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304 pages, Hardcover
Published August 18, 2020
Consider the idea of synchronicity: a term coined in 1930 by Swiss psychologist Carl Jung as an “acausal connecting principle.” Though he'd attribute the idea to dinner discussions with Einstein about relativity, along with personal analyses of dreams, coincidences, and cultural archetypes, the notion took flight after discussions with (Linus) Pauli about novel aspects of quantum physics that distinguished it from classical mechanistic determinism. In retrospect, Jung's insights about the need for a new acausal principle in science were brilliant and prescient. Nonetheless his low threshold for accepting anecdotal evidence about “meaningful coincidences” without applying statistical analysis to rule out spurious correlations was a serious failing in his work. Jung trusted his intuitive sense of when things were connected. But in light of the mind's capacity to fabricate false linkages at times, pure intuition on its own is not genuine science.”We don't allow faster than light neutrinos in here,” said the bartender. A neutrino walks into a bar.
The advent of quantum mechanics was jolting for those traditionalists who used physics to divide the world into two parts: things that, at least in principle, might objectively be measured, on the one hand, and intangible phenomena, on the other. The latter category included things such as consciousness, the sense of free will (even if it turned out to be illusory), ethics, aesthetics, and other abstractions that seemed hard to quantify but were universally accepted to be real, along with all manner of purported supernatural and spiritual entities, from divine beings to ghosts, that attracted some scientifically minded individuals, but certainly not all. Certainly, thanks to movements such as psychic determinism, it had become fashionable in the late nineteenth century and early twentieth centuries for some thinkers to argue that eventually everything will find objective, mechanistic explanation.
Pauli would cling in his later years to the visions of nature he held dear. Hardheaded when it came to judging others' theories, he remained emotionally committed to the idea that symmetry guides the universe. In a kind of cosmic seesaw all things must balance: spin up accompanied spin down, positive charge goes hand in hand with negative charge, synchronicity offers a counterpart to causality, back-in-time mimics forward-in-time, and mirror reflection echoes the original. In the traditions of Pythagoras, Plato, and Kepler, such was the symmetric world he cherished – a flawless, precious crystal.
The cosmos is simply not a friendly place for know-it-alls; rather, like a James Joyce novel, it invites partial understanding.