General relativity from first principles – Adam Brown
Adam Brown, who taught general relativity at Stanford and now leads Blueshift at Google DeepMind, rebuilds Einstein's theory at a whiteboard from one coincidence: the mass that resists acceleration and the mass gravity pulls on are identical to one part in 10^15, for no reason Newton could give. Only fictitious forces are guaranteed to work that way, so Einstein leapt and declared gravity one of them, at the price of admitting we are wrong about which paths are straight. The second half is a black hole lecture built on a brick and a pulley: the Newtonian formula for extractable energy promises more than 100% of a brick's rest mass, and general relativity closes that free energy loophole by making gravity stronger rather than weaker, with the exact answer saturating at precisely 100% at the event horizon. Along the way: three Schwarzschild formulas that are secretly one, what falling in looks like from both sides, the three independent lines of evidence that black holes are real, and the 1919 eclipse whose two failed predecessors saved Einstein from publishing a wrong number. It closes on whether a civilization of language models could have found general relativity by thinking, and whether humans will follow what they find next.
Published Jul 10, 20261:38:24 video70 min readAdded Aug 7, 2026Open on YouTube →
At a glance
Adam Brown leads Blueshift at Google DeepMind, the team working on science and reasoning. In a previous life he was a theoretical physicist at Stanford working on cosmology, string theory, and general relativity, and he taught the ten week graduate course. Dwarkesh Patel asked him for something harder than a course: give an ordinary person a real vantage on why general relativity is considered the most beautiful thing a single human mind has ever produced, in one sitting, at a whiteboard, with no prerequisites.
Brown delivers exactly that, and the spine of it is a single coincidence. In Newton's physics the mass that resists being accelerated and the mass that gravity pulls on are two logically unrelated quantities that happen, for no reason anybody could give, to be numerically identical. Newton checked it to one part in a thousand. By Einstein's day it was one part in a billion. Today it is one part in 1015. Einstein's genius, in Brown's telling, was to notice that only one class of force in all of physics has that property built in as a guarantee rather than an accident: the fictitious forces you feel when you are not moving in a straight line. So he leapt. Gravity is one of those. And since fictitious forces only appear when you deviate from a straight line, the price of the leap is that we must be wrong about which paths are straight. Matter curves spacetime, curvature redefines "straight", and everything else follows.
The second half is a lecture on black holes built around a thought experiment with a brick and a pulley. Lower a brick slowly toward a heavy object and you harvest energy. Compute the fraction of the brick's rest mass energy you get back, push the object toward higher mass and smaller radius, and the Newtonian formula eventually promises you more than one hundred percent, which would be a machine that makes energy out of nothing. Brown shows how general relativity closes that loophole in the counterintuitive direction, by making gravity stronger than Newton predicted rather than weaker, and how the exact relativistic answer saturates at precisely one hundred percent right at the event horizon. Which is why a black hole is the most efficient conceivable power plant: not ten to the minus ten like a chemical fire, not a percent like fusion, but essentially all of it.
Then the payoffs. Three formulas from the Schwarzschild solution that are really one formula wearing three hats. What you would actually see falling in, from both sides. The three independent lines of evidence that black holes are real. The 1919 eclipse expedition that made Einstein a global celebrity, including the two failed expeditions whose failure was extremely lucky for him. And a closing argument about whether a civilization of language models could have found general relativity by thinking, and whether humans will be able to follow what they find next.
Chapter one: two theories, ten years apart, and one slogan
Brown starts by placing the theory. General relativity is one of the two great theories of twentieth century physics, alongside quantum mechanics. The difference is authorship. Quantum mechanics was a crowd. General relativity was basically one person, doggedly pursuing one idea for ten years, who came out the other side with a theory that describes both the motion of planets in the solar system and the origin and fate of the universe.
He is also honest about the compression he is about to perform. It took Einstein, one of the most famous minds in history, about a decade. Brown's Stanford course does it in ten weeks, and he claims that after ten weeks students have a better idea of general relativity than Einstein had after ten years. Not because the students are smarter. Because of an advantage Einstein did not have:
We have Einstein, and many others like him going before us, who've been able to take these super complicated ideas, understood at the time as being totally incomprehensible by anybody with a sub Einstein level of intelligence, and boil them down to their essentials, and not make many of the same mistakes that were made by our forebears.
In ten or twenty minutes he cannot beat Einstein's ten years. What he can do is get to the core insight, the one Einstein himself called his most beautiful idea, and push all the way through it.
Before general relativity there was special relativity, Einstein's 1905 theory from his annus mirabilis. Special, meaning it does not apply everywhere. Sloganized, it starts from one observation promoted to a principle: nothing can go faster than light. Take that with total seriousness as the central fact about spacetime and special relativity falls out.
Special relativity covers electromagnetism. It also covers, straightforwardly, the strong and weak nuclear forces, which Einstein did not even know about at the time. What it conspicuously fails to cover is gravity. That gap took another ten years to close, in 1915, with the general theory, general because it is more general: it includes gravity and completes the set of fundamental forces.
The slogan for general relativity, Brown says, is a two word amendment to the first one:
Not even gravity. Nothing can go faster than light, not even gravity.
There is a great deal more to it than that, but the whole arc of the lecture is the centrality of that one prohibition.
Newton's three laws, and the one that has to give
To see why gravity was the problem, rewind to the reigning theory: Newton's laws, from the Principia of 1687. Brown puts three things on the board and then tells you, in advance, which two survive Einstein and which one dies.
Newton's second law, ma = F. A force F produces an acceleration a, and the mass m measures how much the object resists being accelerated. Bigger mass, bigger force needed for the same acceleration. Brown's verdict: this survives general relativity. We will need a more sophisticated understanding of what we mean by "force" and "acceleration", but the law is preserved.
Newton's first law, the special case where F is zero, so a is zero, so an object with no force on it moves in a straight line forever. Brown's verdict: this also survives. Objects not subject to an external force move along straight lines. But we will have to radically upgrade what we mean by "straight line". Hold on to that; it is the hinge of the entire lecture.
Newton's law of gravity. The second law tells you the acceleration given the force, but you need to know the force before you can do anything. Newton supplies it: the gravitational force between two bodies is Newton's constant G times the mass of one times the mass of the other, divided by the distance between them squared. A vector pointing along the line of separation, attractive, hence the minus sign. The famous inverse square law. Brown's verdict: this one dies.
And you can see immediately why it has to die. Take the law literally and jiggle the sun. The distance between the sun and the Earth changes. The force at the Earth changes. Not eight minutes later, when the news could have travelled at light speed, but immediately. Which means you could build a faster than light telephone out of gravity: wiggle a big mass here, detect the wiggle instantly over there.
That is a real logical option. Perhaps the speed limit binds electromagnetism and the nuclear forces but not gravity, and gravitational signalling really is instantaneous. Einstein was not going to take it. He had spent years chasing every superluminal influence out of physics, and he was not about to let one back in through the gravitational door. He, and many others at the time, concluded that Newton's force law is the piece that has to give. That is exactly what turned out to be true.
The precedent: how electrostatics grew up into Maxwell
Brown pauses here on an encouraging precedent, because there is another inverse square law in physics that had exactly the same problem and got fixed.
The electrostatic force law, written down about a century after Newton, says the force between two charged objects is a constant times the charge of one times the charge of the other, along the line of separation, divided by distance squared. Structurally the same shape. And for exactly the same reason, it looks inconsistent with special relativity: jiggle a charge here and the force over there seems to respond instantly.
But it is not inconsistent, because electrostatics is only a limit of the true theory. The full theory is Maxwell's equations, which have magnetic forces as well as electric ones. The electric force looks exactly like the static inverse square law only when nothing is moving. Once things move, corrections appear, and all of them conspire to make the whole structure perfectly consistent with the light speed limit.
Brown flags that the history actually ran backwards from how we teach it. Maxwell wrote his equations in the middle of the nineteenth century. Only later did people notice that those equations already respected a speed limit, a fact encoded in a symmetry of the field equations now called Lorentz symmetry. Noticing that symmetry is what eventually led Einstein to special relativity. So the relativistic theory was hiding inside the equations for decades before anyone saw it.
So the obvious plan is: do to gravity exactly what Maxwell did to electrostatics. Dress the inverse square law up into a full relativistically invariant theory, invent some gravito magnetic corrections, and be done in an afternoon.
In some grand sense that is what Einstein ends up doing. But the departure turns out to be far more radical, and Brown says there are two hints of that visible in the formulas themselves.
Hint one: the sign. In gravity it is a minus. In electrostatics it is a plus. Two positive masses attract. Two like charges repel. That difference means you cannot literally repeat the trick, because if you did mathematically the same thing you would get mathematically the same result, and you would end up predicting that like masses repel each other. Brown gets slightly ahead of himself to say where the sign comes from: electrostatics is mediated by a spin 1 particle, the photon, and gravity is going to be mediated by a spin 2 particle. That difference in spin is responsible for the flipped sign.
Hint two is the whole ballgame, and it gets its own section.
The coincidence: two masses that have no business being equal
In the electrostatic force law, the thing sitting in the numerator is the charge. In the gravitational force law, the thing sitting in the numerator is the mass. Brown calls that a strange coincidence in Newtonian physics, and it is the clue Einstein built his career on.
Think about what mass does in electromagnetism. It appears in exactly one place: in ma = F, as the inertia of the object, the thing resisting acceleration. Call that the inertial mass. The charge, meanwhile, is an entirely separate property with no relation to the mass at all. The neutron is heavy and has no charge. The electron is very light and has a full unit of charge. There is no necessary relation whatsoever between how much a particle weighs and how strongly it feels the electric force.
Gravity is not like that. The mass sitting in the gravitational force law, the thing telling you how hard you get pulled, call it the gravitational mass, is exactly equal to the inertial mass sitting in Newton's second law, the thing telling you how hard you resist being pulled.
And this is already true in Newtonian physics. Newton noticed it himself and ran experiments confirming it to about one part in a thousand. By Einstein's time it was known to one part in a billion. Today it is confirmed to one part in 1015. Two quantities that, in Newton's framework, are a complete coincidence, are nevertheless observed to be identical to fifteen decimal places.
This is the equivalence principle, and it is why a feather and a brick dropped in a vacuum chamber hit the ground together. The force on the brick is much bigger, because it is heavier. But its resistance to acceleration is bigger by exactly the same factor, because it is the same number in both places. The two effects cancel perfectly, and everything falls at the same rate. The perfection of that cancellation is precisely the equality of the two masses.
Einstein honed in on this as the central clue for what to replace Newton's law with. Why that clue and not one of the other things going on is, Brown says, part of Einstein's central genius.
Property
Electrostatics
Newtonian gravity
Inertial (fictitious) forces
What plays the role of charge
electric charge q
gravitational mass m
inertial mass m
Relation of that charge to inertial mass
none at all (neutron: heavy, uncharged; electron: light, charged)
exactly equal, to 1 part in 1015
necessarily equal, by construction
Why
charge is an independent property
unexplained coincidence in Newton
the force is inertia, so inertia is the coupling
Sign between like sources
plus (like charges repel)
minus (masses attract)
points outward from the turn
Mediator
spin 1 (the photon)
spin 2 (the graviton)
none, it is a coordinate artifact
Can gravity be reinterpreted as this?
impossible, would require q = m
the question
permitted, since m = m
Table 1. The whole leap in one table. Fictitious forces are guaranteed to couple to inertial mass, because inertia is the entire reason you feel them. Gravity is observed to couple to inertial mass, for no reason anyone could give. Electromagnetism could never be reinterpreted this way, because charge and mass are simply different numbers. Gravity is the one force for which the reinterpretation is even permitted.
The bucket of water: what a fictitious force actually is
At this point Brown moves the lecture into what he calls the experimental section, which means a bucket of water and a studio that Dwarkesh would prefer not to have destroyed.
You better know your physics, Adam. Otherwise you'll destroy the studio.
No tricks. Brown has Dwarkesh put a finger in the bucket to confirm the water is genuinely wet. Then, with the bucket at rest, he points out that there is no mystery about why the water stays in: gravity points down, toward the bottom of the bucket, and that is that.
Then he swings the bucket in a vertical loop. The water does not fall out at the top, when the bucket is upside down. There are two ways to understand that, and the difference between them is the entire lesson.
The outside view. The water does want to fall when it is at the top of its arc. It simply does not have time. By the time it has accelerated enough to leave, the bucket has swung on and is underneath it again. Same reason astronauts do not fall to Earth: they are falling, they just keep missing.
The riding along view. Now imagine you are inside the bucket, moving with the water. From that perspective there is a force pushing you into the bottom of the bucket, and it has a name: the centrifugal force. It is what pins you to the outside of a car going around a bend. It is a fictitious force, also called an inertial force, and its magnitude is your speed squared divided by the radius of the circle, pointing outward.
Now, Brown asks, what is the "charge" under the centrifugal force? How intensely you feel it is set by your mass. Specifically by your inertial mass. Which is exactly the situation in gravity, and exactly not the situation in electrostatics.
Except here there is no mystery at all about why. You feel the centrifugal force because masses tend to move in straight lines and you are not moving in a straight line. The inertial tendency is the entire cause of the force. So the coupling had better be the inertial mass, because inertia is what is doing the pushing.
Brown states the general rule:
Any time you have one of these inertial forces, caused just by your inertia, it is guaranteed to be the case that the charge under that force is given by the inertial mass. So inertial forces always have a charge given by the inertial mass. Gravity has a charge, and the charge of gravity is given by the inertial mass.
Einstein's leap, and its terrifying price
So Einstein leapt. This was 1907, and it is the idea he later described as his happiest and most beautiful thought:
Could it be the case that gravity itself is an inertial force?
Look at what the leap does. It is permitted only because gravitational mass equals inertial mass. It would be flatly impossible for electromagnetism, because that would require the electric charge to equal the inertial mass, which is simply false. And it does not merely accommodate the coincidence, it explains it. What was an unexplained numerical accident in Newton becomes a necessary fact about the world: of course gravity couples to inertial mass, because gravity is inertia.
Then Brown delivers the bill. The idea sounds completely crazy, and here is why.
Inertial forces, centrifugal, Coriolis, all of them, are what you feel when you are not moving in a straight line. When you are moving in a straight line you feel no inertial forces at all. That is the definition.
So if gravity is an inertial force, then:
Astronauts free floating in orbit, feeling nothing, are moving in a straight line.
You, sitting perfectly still in your chair, feeling gravity press you into the seat, are not moving in a straight line.
We would have to be spectacularly wrong about who is moving straight and who is not. The person who is manifestly stationary is on a bent path. The person tumbling through space is on the straight one.
The chalk and the chair: which of these is the straight line?
Brown makes the absurdity concrete with a graph. Plot height above the center of the Earth on the vertical axis, time on the horizontal.
Dwarkesh, sitting in his chair, traces a flat horizontal line. Constant height, forever. It looks maximally straight.
The piece of chalk in Brown's hand, thrown up and caught, traces a parabola. The chalk is in free fall the whole time it is airborne. It feels nothing. So if gravity is an inertial force, the parabola has to be the straight line and the flat line has to be the bent one.
Drawn that way, this is obviously nonsense. And this is where Brown produces the analogy that makes the whole theory click.
You have already seen a graph lie to you about straight lines, if you have ever watched the seat back map on a long flight. Fly San Francisco to London and the map shows the plane taking an infuriating northern detour that clips Greenland before dropping down into England. It is maddening in the back of the plane, because obviously the plane should just fly straight across.
Dwarkesh, watching Brown sketch the continents: "I can tell you're a physicist because of the very idealized forms of the continents."
But you already know the resolution. The line that looks straight on that flat map, the rhumb line, is not straight and is not the shortest path. The Greenland detour is the straight line, the great circle. Brown demonstrates it on a globe: hold San Francisco and London, run your finger straight from one to the other, and it goes right over Greenland.
Why is the flat map confused? Because it is pretending the Earth is flat. It is trying to paint a curved surface onto a flat panel, which forces distortions. And Brown draws the general rule out of it:
Whenever you try and take something that is curved and pretend it's not curved, you will inevitably end up being wrong about what is and is not a straight line.
That is exactly what the height versus time graph is doing. It is a flat piece of paper pretending spacetime is flat. It is not. The chalk's parabola is the straight line in curved spacetime, and Dwarkesh's flat line, the one that keeps him at constant altitude, is the bent one, which is why he feels a force.
Figure 1. The same lie told twice. A flat map of a curved Earth makes the great circle look like a detour. A flat graph of curved spacetime makes free fall look like a curve and standing still look straight. In both cases the fix is not a better line, it is admitting the surface is curved.
Matter tells spacetime how to curve
So the picture is now fixed. In Einstein's theory the effect of matter is to curve spacetime. By curving spacetime it changes which paths are straight. People who move along paths they wrongly believe are straight, like you in your chair, feel a gravitational force. Astronauts, who are actually on straight lines, feel nothing.
Only one piece is missing: a mathematical characterization of how spacetime is curved by matter. In Newton, mass causes force. In Einstein, mass causes curvature.
That piece took Einstein eight years, from 1907 when the picture was roughly in place to 1915 when the finished theory appeared. The output is the Einstein field equations, which Brown writes on the board and explicitly declines to explain, while walking through what each half of it means.
The left hand side is geometry. It is machinery invented by some Eastern European mathematicians (Ricci and Levi-Civita, whose tensor calculus Einstein had to learn to finish the job) that characterizes the curvature of spacetime. It is a tensor. It is zero when spacetime is flat and nonzero when spacetime is curved in a particular way.
The right hand side is matter. There are constants out front: Newton's constant G, an old friend; π, an even older friend; and the speed of light c. Then there is the stress energy tensor Tμν, which is the relativistic generalization of the mass that sat on the right hand side of Newton's force law. Crucially it is not just mass. It is all forms of mass and energy.
So the equation says: mass and energy on the right cause curvature of spacetime on the left. In slogan form, which Brown attributes to the tradition rather than to himself:
Matter tells spacetime how to curve. The curvature of spacetime tells matter how to move.
And the second half, unpacked, is the whole argument of the last twenty minutes: curved spacetime tells matter to move along the straight lines of the curved geometry, so that if you insist on pretending spacetime is flat you will observe fictitious forces. That is general relativity in a nutshell.
Figure 2. The derivation chain as Brown walks it. Note the shape of the argument: the light speed limit kills Newtonian gravity, the obvious repair is blocked by a sign, and the way through is a coincidence nobody could explain, promoted to a principle. Every step is forced except the leap in the middle, which is the part that took a genius.
Reach: apples, Mercury, and the fate of the universe
Brown steps back to appreciate the scope, and does it by way of Newton first.
The amazing thing about Newtonian gravity, allegedly prompted by a thought experiment about an apple, is that the same formula describes both the apple leaving the tree and the motion of objects in the heavens. That is a massive cross hit. Newton unified the terrestrial and the celestial with one law.
General relativity does all of that and then goes one step further. It describes apples falling off trees. It describes the motion of Mercury and the planets. And it describes the expansion of the entire universe. Brown calls that a crazy, huge number of orders of magnitude for one theory to cover.
Dwarkesh picks up the thread: one of the beautiful things about the theory is that it reaches into places that were never part of the original problem Einstein set himself. And the most spectacular of those is the black hole, which he would like to understand beyond the high school version where light falls in and cannot get out.
Black holes: Schwarzschild solves it in a trench
The story of the first black hole solution is, Brown says, kind of wild.
Einstein wrote his field equations and thought they were so complicated that nobody would ever find exact solutions, that physics would be stuck doing approximations forever. He was wrong within months.
Karl Schwarzschild was a Prussian artillery officer serving in the First World War. In between calculating the trajectories of shells being lobbed at the enemy, he worked out that Einstein's equations do have an exact solution. It describes a spacetime with no matter anywhere except possibly a point at the very center, and it tells you what the geometry around that point looks like. We now call it the Schwarzschild solution, and we now understand that it describes a black hole.
Nobody understood that at the time. They were not called black holes. People wrote down wrong things about what the solution meant for roughly half a century. And Brown names the worst offender without flinching:
Perhaps the worst offender was Einstein, who got extremely confused about it. He got particularly confused about what I will describe as the event horizon, and wrote all sorts of wrong things about how objects would maybe bounce off the event horizon.
From a modern vantage it is extremely simple. Brown spends the next half hour showing you why.
The 18th century clue: when escape velocity hits c
General relativity, as Brown has set it up, is fundamentally about a collision between gravity and the finite speed of light. The simplest possible version of that collision was noticed in the eighteenth century, long before anyone had special relativity, and it starts with escape velocity.
To throw something clean off the Earth you need to give it enough kinetic energy to match the gravitational binding energy at the surface. For Earth that works out to about 11 kilometers per second. For heavier or more compact objects it is higher: for Jupiter it is hundreds of kilometers per second.
So people idly asked the obvious question. What about an object so heavy or so compact that the escape velocity equals the speed of light? Set v equal to c and solve, and the mass of the escaping object cancels out, leaving a critical radius of 2GM/c².
Dwarkesh asks whether anyone made this connection before general relativity. Absolutely, says Brown. John Michell and Pierre-Simon Laplace both wrote this down in the late eighteenth century, and both concluded that an object that massive and compact would not let light escape.
Brown's assessment of that argument is a small masterpiece of tact: the reasoning is not particularly compelling by modern standards, but the answer turns out to be exactly correct, including the factor of 2, which is right for completely coincidental reasons.
Still, a coincidence is not an argument. So he sets out to build a more compelling one, and it takes the form of a brick on a rope.
The brick on a pulley: how much energy can you actually extract?
Here is the setup. Start a long way from the Earth with a brick of mass m. Attach it to a pulley system. Lower it slowly, all the way down, and set it on the surface with zero velocity.
While you lower it, you extract energy. There is a force pulling the brick down, you are letting it move through a distance against your rope, and force times distance is work. Newtonian physics gives you the amount: G · MEarth · m / r, where r is the radius at which you stop. Note it is an inverse distance law, not an inverse square law, because this is an energy rather than a force.
Now ask a question that only makes sense after you have invented special relativity: what fraction of the brick's rest mass energy mc² is that? Divide, and the mass of the brick cancels while the mass of the Earth does not. The answer is a clean, dimensionless number:
GM / (c²r)
Plug in Earth and you get 7 × 10-10. Lower a brick from infinity to the surface of the Earth and you have harvested seven ten billionths of its rest mass energy as useful work far away.
Brown pulls two observations out of that number.
Observation one: it is small, and that is why nobody noticed general relativity for centuries. The gravitational binding energy at the Earth's surface is tiny in natural units. General relativity is, in a sense, a Taylor expansion in this number: the first order term is just Newton, and the higher order terms are the relativistic corrections. When the expansion parameter is 10-10, you need very sensitive experiments before the corrections show up at all.
Observation two, which he flags as a digression and is one of the best asides in the lecture. By essentially sheer coincidence, that number is very close to the chemical binding energy fraction of rocket fuel. Take an oxygen hydrogen mix. The chemical energy released when you burn it, divided by the mc² of the oxygen and hydrogen going in, is 1.5 × 10-10.
Two numbers from completely unrelated calculations. One is a gravitational fact about the Earth. The other is a chemical fact about two gases. They land within a factor of five of each other.
Why is the chemical number so small? Because almost none of the energy in hydrogen and oxygen lives in the chemical bonds. The vast majority sits in the rest mass energy of the protons and neutrons, which burning does not touch at all. The next largest chunk sits in the nuclear binding energy holding those protons and neutrons together, governed by the strong and weak forces, which chemical reactions also do not touch. Chemical bonds are pathetically weak compared to the rest mass of the things being bonded.
And the near equality of those two small numbers is the reason chemical rockets can reach space at all, and the reason it is so hard. The fuel number is a few times bigger than the Earth number, so it works, but only barely, which is why the payload fraction is so brutal. Most of what sits on the launch pad has to be burned to lift a small fraction of it to orbit. Brown's closing line on the digression: we can use chemical rockets to get to space in a way that would be totally impossible from the surface of the sun, but it is hard.
Escalating the ladder until the formula breaks
Back to the fraction GM/(c²r). It gets bigger for heavier and more compact objects, so Brown starts climbing.
Earth surface: 7 × 10-10.
Sun surface: about 2 × 10-6. The sun is a few million times heavier than the Earth, though also much bigger, which takes some of it back. This number is the famous solar gravitational redshift.
A solar mass crammed into an Earth sized radius: bigger again. And that is, near enough, what a white dwarf like Sirius B actually is.
Keep going and the formula says something impossible. Look at what happens when r drops below GM/c²:
The fraction exceeds one.
You would extract more than one hundred percent of the brick's rest mass energy by lowering it to the surface. And Brown is careful to say why that is worse than merely strange. You now have more than mc² of energy sitting safely far away. You could use some of it to build a whole new brick, and still have energy left over. Lower the new brick. Repeat. You have built a machine that manufactures energy where there was none.
Something has to give before you get to that radius. And it does. In full general relativity, the thing that goes wrong is that you form a black hole.
Brown then does the thing that separates a good lecture from a great one: he considers the wrong resolution first, because the wrong one is the intuitive one.
The way out that does not happen. Gravity could get weaker than Newton predicts as you approach the object, so the energy stops accumulating. That is roughly what saves you in electromagnetism. Try the same trick there, lowering a charge toward an opposite charge to harvest the electrostatic energy, and quantum effects cause the charges to fuzz out as they get close. The inverse r energy gets softened, the attraction stops being so fierce, and you cannot extract more than you should.
The way out that actually happens is the opposite. General relativity resolves the paradox by making gravity stronger than Newton predicts. The force grows so violently as you approach that critical radius that you simply cannot lower the brick slowly any more. The gravitational force becomes infinite at a finite distance, not at r = 0 but at a specific nonzero radius. The brick is ripped out of your hand, you lose the rope, and the harvesting stops. You have formed a black hole.
That is the compelling argument Brown promised, and it lands the same 2GM/c² that Michell and Laplace stumbled into for the wrong reasons.
Three formulas from Schwarzschild, which are secretly one formula
Everything so far has been Newtonian arithmetic with the speed of light shoved in to see what breaks. To actually answer the questions, you need the real theory. Brown writes down three consequences of the Schwarzschild metric, and says up front that all three are heavily related, really reformulations of each other. The same square root keeps appearing:
√(1 − 2GM / rc²)
Formula one: how hard you must fire your rocket to stay put
Imagine hovering at fixed radius r outside a central mass. Maybe you are being lowered on a pulley and holding the rope. Maybe you are firing a rocket very hard. Either way you are static, and the question is what local force of gravity you feel.
In Newton the answer is GM/r². In general relativity that gets multiplied by a correction:
g = (GM / r²) × 1 / √(1 − 2GM / rc²)
Far away, the square root is essentially one, and you recover Newton exactly, as you must. For the Earth the correction is down at the 10-10 level and then square rooted, so nobody notices. Taylor expand it at large r and you get the inverse square law plus an inverse cube correction plus an inverse fourth power correction, and every correction points the same way: gravity at short distances is stronger than Newton says. You have to accelerate harder than you expected to avoid falling in.
And then the correction runs away. When r reaches 2GM/c², the Schwarzschild radius, the denominator hits zero and the required acceleration goes to infinity. That surface is the event horizon. Outside it, staying put requires a finite rocket. At it or inside it, staying put is impossible no matter how hard you fire.
Convert the Earth to a black hole and that radius, about nine millimeters, is where its horizon would sit.
The orbiting objection, and why 3GM/c² is a real place
Dwarkesh's natural objection is one Brown anticipates: fine, I cannot hover, but why not orbit? Spin around fast enough and the centrifugal force pushes me out, the way it keeps the International Space Station up. That is exactly why astronauts are weightless: the centrifugal term from orbiting balances the gravitational field precisely.
Brown first defends the honor of black holes on a related point. There is a sci fi notion that black holes suck in everything nearby. Not true. Far from a black hole you orbit it exactly as you would orbit any other central mass, indefinitely, no drama.
But orbiting stops helping when you get close, and the reason is instructive. Orbital angular momentum has two effects in general relativity, pulling in opposite directions:
The centrifugal effect, which pushes you away from the hole. Familiar from Newton.
The gravitating kinetic energy effect, which pulls you in. In general relativity all energy gravitates, not just rest mass. Your orbital kinetic energy is energy, so it couples to the black hole's mass and drags you down.
Far away, the centrifugal term dominates and orbiting saves you. Close in, the coupling term dominates and orbiting hurts. The crossover is at 3GM/c², one and a half times the horizon radius. Inside that, angular momentum is counterproductive, and there are no ballistic orbits that dip within 3GM/c² and get out again.
So formula one gives you the horizon, and the horizon is where you become doomed. Brown draws the distinction precisely: at the horizon you are not yet dead, but you are doomed. You can never escape, not by firing your rocket infinitely hard, not by converting yourself into light and shooting yourself out. The place you actually die is r = 0, the singularity. In Newtonian physics the force only goes infinite at r = 0. In general relativity, if you try to resist, it goes infinite already at the horizon.
Formula two: gravitational time dilation
Same setup. Dwarkesh hangs on his pulley at radius r. Brown watches from infinity. Neither is moving relative to the other. The question is how fast their watches run relative to each other.
Each of them sees their own watch ticking at one second per second, obviously. But Brown sees Dwarkesh's watch running slow, and Dwarkesh sees Brown's running fast. The formula:
Δtnear = Δtfar × √(1 − 2GM / rc²)
Same square root. It is less than one, so if a second passes for Brown, less than a second passes for Dwarkesh. Concretely: hang out near a black hole for what feels to you like a year, get winched back up, and you return to a world that has aged much more than you have.
Brown grounds it in experiment immediately. In the 1950s the Harvard physics department put atomic clocks at two different heights in a building and found the higher one ran faster (the Pound and Rebka experiment). Today the effect is comfortably inside the precision of GPS: clocks on the Earth's surface run slow compared to the atomic clocks in orbit that broadcast the signal, and the system has to subtract that difference or the whole thing drifts.
He is careful to separate this from the time dilation of special relativity. That one comes from relative motion. This one has no relative motion at all. Both observers are static. The cause is being at different depths in the gravitational potential. And the two effects stack: put Dwarkesh in orbit rather than on a pulley and he looks slow for both reasons at once.
The asymmetry, and why this is not special relativity
Dwarkesh asks the sharpest question in the physics half of the conversation:
One thing that seems different between this and special relativity is that there's no symmetry. In special relativity, both observers will feel that the other one is aging slower than they are... But here, it actually does seem like there's a global sense in which one is a more relevant inertial frame than the other one.
Brown: exactly right. In special relativity, if you and I move relative to each other, I think your watch runs slow and you think mine does, and neither of us is more correct. The principle of relativity makes both perspectives equally valid.
Here they are not equally valid, because the black hole breaks the symmetry. Both parties agree on who is deeper in the gravitational well. Dwarkesh's clock runs slower than Brown's, full stop, and Dwarkesh does not reciprocally see Brown running slow. He sees Brown living his life in fast forward.
Formula three: the exchange rate on energy
Now Dwarkesh, deep in the well with his slow watch, shines a light upward. Say he generates it with a sodium transition, so it has a definite frequency.
By the time it arrives, Brown measures a lower frequency. Why? Frequency is a rate of oscillation, and Brown thinks everything Dwarkesh does is slow. So the light oscillates slower, has lower frequency, and is shifted toward the red end of the spectrum. That is gravitational redshift. Lower frequency means, by E = hf, lower energy. A photon sent up arrives with less energy than it left with.
Run it the other way and you get blueshift: Brown sends a sodium photon down, Dwarkesh sees Brown in fast forward, and the light arrives at higher frequency.
Brown extracts the deep point from the thought experiment:
Knowing the exchange rate for how time passes at different altitudes directly gives you the exchange rate for how much energy is worth at different altitudes.
Which gives the third formula. Suppose Dwarkesh has a mass m sitting with him at radius r. How much energy is that worth to Brown, far away? If Brown had it in hand it would be worth mc². But it is not in hand, it is stuck down a gravitational well, so it is worth less, by exactly the same square root:
Efar = mc² √(1 − 2GM / rc²)
which to first order, in the Newtonian regime, is the familiar mc²(1 − GM/rc²).
There are two ways to see it, and Brown gives both because they illuminate different things.
Route one, beam it up. Dwarkesh takes his mass m, which for the sake of argument is half an Avogadro's number of carbon atoms and half an Avogadro's number of anticarbon atoms, and smashes them together in a violent annihilation. All of it converts to light. He beams that light up. Because of gravitational time dilation, the light arrives redshifted, and Brown collects less than mc².
Route two, winch it up. Dwarkesh attaches the mass to the pulley and Brown hauls it out. Now Brown really does have the full mc² in hand. But he had to pay for it, and what he paid was the work of dragging it out of the gravitational potential. Same books, different column.
The exact answer, and 100% efficiency
Formula three is what closes the loop on the brick.
The energy the brick started with, far away, is mc². The energy it has once lowered to radius r is mc²√(1 − 2GM/rc²). So the energy extracted by the pulley is the difference, and the fraction extracted is:
1 − √(1 − 2GM / c²r)
This is the exactly correct answer, not just the Newtonian limit. Taylor expand it at large r and the first term is exactly the old Newtonian GM/c²r, as it had better be, since the long distance limit of general relativity must reproduce the physics we already discovered. But as you approach the hole the two answers separate, and they separate in exactly the way that dissolves the paradox.
Watch it work:
r = ∞: you get 1 − 1 = 0. Nothing extracted. Correct.
Large r: essentially the Newtonian answer, because the corrections only matter once 2GM/rc² is order one.
r → the event horizon: the square root goes to zero, and the fraction goes to exactly 1. Not more. Exactly one hundred percent.
So the procedure is: start with a brick a very long way from a black hole, tie it to a rope, lower it slowly all the way down to just above the horizon, which is the last place you can lower it to without losing control of it, and let go with zero velocity. The brick falls in. You are holding the entire mc² that used to be the brick.
Can you get more than mc² out of a brick? No. Can you get all of it? Yes, using a black hole.
Figure 3. The central chart of the black hole half of the lecture. The Newtonian formula keeps climbing as r shrinks and passes one hundred percent at r = GM/c², which would be a machine that makes energy from nothing. The exact relativistic answer bends the other way, reaching one hundred percent precisely at the horizon and stopping, because that is the last place a rope can reach. The paradox is closed not by weakening gravity but by strengthening it until you cannot hold on.
Why black holes are the ultimate power plant
That result is why people talk about black holes as power plants, and Brown lays out the ladder of energy sources to show how far above everything else it sits.
Chemical. Most power plants today burn things. Efficiency about 10-10 of rest mass, because chemical bonds are feeble compared to the rest masses involved. You are harvesting a sliver of a sliver.
Nuclear. Move from the electromagnetic bonds between atoms to the nuclear forces between protons and neutrons and you jump many orders of magnitude: about 10-3 for fission and 10-2 for fusion.
And that is the ceiling for nuclear, and Brown explains exactly why. Neither fission nor fusion changes the total number of protons plus neutrons in the process. Roughly 99% of the energy is not in the electromagnetic interaction and not in the strong interaction, it is in the rest mass energy of the nucleons themselves. Chemistry cannot touch that. Nuclear reactions cannot touch it either.
Gravity can touch it. Feed mass m into the pulley apparatus and you extract, up to quantum corrections, essentially 100% of the rest mass energy you started with. Nothing can beat it, because there is nothing left over to beat it with.
Figure 4. Eight orders of magnitude of headroom. Chemistry works the bonds between atoms, nuclear physics works the bonds between nucleons, and both leave the roughly 99% locked in the rest mass of the nucleons untouched. Only gravity reaches it. Note also the coincidence Brown flags: rocket fuel's chemical fraction and the Earth's gravitational fraction land within a factor of five of each other, which is exactly why chemical rockets can reach orbit at all, and only barely.
Dwarkesh's best question: where did the protons go?
Dwarkesh follows the accounting to its uncomfortable conclusion, and Brown calls it a great question.
I intuitively get how energy equals mass. There's these chemical bonds. Those get dissolved, they release energy. The thing weighs less if those bonds are released. I even get that if the bonds between the protons and the neutrons are broken, that releases energy and makes the thing have less mass. But if something with protons and neutrons is just slightly above the event horizon, is the interpretation that those protons and neutrons stop existing right at that point? What does it even mean for them to have 1% or 2% or 5% of their original mass?
Brown answers it in two registers.
Classically, there is no puzzle. The black hole just sits there forever. Where did the protons and neutrons go? They now live inside the black hole. The total number of nucleons in the universe is still conserved; you simply have to assign a nucleon number to the black hole itself. Bookkeeping problem solved.
Quantum mechanically it is far stranger, and Brown flags it as beyond the scope of the lecture while telling you the answer anyway. Hawking and Bekenstein discovered that black holes radiate energy away and eventually evaporate entirely. Compute what that radiation is made of and you find gravitons, photons, perhaps some neutrinos. Almost none of it is protons and neutrons.
So the black hole ate the nucleon number. A quantity that looks conserved to electromagnetism and to the nuclear forces, at least perturbatively, gets consumed by gravity. People like to promote this to a general principle about quantum gravity: that it respects no global symmetries whatsoever. Not nucleon number, not any of them. Brown calls that a whole other can of worms and closes the lid.
Falling in, from both sides
Dwarkesh, on brand: "I like to think on this podcast we impart not only theoretical but practical knowledge as well. So suppose one learns all these equations, but then finds themself in the unfortunate position of falling into a black hole. What would they see?"
There are two perspectives, and Brown insists they are fully consistent with each other while being interestingly different.
What the distant observer sees
You turn off your rocket a long way out and accept what comes. Brown watches from infinity.
At first you accelerate inward, faster and faster, first at the Newtonian rate and then picking up the relativistic corrections as you get close. Then something strange happens. You stop speeding up and start slowing down. Not because anything is pushing back, but because gravitational time dilation has taken hold and your clock, from Brown's point of view, is running slower and slower.
Do the integral properly and Brown never sees you cross the horizon at all. He watches you creep closer and closer, slowing without limit, never arriving.
Meanwhile the light he is using to watch you gets more and more redshifted. The wavelength stretches, and long wavelength light is bad at resolving anything, so you start getting delocalized by the very light carrying your image. Eventually there is a final photon, and then you are gone.
There's a final photon that you emit, and then you just fade to black, fade through red to black.
This is precisely the observation that confused the early relativists into thinking something violent happens to you at the horizon. It does not.
What you see
From your perspective your clock runs at one second per second, as everybody's always does. Look back up at Brown and there is some funny business with him running fast. But locally, everything is completely normal. You accelerate inward, going faster as you approach, and you sail across the event horizon with nothing marking the occasion.
The horizon is not a violent place. Work out the tidal forces as you cross and they are not large, or rather, not large for a large black hole. For a solar mass black hole they would be severe and extremely painful: your feet, being closer, get pulled much harder than your head, and you get stretched. But the bigger the hole, the gentler the tidal effects at the horizon. Take a black hole with the mass of a galaxy and you would notice nothing whatsoever as you crossed.
Take one bigger still and something genuinely eerie becomes possible:
If I took an even bigger black hole than that, you could live out your entire life having crossed the event horizon, before you hit the singularity, which is fatal.
Brown then makes the distinction he has been building toward all lecture:
When you cross the event horizon, you are doomed. You are doomed because once you cross the event horizon, you must proceed to the singularity. There's no way you can fire a rocket to stop yourself hitting the singularity. You are doomed, but you are not dead.
You are only certainly dead at the singularity, spaghettified and mangled by tidal forces. For a large enough hole you can be doomed and not know it. And the reason you cannot know it is a beautiful structural fact: the event horizon is not a locally measurable quantity. It is, in Brown's word, a teleological fact. It is a statement about your future, not about your surroundings. Nothing you can measure right where you are tells you which side of it you are on.
For a black hole many light centuries across, you could live out your whole life inside. You could have descendants, all of whom live inside the black hole. Only near the singularity do the tidal forces sharpen and kill you.
The three ways we know black holes are real
Dwarkesh asks the right follow up: general relativity predicts a lot of things, some of which we believe and some of which we do not. Why do we believe black holes but not wormholes?
Brown's answer starts with a concession. People did not believe black holes either. Schwarzschild's solution appeared almost immediately after the field equations, and the consensus was that it was sick: a measure zero mathematical monstrosity, a curiosity that could never actually form in the real universe.
They were wrong, and it took one theoretical development and three experimental ones to prove it.
The theory: Penrose.Roger Penrose, later with Hawking, proved that black hole formation is a generic feature of general relativity, not a fine tuned accident. Start from generic initial conditions and you get black holes anyway. He won the Nobel Prize for it. That killed the "measure zero" objection.
Evidence one: we have seen the orbits. Look at the center of our galaxy. There is a black hole there, Sagittarius A*, weighing many millions of solar masses. You cannot see it, because it is black. What you can see is the stars around it, and we now have several decades of watching them. They do not travel in straight lines. They trace neat, precessing ellipses around something. From those orbits you can compute how massive that something is, and you find it is enormously massive. You can also tell it is small, because the stars swing extremely close without ever colliding with it. Super heavy, super dark, super compact. Brown calls this the most visually appealing evidence.
Evidence two: we have felt them. About a decade ago LIGO, a set of huge laser interferometers at multiple sites, went online, tuned to vibrations in spacetime itself. Almost immediately, in late 2015, it felt spacetime shake. You know it was spacetime and not the ground because the detectors, then two and now four, are at different points on the Earth and they all shook in exactly the same way, which rules out a passing truck or a local seismic event. Back calculate the source and you get two black holes, each about 30 times the mass of the sun, colliding 1.6 billion light years away. The collision happened 1.6 billion years ago and reached Earth within weeks of the detectors being switched on. We have now felt thousands of such mergers.
Evidence three: we have photographed the neighborhood. The Event Horizon Telescope is a planet wide array of radio telescopes that looked closely at Sagittarius A* and at the even bigger hole at the center of a neighboring galaxy, and picked up the faint radio emission of matter falling in, which shines brilliantly as it does so.
So we felt them, we've seen them, and we've seen their gravitational effects on orbiting stars. We're extremely confident at this stage that black holes exist.
Dwarkesh's response is worth preserving, because it is the emotional thesis of the episode: it is beautiful not only that a single mind produced the theory, but that the theory has so much reach, and that we have been able to build machinery to poke at its implications in so many wild ways. Brown agrees and gives the full ladder: you start with thought experiments about jumping up and down in elevators, and you end up describing the orbit of Mercury, then the bending of light, then the rotation of an entire galaxy, then the expansion and fate of the whole universe.
Frankly, our universe should be honored to be described by such a beautiful theory.
Eddington 1919, and the two failures that saved Einstein
How did general relativity go from one man's theory to something the world believed? Brown says: the bending of light.
There were known anomalies with Newton beforehand. The orbit of Mercury was not quite right, and one of the early triumphs of general relativity is that it gets Mercury exactly right. Good confirmation, but philosophically less satisfying, because the number was already known. It is considered more impressive to get the right answer without knowing what the right answer is in advance.
That is what the bending of light delivered. In general relativity all energy gravitates and all energy is affected by gravity, so starlight grazing the sun should bend toward it.
Brown is scrupulous about the fact that Newtonian physics also predicts bending. Send a particle past the sun and you can compute the deflection from its impact parameter and its velocity, with faster particles bending less. Plug in the speed of light and you get a number. Do the same calculation in general relativity and you get exactly double the Newtonian answer.
The history is a comedy of near misses, and Brown clearly enjoys telling it.
Before general relativity was finished, Einstein had a prediction based on his early understanding of the equivalence principle, and he wanted it tested. So he phoned an observatory and asked them to look at distant stars behind the sun and measure how their light bends. Brown calls this the true theorist move, because the director of Mount Wilson said, in effect, absolutely not:
We cannot do that. If you point a telescope at the Sun, you'll go blind. If you point it just next to the Sun, you'll just get washed out by the corona of the Sun and you won't see anything.
Except once in a while. During a total solar eclipse the moon blocks the disk and you can see stars right next to the sun. So through the 1910s a series of expeditions went out to the path of totality with telescopes, to check whether stars near the sun shifted position, and by how much.
1911, Argentina. They travel an enormous distance by the standards of the day, set everything up, and the eclipse is washed out by clouds. Nothing.
Then Crimea. A German expedition sponsored by the arms manufacturer Krupp sets up in Russia. Just before the eclipse, World War I breaks out. Germany and Russia are now at war. The team is arrested and interned for the rest of the war. Nothing.
And those failures were extremely lucky for Einstein. His original equivalence principle argument, made before he had the full theory, was wrong, and it predicted the bending of light would equal the Newtonian value. Had either expedition succeeded, it would have measured a value that contradicted his published prediction. During the war, with everything shut down and nobody mounting eclipse expeditions, he found the mistake and issued the corrected prediction: double the Newtonian answer.
Then in 1919, Sir Arthur Eddington led a British expedition, observed the eclipse, and came back declaring the Einstein value confirmed. Double, not single.
That is the moment that made Einstein a global celebrity. And Brown notes the political charge in it: a British experiment confirming a German origin theory, months after the armistice, became part of the post war reconciliation, and Einstein became the man who had figured out everything. That is the point at which general relativity became consensus.
Today there is vastly more: precise orbital dynamics across Mercury and the other planets, direct measurements of gravitational redshift, the effect of gravity on the propagation and the energy of light, everywhere you look. But historically, the eclipse was the one.
1687Newton's Principia. The second law, the first law, and the inverse square law of gravity. Two of the three will survive Einstein.
1780sMichell and Laplace set escape velocity equal to c and get the critical radius 2GM/c². Right answer, including the factor of 2, for the wrong reasons.
1860sMaxwell's equations unify electricity and magnetism. Nobody yet notices they already respect a universal speed limit.
1905Special relativity. Einstein takes the Lorentz symmetry of Maxwell's equations seriously and promotes "nothing faster than light" to a principle.
1907The happiest thought. Gravitational mass equals inertial mass, so gravity might be a fictitious force. The picture is roughly right; the mathematics takes eight more years.
1911Argentina eclipse expedition. Clouded out. Lucky, since Einstein's prediction at the time was wrong.
1914Crimea expedition, sponsored by Krupp. World War I breaks out days before the eclipse; the team is arrested and interned. Also lucky.
1915The field equations. Matter tells spacetime how to curve; curvature tells matter how to move. Einstein also corrects the light bending prediction to double the Newtonian value.
1916Schwarzschild, a Prussian artillery officer at the front, finds the first exact solution within months. Nobody understands what it means for fifty years.
1919Eddington's eclipse. The bending is double the Newtonian value. Einstein becomes a global celebrity and general relativity becomes consensus.
1950sAtomic clocks in a Harvard stairwell confirm gravitational time dilation directly: the higher clock runs faster.
1960sPenrose, later with Hawking, proves black hole formation is generic rather than fine tuned. Nobel Prize follows in 2020.
1970sHawking and Bekenstein show black holes radiate and evaporate, and in doing so eat nucleon number.
2015LIGO feels two 30 solar mass black holes merge 1.6 billion light years away, weeks after switch on. Thousands of mergers follow.
2019 & 2022The Event Horizon Telescope, a planet wide array of radio dishes, images the glow of matter falling in: first the supermassive hole in the neighboring galaxy M87, then Sagittarius A* at our own galactic center.
Figure 5. Three centuries of the story Brown tells, from the law that had to die to the instruments that finally felt spacetime shake. Note how much of it is accident: two failed expeditions that spared Einstein a wrong prediction, an artillery officer solving the equations in a trench, and a merger 1.6 billion years in transit that arrived within weeks of the detector being turned on.
How far can you get by thinking? The AI question
The last twenty minutes turn the physics into a question about research strategy, which is Brown's day job now.
Dwarkesh sets it up sharply. We spend billions, maybe tens of billions, on giant physics experiments. Yet the most beautiful and arguably most important theory in physics looks like a guy thinking in a cave. The empirical inputs seem to be roughly: light has a finite speed, and you need to measure G.
Brown corrects even that. G is a free parameter in general relativity. You do not need it to build the theory; it just sets the scale. So the empirical basis is even thinner than Dwarkesh suggested, and Brown agrees it is thin. He also notes, drily, that theoretical physicists are cheap, so there is a great temptation to skip the experiments and just hire more of them. Dwarkesh points out that AI companies are pushing the demand curve for theoretical physicists rather hard. Brown, who runs one of those teams: "That's right, not so cheap anymore."
But how far can pure thought get you? Brown's answer is honest about how atypical Einstein was.
That is not how it usually works in the history of physics. This really is closer to some Ayn Rand hero just sitting alone, the product of a single mind.
Einstein got help in various ways, but it really was a singular vision pursued for years. He wrote it down, many people were impressed almost immediately, and it still took an expensive eclipse expedition before he achieved global celebrity and general acceptance. It is one of the most extreme examples in history of somebody sitting down, thinking very hard, and writing down a true theory.
And then the line that frames everything after it:
In some sense, physics has been chasing that high ever since.
People love the romantic vision of themselves working from very few empirical inputs and thinking very, very hard. It has typically not worked out as well for everybody else as it did for Einstein. Brown adds, unsentimentally, that it did not even work out that well for Einstein in the later part of his career.
What would an AI actually need?
Dwarkesh asks the concrete version: what is the minimum input set for deriving general relativity?
Brown's list is short:
The finiteness of the speed of light, and not merely the fact but the symmetry that protects it, which is what Einstein supplied in special relativity.
The equivalence principle, the empirical fact that inertial mass and gravitational mass are the same for everything.
That is remarkably sparse. Dwarkesh runs with it: if the input is that thin and the number of live options is finite, then a large population of language models could simply explore the whole tree. Focus on the equivalence principle. Now abandon simultaneity and see how far that takes you. There is only a finite number of branches to walk.
Brown's response is measured rather than triumphant. He thinks physics got very, very lucky that general relativity is so powerfully constrained by so little. But yes: give a lot of Einsteins a lot of options and you could run them in parallel.
Branching fractions, and where the strategy breaks
Dwarkesh pushes to the frontier: does it feel like millions of autonomous researchers could produce enormous discoveries today, or is this a different era where that parallelism has limited use?
Brown's framework is the useful part of the answer. Different parts of science have different branching fractions, and differ in how much experiment you need to prune a branch.
String theory is the maximal bet on the Einstein strategy. Einstein's theory is general relativity; there is also quantum mechanics; general relativity contains no quantum mechanics at all, and marrying the two consistently has motivated enormous effort. The problem is that seeing it experimentally, by simple dimensional analysis, requires absolutely galactic sized particle colliders. It is just very hard to see any of that. That stopped many people. Many others did not stop.
If you go that route, your only tools are mathematical consistency and whether the theory reduces correctly in known limits, plus some notion of aesthetics. Which means the strategy lives or dies on one question:
You better hope that there's only one or a very small number of possible consistent theories... If it turns out that there's an unlimited number of consistent theories, you're never going to feel your way to the correct answer, because they're all consistent, and the only tool you have is consistency.
String theory has gone all in on the belief that there is only one consistent theory of gravity, and that enough consistency checks will eventually find it.
Other fields do not have that luxury. In condensed matter physics, often you simply have to go and do the experiment to find out which candidate is correct. No amount of thinking prunes the tree.
Will humans be able to keep up?
Dwarkesh's closing question: when an AI civilization produces deeper unified theories, will humans be in a position to understand what it understands?
Brown does not think we keep up entirely, but he thinks we keep up much better than pessimistic forecasts suggest, and he argues it through mathematics rather than physics.
The pessimistic case has a name attached. Terry Tao uses the word "indigestion" for the feared outcome: language models producing billion line inscrutable Lean proofs that certify a theorem is true while providing no insight at all into why. A certificate instead of an understanding. Mathematicians find that a depressing future.
Brown thinks it is possible but unlikely, and his reason is a nice inversion:
As well as being superhuman provers, we also expect these large language models to be superhuman explainers. Maybe they'll do the exact opposite of that. Maybe they'll take proofs that are very hard to understand, and by doggedly trying and trying and trying, they will be able to come up with ways that are human comprehensible.
The early empirical evidence, he says, supports the optimistic vision.
The Erdős problem. A conjecture was proved a few months before the conversation, and it was not an incomprehensible wall of Lean. It was not proved in Lean at all; it was proved informally. Then human mathematicians wrote a follow up paper that took the new human interpretable ideas the machine had produced and used them to prove new theorems. That is the exact opposite of indigestion: an idea comprehensible enough that humans could pick it up and redeploy it somewhere else.
The unit distance conjecture. Brown likes this one because it illustrates two themes at once. First, the disproof the model produced is totally comprehensible. (Dwarkesh: "To you, perhaps." Brown: "To some mathematicians. I'm not a mathematician.") Second, and more interesting, is why humans had not found it. Perhaps because humans erroneously believed the conjecture was true, and therefore never spent serious effort trying to disprove it.
That points at a real and underrated advantage:
The good thing about large language models is that they're willing to push through that barrier and just waste their time, as a human would understand it, trying to disprove a presumed true conjecture and reach the other end... They just have extreme patience, even for doing things that perhaps look like a low probability of success.
Dwarkesh closes by thanking Brown for explaining hundred year old physics when he could be building superintelligence. Brown: it is a super fun subject, and he is happy to share it.
What the lecture deliberately leaves out
Brown is explicit about his boundaries, and they are worth naming so you know where the map ends.
He writes the field equations down and says outright that he will not explain them, only tell you what each side means. He derives nothing tensorial. The Schwarzschild formulas arrive as results, not derivations. Everything before the three formulas is Newtonian arithmetic with c inserted to see what breaks, which he flags each time as suggestive rather than conclusive.
Quantum mechanics is out of scope by declaration, twice: once when Dwarkesh asks what happens to the protons and neutrons, and once when nucleon number comes up. Hawking radiation is stated, not argued. And the one thing he says general relativity does not do is contain any quantum mechanics at all, which is precisely the gap that motivates string theory and precisely the gap that needs galactic colliders to probe.
None of that is hedging. It is a lecture with a thesis, and the thesis is that one coincidence, taken seriously enough, produces curved spacetime, and curved spacetime produces everything else.
Key takeaways
Special relativity (1905) says nothing goes faster than light. General relativity (1915) adds two words: not even gravity. Newton's inverse square law implies instantaneous gravitational signalling, which would be a faster than light telephone. That is the law that had to die.
Newton's first and second laws survive; his law of gravity does not. But surviving requires upgrading what "straight line" means.
You cannot fix gravity the way Maxwell fixed electrostatics. The sign is flipped, because electromagnetism is mediated by a spin 1 photon and gravity by a spin 2 graviton. Copy the trick and you predict that masses repel.
The clue is a coincidence Newton could not explain: gravitational mass equals inertial mass, verified today to one part in 1015. It is why a feather and a brick fall together.
Only fictitious forces are guaranteed to couple to inertial mass, because inertia is the whole reason you feel them. So Einstein leapt: gravity is a fictitious force. The leap is permitted for gravity alone, and it converts an accident into a necessity.
The price is that we are wrong about which paths are straight. Free fall is straight; sitting in a chair is not. A flat graph of curved spacetime lies about straight lines exactly the way a flat map of the Earth makes the great circle over Greenland look like a detour.
Matter tells spacetime how to curve, and curvature tells matter how to move. The right hand side of the field equations is not just mass but all forms of mass and energy.
A brick on a pulley is the cleanest argument for black holes. The Newtonian extraction fraction GM/c²r exceeds 100% below r = GM/c², which would be free energy. General relativity closes the loophole by making gravity stronger, not weaker, until the brick is ripped from your hand.
The exact fraction is 1 − √(1 − 2GM/c²r), and it saturates at exactly 100% at the event horizon. Lower a brick to just above the horizon and let go, and you have harvested its entire rest mass energy.
That makes black holes the most efficient conceivable power plant: roughly 10-10 for chemical burning, 10-3 for fission, 10-2 for fusion, essentially 1 for a black hole, because only gravity can touch the rest mass of the nucleons.
Three Schwarzschild formulas share one square root factor: the local gravitational field needed to hover, the rate your clock runs, and how much your energy is worth to a distant observer. Time dilation and the energy exchange rate are the same fact wearing different clothes.
Orbiting stops helping inside 3GM/c², because in general relativity kinetic energy gravitates too, and close in that inward pull beats the centrifugal push.
The gravitational time dilation of general relativity is not symmetric, unlike the time dilation of special relativity. The black hole breaks the symmetry, so both parties agree who is running slow.
Crossing the horizon is uneventful for you and never happens for the distant observer, who watches you redden, slow, and fade to black. You are doomed the moment you cross, but not dead; for a large enough hole you could live an entire life inside.
The horizon is not locally measurable. It is a teleological fact about your future, not a property of your surroundings.
Black holes are confirmed three independent ways: stellar orbits around Sagittarius A*, gravitational waves from mergers detected by LIGO, and radio images from the Event Horizon Telescope, backed theoretically by Penrose's proof that black hole formation is generic.
The 1919 eclipse made Einstein famous, and two failed expeditions saved him, because his pre 1915 prediction was wrong and got corrected during the war.
General relativity may be the most extreme case in history of theory outrunning experiment, which is exactly why it is a poor guide to research strategy in general. Different fields have different branching fractions, and some can only be pruned by experiment.
Chapters
Timestamps are clickable. Click one and the player jumps there and keeps playing while you read. These are the creator's own chapter markers.
0:00:00 The coincidence that led Einstein to general relativity
0:16:42 Gravity is a consequence of curved spacetime, not a force
0:31:46 Why black holes prevent unlimited energy extraction
0:47:12 Black holes are the ultimate power plants
1:13:50 What falling into a black hole would actually feel like
1:18:51 The three ways we know black holes are real
1:24:21 The first time we saw gravity bend light
1:29:33 How far can AI get without experimental evidence?
Notable quotes
General relativity, Einstein's theory of gravity, is, as you say, the most beautiful product of a single mind that we've ever created.
Adam Brown, 0:40
When I teach it I'll do a 10-week course, and in 10 weeks people will get a better idea of general relativity than Einstein really had in 10 years. That's because we have an advantage that Einstein didn't have. We have Einstein, and many others like him going before us.
Adam Brown, 1:30
If you wanted to sloganize general relativity, you might say, "Not even gravity." Nothing can go faster than light, not even gravity.
Adam Brown, 3:10
You better know your physics, Adam. Otherwise you'll destroy the studio.
Dwarkesh Patel, on the bucket of water, 12:40
So inertial forces always have a charge given by the inertial mass. Gravity has a charge, and the charge of gravity is given by the inertial mass. So Einstein leapt: could it be the case, and this was his central idea, that gravity itself is an inertial force?
Adam Brown, 15:20
I can tell you're a physicist because of the very idealized forms of the continents.
Dwarkesh Patel, watching Brown draw the Atlantic, 18:40
Whenever you try and take something that is curved and pretend it's not curved, you will inevitably end up being wrong about what is and is not a straight line.
Adam Brown, 20:10
Matter tells spacetime how to curve. Once matter's told spacetime how to curve, the curvature of spacetime tells matter how to move.
Adam Brown, 25:40
Perhaps the worst offender was Einstein, who got extremely confused about it.
Adam Brown, on fifty years of confusion about the Schwarzschild solution, 30:20
That reason is not particularly compelling by modern standards but it turns out to be particularly correct, including crazily this factor of 2, which is correct for completely coincidental reasons.
Adam Brown, on Michell and Laplace, 34:30
We can use chemical rockets to get to space in a way that would be totally impossible if we tried to do it from the surface of the sun, but it's hard.
Adam Brown, 42:00
General relativity resolves this paradox by the force getting stronger than Newtonian law would predict.
Adam Brown, 46:00
It is the most efficient possible power plant, because by building an apparatus like this, in principle, I could extract 100% of the energy of whatever I started with.
Adam Brown, 1:10:00
There's a final photon that you emit, and then you just fade to black, fade through red to black.
Adam Brown, on watching someone fall in, 1:15:30
When you cross the event horizon, you are doomed... You are doomed, but you are not dead.
Adam Brown, 1:17:20
The event horizon is really a not locally measurable quantity. It is a teleological fact.
Adam Brown, 1:18:00
So we felt them, we've seen them, and we've seen their gravitational effects on orbiting stars. We're extremely confident at this stage that black holes exist.
Adam Brown, 1:23:20
Frankly, our universe should be honored to be described by such a beautiful theory.
Dwarkesh Patel, 1:24:00
If you point a telescope at the Sun, you'll go blind.
The director of Mount Wilson Observatory, as recounted by Adam Brown, 1:26:20
This really is closer to some Ayn Rand hero just sitting alone, the product of a single mind... In some sense, physics has been chasing that high ever since.
Adam Brown, 1:31:00
You better hope that there's only one or a very small number of possible consistent theories if you were going to do that.
Adam Brown, on string theory's bet, 1:34:40
As well as being superhuman provers, we also expect these large language models to be superhuman explainers.
Adam Brown, 1:36:40
They just have extreme patience, even for doing things that perhaps look like a low probability of success.
Adam Brown, on why models find things humans do not, 1:37:50
Resources mentioned
People
Albert Einstein, author of special relativity (1905) and general relativity (1915), and, per Brown, the worst offender in the fifty years of confusion about the event horizon
Isaac Newton, whose Principia (1687) supplies the three laws Brown puts on the board
========================================
I'm back with Adam Brown.
You currently lead BlueShift at Google
DeepMind, which is cracking science and reasoning.
In a previous life, Adam was a prolific physicist,
taught at Stanford, and did research
on everything from cosmology to
string theory to general relativity.
It's said that general relativity is
the most beautiful thing the human
mind has ever conceived or seen.
I was curious if there's a way that ordinary
people like me could understand what is happening,
or have some vantage on why it's beautiful,
without taking your 20-lecture graduate course.
That was the prompt for this lecture.
I appreciate you being willing to do it.
Super exciting to be here.
Yes, I think the answer is yes, we can.
General relativity, Einstein's theory of
gravity, is, as you say, the most beautiful
product of a single mind that we've ever created.
It's one of the two great theories of 20th century
physics, along with quantum mechanics.
Unlike quantum mechanics,
it was basically Einstein.
He had a little help,
but basically it was one person doggedly pursuing
this idea for 10 years and then he wrote down
this theory that ends up describing the
motion of planets in the solar system
and also the origin and fate of the universe.
It's pretty extraordinary. It took Einstein,
one of the most famous minds in history,
about a decade to figure it out.
But when I teach it I'll do a 10-week
course, and in 10 weeks people will
get a better idea of general relativity
than Einstein really had in 10 years.
That's because we have an advantage
that Einstein didn't have.
We have Einstein, and many others like him going
before us, who've been able to take these super
complicated ideas—understood at the time as
being totally incomprehensible by anybody with
a sub-Einstein level of intelligence—and boil them
down to their essentials, and not make many of the
same mistakes that were made by our forebears.
In 10 or 20 minutes, I can't give you a better
idea of general relativity than Einstein had,
but we can get to the core insight—what Einstein
said was his most beautiful idea—and
push through it to try and understand
what the central idea of this theory is.
Ok, let's go. Before general relativity,
there was special relativity.
Special, meaning it doesn't apply everywhere.
That was also invented by Einstein, 10 years
earlier, in 1905, during his annus mirabilis.
If you want to sloganize special relativity,
you would start with the observation, or the
hypothesis, that nothing can go faster than light.
Special relativity takes that observation,
promotes it to a principle, takes that
principle extremely seriously as the
central observation of our understanding of
spacetime, and you arrive at special relativity.
Special relativity applies to electromagnetism.
It applies—though Einstein didn't even know
about these at the time—straightforwardly to the
strong and weak nuclear forces, two of the other
fundamental forces that we know about.
It does not obviously apply to gravity.
That was corrected 10 years later by
Einstein in his general theory of relativity,
a theory more general because it includes gravity.
It completes the set of fundamental forces.
Again, it was invented by Einstein after
10 years of dogged pursuit, in 1915.
If you wanted to sloganize general
relativity, you might say, "Not even gravity."
Nothing can go faster than
light, not even gravity.
There's much more to it than that, but it's going
to complete this arc of the centrality of nothing
being able to go faster than the speed of light.
To see some background here, we're going to have
to rewind all the way back to the theory
of gravity that existed before Einstein.
The reigning theory of gravity at the
time of Einstein stretches all the way
back to Newton in the late 17th century,
Newton's laws, in his Principia in 1687.
Well, he had a few.
Maybe the one we
could most talk about today is two of them.
His famous second law says the acceleration,
a, caused by a force is given by the formula ma=F.
If you have a force F, it'll cause an acceleration
on an object given by a, where the mass tells
you how much an object resists being accelerated.
The bigger the mass, the bigger the force
you need to cause a given acceleration.
This law, his second law, will turn out to be
still true once we come to general relativity.
We'll have to have a more sophisticated
understanding of what we mean by force
and acceleration, but this will be
preserved by general relativity.
A special case of the second
law is Newton's first law.
Newton's first law says that if the force
is zero, then the acceleration is zero.
If the force is zero, then objects continue
to move on a straight line at all times.
That will also continue to be
true in general relativity.
That if not subject to an external
force, objects move along straight lines.
However, we'll have to upgrade our
and what we mean indeed by straight line.
That's going to keep being true.
The one that's not going to keep
being true is Newton's law of gravity.
Newtonian gravity tells you what the
acceleration is in response to a force,
but you need to know what the force is
to be able to do anything with that.
Newton's law of gravity says that the force caused
by the gravitational interaction of two bodies is
what's called Newton's constant—just some
constant of nature—times the mass of one
body times the mass of the other body—the mass
of the sun times the mass of the Earth—divided
by the distance between them squared.
It's the famous inverse-square law.
It's a vector that points in the
direction of separation, and it's
attractive, so there's a minus sign there.
This will not be true in general relativity.
In fact, you immediately see that there's
a tension between this gravitational force
law and the claim that nothing can
go faster than the speed of light.
If this were literally true, then by
jiggling the sun, a straightforward
interpretation of this law would just say that
the force at the Earth varies immediately.
I've changed the distance of the Earth and the
sun, and so I can immediately detect it at the
Earth, not eight minutes later but immediately.
That would imply that you could send an influence
faster than the speed of light.
Newton's force
law is inconsistent with this principle.
One option, of course, could be that this is true
for non-gravitational forces, but not true once
you have gravity, and that indeed, using gravity,
you could perhaps build a faster-than-light
telephone using gravitational effects.
That's a possibility, but not a possibility
that Einstein really wanted to embrace.
He'd spent many years chasing
out any possibility of going
faster than light or any superluminal influences.
So Einstein, and in fact many people at the time,
thought that this is the one that has to give.
Indeed, that is what's going to
turn out to be true.
Okay, so where are we?
There's actually a precedent here for
an inverse-square law getting modified
in such a way that it ends up being consistent
with special relativity, and that precedent is
the other force of nature, the electric force.
There's also the electrostatic force law—not
written down by Newton, but written down a century
or so later—which says that the force caused,
not by the gravitational interaction of
two objects, but by the electrostatic
interaction of two charged objects, has a
very similar form to the gravitational force.
It tells you that the force is equal to some
constant times the charge of one object times
the charge of the other object, pointing also
in the direction of separation between the two
objects, divided by the distance squared.
It’s another inverse-square law. Again,
for exactly the same reason, electrostatics
looks to be inconsistent with special relativity.
But ultimately it's not. Or
ultimately, this is not the full story.
Electrostatics is just one limit of
the true theory of electromagnetism,
which is Maxwell's laws, which has not just
electric forces, but it also has magnetic forces.
The electric forces only look exactly
like this when nothing is moving.
When things do start to move, there are
additional corrections to this, all of
which conspire to make the electrostatic force
law fully consistent with special relativity.
In fact, the historical direction of
understanding ran the opposite way.
First of all, you have Maxwell
in the middle of the nineteenth
century writing down Maxwell's equations.
Only later do people notice, "Hey, Maxwell's
equations actually are fully consistent with
nothing going faster than the speed of light."
That consistency is reflected in a symmetry
called the Lorentz symmetry of the Maxwell
field equations, only noticed later after they
were written down, that eventually led Einstein
to formulate his special theory of relativity.
So we have a precedent for starting with an
inverse-square law and then dressing it up
in a full relativistically invariant theory.
So you might say, well, let's just take
gravity and do exactly the same thing to
gravity that we did to electrostatics, in order
to make some gravito-magnetic theory that makes
Newton's second law an approximation that's
ultimately consistent with special relativity.
In some grand sense, that is
what we're going to end up doing.
That is what Einstein's going to end up doing.
But it's going to be a much more radical departure
than the Maxwell generalization of electrostatics.
There's really two hints, both of which are
visible in this formula, that we're going
to have to do something slightly different
than we did for electrostatics.
The first difference between the
electrostatic force law and Newton's
law of gravity is this sign difference.
There is a big difference, which is that here
it is a minus sign, and here it is a plus sign.
That is reflected in the fact that if you
have two positive masses—the Earth and the
Sun—they gravitationally attract each other.
Conversely, if you have two like charges,
they electrostatically repel each other, which is
why that's a minus sign and that's a plus sign.
That means that you cannot do literally
the same thing for gravity that you did
for electromagnetism, because otherwise,
if you did mathematically the same trick,
you'd end up with mathematically the same result,
which is that you would find that like masses
would repel rather than attract.
Not to get ahead of ourselves,
but ultimately that's because electrostatics
is mediated by a spin-1 particle, the photon,
and gravity is going to be mediated by a
spin-2 particle, and that's responsible
for the change in that sign there.
That's why you can't do exactly
the same thing as electrostatics.
So Einstein had to look for something else.
He had to look for some other way to try and
lift this to a relativistically invariant theory.
In doing that, he had one clue.
There's lots of stuff going on.
It's part of Einstein's central
genius to focus on this as a highly
significant clue of where he should look.
It's sometimes described as his most beautiful
thought, that's how he would describe it.
The clue is this. There is another
difference between the gravitational
force law and the electrostatics,
and that is the object that plays the analog
of the charge in electrostatics, for gravity.
It's the fact that it's the mass sitting here.
That's a strange coincidence from
Newtonian physics.
Mass, in electrostatic
forces and accelerations, plays exactly one role.
It's sitting here. It's the inertia of the object,
and it's what is resisting being accelerated.
This is sometimes called the inertial mass.
And then the charge is completely
different and unrelated to the mass.
You can have heavy objects that
have no charge, like the neutron.
You can have light objects, like
the electron, that have high charge.
There is no necessary relation between
the charge of a particle and its mass.
They're just two entirely separate things.
Not true in gravity. In gravity, this mass
that's sitting here in Newton's second
law—the inertial mass that's resisting the
force—is exactly equal to the mass that's
sitting here in Newton's gravitational law,
that's telling you how much you're pulled along.
It's the same mass. So this is sometimes called
the gravitational mass, and this is
sometimes called the inertial mass.
Unlike in electrostatics, the gravitational
mass that appears in this formula is equal to
what's sometimes called the inertial
mass that sits in this formula.
This equation is already
true in Newtonian physics.
Newton noticed it, in fact, and did a
number of experiments to confirm that
this was true to one part in 1,000 or so.
By the time of Einstein, we knew it was
true to one part in a billion, and now
we know it's true to one part in 10¹⁵.
It's striking that these two—which in Newtonian
physics is just a complete coincidence,
essentially, that they're
the same thing—nevertheless
were observed to be exactly the same thing.
Einstein honed in on this fact, and it was his
central clue for what to do next.
This is sometimes called the
equivalence principle.
It's responsible for the
fact that if you take a feather and a brick in
a vacuum chamber and drop them both, they will
both fall and hit the ground at the same time.
They'll fall and hit the ground at the same
time because even though the force on the
brick is much stronger than the force on the
feather because it's heavier, that exactly
cancels out the fact that the resistance to
acceleration of the brick is larger than the
resistance to acceleration of the feather,
and they fall exactly at the same rate.
The equality of those two is responsible
for that exact equality.
Einstein's genius was to
hone in on this as a central clue for how he
is going to end up replacing Newton's law.
A reason it's a central clue is because there
is, in fact, another class of forces—not
fundamental forces like electromagnetism or
gravity, but a set of emergent forces—that
exactly have this property baked into
them, that's guaranteed in those theories.
To explain that, we're now going to move over
to the experimental section of this discussion.
So here's a bucket. Here's
some water filling the bucket.
You better know your physics, Adam.
Otherwise you'll destroy the studio.
No tricks. Will you put your finger
in that and confirm that it's wet?
Here is the bucket. At the
bottom, there's no mystery
why the water is not falling out of the bucket.
It's not falling out because the force of gravity,
as we'd understand it, is pointing
down to the bottom of the bucket.
But now what we're going to do is go
a little bit faster and loop the loop.
Now there is what you might
find superficially surprising,
which is that the water doesn't fall out of
the bucket even when the bucket is upside down.
There are two ways to understand that.
One way is just the straightforward way.
You would say the water wants to fall out of
the bucket when it's at the top of its arc,
but by the time it's got itself together to
accelerate enough to fall out of the bucket,
the bucket's moved on and is now below, and it
just didn't have time to fall out of the bucket.
Or you might say the same reason that
astronauts don't end up falling to Earth.
The second perspective, which is an equally
valid perspective, is imagining that you're
riding along with the water in the bucket.
And from that point of view, there's another
explanation for why the water doesn't fall out
of the bucket, and that is the centrifugal force.
From the perspective of somebody moving along
with the bucket, there is a force pushing them
towards the bottom of the bucket, and that
force is known as the centrifugal force.
It's what's known as a
fictitious or inertial force.
The centrifugal force just says that there
is a force caused by being in a rotating
reference frame, given by your speed divided
by the radius of the circle you're going
round in, pointing positively outwards.
So this is the centrifugal force that pins
you to the bottom of the bucket, or pins you to
the outside of the car as you go around a bend.
What do we notice? What we notice is that
your charge under the centrifugal force,
if you will—how intensely you feel a centrifugal
force—is once again, just like with gravity but
unlike with electrostatics, given by your mass.
The mass that tells you how much centrifugal
force you get is given by your inertial mass.
But of course, here it's absolutely no mystery
whatsoever why the mass that's sitting here on the
right-hand side is given by your inertial mass.
It is given by your inertial mass precisely
because the reason you're experiencing this
force is precisely the tendency of masses
to wish to move along straight lines.
The fact that you're not moving along a
straight line, you're moving in a circle,
it is precisely that inertial tendency
that causes the mass to begin with.
Another way to say it: any time you
have one of these inertial forces,
caused just by your inertia, it is guaranteed
to be the case that the charge under that force
is given by the inertial mass.
So inertial forces always have
a charge given by the inertial mass.
Gravity has a charge, and the charge
of gravity is given by the inertial mass.
So Einstein leapt: could it be the case,
and this was his central idea, that
gravity itself is an inertial force?
That's permitted because the gravitational
mass is equal to the inertial mass.
It would be totally impossible for
something like electromagnetism,
because it would require that the electromagnetic
charge was equal to the inertial mass,
which is simply false for electromagnetism.
Could it be the case, Einstein asked,
that it's true for gravity?
It's permitted by this fact.
It would also explain this fact as now not
an accidental truth like in Newton's laws,
but a necessary fact about the world.
So this was Einstein's central idea in 1907,
his most beautiful thought.
But it sounds totally crazy.
It sounds totally crazy because it requires
us to be wrong about what straight lines are.
It is an extremely radical proposition for
the reason that I will describe right now.
Inertial forces—like the centrifugal force or the
Coriolis force or any of these other ones that
we're familiar with—are forces you experience
when you are not moving on a straight line.
When you are moving on a straight line,
you don't experience any inertial forces.
So in order for this to be true, we'd have to
say that astronauts who are free-floating and
free-falling are moving along a straight line.
We'd have to say that you, who are just sitting
there, seemingly not moving, are experiencing
the force of gravity pushing you into your chair.
We'd have to say that you're not
moving along a straight line.
So we'd have to be pretty wrong about who's
moving along a straight line and who's not.
As I’ve gotten to know the folks at Jane
Street, I’ve noticed that a lot of them
have physics backgrounds. I recently
got a chance to talk to Jed Thompson,
who was a particle physicist before he was
a trader, about how his physics training
helps him with his work at Jane Street.
I think very few Jane Street traders or
researchers come in with any finance
background or any trading background.
When I used to be in physics, something that I
would say is, I almost never do a calculation
without already having a pretty good guess at
the answer. In trading, I think the same is true.
These things are fundamentally models for how the
world is behaving. You can build good intuition
by seeing patterns over and over again, and
come to a point where you’re mostly asking
the right question from the beginning,
which short-circuits a lot of the work.
So even if you don’t have a finance background,
or for that matter a physics background,
you should still consider applying.
Go to janestreet.com/Dwarkesh to learn more.
So this is a radical idea because it requires
us to be wrong about what a straight line is.
In particular, you sitting here, just sitting in
your chair… Here is your height above the center
of the Earth as a function of time.
Here is Dwarkesh just
sitting here at constant height.
Because you are experiencing the force of
gravity, if gravity is an inertial force—because
you're experiencing a force down—that means that
you have to be moving along a not straight line.
So that's you. By contrast, this piece of chalk,
as it goes up and down, executes something
that's well approximated by a parabola.
The chalk is in free fall until I catch
it, which means that if gravity is an
inertial force, this has to be straight.
Now, certainly the way I've plotted it,
this looks straight and that one does not.
So if gravity is to be an inertial force,
we have to be wrong about what is a straight
line and what is not a straight line.
However, this is actually a situation
with which you should be familiar
if you've sat in an airplane seat and
looked at the screen in front of you.
Imagine the map that you see on
an airplane, and imagine you are
flying from San Francisco to London.
Now, I'm not good at drawing the Earth,
but here is my version of it.
Here we are in San Francisco.
Here is Greenland, coming in from the North Pole.
And here is England. Here's London.
I can tell you're a physicist because of
the very idealized forms of the continents.
Sometimes it can be quite frustrating sitting
there in the backseat of the airplane,
because obviously the plane should
be flying like this, moving along the
shortest distance from one place to another.
But instead they take this massive detour
that clips Greenland and heads on down.
You know that in fact that's not what's going on.
You know that in fact, despite what it looks
like on the graph, this is not a straight line.
This rhumb line, it's sometimes called, is
not straight, and would certainly not be the
shortest path from San Francisco to London.
And this is in fact, to a good approximation,
a straight line.
So in fact, the straight
line from San Francisco to London does indeed
go over Greenland, as I will now demonstrate.
Here is San Francisco, here is London.
You can see that the straight line that
goes straight from one to the other would go in
this direction over Greenland and hit London.
That's obvious on this map, because this
map reflects the curvature of the Earth.
This map is getting confused, and
it's getting confused because it's
trying to pretend that the Earth is flat.
It is trying to ignore the curvature of the Earth,
and because it's trying to map a round Earth
onto a flat panel, there have to be distortions.
Whenever you try and take something that
is curved and pretend it's not curved,
you will inevitably end up being wrong
about what is and is not a straight line.
You see this on the Earth, where
this line that goes up and then
comes down is in fact the straight line.
You see it also in spacetime with general
relativity, where this parabolic arc of the
chalk as it's thrown up, it is in free fall,
it is the straight line in general relativity.
And just like in general relativity,
the reason you are confused about what's
straight and what's not straight is that
you are trying to pretend with this
graph that you are in a flat spacetime.
In fact, you are in a curved spacetime.
So in Einstein's theory, the effect of
matter is going to be to curve spacetime.
Through curving spacetime, it's going to
change what's a straight line
and what's not a straight line.
People who are going along what they incorrectly
think of as straight lines are going to experience
the gravitational force, whereas astronauts are
going to not experience the gravitational force.
The only missing piece here is to mathematically
characterize the way in which spacetime is curved.
In Newtonian physics, the Newtonian
force is caused by the presence of mass.
In Einstein's general theory of
relativity, it will be the curvature
of spacetime that is caused by the mass.
He struggled for eight years between 1907,
when he had this picture approximately mapped
out, and 1915, when he wrote down in its
finished form his general theory of relativity.
The final output of those eight years was his
famous formula, that I will not explain but will
write down, that exactly captures his intuition.
I will walk you through this formula.
This is just a beautiful formula.
The left-hand side is some mathematics
invented by some Eastern Europeans that
characterizes the curvature of spacetime.
This says how much spacetime is curved.
This is some tensor, and the tensor will be
zero if spacetime were flat, and non-zero
when spacetime is curved in a particular way.
On the right-hand side is not spacetime anymore.
On the right-hand side is matter.
There are some constants: our old
friend Newton's constant, π an even
older friend, and the speed of light.
And then this quantity T_(μν).
T_(μν) is like a relativistic
generalization of the mass that sits on the
right-hand side of Newton's force equation.
So it is saying that the presence of mass—and
in fact not just mass, but all forms of mass
and energy—on the right-hand side causes the
curvature of spacetime on the left-hand side.
Or in a slogan: matter tells
spacetime how to curve.
Once matter's told spacetime how to curve,
the curvature of spacetime tells matter
how to move, in the second half of the slogan.
The curvature of spacetime tells matter to move
along straight lines of the curved space,
and so experience fictitious forces if you
try and pretend that spacetime is flat.
That is Einstein's general theory of
relativity in a nutshell.
Backing up: an amazing
thing about Newtonian gravity is that he
invented it, allegedly due to some thought
experiment to do with an apple falling off a tree.
It describes not only an apple falling off a tree,
but the motion of the objects in the heavens.
It’s a massive cross hit that it describes
planetary motion and also
an apple falling off a tree.
This was this amazing thing that Newton
unified the heavens and the Earth and had
one formula that applied to both.
General relativity does all of
that and goes one step further.
It describes the motion of apples falling
off trees, it describes the motion of Mercury and
the planets in the solar system, and it describes
the expansion of the entire universe.
That's a crazy, huge number of
orders of magnitude that it hits.
You were saying a moment ago that one
of the beautiful things about this theory is
that it has reach in all these interesting ways
that were not originally anticipated, to solve
this original observation that Einstein had.
One of them, obviously, is the black hole.
I would love to get more insight than the high
school version—that light falls into it and can't
get out—of why black holes work the way they do.
Black holes are fascinating objects in general
relativity, really the quintessential object in
general relativity that doesn't exist
in the same way in Newtonian physics.
The story is kind of wild.
Einstein wrote down his field equations,
the field equations we wrote on the board,
describing the relationship between curvature
and the amount of energy in the system.
He thought that those equations are so
complicated, no one would ever come up with
exact solutions to them, that we'd just
always be having to do approximations.
That turned out not to be correct.
Schwarzschild was a Prussian artillery
officer in the First World War.
In between calculating the trajectories of
artillery they were lobbing in the direction
of their enemy, he figured out that Einstein's
equations—pretty much immediately after Einstein
had written them down, within a matter of
months—in fact have an exact solution, a
solution now known as the Schwarzschild equation,
and that we now understand describes a black hole.
It is a solution in which there
is no matter, except possibly at
the very center in a way we'll not describe.
It's a central point-like amount of matter.
It describes what the spacetime
around that looks like.
It's called the Schwarzschild solution,
and it describes a black hole.
They were not called black holes at the time.
In fact, people were extremely confused about
what this solution even meant.
People wrote down wrong things for
about half a century about what this meant.
Perhaps the worst offender was Einstein,
who got extremely confused about it.
He got particularly confused about what I
will describe as the event horizon, and wrote
all sorts of wrong things about how objects
would maybe bounce off the event horizon.
He was just totally confused, but from
a modern perspective it's extremely
simple to understand what's going on.
So let me tell you what a black hole is.
General relativity, as we set it up,
is about a collision between gravity
and the finite speed of light.
The simplest collision you could do was actually
noticed by people even in the 18th century, before
we had special relativity or anything like that.
They just asked a very simple question.
If you want to shoot something off the
Earth, you know you need to shoot it with
a certain velocity, the escape velocity.
You need to shoot it fast enough if you
want to escape far away from the Earth, so
that the kinetic energy of the object you're
shooting is equal to the gravitational
binding energy of the Earth's surface.
M is the mass of the Earth and
r is the surface of the Earth.
For Earth, the escape velocity turns out
to be about 11 kilometers per second.
But for objects that are heavier or more
compact, the escape velocity is larger.
For example, for Jupiter it would
be hundreds of kilometers a second.
You can imagine objects that are so heavy
or so compact that in fact the escape
velocity becomes equal to the speed of light.
So people idly wondered what would happen then.
They didn't have the tools to address it, but in
the 18th century they wondered what would happen.
You can calculate what the
critical value of the velocity is.
Just putting the velocity equal to the speed of
light, this gives a critical radius of 2GM—the
mass of the object cancels—divided by c².
So that's somewhat suggestive. If you had
an object that was this compact and had this
mass, the escape velocity would be given by c,
the speed of light.
The connection
you're pointing out is a Newtonian one.
Did anyone make this connection before GR?
Absolutely. People in the late 18th
century wrote this formula down.
I think both Michell and Laplace had this.
And they said that if you had an object
that was that massive and compact,
light would not be able to escape.
That reason is not particularly compelling
by modern standards but it turns out to be
particularly correct, including crazily
this factor of 2, which is correct
for completely coincidental reasons.
But let me give you a more compelling
argument that something funny is
going to happen around this radius.
And to do that, let's think about trying
to extract energy from objects by lowering
the objects down towards a central mass.
Let's start off perhaps with the Earth.
Here it is. We're going to start off a long way
away from the Earth, with a brick of mass m.
I'm going to take this brick,
attach it to a pulley system,
and then slowly lower the brick down towards the
surface of the Earth and deposit it with zero
velocity on the surface of the Earth down there.
In doing so, I can extract energy from the brick.
I've extracted energy from the brick because
there's a force pulling the brick down.
That force I'm doing through a certain
distance, and that gives you an energy.
We know, at least in Newtonian physics, what
the formula for the amount of energy you can
extract from the brick is: G times the mass
of the Earth times the mass of the brick,
divided by r, the radius away.
It's an energy, not force, so it's an inverse
distance law, not an inverse square distance law.
That's the energy you can extract from the
brick by lowering it down to a
distance r away from the Earth.
Of course, if you try to lower it beyond the
surface of the Earth, this formula changes.
But let's just put it on the surface of the Earth.
So this is the amount of energy I have extracted
from the brick, out here a long way away.
You can ask, what fraction of the rest
mass energy of the brick have I extracted?
This is a question that you would only naturally
ask once you've invented special relativity and
know that the rest mass energy is given by mc².
We can straightforwardly calculate, at least
in this approximation, that the fraction of the
energy that you've extracted is that divided
by the rest mass energy you started with.
The mass of the brick, of course, is going
to cancel, but not the mass of the Earth.
This is going to be given by G times
the mass of the Earth, divided by c²
times the radius away from the Earth at
which you stop, the radius of the Earth.
So what fraction have I got out of it?
If you lower down to the Earth's surface,
the answer is you haven't really
extracted that much from the brick.
You've extracted a fraction 7x10⁻¹⁰ of the
original rest mass energy of the brick,
doing useful work a long way away.
First observation: this is small.
In other words, the gravitational binding
energy of something on the Earth's surface
is quite small in natural units.
That's why we didn't really notice
general relativity on the Earth's surface until
we did very sensitive experiments, because general
relativity is in some sense a Taylor expansion
in this number, where the relativistic effects,
where the first order term is just Newtonian,
and then the next order terms will give you
the GR corrections to the Newtonian answer.
Observation number two, and this is something
of a digression, is that by essentially sheer
coincidence, this number here is very close to
the chemical binding energy of rocket fuel.
So if you take a rocket fuel
like an oxygen-hydrogen mix, the chemical energy
binding the rocket together, which is the energy
that you're going to extract when you burn it to
make your rocket go, divided by the mc² of the
oxygen and hydrogen you're going to
mix together, is given by 1.5x10⁻¹⁰.
First observation: these two are close
to each other, even though they came
from completely different calculations.
This was a gravitational calculation that
was something to do with the Earth.
This is a chemical property
of hydrogen and oxygen.
This is also very small.
The reason it's very small is that almost
all of the energy in hydrogen and oxygen
is not stored in the chemical binding
energy of these things going together.
The vast majority of it is stored in just the
rest mass energy of the protons and the neutrons,
which chemical burning doesn't affect at all.
The second largest amount is stored in the
nuclear binding energy of the protons
and the neutrons to each other, given
by the strong force and the weak force, which
again chemical reactions don't touch at all.
This is a small number because chemical
bonds are very weak compared to the
rest mass of the things we're considering.
These two small numbers are almost exactly
equal to each other, which is why we can use
chemical rockets to get to space, but it's hard.
In particular, this number is a few times bigger
than this number, which means that your payload
fraction is quite small when trying to
use chemical rockets to get to space,
because most of your fuel cannot get to orbit.
You have to pay a rocket factor that's going to
tell you that most of what's sitting there on
the launch pad is going to have to be burnt up
before you get to space, in order to get a
small fraction of the rocket up to space.
In other words, we can use chemical
rockets to get to space in a way that
would be totally impossible if we tried to do
it from the surface of the sun, but it's hard.
Okay, that's the fraction on the Earth.
But this formula tells you that if you
have an object that's heavier or more
compact, the fraction of energy that
you extract by lowering the object down
to the surface is going to be larger.
For example, if you lower it not down to the
Earth's surface but down to the sun's surface,
this would be larger.
It’d be a million times larger,
because the sun is a few million times the
mass of the Earth, but then it's also bigger,
so that takes it away a little bit.
You end up with 2x10⁻⁶, the famous
redshift from the sun's surface.
You can escalate from there.
You can imagine cramming a
sun-like mass into an Earth-like
radius to make this formula even bigger.
Sun mass, Earth radius. That's pretty much exactly
what happens in a white dwarf like Sirius B.
And this would get even bigger again.
A larger fraction of the mass of the object you'd
be extracting by lowering it down to the surface.
But it really feels like something
has to give before we make an
object that is too massive and too compact.
In particular, if you look at this formula, what
happens for r less than or equal to GM over c²?
If this object were so compact and so heavy that
it had a radius less than the mass of the
object divided by c², it sure looks like you
could get more than a hundred percent.
The fraction would be bigger than one.
You could get more than a hundred percent
of the mass of your brick back by lowering
it down to the surface of this object.
And that feels wrong. That feels, in fact,
more wrong than what's going on here, because
now you've got all this energy a long way away.
You could perhaps use it
to make a whole new brick.
You've got all this more than mc² out there.
Lower that one down, and it feels like we've
figured out a way to make a huge amount of
energy where there was no energy before.
This argument is pretty suggestive
that something has to go wrong by
the time you get down to that radius.
Indeed, when you do the calculation—this
is a Newtonian calculation, so it's only
suggestive —in full general relativity,
indeed something does go wrong.
The thing that goes wrong is that
you form a black hole.
You can imagine two
ways that you could avoid this conclusion.
One would be somehow that gravity becomes very
weak when you get close to a massive object,
weaker than the Newtonian law would predict.
That's sort of what saves you if you try and
repeat this same trick in electromagnetism,
lowering a charge down towards another
charge and trying to extract the
electrostatic energy between them.
What happens is, essentially due to
quantum effects, when one gets too close
to the other, they start to fuzz out.
The energy going like inverse r gets softened,
and you can't extract more energy because they
stop attracting each other so hard.
So that's one possibility,
the force gets weaker than Newtonian law would
predict as you approach the other object.
That's actually the opposite of how
general relativity resolves this.
General relativity resolves this
paradox by the force getting
stronger than Newtonian law would predict.
In particular, the force gets so strong when
you try to get within this radius, that in fact
you cannot slowly lower the brick down towards
the surface because you've formed a black hole.
The gravitational force becomes infinite at a
finite distance away—not at r=0, but at some
finite value of r—and the brick simply gets
ripped out of your hand and you're unable
to extract any more energy out of it.
That's the resolution that general
relativity provides to this paradox.
In particular, you will find
that you've formed a black hole.
Crusoe gave us early access to their
serverless fine-tuning product,
which lets you fine-tune open models without
having to deal with infra or provisioning.
I thought it’d be cool to try fine-tuning
a question generator using the transcripts
of my old interviews. Have the models gotten so
good that if they had all my research and prep,
and they could look at a conversation so far, they
could ask a next question better than I would?
Crusoe made the implementation super
straightforward. I just uploaded the data,
picked an open model, and started the run. I
didn’t have to touch any of the hyperparameters.
Crusoe’s applied AI team maintains optimal recipes
for each model, so I just set everything on auto.
When the run finished, I deployed it as a
self-serve endpoint and built an eval for my
team. I had them choose the best next question out
of three anonymized choices: one that was produced
by the base model, one that was produced by the
fine-tuned model, and one that I actually asked.
Fortunately, my team preferred my actual
questions about two-thirds of the time.
Hopefully this benchmark doesn’t saturate. And in
the remaining cases, they almost always preferred
the fine-tuned model over the base model.
Serverless inference is live now,
and serverless fine-tuning goes live next
week. Learn more at crusoe.ai/Dwarkesh.
So far, everything we've written
down on the board is Newtonian.
It's just Newtonian, and you start plugging in the
speed of light, and you start getting confused.
To actually answer some of these questions
that we're asking, you need to go to general
relativity, the theory that correctly
unifies the speed of light with gravity.
This was first done in the context of black
holes by Schwarzschild, who wrote down the
Schwarzschild metric that describes the
gravitational field around a central mass,
including potentially around a black hole.
Let me write down some of the
formulas that emerge.
In fact, I think I'm going
to write down three formulas, three direct
consequences of the Schwarzschild metric.
They're going to give us intuition for what it's
like outside and indeed inside a black hole.
The first formula I'm going to write down is
the formula for the gravitational field that
you would experience if you were trying
to remain static outside a central mass.
So let's just talk about static observers.
I can discuss how these will get upgraded
for observers who are moving around.
But for now, I'm just going to imagine
that you're trying to sit here at some
fixed radius r away from the black hole.
The reason you don't fall in, maybe
I'm lowering you down on a pulley.
You're just sitting here holding the pulley.
The question is, how strong a force
do you need to stop you falling down?
You're abseiling down very slowly.
You're static. What is the local
force of gravity that you experience?
Or you can imagine that you're sitting
here, and the reason you're static is
that you're firing a rocket very hard.
The question is, how much
acceleration do you locally feel?
So by whatever mechanism, you're remaining static.
What is the local force of gravity that you feel?
In Newtonian physics, you know what
the answer to that question would be.
The force of gravity is GM/r², which
is Newton's famous inverse-square law.
But this gets a correction
from general relativity.
The correction is 1/√(1-2GM/(c²r)), this
same 2GM/c² that we find all over the place.
What this tells you: first of all, if you're
a very long way away from the black hole,
this here is essentially one. r is very big,
and you get Newton's force law back again.
For the Earth, this is very small.
As we discussed, it's down by a factor of 10⁻¹⁰,
and then you take the square root.
So you don't really notice it,
but you can Taylor-expand this at large
r, and you find that you get corrections.
You get an inverse-square law plus an
inverse-cube law correction plus an
inverse-fourth law correction.
You find that gravity at short
distances is stronger than it would
have been in Newtonian physics.
This is the general relativity correction and
it's making the gravitational field stronger.
You have to accelerate harder
to not fall into the black hole.
In particular, once r is equal to 2GM/c²,
what's called the Schwarzschild radius,
you have to accelerate infinitely.
The proper acceleration required to
not move in r goes to infinity.
In fact, if we now convert this
Earth to a black hole, this is a very
significant radius over here, 2GM/c².
It's called the event horizon.
It's called the event horizon because
if you want to remain static outside the event
horizon, further away from the event horizon,
you just need to accelerate with some
finite velocity in order to remain static.
You need to have a finite gravitational field.
But the gravitational field, as you approach
the event horizon, becomes infinite.
So once you're at or beyond the event
horizon, it is impossible to remain static.
You will inevitably get sucked into the black
hole no matter how hard you fire your rocket.
Now, this is just a static formula.
You might imagine, "Okay, it's impossible
to remain static closer than that,
but maybe I could avoid falling into the
black hole by orbiting really, really fast.
If I orbit really fast, I have a huge centrifugal
force that pushes me away from the black hole,
and I can stay out of the black hole that way."
That actually doesn't work. The reason it
doesn't work is somewhat instructive
for the way gravitational attraction
happens in general relativity.
Of course, if you think about
the International Space Station, why
doesn't it fall towards the Earth?
It is precisely the fact that it's orbiting.
The fact that it's orbiting gives it a
centrifugal force that shoots the astronauts
away from the Earth and precisely balances
the gravitational field on the astronauts,
which is why they feel weightless there.
So orbital angular momentum, if you're a long
way away from the black hole, helps you stay away
from the black hole, stops you falling in.
There is this kind of sci-fi notion that
black holes just suck in everything around them.
Not true. You are perfectly able to orbit around
a black hole if you're a long way away from it,
just like you would orbit around any central mass.
You are not inevitably
falling into the black hole.
You can orbit just fine.
But orbiting stops helping
when you get too close to the black hole.
We said that the event horizon is 2GM/c².
In fact, once you're already within
3GM/c², orbiting is counterproductive
if you're trying to stay away from the black hole.
That's because there are two effects of orbiting.
One effect helps you stay
away from the black hole.
That's the centrifugal effect. Orbital
angular momentum pushes you away from
the black hole due to the centrifugal effect.
It's not too hard to write down the version of
this formula that applies when you have
angular momentum, and you would see that
pushing you away from the black hole.
But there's another effect which drags
you towards the black hole, and that
is the fact that in general relativity,
all energy gravitates, not just rest mass energy.
Kinetic energy also gravitates. So the effect of
orbiting is that you have an additional pull down
towards the black hole from the coupling between
the gravitational attraction between the mass of
the black hole and your orbital angular energy.
When you're far away from the black hole, the
centrifugal force is the more important term.
When you're close to the black hole,
that coupling is the more important term.
In fact, once you get within 3GM, orbital angular
momentum stops helping and starts hurting.
There are no ballistic orbits that go
within 3GM and manage to escape again.
So that's formula number one.
It tells you what the gravitational field is
a distance r away from a black hole.
In particular, it shows you that once
you get to this critical radius, the
gravitational field becomes infinite.
If you cross that, you must proceed
to the center of the black hole,
no matter how hard you fire a rocket.
That's called the event horizon.
At the event horizon, you are not yet dead.
You are, however, doomed if you
cross the event horizon.
You will never be able to escape,
not if you convert yourself to light
and try to shoot yourself out, not if
you fire your rocket infinitely hard.
The other place, of course, is r=0,
which is where you actually die.
That's at the singularity, and we'll
describe that a little bit in a moment.
In Newtonian physics, the gravitational
force only becomes infinite there.
In general relativity, it becomes
infinite already at the event horizon if
you try to resist the force of gravity.
That's formula number one. Now
let's do formula number two.
All three formulas I'm going to write
down are heavily related to each other.
They're really going to be
reformulations of each other.
Formula number two asks about
gravitational time dilation.
Let's again imagine that you're sitting
here, Dwarkesh sitting here some radius
r away from the black hole.
I'm sitting out here,
way off at infinity, just watching you.
We're static relative to each other.
There's no relative motion. You're just
suspended here by your pulley system.
The question is, how fast does
your watch go relative to mine?
Of course, as far as you're concerned, your
watch is ticking at one second per second.
As far as I'm concerned, my watch
is ticking at one second per second.
But if I look at you, I see
your watch as running slow.
If you look at me, you see
my watch as running fast.
The second formula makes that quantitative.
How much slower does your wristwatch—which
is closer to the black hole—run than mine?
It says that the time interval, as measured by
your wristwatch, is given by the time interval
as measured by my wristwatch a long way away,
times this exact same square root factor
that's showing up all over the place:
the square root of 1-2GM/(rc²).
This factor here is less than one.
So if I think one second has passed, you
think less than one second has passed.
In other words, if I slowly lower you down towards
the black hole—you hang out some finite distance
away from the black hole for what feels to you
like a year, and then I raise you back up a long
way away from the black hole—you will return to
a world that has aged a lot more than you have.
This formula makes that precise.
I observe your wristwatch to be running slow.
You observe my wristwatch to be running fast.
Time passes slower down here than it does up here.
This is a fact that has by now been
extremely well observed experimentally.
In the 1950s, in the Harvard physics
department, they put two atomic clocks
at two different heights in the building,
and noticed the one that was higher was
running faster than the one that was lower.
This is an effect that is now considerably
within the precision of, for example, GPS.
It just has to subtract that effect, otherwise
everything would drift all over the place.
GPS clocks that are sitting on the Earth's
surface are running slow compared to the atomic
clocks that are in orbit sending out the signal.
You have to account for that difference and
subtract it off in order to get an accurate read.
This is known as gravitational time dilation.
Notice it's quite different from the relativistic
time dilation you see in special
relativity, which is caused by two
objects being in motion relative to each other.
Here, we're not in motion relative to each other.
We're both static. We're fixed. This is
caused by us being at a different place
in the gravitational potential, you deeper
in the gravitational potential than me.
So those are two different sources
of time dilation, and they stack.
Let's say instead of being
static here, you're in orbit.
You're far enough away that
you can orbit the black hole.
How slow do I see you as moving?
There are now two contributions,
both of which make you look slow relative to me.
One contribution is the gravitational time
dilation given by this formula.
A second contribution is the good
old special relativity correction where
moving observers look like they're going
slow, and we'll have both of those effects.
So you'll look like you're going even slower
than you would have done otherwise
as you go around the black hole.
One thing that seems different between this and
special relativity is that there's no symmetry.
In special relativity, both observers will feel
that the other one is aging slower than they are,
because they're both moving relative
to each other at the same rate,
and there's no true inertial path.
But here, it actually does seem like
there's a global sense in which one is a more
relevant inertial frame than the other one.
You're exactly right. In special relativity,
if you and I are moving relative to each other,
I think your watch is moving slow,
you think my watch is moving slow.
Neither of us is more correct than the other.
The principle of relativity tells you that
both of our perspectives are equally valid.
Here, both of our perspectives are not equally
valid, because there is not the symmetry
that there was in special relativity.
In particular, the symmetry
is broken by the black hole.
We both agree that you are deeper
in the gravitational well than I am,
and your clock runs slower than mine does.
You do not see my clock reciprocally running slow.
You, in fact, see me sped up.
If you were observing me, you see
me living my life in fast-forward.
So this is the second formula.
It says how fast our wristwatches
move relative to each other.
Now let's imagine that you're here
with your slow-moving wristwatch,
and you shine a light towards me.
Let's say the light has a particular frequency.
You made it with a sodium transition, for example.
As that light travels upwards, by the time
it reaches me, I'm going to think that
it is lower frequency than you thought
it was when you sent it.
Why? Because frequency is
about how rapidly it oscillates.
I just think that everything you
do is moving slow relative to me.
You think it's oscillating slower.
It has lower frequency, which means it gets
shifted towards the red part of the spectrum.
The word that we use is
redshift, gravitational redshift.
It's redshifted: lower frequency,
and therefore less energy.
If you send one photon up, the energy
of the photon is given by the frequency.
It'll arrive at me more redshifted and with
lower energy than it had when it left you.
Conversely, if I am up here, and I send you
a photon generated by the sodium transition,
as observed by you, by the time the
light reaches you—you see me moving
in fast-forward—you think that it has a higher
frequency than I thought it had when it left me.
It's moved towards the blue part of the spectrum.
We say that it is blueshifted.
So this thought experiment tells you that knowing
the exchange rate for how time passes at different
altitudes directly gives you the exchange rate for
how much energy is worth at different altitudes.
If you try to send me some energy, by the time
it reaches me, it's worth less to me than you
perceived it as being worth to you.
The amount it's less by is going to
be precisely given by the same square root
formula that's controlling everything else.
So that gives us our third equation.
The third formula says: suppose that you,
Dwarkesh, have an object of mass, mc², sitting
with you at this fixed radius down there.
How much energy, as measured by me a long way
away from the black hole, is that worth to me?
Of course, if I had it with me, it
would be worth mc² worth of energy.
But I don't have it with me.
It's unfortunately sitting with
you deep in a gravitational potential.
So it's worth less than mc² to me.
In fact, it's just the exact same formula.
The amount of energy that it's worth to me,
by the time it reaches me, is GM/(rc²).
There are a couple of ways to see that.
One is the way that we just said.
Suppose you take your object of mass m.
It's just half an Avogadro's
number of carbon atoms and half
an Avogadro's number of anti-carbon atoms.
One way you could send me the energy is by
smashing them together, a violent explosion.
You convert all of that energy to light and
you try to beam that light energy up to me.
But what you find, precisely because of this
gravitational time dilation, is by the time
it reaches me, I'm not getting mc² worth out.
I'm getting, by the argument we
just gave, less than mc² worth out.
I'm getting 1-GM/(rc²) out. Mass down
here suffers this redshifting as it
goes up and has less energy by the time it
reaches infinity than it did to begin with.
There is another way that you could have got
the energy to me, not by beaming it up as light,
but by just taking your mass object, attaching it
to the pulley, and having me pull the object out.
By the time I've pulled it out,
I've now got mc² sitting out here,
a long way away from the black hole.
So I do have the full mc² worth of energy.
But to get it, I needed to pay.
What I needed to pay was precisely
pulling it out of the gravitational potential.
So from that way of thinking about it,
that's why I have less than mc² worth of energy
left, because I had to pay to pull it out of
the potential in order to accrue that mass.
So this formula tells you: if I have a brick
of mass, mc², sitting at some radius r away from
the black hole, how much energy can I extract from
that brick if I'm a long way from the black hole?
If we know that formula, then we can in fact
calculate exactly this formula: how
much energy have I extracted from the
brick by lowering it down to a radius r?
Well, we know the answer to that question.
The energy it started with is mc².
The energy it now has is this.
So the energy I've extracted from the brick
while slowly lowering it down using my pulley
system must be the energy I started
with, mc², minus the energy it now has.
In other words, the fraction of the
energy that I've extracted by lowering
it down to a radius r is mc² minus this,
all divided by mc²: 1 - √(1 - 2GM/(c²r)).
This is the exactly correct answer for
the fraction of the energy extracted.
It doesn't look exactly like this, because
this is only correct in the Newtonian limit.
We derived this using Newtonian physics.
This is exactly correct, not just in the
Newtonian limit, but all the way to where the
effects of general relativity are important.
Now, if you're a very, very long way
away from the black hole—r is much,
much bigger than 2GM/c²—then you
can Taylor-expand this formula.
The first order term is just
the old Newtonian formula.
It better be. It better be that the long-distance
limit of general relativity recovers the Newtonian
physics that we originally discovered.
But as you get closer and closer to the black
hole, this starts to deviate from the Newtonian
answer, in a way that exactly is going to end up
resolving our original thought experiment to do
with lowering a brick down towards a black hole.
So how much, then, looking at this
formula, have I extracted from the
brick as I lower it down towards the black hole?
If r equals infinity—if the brick's still a long
way from the black hole—then I've extracted 1-1=0.
I haven't extracted any energy.
As I lower it closer and closer to the black
hole, initially I just get the Newtonian formula.
So in fact, these are pretty close to
correct in general relativity as well,
because the corrections are only going to start
getting large when this term becomes order one,
and it's still very small here.
So these are all essentially correct.
But once I get closer and closer to the
black hole, they stop being correct.
What I see is that as r approaches
the black hole event horizon,
as this formula goes to zero, I have extracted
exactly all of the energy from the brick.
So I start off with a brick a very, very long way
from the black hole, attach it to a rope, slowly
lower the brick down towards the event horizon.
Of course, I can't lower it past the event
horizon, otherwise I'll lose control of the brick.
But I lower it right above the event horizon—the
last possible place I can lower it to—and
then just let go of it with zero velocity.
The brick falls into the black hole and I
have extracted the entire mc² that used to
be in the brick in my pulley system out there.
So it exactly resolves this question we had.
Is it possible to extract
more than mc² from the brick?
No. Is it possible to extract the full
mc² from the brick using a black hole?
Yes, it is. That's actually pretty
neat, and why people talk about
using black holes as power plants.
Most power plants today operate
by burning chemical energy.
That is not very efficient.
You have to pay a factor of 10⁻¹⁰,
because chemical bonds are super
weak compared to the rest masses of objects.
You're really only extracting a tiny fraction of
the rest mass of the fuel that you're considering.
You can level up from there by going to nuclear
energy, which instead of dealing with the feeble
electromagnetic bonds between atoms, starts to
concern itself with the nuclear forces between
the protons and the neutrons within the nucleus.
So you can go up from about 10⁻¹⁰ to about
10⁻³ for fission, or 10⁻² for fusion.
But that's about as good as you can
go, even with fission and fusion.
Because even though you can extract
energy from the strong nuclear force,
neither fission nor fusion changes the total
number of protons plus neutrons in your process.
The bulk of the energy—99% of the energy—is
stored not in the electromagnetic interaction,
not in the strong interaction, but in
the rest mass energy of the protons and
neutrons, something that neither chemical
reactions nor nuclear reactions can touch.
But gravity can touch them.
If I start off with a mass object of m,
I can extract, up to quantum
corrections, essentially 100%
of the rest mass energy that I've gone in with.
It is the most efficient possible power plant,
because by building an apparatus like
this, in principle, I could extract 100%
of the energy of whatever I started with.
I intuitively get how energy equals mass.
There's these chemical bonds. Those
get dissolved, they release energy.
The thing weighs less if those bonds are released.
I even get that if the bonds between the protons
and the neutrons are broken, that releases
energy and makes the thing have less mass.
But if something with protons and neutrons
is just slightly above the event horizon,
is the interpretation that those protons and
neutrons stop existing right at that point?
What does it even mean for them to have
1% or 2% or 5% of their original mass?
That's a great question. It really becomes
relevant once you turn on quantum mechanics,
which is beyond the scope of today's discussion.
Classically, the black hole
just sits there forever.
So you can just say, "Well,
what happened to the protons and neutrons?"
You say, "Well, they now live
inside the black hole."
The number of protons plus neutrons
is still conserved out there in the universe.
It's just you need to assign what's called a
nucleon number to the black hole itself.
That's fine as far as it goes classically.
Quantum mechanically—way beyond the scope
of today's lecture—Hawking and Bekenstein
discovered that black holes radiate away energy,
and eventually the black hole will be gone.
All of the energy, if you calculate it, ends up in
gravitons and photons and perhaps some neutrinos.
None of it, or almost none of it,
ends up in protons and neutrons.
So it is a very interesting fact,
once you turn on quantum gravity,
that black holes eat nucleon number.
This thing that seems like it's conserved,
at least perturbatively, both by
electromagnetism and by the nuclear forces,
ends up being eaten by gravity.
People like to promote this—we're
talking about quantum gravity now—to a
general principle that quantum gravity
doesn't respect any global symmetries.
It doesn't respect nucleon number symmetry.
It doesn't respect any of these symmetries.
That's a whole other can of worms
that we can open some other day.
I recently wrote this blog post where I
speculated that sample efficiency during training
actually hasn’t improved that much over the last
few years, and rather, we’ve just dramatically
improved and widened the data distribution.
I was having dinner with friends recently, and
then I had this idea of how you could get some
empirical information on this question. There’s
this nanoGPT speedrun where people compete to
train Karpathy’s GPT-2 baseline to a fixed loss
with less and less compute. The training data has
frozen, so I wondered if the loss curves
over time of each record could tell you
roughly how fast sample efficiency is improving.
So I pulled out my phone, dumped this idea into
a voice note in the Cursor app, and went back to
dinner. Then I got a notification about 15 minutes
later: the Cursor agent had cloned the modded
nanoGPT repo, analyzed all the loss curves for all
the records, and estimated that sample efficiency
had been improving about 2–5x every single year.
Of course, this is very naive and circumstantial
evidence, but it inspired me to start writing a
full post with a friend where we investigate
this question using many different methods.
The friction really mattered here. The
idea would have just floated away if I
wasn’t able to kick off the investigation
right then and there with the Cursor app.
If you want to try Cursor’s iOS
app, go to cursor.com/Dwarkesh.
Okay, Adam. I like to think on
this podcast we impart not only
theoretical but practical knowledge as well.
So suppose one learns all these equations,
but then finds themself in the unfortunate
position of falling into a black hole.
What would they see?
Great question. There are actually
two different perspectives you could take.
One is the perspective of me watching you
falling into the black hole.
The other is the perspective
of you falling into the black hole.
Those two perspectives are consistent with
each other but interestingly different,
so maybe I should describe them both.
First, let's ask the question: what do
I see as you fall into the black hole?
This is how hard you need to fire
your rocket to not fall into the black
hole but you’re not going to do this.
You're just going to sit here a long,
long way away from the black hole, turn
off your rocket, and accept what comes.
What comes is you'll slowly accelerate towards the
black hole, at a rate first given by the Newtonian
formula and then, when you get close to the
black hole, start picking up general relativity
corrections to the Newtonian inverse-square law.
What I will see as I watch you fall towards the
black hole is that first you'll go faster
and faster and faster as you fall down the
gravitational potential of the black hole.
But then something strange will happen.
You'll stop going faster, and
you'll start going slower.
The reason you're going slower is that, as
I watch you, you start to get gravitational
time dilation as you fall down, and I
start to see your clock running slow.
The static formula doesn't apply exactly
since you're moving, but the formula has
the same effect, which is that as you get closer
and closer to the black hole, your wristwatch
starts running slower and slower and slower.
In fact, if you do the appropriate integral,
I never see you cross the event horizon.
I just see you getting closer and closer
to the event horizon, but slowing
and slowing as you approach it.
As I watch you—I'm presumably using light to watch
you—that light gets more and more redshifted.
The wavelength gets longer and longer,
and the longer the wavelength of light,
the harder it is to even really see you.
You start getting delocalized by the
wavelength of the light, and eventually
I just stop seeing you entirely.
There's a final photon that you emit, and then
you just fade to black, fade through red to black.
This was noticed by people in the early days
of general relativity and greatly confused them.
They started to think that you would experience
something funny yourself as you
fell across the event horizon.
That is not true. If I instead adopt
your perspective, from your point of
view, your clock isn't running slow.
It's running at one second per second.
If you look back at me, there's some funny stuff
going on to do with me running fast perhaps.
But as far as you're concerned,
everything's totally normal.
You accelerate towards the black hole,
getting faster and faster as you approach it.
You just sail across the event
horizon totally as normal.
The event horizon is not a
particularly violent place for you.
You can calculate the tidal forces as you
approach and then cross the event horizon.
They're not particularly big, or rather, for
large black holes, they're not particularly big.
For a solar mass black hole, they would
be pretty big and would be pretty painful.
You'd find that your feet are being
attracted to the black hole much more
vigorously than your head is, because they're
closer, and you end up getting stretched.
But if I take a big enough black
hole, you wouldn't notice anything
funny happening whatsoever.
The bigger the black hole,
the smaller the tidal effects.
If I took a black hole the mass
of the galaxy, you'd be basically
fine as you cross the event horizon.
If I took an even bigger black hole than
that, you could live out your entire life
having crossed the event horizon, before
you hit the singularity, which is fatal.
When you cross the event horizon, you are doomed.
You are doomed because once you cross the event
horizon, you must proceed to the singularity.
There's no way you can fire a rocket to stop
yourself hitting the singularity.
You are doomed, but you are not dead.
You are only for sure dead once you hit
the singularity and get spaghettified,
mangled by the tidal forces.
But for a large enough black hole,
you can be doomed and not even know it.
The event horizon is really a not
locally measurable quantity.
It is a teleological fact.
It says that once you have crossed the event
horizon, you must proceed to the singularity.
But it can take a long time to get
there for a large enough black hole.
In principle, for a black hole that
was many light centuries across,
you could live out your entire life.
You could have descendants,
all of whom live inside the black hole.
Only once you really approach the singularity
do the tidal forces get strong and kill you.
As you were saying, GR explains
or predicts a lot of phenomena.
Some we think are correct,
some we don't know are correct.
Why do we think black holes
are correct but not wormholes?
That's a great question. People
did not believe it to begin with.
Schwarzschild wrote down his
solution almost immediately after
Einstein wrote his field equations.
People thought that that equation was
sick in some way, that it was a measure
zero thing that would never happen.
It was some mathematical monstrosity,
but it was impossible to make black
holes naturally in the real universe.
They were wrong, because black holes do exist.
We're extremely confident now. There were
theoretical developments, and there was
experimental evidence that black holes exist.
The biggest theoretical development was Penrose,
and then later Hawking and Penrose—for which he
won the Nobel Prize—who showed theoretically
that the formation of black holes is a generic
feature of general relativity.
It's not just some sick thing that
happens if you fine-tune the initial conditions.
If you start off with generic initial conditions,
the development of black
holes is a generic feature.
That was a huge development.
Then there was the experimental side.
The pieces of experimental evidence
we have for black holes are now huge.
They did not exist in Einstein's
day, and for 50 years after Einstein,
people were extremely confused about
black holes and thought they didn't exist.
But there are numerous pieces of evidence.
I think the most visually appealing piece of
evidence is just observing
the center of our galaxy.
If you look at the center of the galaxy—spoiler
alert—there is a black hole there.
We call it Sagittarius A*.
It’s a huge black hole, weighing
many millions of times the mass of the sun.
You can't see the black hole directly,
because it's black.
What you can see is the stars around it.
If you watch these stars over the course of
decades—and we now have a number of decades of
observations of them—you will see the stars not
moving along what we would call straight lines,
but instead moving in nice little
ellipses, or precessing ellipses.
Those ellipses look like
they are orbiting something.
You cannot see the something, but you
can see the stars that are orbiting it.
You can calculate how big
it is, how massive it is.
What you find is that it's very massive
indeed, and it's also very small indeed.
You know it's small because the stars get super
close to it but don't seem to collide with it.
So by tracing these orbits, you can tell
that there is something super heavy,
super dark, and super compact
at the center of the galaxy.
That is Sagittarius A*, the black
hole at the center of our galaxy.
That's one compelling piece of evidence.
Another piece of compelling evidence:
about a decade ago, we not only
saw black holes, we felt them.
LIGO is this huge laser interferometer that we
built at a number of different sites, that is
super attuned to vibrations in spacetime itself.
There's a famous event pretty much immediately
after we turned it on in late 2015,
where we felt spacetime shaking.
You knew it was spacetime shaking, not
just the Earth shaking, because we had
a bunch of these detectors—then two, now
four—at different points on the Earth,
and they all shook in exactly the same way.
So it couldn't just be explained by a truck
passing one and not the other, or a
seismic event on one and not the other.
They all shook in exactly the same way,
and we were able to back-calculate that
the thing causing them to shake was the
collision of two ginormous black holes.
Two black holes, both of which weighed about 30
times as much as the sun, on the other side of
the universe, about 1.6 billion light-years away.
That collision happened about 1.6 billion years
ago, and just happened to reach the Earth within
weeks of us turning on the LIGO detectors.
We've now felt thousands of such shakings
corresponding to thousands of black hole mergers.
And then there's more evidence.
Later, we had what's called the Event Horizon
Telescope, which is a ginormous conglomeration
of radio telescopes all over the Earth,
that were able to look very closely at the black
hole at the center of our galaxy, Sagittarius A*,
and the even bigger black hole at the center of
our neighboring galaxy, and see, very faintly, the
radio emissions of matter falling into these black
holes, which shines super brightly as it does so.
So we felt them, we've seen them, and we've seen
their gravitational effects on orbiting stars.
We're extremely confident at this
stage that black holes exist.
It's so beautiful that not only can a single mind
come up with this theory, but the theory has so
much reach, and that we can come up with the
machinery to evaluate and perturb and understand
its implications in so many different wild ways.
It's crazy the number of degrees of freedom,
the number of orders of magnitude that it covers.
You first start thinking about it by doing thought
experiments to do with jumping up and down in
elevators, and then it reaches out to describe
the orbit of Mercury and detectable perturbations
of orbital dynamics within the Solar System,
and then the bending of light, and then it
describes the rotation of the entire galaxy,
and then it describes the expansion and
potential fate of the entire universe.
That's many orders of magnitude indeed,
and it's pretty impressive that it
was the work of almost a single mind.
Frankly, our universe should be honored
to be described by such a beautiful theory.
Can you tell the story of how GR went from
a theory that Einstein had to something
that the world came to believe is true?
That would be the bending of light.
There were known anomalies with Newton's
physics beforehand, like we couldn't
get the orbit of Mercury exactly right.
One of the very nice early tests of
general relativity is that it did
get the orbit of Mercury exactly right.
So that was a pretty good confirmation.
But at the same time, that's not quite so
satisfying because it was a number that's
already known, as opposed to one where you
invent a theory and then it correctly predicts.
It's considered more impressive if you
get the right answer without knowing
what the right answer is in advance.
So that would be the bending of light.
Certainly, historically, that
was the most influential.
According to general relativity, all energy
gravitates and all energy is affected by gravity.
So light, as it's passing a massive object
like the Sun, will get bent in the direction
of the Sun.
Actually,
the same will happen in Newtonian physics.
Suppose you have a particle going along.
You know how much it gets bent as
it passes the Sun, depending on
its impact parameter, but also its velocity.
The faster it's going, the less it gets bent.
So you just take that Newtonian formula,
plug in velocity equal to speed of light,
and see what answer you get.
You can get a certain amount
of bending through Newtonian physics.
In general relativity, you can do the
same calculation, and you actually
get double the Newtonian answer.
The slightly strange history of it.
Before he had finished writing down
general relativity, Einstein had a prediction
based on his understanding of the equivalence
principle for what this answer should be.
He wrote down the answer, and then in
response to him and a number of other people
being interested in this, people were sending
out expeditions to go and try and measure it.
I think the very first thing that he did was he
phoned up the observatory and said, "Can you look
at distant stars behind the Sun and measure how
light bends as it passes the Sun?"
This was the true theorist move,
because I think the director of the Mount
Wilson Observatory said, "Absolutely not.
We cannot do that. If you point a
telescope at the Sun, you'll go blind.
If you point it just next to the Sun,
you'll just get washed out by the corona
of the Sun and you won't see anything."
Except there's one time when you won't get
washed out by the Sun, and that's during a total
solar eclipse, when the Moon blocks the Sun and
you're able to see stars very close to the Sun
and measure the bending of the light behind them.
So during the 1910s, there were
a whole bunch of expeditions
sent to measure the deflection of light.
They'd park out in the path of totality and look
through telescopes at the stars right next
to the Sun and see if they moved in the sky,
and if they moved, how much they moved.
I think the first one was in 1911.
They went to Argentina for an
eclipse, and everything's set up.
This is the problem with this thing.
You get there, all the way to Argentina,
a very long way in those days, and then
it's just washed out by the clouds.
You don't see anything, and it's very frustrating.
The next one was a German expedition sponsored by
the arms manufacturer Krupp, who went to
the Crimea and tried to measure it there.
Just before the solar eclipse happens, World War I
breaks out, and now Germany and Russia are at war.
They're all arrested and turned for the
rest of the war, and so that also fails.
It actually turns out to be a good
thing for Einstein that they all failed.
It turned out that Einstein's original equivalence
principle argument—before he had full general
relativity—was wrong and led him to predict that
the bending of light in general relativity would
be the same as it was in Newtonian physics.
During the war, while everything is shut
down and no one is thinking about eclipse
expeditions, he corrects this mistake and
comes up with a new prediction that actually
it'll be double the Newtonian prediction.
And then in 1919, Sir Arthur Eddington
launches a British expedition to go and
observe the eclipses all over the world and
successfully comes back and declares that
indeed it was the Einstein prediction.
It was double the Newtonian prediction.
That's really what launches
Einstein as a global celebrity.
This British experiment confirming a German-origin
theory was part of the post-war reconciliation,
and Einstein had figured out everything.
That is, I'd say, the point at which general
relativity became the consensus view, and people
were super convinced by this very impressive test.
Nowadays, we've done hugely more tests
than that, very precise orbital dynamics.
You can see it in the orbit of Mercury
and indeed even in the other planets.
You can just measure the redshifting
of light as it goes, the gravitational
effect on the propagation of light or
the energy of light, all over the place.
But historically, that was the most
impressive confirmation of general relativity.
One question you could ask is, we
are maybe spending, as a society,
billions, maybe tens of billions of dollars
on building these huge physics experiments.
If you look at maybe the most beautiful, the
most important theory of physics ever conjured,
it seems like a guy who's just thinking in a cave.
It seems like the empirical basis for that theory
is maybe knowing that light has a speed, and
maybe you need to measure G experimentally.
Not really. G is a free
parameter in general relativity.
It's not required. You're right,
the empirical basis is pretty thin.
You don't need much, and theoretical
physicists are pretty cheap.
There's a great temptation. Why don't we just
spend it all on theoretical physicists and
not build these vastly expensive experiments?
Well, these AI companies are really increasing
the demand curve for theoretical physicists.
That's right, not so cheap anymore.
But how far can that get you?
I would say that general relativity
is perhaps one extreme of that.
That is not how it usually
works in the history of physics.
This really is closer to some Ayn Rand hero
just sitting alone, the product of a single mind.
He got a lot of help in various ways,
but it really was a singular
vision that he pursued for years.
He wrote it down, and a lot of people
were very impressed almost immediately.
It did require launching a somewhat
expensive eclipse expedition to go
confirm it before he really achieved global
celebrity and most people were sold on it.
But it's perhaps one of the most extreme examples
of this, where somebody just sits down and thinks
very hard and writes down a true theory.
In some sense, physics has been
chasing that high ever since.
People love that romantic vision
of themselves just sitting down with very
few empirical insights and thinking very,
very hard and doing thought experiments.
It's typically not worked out quite as well
for everybody else as it worked out for Einstein.
In fact, it didn't even work out that well for
Einstein in the later part of his career.
How far could you get just by thinking?
What do you need to do general relativity?
You need the finiteness of the speed of light.
You need to convince yourself not just
that the speed of light is finite,
but that there's the symmetry that protects that,
which Einstein came up with in special relativity.
Then you probably want the equivalence
principle: it's an empirical fact that
the inertial mass and the gravitational
mass are the same for everything.
But that's pretty sparse.
From just those two things…
There's still a few options.
But if you have lots and lots
of large language models and there's only a
limited number of options, you can just explore
the entire tree and say, "Okay, focus on this.
The equivalence principle is something that's
super significant, and this other thing.
Now abandon simultaneity and see how
far that takes you."
There's only a finite
number of things to explore there.
I think they got very, very lucky
with general relativity, that it's quite
so powerful under those circumstances.
But if you just had lots and lots of Einsteins
and you gave each of them various options,
you could presumably see them in parallel.
At the frontiers of physics today,
in your experience, does it feel like if you
just have millions of them running autonomously
you could have enormous discoveries, or
are we in a different era now, and really
there's limited usefulness of that parallelism?
I think there is usefulness.
I do think that different parts of science
have different branching fractions, and how
much experiment you need to cut off that branch.
I talked about chasing the high of Einstein.
Arguably, string theory has
really been going all in on that.
Einstein's theory is just general relativity.
There's also quantum mechanics. Trying to marry
those two in a consistent way—which
general relativity doesn't do at all,
there's no quantum mechanics in general
relativity—has motivated a lot of people.
The problem is that in order to see that in
experiments, if you just do the dimensional
analysis, you need ginormous particle colliders,
absolutely galactic-sized particle colliders.
It's just very hard to see any of that stuff.
But that doesn't stop people.
I mean, it stopped many people, but many
people didn't stop and keep trying to do it.
So there you just have to hope that it works
out sort of like it did with general relativity,
where just by thinking very, very hard
with minimal input from experiment,
you can feel your way to the right answer.
For that to be true, the tool you have at
your disposal is mathematical consistency and
whether it reduces correctly in the known limits.
So you better hope that there's only one or
a very small number of possible consistent
theories if you were going to do that.
If it turns out that there's an unlimited
number of consistent theories, you're never
going to feel your way to the correct answer,
because they're all consistent, and
the only tool you have is consistency,
and perhaps some notion of aesthetics.
But if there's only a few, then maybe
you could do it all the way.
So string theory has kind
of gone all in on that, I would say.
Trying, with minimal experimental input,
believing that there's only one consistent theory
of gravity and that just by doing sufficient
consistency checks you can find it.
For other examples it's much harder.
In condensed matter physics, often
you simply need to go and do an
experiment to find out which one is correct.
Whenever our future AI civilization does come
up with more and more unified theories of physics,
or deeper theories that make better predictions,
do you think that humans will be able to keep up?
Once this step is taken, will we actually be
in a position to understand what
our AI civilization understands?
I don't know that we're going to be able to keep
up entirely, but I think we'll keep up much better
than pessimistic forecasts would suggest.
Let's take mathematics as a
simpler example than physics.
Many mathematicians are worried that these
LLMs are just going to turn into proof machines.
Terry Tao has this phrase, "indigestion", he uses,
in which these LLMs will produce billion-line
inscrutable Lean code that will serve as a
certificate that a particular theorem is
true without providing any insight as to
why that might be true.
Wouldn't that be a
depressing world, say the mathematicians.
I think that is a possible future, but I actually
don't find that to be a very likely future.
Because as well as being superhuman provers,
we also expect these large language
models to be superhuman explainers.
Maybe they'll do the exact opposite of that.
Maybe they'll take proofs that are very hard
to understand, and by doggedly trying and
trying and trying, they will be able to come
up with ways that are human comprehensible.
They will take proofs that are difficult to
understand and make them easy to understand.
I think the empirical evidence, it's early days,
but it's pretty supportive
of that more positive vision.
There was an Erdős problem that was
proved a few months ago now, and it
wasn't just an incomprehensible set of Lean.
In fact, it wasn't even proved in Lean at all.
It was proved informally. There was a follow-up
paper by some human mathematicians that took these
new, human interpretable ideas that the machine
had come up with to prove this Erdős conjecture,
and used them to prove new theorems.
So that was the exact opposite of that case.
It came up with a very human interpretable idea,
and then humans were able to fully comprehend it,
comprehend it so well they were
able to deploy it in a new scenario.
We've seen that throughout. The unit distance
conjecture, I think, is a good example here for
a number of the themes you've been discussing.
One is that it's totally comprehensible,
the disproof of the unit distance
conjecture that it came up with.
To you, perhaps.
To some mathematicians. I'm not a mathematician.
Perhaps the reason that humans haven't disproved
the unit distance conjecture is because they
erroneously believe the conjecture to be true.
The good thing about large language models is
that they're willing to push through that
barrier and just waste their time, as a
human would understand it, trying to disprove a
presumed true conjecture and reach the other end.
So that's another aspect of large language
models that makes me pretty optimistic.
They just have extreme patience,
even for doing things that perhaps
look like a low probability of success.
Adam, thanks so much for coming back on
and doing this while you could
be building superintelligence.
You're explaining 100-year-old
physics, but it was very interesting.
It's a super fun subject.
I'm super happy to share it.