Illustrated Physics
physics, drawn
Concept

Doppler effect — where it appears

The change in the frequency of a wave when the source or the observer moves, by a factor built from the ratio of the speeds. A reflector shifts it twice, which is what a speed radar measures; for light the shift is the square root of (1+β)/(1−β) and is the same for source and observer alike.

Named by 17 essays across 4 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.

Wavefronts from a moving source. Circles showing where each crest has reached, centred on where the source was when it emitted them. Ahead of the source the crests are closer together and the frequency heard is higher; behind, they are spread out and it is lower.

The note that changes on approach, and the two ways of getting it

A moving source and a moving listener produce different formulas for the same shift, because the medium is watching. The difference is small, real, and the reason light had to be treated differently.

waves · Doppler A reflection is shifted twice, and not by the same factor. A wave of unit frequency sent at a reflector closing at 90 km/h, in air. The target meets the fronts sooner than they arrive at a fixed point, so what reaches it is 1.072886 — the observer shift, which multiplies by (c + v)/c. It then re-emits what it received, and now it is a source running after its own wavefronts, which divides by (c − v)/c: the echo comes back at 1.157233. The two operations are different functions and only their product is symmetric, so the round trip is (c + v)/(c − v) rather than the square of either. The shift is 15.7233 per cent where a single one would be 7.2886 — a factor of two to first order in v/c and not exactly two at any speed. For light the same round trip is (1 + β)/(1 − β), which is the square of 1.000000083, and that number is the whole content of the relativistic Doppler effect rather than an approximation to it.

The shift a mirror gives twice

A moving reflector is a receiver and a source in one, so it shifts a wave twice — and the two shifts are different functions of the speed, which is why the round trip is not the square of either. Everything a speed radar does follows from that, including the two things it cannot do.

waves · Doppler One factor, defined by an experiment rather than by a transformation. A observer A stays at x = 0 and flashes a light every 1 second by their own clock. B recedes at 0.6c. The flashes are the diagonal lines; where each meets B's worldline is where B receives it. B's clock reads a longer gap between arrivals than A's read between departures, by the factor k = 2.0000, and it is the same factor between every consecutive pair — measured here off the drawn meetings rather than assumed. That single number is the whole apparatus. Nobody has written down a coordinate transformation, chosen a convention for distant simultaneity, or drawn a tilted axis; the only thing used is that light travels on the diagonals and that neither observer is special, so B's flashes reach A stretched by the same k. From it: γ = (k + 1/k)/2 = 1.2500, and β = (k² − 1)/(k² + 1) = 0.6000.

Everything from an exchange of pulses

Send a flash every second and ask how often the far observer receives them. That one measured ratio generates time dilation, the composition of velocities and the twin result, with no coordinate transformation written down anywhere and no convention chosen about what "at the same time" means far away.

relativity · Doppler The fringes a flow of water moves. The interference fringe shift against the speed of the water, for two tubes 1.5 m long, an index of 1.333, and light of 526 nm — Fizeau's apparatus. The beam is split, each half goes with the flow in one tube and against it in the other, and the two are recombined; the shift is the difference in transit time counted in wavelengths. Three predictions are drawn and they are not close together. If the water did not affect the light at all the shift would be zero, flat along the bottom. If the water carried the light with it completely the shift would be the steepest line. Fresnel's partial drag is the middle one, and at 7 m/s it gives 0.207 of a fringe — which is what was measured, to the accuracy of an eye reading a fringe pattern in 1851. The experiment therefore did not merely detect an effect; it chose between three quantitative possibilities that differ by factors of two, which is why a fraction of a fringe settled something.

The drag that was only an addition

Light in moving water is carried along by it, but only partly — by a fraction of the water's speed that depends on the refractive index in a way nobody could account for. Fresnel invented the coefficient to save a theory, Fizeau measured it in 1851, and it sat unexplained for half a century. It is the first term of the relativistic velocity addition and nothing else.

relativity · Velocity-addition Two pushes that add up to a friction. The force on a sodium-23 atom from each of two counter-propagating laser beams tuned 0.5 linewidths below resonance, at 0.1 of saturation each, and their sum, against the atom's velocity in units of the linewidth over the wavenumber. Each beam pushes along its own direction and is heard loudest by an atom moving towards it, because the Doppler shift brings the red-detuned light up into resonance. At rest the two pushes cancel exactly; moving, the atom scatters more from the beam ahead of it than from the one behind, and the difference points against the motion. Near zero velocity the sum is a straight line through the origin — a friction, with slope −0.0907 ħk² — and it is largest at 3.13 m/s, beyond which the atom has been Doppler-shifted out of resonance with both beams and the grip weakens. The damping time it implies for sodium-23's mass is 17.5 microseconds.

The friction made of light

Two laser beams pointed at each other push an atom both ways at once, and at rest the pushes cancel. Moving, the atom hears the beam ahead of it louder than the one behind, and the difference is a friction. The photons that supply the friction arrive one at a time, so they also kick — and the temperature where the two balance contains the width of a spectral line and nothing else.

astrophysics · Radiation pressure A blackbody in every direction, at a different temperature in each. The spectrum of a blackbody at 100 kelvin in its own frame, seen by an observer it is moving past at 0.5 of the speed of light, in 5 directions. Each curve is a Planck spectrum exactly — the Planck form survives a Doppler shift, with the temperature multiplied by the shift — and the temperatures run from 57.74 kelvin looking one way to 173.21 looking the other. So the body is a perfect blackbody in each direction and has no single temperature. A thermometer placed in the radiation reads something between, and what it reads depends on where it is put and on how much of the sky it sees — which is the reason a transformation law for temperature was argued about for sixty years without being found.

The body that has no temperature when it moves

Energy, momentum, length, duration and field strength all change when the observer moves. Temperature was argued about for sixty years, with three transformation laws proposed and each defended by people making no mistake. The resolution is that a moving blackbody is a perfect blackbody in every direction at a different temperature in each — so a thermometer's reading depends on where it is put, and the quantity the law was for is not there.

relativity · Relativistic thermodynamics A smooth swing that sharpens into pulses. The shape of a string whose far end moves back and forth by 1% of its length at 2 times its fundamental frequency, started swinging in its fundamental, after 0, 10, 20, 30, 40 round trips of a wave. The smooth arch gathers into two ever-narrower pulses running in opposite directions, drawn at the moments they cross in the middle, with their height unchanged and their sides ever steeper; each reaches the moving end just as it moves inwards fastest. The energy has become 1.00, 1.09, 3.15, 10.9, 38.3 times the starting value. Every shape is computed exactly from the moving end, with no approximation to the wall's motion.

The string whose end will not keep still

Move one end of a vibrating string slowly and each mode simply retunes. Move it quickly, at twice the note the string is sounding, and something else happens: the smooth swing gathers into pulses, the energy grows by the Doppler factor of the moving end on every round trip, and it climbs through the modes without stopping — because the modes of a string are evenly spaced, and a wall that couples one pair couples them all.

waves · Standing waves A strong oscillator lifts a picowatt to the quantum limit. The signal-to-noise ratio for detecting a 1 pW signal at 1.55 µm in a 1 MHz bandwidth, with a detector of 80 per cent quantum efficiency whose amplifier adds 2 pA/√Hz of noise, against the power of the local oscillator. Detected directly, the signal is 66 dB below the amplifier's noise. Heterodyned, it rises with the oscillator's power — −3.3 dB with a microwatt, 7.4 dB with a hundred — until the oscillator's own shot noise swamps the amplifier's, above about 12 µW, and then it stops rising at 8.0 dB: ηPₛ/(hνB), the number of detected signal photons per resolution time, which no receiver can beat. A stronger oscillator raises the signal and its own noise together.

The faint light a bright one makes measurable

A photodetector does not respond to a light wave's field; it responds to the square of it. Shine a strong beam onto the detector together with a weak one at a slightly different frequency, and the square contains a term that is the weak field multiplied by the strong one — oscillating at the difference frequency, carrying the weak light's phase, and as large as the strong beam cares to make it. That product lifts a picowatt out of an amplifier's noise to the limit set by counting photons, turns an optical frequency shift into a radio one, and carries with it a quantum price that decides why radio telescopes and optical telescopes are built so differently.

optics · Coherence The strain a lumpy spinning star sends. The gravitational-wave strain at Earth from a neutron star one kiloparsec away, against the wave's frequency — twice the spin frequency — on logarithmic axes, for ellipticities of 10⁻⁹, 10⁻⁷, 10⁻⁵, 10⁻³, with the most each of three known pulsars could emit if all its observed spin-down were gravitational radiation. Crab: at most 1.4·10⁻²⁴ at 59.2 Hz, needing an ellipticity of 7.7·10⁻⁴; Vela: at most 3.3·10⁻²⁴ at 22.4 Hz, needing an ellipticity of 0.0018; J0437−4715: at most 1.6·10⁻²⁶ at 347.4 Hz, needing an ellipticity of 2·10⁻⁸. Searches have pushed the Crab's strain below about a hundredth of its limit, 1.4·10⁻²⁶. The strain grows as the square of the frequency, so a fast millisecond pulsar with a tiny mountain can send as much as a young pulsar with a large one.

The mountain a spinning star is allowed

A neutron star spinning thirty times a second with a bump on its surface a few centimetres high is a rotating mass quadrupole. It sends out gravitational waves at twice its spin frequency, as a steady tone lasting millions of years. None has been heard. The silence is a measurement. The Crab pulsar is slowing down, and if all the energy it loses went into gravitational waves they would have been detected many times over. Searches now say the waves carry less than a ten-thousandth of it. The mountain on the Crab is less than about ten centimetres high, on a star twenty-four kilometres across.

astrophysics · Gravitational waves The crests of one wave, meeting an observer who never stops accelerating. A spacetime diagram, time up and distance across, both scaled by the acceleration: the worldline of an observer with constant proper acceleration (a hyperbola), its horizon (the dashed light line it approaches and never crosses), and the crests of a plane wave of a single frequency travelling in the same direction, as parallel lines at 45°. Within the drawing the observer meets crests at proper times −0.18, −0.05, 0.11, 0.29, 0.51, 0.80, 1.20, 1.90 in units of c/a: the gaps lengthen, each crest having to chase the observer further, and after the last of them, at 1.90, it meets no more — every later crest lies beyond its horizon. One wave of one frequency therefore arrives as a signal whose frequency falls as e^(−aτ/c) for ever. Nothing about the wave is random, and the observer's clock is perfectly regular.

The heat hidden in a Doppler shift

An observer who accelerates without stopping sees empty space as warm. The usual derivation takes quantum field theory and several pages. There is a shorter one, and it needs no quanta at all. Watch a single wave of a single frequency from a steadily accelerating rocket: it is redshifted, and because the rocket keeps speeding away, the redshift grows exponentially. Take the spectrum of that fading signal, and it is exactly a Planck spectrum, at a temperature set by the acceleration and nothing else — the same whatever frequency the wave started with. The thermal distribution was hidden in the geometry of the horizon all along.

relativity · Accelerated frames Two factors of γ between a magnet and an X-ray. An electron of 6 GeV (γ = 11742) crossing an undulator, a row of magnets alternating every λᵤ = 3 cm. Top: the laboratory, where the electron wiggles once per period. Middle: the electron's own frame, where the row is contracted by γ to 2.55 μm and rushes past at nearly the speed of light; to the electron it is a wave of that wavelength, and the electron radiates at it, in the infrared. Bottom: that light, emitted forward and seen back in the laboratory, is Doppler-shortened by a further factor of about 2γ, to λᵤ/2γ² = 1.088 Å; the wiggle's own slowing of the electron adds a factor (1 + K²/2), giving 1.632 Å for a deflection parameter K = 1 — hard X-rays from centimetre magnets. The drawing is schematic: the three periods differ by factors of about twelve thousand and a hundred million, and cannot be drawn to one scale.

The magnet period that comes out as an X-ray

A row of permanent magnets alternating every three centimetres, with a beam of six-gigaelectronvolt electrons sent down the middle, shines X-rays with a wavelength of an ångström and a half — two hundred million times shorter than the spacing of the magnets that made them. The factor is γ squared, and the two γ's come from two different frames. In the electron's frame the row of magnets is contracted by γ and rushes past it as a wave; the electron shakes in step and radiates; and that light, sent forward, comes back to the laboratory shortened by another factor of 2γ. Length contraction is half of every X-ray a modern synchrotron makes.

relativity · Length contraction Light whose crests wind round its axis. Cross-sections of three beams carrying orbital angular momentum, with phase exp(iℓφ) round the axis, for ℓ = 1, 2 and 3, at one instant: solid lines where the field is at a crest, dashed where it is at a trough. Along the beam the crests form ℓ interleaved helices, and at a fixed plane the pattern turns about the axis once every ℓ optical periods. Looked at from a frame turning about the axis at a rate Ω, every crest arrives ℓΩ/2π times a second more or less often: the field's frequency is shifted by ℓΩ. That is a Doppler shift with no approach and no recession — the angular counterpart of k·v, with the winding number ℓ standing in for the wavenumber and the rotation rate for the speed. Each photon of such a beam carries ℓħ of orbital angular momentum about the axis.

The Doppler shift with nothing coming closer

Every Doppler shift so far has needed something to approach or recede. Light can be shifted in frequency by something that does neither: a surface spinning in place, or a polarising plate turning in a beam that passes straight through it. A beam whose wavefronts wind round its axis, ℓ times per wavelength, comes back from a surface spinning at Ω shifted by exactly ℓΩ, at every distance from the axis. A circularly polarised beam through a spinning half-wave plate comes out shifted by exactly 2Ω, because the plate takes two units of angular momentum from each photon and does work on it. The shift is tiny and perfectly measurable, and satellite navigation has to correct for it.

waves · Doppler An atom's line and a nucleus's, on one scale. Three energies, in electronvolts on a logarithmic scale, for an atomic transition, sodium's yellow line, and a nuclear one, the 14.4 keV gamma ray of iron-57: the amount by which emission and absorption by free atoms miss each other because of recoil, E²/Mc²; the natural width of the line, ħ over the excited state's lifetime; and the Doppler width from thermal motion at room temperature. For sodium the recoil miss is 2.1·10⁻¹⁰ eV, 197 times smaller than the natural width, so an atom absorbs its neighbour's light. For iron-57 it is 0.00392 eV, 839,015 times its natural width of 4.67·10⁻⁹ eV. The recoil grows as the square of the transition energy and the width does not, so a gamma ray emitted by a free nucleus misses an identical nucleus by nearly a million line widths.

The gamma ray its own kind cannot absorb

An atom can absorb the light another atom of its kind emits; that is how a sodium flame casts a shadow in sodium light. A nucleus cannot. When it emits a gamma ray it loses the photon's energy as mass, and the photon's momentum kicks it backward, taking a small share of the energy with it; to absorb the same gamma ray, an identical nucleus would need that share added rather than removed. For iron-57's 14.4 keV line the shortfall is nearly a million times the line's own width. In 1958 Rudolf Mössbauer found that a nucleus held in a crystal can hand its recoil to the whole crystal and lose almost nothing — and the resulting line is so sharp that it could weigh the fall of light down a twenty-two metre tower.

relativity · Mass-energy The photon a fast electron throws back. The highest energy of a laser photon scattered straight back by an electron it meets head-on, against the electron's energy, for a carbon-dioxide laser, an infrared and a green one, on logarithmic axes: dashed, 4γ² times the laser photon's energy, the double Doppler shift of a mirror moving at the electron's speed; solid, the exact edge with the electron's recoil, E·x/(1 + x) with x = 4γε/mc²; dotted, the electron's own energy, which no scattered photon reaches. A 1 GeV electron turns 1.17-eV infrared photons into gamma rays of 17.6 MeV, within 1.8 per cent of the mirror's figure. At 46.6 GeV and 2.35 eV the mirror's figure is 78.2 GeV, more than the electron has to give; the photon actually comes back with 29.2 GeV.

The photon a fast electron throws back

Shine an infrared laser at a beam of gigaelectronvolt electrons and gamma rays come back out of the collision, each carrying seventeen million times the energy of the laser photon it started as. The electron acts as a mirror moving at nearly the speed of light, and a moving mirror multiplies the energy of light by two Doppler factors. Push the electron's energy far enough and the mirror arithmetic promises photons more energetic than the electron itself — and the photon's own momentum, which the mirror ignored, steps in to stop it.

relativity · Length contraction A tornado's winds, folded. The radial wind across a line through the centre of a tornado-like vortex 400 m across with peak winds of 60 m/s — towards the radar on one side, away on the other — as it truly is (grey) and as a radar with a Nyquist velocity of ±25 m/s reports it (red). Outside the core the winds are slower than 25 m/s and are reported correctly. Near the core they exceed it, and the reported speed folds over: the strongest inbound winds appear as outbound and the outbound as inbound, so the tight pair of opposite velocities that marks a tornado — the velocity couplet — is turned inside out. Forecasters and the algorithms they use learn to read the sharp jumps between neighbouring gates as folds rather than winds, and to unfold them by continuity from the slower winds around.

The speeds a pulsed radar folds into one

A weather radar measures the wind inside a storm by the Doppler shift of its echoes, but it never hears the shift itself. It listens in pulses, and between pulses it notes only how far the echo's phase has turned — which is known only to within a whole turn. So speeds that differ by a fixed amount give identical echoes, and every speed is folded into a window. Make the window wider by pulsing faster, and the echoes from distant rain arrive after the next pulse has gone and land at the wrong range. The two limits multiply to a constant the designer cannot touch.

waves · Doppler One note becomes a comb. The spectrum of a steady tone heard through the turning horn, level with it, against frequency offset from the tone, for tones of 250 Hz (top), 1000 Hz and 4 kHz (bottom): the power in each line as a fraction of the whole, each row on its own baseline with the height of a row standing for all of the power, computed from the received sound over one turn. A pitch that swings periodically is not a shifted line but a comb of lines spaced by the rotation rate, 6.7 Hz, with powers Jₙ(β)², where β = 2πfr/c is 0.69, 2.75 and 11.0 for the three tones; the 1000 Hz comb matches the Bessel functions line for line. The comb is narrow for the low tone, which keeps 78% of its power in the central line, and broad for the high one, whose power is spread over about ±80 Hz — so the turning horn blurs the upper partials of an organ chord into a shimmer while its fundamentals stay nearly pure.

The loudspeaker that goes round

The swirling sound of a Hammond organ comes from a loudspeaker cabinet in which the speaker's horn turns, six or seven times a second, and the swirl is the Doppler effect — the horn's mouth swings towards and away from the listener at about six metres a second, and every note it plays rises and falls by a third of a semitone. But a pitch that rises and falls periodically is not a note being shifted: it is a note split into a comb of new frequencies, spaced by the rotation rate and spread in proportion to the note itself, so the turning horn leaves the bass nearly pure and blurs the treble into a shimmer. In a room each wall returns its own copy, swinging out of step with the others, and the copies beat against each other several times a turn.

waves · Doppler The deeper the line, the closer to gravity. The shift of a solar line in sunlight seen from the Earth, against the line's depth, in the two-stream model with the convective velocities dying away above the photosphere over 150 km and a deeper line taken to form higher (600 km × depth²). Weak lines, formed low among the fastest flows, show 411 m/s — about two-thirds of the gravitational value; the deepest lines, whose cores form in the upper photosphere where the granules' motion has nearly stopped, show 627 m/s and are still climbing towards the 633 m/s that gravity alone gives, drawn as the dashed line. That is the measurement made with integrated sunlight reflected from the Moon and calibrated with a laser frequency comb: plot the shift against line depth, and read the gravitational redshift off where the strongest lines are heading. Its published value, 638 ± 6 m/s, agrees with general relativity.

The redshift the Sun's boiling hides

Light leaving the Sun climbs out of a gravitational well and should arrive redder by 633 metres a second in velocity terms — a prediction Einstein made in 1907, before he had general relativity. It took half a century to confirm, and the reason was not the size of the effect but the Sun's surface, which boils. Bright hot gas rising in granules and fainter cool gas sinking between them blueshift every line by a few hundred metres a second, by an amount that depends on the line and on where on the disc it is seen. The gravitational shift was found by treating that nuisance as a second measurement: deeper lines and lines near the limb both converge on the same number.

astrophysics · Gravitational redshift

Named alongside it

The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.

The Lorentz factorRadarGravitational redshiftHeterodyneInterferenceMeasurementRelativity principleUndulatorVelocity-additionAliasingAmbiguityAngular momentum

All concepts