Illustrated Physics
physics, drawn
Series

Spin — the series

8 essays on one idea, from the one that introduces it to the one that assumes the rest.
  1. How fast a spinning electron would have to turn. The equatorial speed of a uniform sphere with the electron's mass and an angular momentum of ħ/2, against the radius it is given, both logarithmically. The expression is 5ħ/4mr and it passes the speed of light at 4.83e-13 m — half a picometre, which is four hundred times larger than a hydrogen nucleus. Giving it a smaller radius only makes the answer worse: at the experimental upper bound, 10⁻¹⁸ m the equator would move at 4.8e+5 times the speed of light; at the classical electron radius the equator would move at 1.7e+2 times the speed of light; at the reduced Compton wavelength the equator would move at 1.3e+0 times the speed of light. No radius the electron is permitted to have gets anywhere near a legal answer, and the experimental bound is off the scale by eight orders of magnitude. So the angular momentum is not the angular momentum of anything going round. It is a property the particle has, in the same way a charge is, and the only thing it shares with a spinning top is the algebra it obeys — which is, admittedly, the whole of what angular momentum means in physics.

    The angular momentum that is not a rotation

    An electron has angular momentum, and it is not going round anything. A sphere of its mass carrying that much angular momentum would need its equator moving at half a million times the speed of light at any size the electron is allowed to have. What survives of the analogy is the algebra — and the algebra turns out to require that turning the thing all the way round leaves it changed.

    part 1 · quantum
  2. Four product states, and the four combinations that have a total spin. The four ways two spin-halves can be arranged, on the left, and the four combinations of them that are eigenstates of the total spin, on the right. Two of the products — both up and both down — are already eigenstates. The other two are not: one spin up and the other down does not specify a total spin, because it does not say which spin is which, and the states that do are the sum and the difference. The eigenvalues printed beside them are computed by applying S² as a matrix in the product basis and reading the result off, then solving s(s + 1) for s: |↑↑⟩ gives 2ħ², so s = 1; (|↑↓⟩ + |↓↑⟩)/√2 gives 2ħ², so s = 1; |↓↓⟩ gives 2ħ², so s = 1; (|↑↓⟩ − |↓↑⟩)/√2 gives 0ħ², so s = 0. The column on the far right is the eigenvalue of the operator that swaps the two particles: the three states with s = 1 come back unchanged and the one with s = 0 comes back with a minus sign. That sign is the whole of the difference. It is why the three are called a triplet and the one a singlet, why they behave differently in a magnetic field, and — through the requirement that the total state of two electrons be antisymmetric — why the two families occupy space differently before any force between them has been mentioned.

    Four states, and one of them is odd

    Two spin-halves make four states, and they split three and one rather than into four of a kind. Three come back unchanged when the two particles are swapped and one comes back with a minus sign — and that single sign decides how far apart two electrons sit before any force between them has been mentioned, and why hydrogen gas is two gases that do not interconvert.

    part 2 · quantum
  3. What comes back after one turn, and what needs two. A spin-½ pointing along z and rotated about the x axis through 720°, with the rotation integrated step by step rather than evaluated from a formula. The direction of the spin — the quantity a Stern–Gerlach magnet, a compass or any other instrument reports — is back where it started after 360°, exactly as the orientation of any other object would be. The state is not: its overlap with the state it began in has reached −1 there, and returns to +1 only after 720°. At 360° the overlap is -1.000 and ⟨σz⟩ is 1.000; At 720° the overlap is 1.000 and ⟨σz⟩ is 1.000. Both curves come off one integration of dψ/dθ = −(i/2)σx ψ whose norm is checked before anything is drawn, so the factor of two between their rates is a property of the propagation rather than of two separate formulae that were chosen to differ.

    The turn that has to be made twice

    Turn a spin-½ through a full circle and it does not come back. The direction it points in does, and every measurement on it does, but the state itself has changed sign — and a second full turn is needed before anything is where it started. The sign is invisible on one spin and measurable the moment a superposition has one branch turned and the other not.

    part 3 · quantum
  4. The count that works for everything with a mass. How many beams a Stern-Gerlach analyser splits a particle into, for four spins, with the photon on the bottom row. For anything with a mass the answer is 2j+1 — go to the particle's rest frame, where its spin can point in any direction, and count the projections along whichever axis the magnet defines. A spin-one particle gives three: up, down, and a middle beam that is not deflected at all. The photon has spin one and gives two. The middle state does not exist, and it is not that it is hard to produce or weakly coupled — there is no such state of the electromagnetic field. A light wave has two polarisations and the third one, in which the field would oscillate along the direction of travel, is not a solution of Maxwell's equations at all.

    Two states where the counting says three

    A particle of spin one has three states, and the photon has two. The missing one is not rare or weakly coupled — there is no such state of the electromagnetic field. What removes it is that a massless particle has no rest frame, so the rotations that would turn one projection into another are not available; and the state comes back the moment the particle acquires a mass, which is what a photon does in a plasma.

    part 4 · quantum
  5. No beam is narrow enough and wide enough at once. Three lengths at the far end of a Stern-Gerlach magnet 10 centimetres long with a gradient of 1000 tesla a metre, against the width of the beam entering it, for an electron at 100 electronvolts. The spin splitting is a horizontal line at 2.9e-6 metres: it does not depend on the beam's width. The Lorentz blurring rises in proportion to the width, because the field a particle sees depends on where in the beam it is, and the divergence-free condition ties a gradient in one component to a gradient in another. It overtakes the splitting at 1.0e-9 metres. Narrower than that and diffraction has already spread the beam by 3.9e-3 metres, which is larger still. There is no width at which the splitting is the largest of the three, and the magnet's length and gradient cancel out of the comparison entirely — so no magnet helps.

    The experiment that defines spin and cannot be done on it

    A Stern–Gerlach magnet separates magnetic moments and is how spin was discovered. It cannot be made to work on a free electron, and the obstruction is not the apparatus: the field gradient that splits the beam also deflects the charge by an amount that varies across it, and the ratio of the splitting to that blurring comes out as the de Broglie wavelength over the beam width — with the magnet's length and gradient cancelling exactly.

    part 5 · quantum
  6. Position written as frequency. Four tubes of water side by side in a 1.5 T magnet, their protons all precessing at 63.87 MHz, until a gradient of 10 mT/m is switched on along the row. Then the field, and so the precession frequency, rises steadily across the row, by 425.8 Hz for every millimetre. The signal the receiving coil picks up is a sum of waves at different frequencies, and its spectrum is a picture: the amount of signal at each frequency is the number of protons at the corresponding position. The axis below is position and the axis above it frequency, and they are the same axis. Nothing has been focused. The radio wave at 64 MHz has a wavelength of 4.7 m in air, and the tubes are centimetres apart.

    The image made of frequencies

    A hydrogen nucleus in a magnetic field precesses at a frequency proportional to the field — 63.87 megahertz in a 1.5 tesla scanner. Make the field rise steadily across the body and every position precesses at its own frequency, so the radio signal the body gives off is a chord whose spectrum is a map of where the protons are. A magnetic resonance image is never focused. It is computed, as a Fourier transform of a signal recorded one number at a time, and its resolution, a millimetre, is set by how strong the gradient is and how long the signal is listened to — not by the wavelength of the radio waves, which is several metres.

    part 6 · quantum
  7. A signal that dies, and comes back when the spins are turned over. The size of the signal from an ensemble of proton spins whose precession rates are spread by 20 Hz (root mean square) about the mean, with a true relaxation time T₂ of 80 ms, against time after they are tipped. The free signal falls to 1/e in about 10 ms and to 0.03 by 20 ms: not because any spin has relaxed but because they have fanned out. A π pulse at 30 ms (marked) turns every spin over, and at 60 ms the signal returns to 0.472 — exactly e^(−2τ/T₂), the dashed envelope, since every static difference in rate has cancelled. Without the pulse the signal at 60 ms is below one part in a million.

    The echo that gives back everything but the wandering

    Tip a sample of protons in a slightly uneven magnetic field and their signal dies within milliseconds. None of them has relaxed: they have fanned out, each precessing at the rate its own patch of field sets. Turn every spin over halfway through and the fan closes again, and the signal comes back as an echo, smaller only by the decay that was real. What the echo cannot return is a phase gained while a spin moved, and that one loss, which grows as the cube of the waiting time, is how a scanner finds a stroke within minutes.

    part 7 · quantum
  8. Reversing the magnetism in step with the swing. The rod hung from a fibre as a torsion pendulum with a period of 10 s and a quality factor of 200, its magnetisation reversed 40 times, once every half swing, in step with its motion, then left alone; the angle it turns through, integrated, in degrees. Each reversal adds the same small kick of angular momentum and the kicks add up, as pushes on a swing do: the swing grows to 15.46° if the magnetism is spin, 30.92° if it were orbital currents. A single reversal would turn the rod by about 0.45° — measurable in principle, buried in practice by the much larger twist that the coil's own field puts on any slight misalignment, which is why Einstein and de Haas drove the rod at its resonance and why their first result, g′ = 1, came out wrong.

    The rod that turns when its magnetism flips

    Hang an iron rod on a thin fibre inside a coil, reverse the current, and the rod turns a little. Nothing has pushed it sideways: reversing the magnetisation reversed the angular momentum the electrons inside it carry, and since nothing outside can twist the rod about its axis, the iron lattice has to take up the difference. Einstein and de Haas did it in 1915 to prove that magnetism is electric charge going round. They got the right effect and the wrong number, and the right number — twice what they expected — was evidence, years before anyone proposed it, that the electron's magnetism comes from something that is not a rotation at all.

    part 8 · quantum

All series