Concept

Gravitational redshift — where it appears

The fall in frequency of light climbing out of a gravitational field, equal to the fractional rate difference between clocks at the two ends. It was measured over 22 metres of a Harvard tower in 1959, at a fractional shift of two parts in 10¹⁵, using the recoilless emission of gamma rays.

Named by 17 essays across 2 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.

Where a clock gains, and where it loses. The rate of a clock in a circular orbit against one on the ground, in microseconds per day, plotted against altitude. Height makes it gain and speed makes it lose, and the two cancel exactly at 3186 km — where a satellite keeps the same time as the ground for two reasons that have nothing to do with each other. At 20200 km the total is 38.5 µs a day, which is about ten kilometres of position error if it is ignored.

The clock that runs slow lower down

Two identical clocks, one on the floor and one on a shelf, do not keep the same time — and the difference is large enough that a satellite navigation system which ignored it would be useless within a morning. The derivation needs nothing but a photon and a conservation law.

astrophysics · Gravitational redshift
What the distant observer actually receives. The frequency of a signal from a clock falling into a horizon, as received far away, against the receiver's own time. It is a straight line on a logarithmic axis, which means the fading is exponential: the e-folding time fitted to the drawn curve is 2.01 rs/c, which for a 10-solar-mass hole is 198 microseconds. Nothing hovers. The image reddens, the photons arrive at an exponentially falling rate, and within a millisecond there is nothing left to see.

Two clocks that disagree about the fall

A clock falling into a horizon crosses it in a few milliseconds by its own reckoning and never crosses it at all by a distant one. Both accounts are right, and the thing everybody remembers about the second — that the image hangs there for ever — is wrong.

astrophysics · Horizons
Two corrections, opposite in sign and different in size. How fast a clock in a circular orbit runs compared with one on the ground, in microseconds a day, against the height of the orbit — with the two effects drawn apart rather than added. Being high speeds a clock up, by an amount that saturates: the potential term is bounded because there is only so much potential to climb out of. Moving slows it down, and a higher orbit is a slower one, so that term shrinks toward zero. They cancel at 3186 km — a radius of exactly 1.5 Earth radii, which follows from setting the sum to zero and contains neither G, nor the Earth's mass, nor the speed of light. At 20200 km the gravitational term is 45.7 µs a day and the speed term −7.2, leaving 38.5. Left uncorrected, that is 11.5 km of position error a day, growing without limit, from a clock that is working perfectly.

The clock that is wrong in two directions

A satellite clock loses 7.2 microseconds a day to its speed and gains 45.9 to its height. The two effects have opposite signs, different sizes and different dependence on the orbit, so there is exactly one altitude where they cancel — and 38.6 microseconds a day, left alone, is eleven and a half kilometres of position error.

relativity · Time dilation
A radar echo past the Sun, delayed by 233 microseconds. The extra time a round-trip radar signal takes when its path passes close to the Sun, against how close, for a reflector 0.723 AU away. Grazing the Sun's limb the delay is 233 microseconds — about 70 kilometres of light travel, on a path of hundreds of millions — and it falls only as the logarithm of the impact parameter, so the effect is still tens of microseconds ten solar radii out. That slow falloff is what makes the measurement possible: the delay can be watched building and fading as the geometry changes, rather than having to be caught at one instant. The dashed curves are the delay the solar corona's plasma adds at three radio frequencies. It is the competing effect, it is larger than the gravitational one close in, and it falls as the square of the frequency while the gravitational delay does not depend on frequency at all — which is how the two are separated, and why the sharpest measurement of this was made with a spacecraft carrying three radio links instead of one.

The delay that is not a bend

The same metric that bends a ray also slows it, and the two are different tests. A radar echo from Venus arrives 233 microseconds late when its path grazes the Sun — and half of that delay is accumulated more than twenty solar radii away, in a field thousands of times weaker.

astrophysics · Light deflection
The figure a static field is not allowed to close. A spacetime diagram of two clocks held at fixed heights 22.5 metres apart, drawn as though spacetime were flat: time upward, height to the right, light at forty-five degrees. The lower clock sends two pulses; the upper clock receives them. Because the field does not change with time, nothing about the second pulse's journey differs from the first's, so the two null lines are congruent and the four worldlines bound a parallelogram. Opposite sides of a parallelogram in flat spacetime have equal length, so the proper time between emissions must equal the proper time between receptions, and the two clocks must agree. They do not: the measured fractional difference across a tower this tall is 2.455e-15, which Pound and Rebka established in 1960 and Pound and Snider confirmed to one per cent in 1964. Every step above is either a definition, an assumption of staticity, or a theorem of flat geometry — so the measurement refutes the flatness. No field equation has been written down, and none is needed: a laboratory result twenty-two metres tall is already incompatible with a flat spacetime.

The parallelogram that will not close

Two clocks twenty-two metres apart in a lift shaft run at different rates, by two parts in a thousand million million. That measurement, on its own, is enough to prove that spacetime cannot be flat — and the proof needs no field equation, no curvature tensor and no astronomy. It needs one drawing and the fact that opposite sides of a parallelogram are the same length.

astrophysics · Gravitational redshift
The clock that gains going one way and loses going the other. The rate at which a flown clock gains on a clock left at 30° latitude, in nanoseconds per hour, against the aeroplane's ground speed, with east taken as positive. Two terms are drawn and then their sum. Height alone gives 3.5 nanoseconds an hour at 9 km and does not care which way the aircraft is pointed. Motion costs time, and because the ground is already moving eastward at 402 metres a second, flying east adds to that speed and flying west subtracts from it — so the kinematic term is much larger going east and can change sign going west. The sum crosses zero at 180 metres a second eastward, which is the ground speed at which an aeroplane's clock keeps the time of the airfield it left. Over the two flights Hafele and Keating actually made, this simple model gives -61 nanoseconds eastward and +304 westward, against their own predictions of -40 and +275 and their measurements of -59 and +273. The model here uses one average altitude, one average speed and one latitude, where the real prediction integrated the flight logs; getting the signs and the rough sizes out of three lines of arithmetic is the point, and the last twenty per cent is what the logs are for. What no amount of arithmetic supplies is the thing the experiment settled: that the effect is real, that it acts on a caesium clock in a passenger seat, and that a difference of a few hundred nanoseconds after two days is measurable.

The two clocks that flew in opposite directions

Two caesium clocks were flown round the world in 1971, one each way, and came back disagreeing with the clock left behind — one having lost 59 nanoseconds and the other gained 273. Height alone would have made both gain. The sign flip comes from the ground already moving eastward at 400 metres a second before the aircraft took off.

relativity · Time dilation
Every detour costs time. 4 routes between the same two events, 10 seconds apart in the frame drawn, each swinging out and back 1 time on the way. The proper time each carries is the integral of the square root of one minus the speed squared, computed by Simpson's rule along each curve: the straight route, 10.0000 s; wandering 1 light-seconds, 9.7485 s; wandering 2 light-seconds, 8.9245 s; wandering 3 light-seconds, 7.0935 s. The straight one carries the most, and every other one carries less — checked, on each drawn route. That is the opposite of what a length behaves like on paper, where the straight line is the shortest, and the whole difference is the minus sign in front of the space term.

The longest way round is the shortest clock

Of all the routes between two events, the one with no acceleration in it carries the most time on its own clock. That is the opposite of the Euclidean statement about straight lines, it comes entirely from one minus sign, and in a gravitational field it is why a thrown ball follows the path it does.

relativity · Time dilation
The height a clock can see. The fractional difference in rate between two clocks against how far apart in height they are, on logarithmic axes — a straight line of slope one, since the shift is gh/c² and comes to 1.09e-16 per metre near the ground. a caesium fountain, good to 1e-16, resolves 91.6 cm; an optical lattice clock, good to 1e-18, resolves 0.9 cm; the best clocks built, good to 8e-19, resolves 0.7 cm. The caesium fountains that define the second reach about a metre. The optical clocks that will replace them reach a centimetre, and the best of them a few millimetres. That is the whole of why this has stopped being a test of relativity and become a way of measuring the ground. A shift once so small that it took a Mössbauer experiment in a tower to see at all is now large enough to be a nuisance: two clocks in the same building disagree, and the disagreement has to be corrected for before either can be used to keep time.

The clock that measures a height

A clock a metre higher runs faster by a part in ten thousand million million million. That was once so small it took a tower and a Mössbauer source to see; the best clocks now resolve a centimetre of height, at any distance, without a line of sight. What began as a test of general relativity has become a surveying instrument that measures the quantity surveying actually wants.

astrophysics · Gravitational redshift
Equilibrium is where the entropy peaks, and there the temperatures differ. Two cavities of radiation, one high in a gravitational field and one low, free to exchange energy, with the clock at the bottom running at 0.8 of the rate of the one at the top. What is conserved is the energy either would deliver to a distant observer, so energy held at the bottom counts for 0.8 of its local value. Across: the share of that conserved energy held at the top. Above: the total entropy of the two gases. Below: the temperature a thermometer in the top cavity reads, as a fraction of one in the bottom cavity. The entropy peaks at a share of 0.339, found by search, and there the top cavity is at 0.800 of the bottom's temperature — the clock-rate ratio exactly. Where the two local temperatures are equal, at a share of 0.556, the entropy is 1.82 per cent below its peak and energy still flows downward, into the deeper cavity.

The column that is hotter at the bottom

Two bodies in equilibrium have the same temperature — that is what equilibrium was supposed to mean. In a gravitational field it is false. A column left alone until nothing in it changes is warmer at the bottom by exactly the factor by which clocks there run slow, a part in ten million billion per metre on the Earth and more than a per cent across the outer kilometre of a neutron star, and near a black hole's horizon the equilibrium temperature grows without limit.

relativity · Relativistic thermodynamics
Both clocks move, and their ratio does not. Two years of a clock's fractional frequency against a distant clock (upper panel), and of the ratio of two unlike clocks kept side by side (lower panel). Above, both clocks slow as the Earth nears the Sun, with an amplitude of 1.65·10⁻¹⁰, and if the redshift is universal the two curves are one curve. Below, the ratio: the flat line is what universality predicts, and the sinusoid is what a clock responding to the potential 10⁻⁶ more strongly than the other would produce — an annual term of 1.65·10⁻¹⁶, a million times smaller than the shift both clocks share and within reach of clocks that compare to parts in 10¹⁷.

The clocks that must all slow together

Every clock on the Earth runs slower in January than in July, by three parts in ten thousand million, because the orbit carries the planet deeper into the Sun's potential at perihelion. No clock on the Earth can see this, and that invisibility is the claim worth testing. If the redshift is a property of time rather than of clocks, two clocks built on different physics must slow by exactly the same fraction, and their ratio must not move with the seasons. A ratio that did move would mean the constants of nature depend on where they are measured.

astrophysics · Gravitational redshift
The slice through a mass that a ruler has to climb. A plane through the centre of a uniform body whose compactness 2GM/Rc² is 0.34 — about a neutron star's — drawn as a curved surface on which distances along the surface are the distances rulers measure. The body's edge is a circle whose circumference is 2πR; a ruler laid from the centre to that edge along the surface measures 1.068 R, 6.8 per cent more. Outside the body the surface is Flamm's paraboloid; inside it is a cap of a sphere. The flat line beneath is what Euclid would give. The height of the surface means nothing; only lengths along it are measured. For the Earth the same excess is 1.5 mm in 6,371 km and the surface would be indistinguishable from the flat line.

The radius a mass adds that no circumference shows

Walk round the Earth's equator and divide by 2π, and the number is the Earth's radius. Dig to the centre and measure the same radius with a tape, and the tape comes out about two millimetres longer. Nothing is wrong with either measurement. A mass does not only slow the clocks near it; it stretches the rulers too, and the stretch is exactly as large as the slowing. Clocks cannot see it. Light can, and half of every bend and every delay that light suffers near the Sun is this.

astrophysics · Gravitational redshift
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 redshift of a white dwarf weighs it. The gravitational redshift at the surface of a cold white dwarf, expressed as the velocity that would give the same Doppler shift, against the star's mass; computed from the radius each mass is forced to have. The Sun's surface redshift is 636 m/s. A white dwarf of 0.6 solar masses shifts its light by 30.1 km/s, one of 1.0 by 77.6, of 1.2 by 128 and of 1.35 by 223. Because the radius is not free, the curve is single-valued and steepening: a measured shift returns one mass. The cold model puts Sirius B, at 1.018 solar masses, at 80.8 km/s; its measured mass and radius together give 80.0.

The redshift that weighs a dead star

Light leaving the surface of an ordinary star is reddened by gravity, but the shift alone says little, because a star's radius is free and the shift depends on mass over radius. A white dwarf has no free radius. Degenerate electrons fix its size from its mass, so one measured line shift returns one mass — and the gauge grows sharper the closer the star is to collapse. The first measurement of it, in 1925, was hailed as a confirmation of general relativity and was wrong by a factor of four, in agreement with a forecast that was wrong by the same factor.

astrophysics · Gravitational redshift
A line carved into the X-rays of a magnetised star. A model X-ray spectrum of the kind fitted to accreting pulsars, drawn as energy per logarithmic interval on a logarithmic scale: a hard continuum that bends over above about 25 keV, with the photons near the cyclotron energy removed by resonant scattering. Dashed, the same continuum without the field. The fundamental is placed at 38 keV, where lines of this kind are seen; thermal motion of the scattering electrons along the field at kT = 8 keV broadens it to a width of about 4.8 keV. The second harmonic falls at 73.0 keV, a little below twice the fundamental. Read through ħeB/m with the relativistic level spacing and the redshift of a 1.4 solar-mass, 12 km star, z = 0.24, the fundamental says the field where the line forms is 4.24 × 10⁸ T. The depths and widths here are illustrative, not fitted to a star.

The circling that comes in quanta

An electron circling a magnetic field radiates at the frequency of its circling, and classically that is all: a continuous glow at whatever energy the circling has. On a neutron star the field is a hundred million tesla, the quantum of circling is a hard X-ray, and an electron lifted one step up falls back in a quarter of a femtosecond. So every electron there sits on the bottom step, and the X-rays that match the step are scattered out of the beam. The gap they leave is a line, and its energy is the field.

astrophysics · Radiating charge
The shift a member galaxy shows against the centre. The predicted gravitational shift of a cluster member's light relative to the central galaxy's, in km/s, against the member's projected distance from the centre, averaged along the line of sight with the members assumed to follow the mass out to twice R200, for clusters of 1 × 10¹⁴ M☉, 3 × 10¹⁴ M☉, 1 × 10¹⁵ M☉. Every member is blueshifted relative to the centre, because its light climbs out of a shallower part of the well. For the heaviest the shift is −13.2 km/s at half a megaparsec and −21.6 at two; for the lightest, whose members end at 1.9 Mpc, −4.4 and −5.7 at one and a half. Projection blunts the profile: members seen near the centre include many that lie far in front or behind it.

The light that climbs out of a cluster of galaxies

A cluster of galaxies is a well a few megaparsecs wide, and its galaxies sit at different depths in it. Light from the one at the bottom climbs furthest, so every other member should look slightly blue beside it — by ten kilometres a second, against galaxies that rush about at a thousand. No single cluster can show it. Thousands stacked together can, but only once a second effect of exactly the same size, the slowing of the galaxies' own moving clocks, has been taken out — and it cannot be separated by choosing heavier clusters, because both are set by the same depth.

astrophysics · Gravitational redshift
The tick an elliptical orbit adds to a clock. The periodic part of the time a satellite clock gains or loses against one on the ground, after its constant rate offset is removed, against hours from closest approach, for the two Galileo satellites stranded in 2014 on orbits of eccentricity 0.156 and period 12.9 hours, a GPS satellite at 0.01 and a Galileo satellite on its intended near-circular orbit. The stranded satellites' clocks run ahead and behind by ±367 ns every orbit: slow near closest approach, where they are deepest and fastest, fast near the far point. A GPS clock wobbles by ±23 ns, and a satellite on a circular orbit by almost nothing. The wobble is −2√(GMa) e sin E/c², fixed by the orbit alone, which is what makes it a test.

The satellites launched into the wrong orbit

In August 2014 two European navigation satellites were left on the wrong orbit by a frozen fuel line in their rocket's upper stage: an ellipse instead of a circle. For navigation they were nearly useless. For relativity they were a gift. A clock on an elliptical orbit dips deeper into the Earth's gravity and speeds up as it falls, then climbs and slows, and both effects make it lose time near the bottom of the ellipse and gain it back near the top — a wobble of 367 nanoseconds every 12.9 hours, set by the orbit alone. Watching that wobble for three years checked the gravitational slowing of clocks five times more closely than anything had in the forty years before.

relativity · Time dilation
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.

Equivalence principleProper timeTime dilationGeneral relativityReference framesSimultaneityAtomic clockClocksCoordinate timeDoppler effectEccentricityFree fall

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