; in fact, nothing I had learned represented a brand-new understanding of mental health.