Archive for the ‘CS/Physics Deathmatch’ Category

The Unitarihedron: The Jewel at the Heart of Quantum Computing

Friday, September 20th, 2013

Update (9/24): This parody post was a little like a belch: I felt it build up in me as I read about the topic, I let it out, it was easy and amusing, I don’t feel any profound guilt over it—but on the other hand, not one of the crowning achievements of my career.  As several commenters correctly pointed out, it may be true that, mostly because of the name and other superficialities, and because of ill-founded speculations about “the death of locality and unitarity,” the amplituhedron work is currently inspiring a flood of cringe-inducing misstatements on the web.  But, even if true, still the much more interesting questions are what’s actually going on, and whether or not there are nontrivial connections to computational complexity.

Here I have good news: if nothing else, my “belch” of a post at least attracted some knowledgeable commenters to contribute excellent questions and insights, which have increased my own understanding of the subject from ε2 to ε.  See especially this superb comment by David Speyer—which, among other things, pointed me to a phenomenal quasi-textbook on this subject by Elvang and Huang.  My most immediate thoughts:

1. The “amplituhedron” is only the latest in a long line of research over the last decade—Witten, Turing biographer Andrew Hodges, and many others have been important players—on how to compute scattering amplitudes more efficiently than by summing zillions of Feynman diagrams.  One of the key ideas is to find combinatorial formulas that express complicated scattering amplitudes recursively in terms of simpler ones.
2. This subject seems to be begging for a computational complexity perspective.  When I read Elvang and Huang, I felt like they were working hard not to say anything about complexity: discussing the gains in efficiency from the various techniques they consider in informal language, or in terms of concrete numbers of terms that need to be summed for 1 loop, 2 loops, etc., but never in terms of asymptotics.  So if it hasn’t been done already, it looks like it could be a wonderful project for someone just to translate what’s already known in this subject into complexity language.
3. On reading about all these “modern” approaches to scattering amplitudes, one of my first reactions was to feel slightly less guilty about never having learned how to calculate Feynman diagrams!  For, optimistically, it looks like some of that headache-inducing machinery (ghosts, off-shell particles, etc.) might be getting less relevant anyway—there being ways to calculate some of the same things that are not only more conceptually satisfying but also faster.

Many readers of this blog probably already saw Natalie Wolchover’s Quanta article “A Jewel at the Heart of Quantum Physics,” which discusses the “amplituhedron”: a mathematical structure that IAS physicist Nima Arkami-Hamed and his collaborators have recently been investigating.  (See also here for Slashdot commentary, here for Lubos’s take, here for Peter Woit’s, here for a Physics StackExchange thread, here for Q&A with Pacific Standard, and here for an earlier but closely-related 154-page paper.)

At first glance, the amplituhedron appears to be a way to calculate scattering amplitudes, in the planar limit of a certain mathematically-interesting (but, so far, physically-unrealistic) supersymmetric quantum field theory, much more efficiently than by summing thousands of Feynman diagrams.  In which case, you might say: “wow, this sounds like a genuinely-important advance for certain parts of mathematical physics!  I’d love to understand it better.  But, given the restricted class of theories it currently applies to, it does seem a bit premature to declare this to be a ‘jewel’ that unlocks all of physics, or a death-knell for spacetime, locality, and unitarity, etc. etc.”

Yet you’d be wrong: it isn’t premature at all.  If anything, the popular articles have understated the revolutionary importance of the amplituhedron.  And the reason I can tell you that with such certainty is that, for several years, my colleagues and I have been investigating a mathematical structure that contains the amplituhedron, yet is even richer and more remarkable.  I call this structure the “unitarihedron.”

The unitarihedron encompasses, within a single abstract “jewel,” all the computations that can ever be feasibly performed by means of unitary transformations, the central operation in quantum mechanics (hence the name).  Mathematically, the unitarihedron is an infinite discrete space: more precisely, it’s an infinite collection of infinite sets, which collection can be organized (as can every set that it contains!) in a recursive, fractal structure.  Remarkably, each and every specific problem that quantum computers can solve—such as factoring large integers, discrete logarithms, and more—occurs as just a single element, or “facet” if you will, of this vast infinite jewel.  By studying these facets, my colleagues and I have slowly pieced together a tentative picture of the elusive unitarihedron itself.

One of our greatest discoveries has been that the unitarihedron exhibits an astonishing degree of uniqueness.  At first glance, different ways of building quantum computers—such as gate-based QC, adiabatic QC, topological QC, and measurement-based QC—might seem totally disconnected from each other.  But today we know that all of those ways, and many others, are merely different “projections” of the same mysterious unitarihedron.

In fact, the longer I’ve spent studying the unitarihedron, the more awestruck I’ve been by its mathematical elegance and power.  In some way that’s not yet fully understood, the unitarihedron “knows” so much that it’s even given us new insights about classical computing.  For example, in 1991 Beigel, Reingold, and Spielman gave a 20-page proof of a certain property of unbounded-error probabilistic polynomial-time.  Yet, by recasting things in terms of the unitarihedron, I was able to give a direct, half-page proof of the same theorem.  If you have any experience with mathematics, then you’ll know that that sort of thing never happens: if it does, it’s a sure sign that cosmic or even divine forces are at work.

But I haven’t even told you the most spectacular part of the story yet.  While, to my knowledge, this hasn’t yet been rigorously proved, many lines of evidence support the hypothesis that the unitarihedron must encompass the amplituhedron as a special case.  If so, then the amplituhedron could be seen as just a single sparkle on an infinitely greater jewel.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that the unitarihedron is what used to be known as the complexity class BQP (Bounded-Error Quantum Polynomial-Time).  However, just like the Chinese gooseberry was successfully rebranded in the 1950s as the kiwifruit, and the Patagonian toothfish as the Chilean sea bass, so with this post, I’m hereby rebranding BQP as the unitarihedron.  For I’ve realized that, when it comes to bowling over laypeople, inscrutable complexity class acronyms are death—but the suffix “-hedron” is golden.

So, journalists and funders: if you’re interested in the unitarihedron, awesome!  But be sure to also ask about my other research on the bosonsamplinghedron and the quantum-money-hedron.  (Though, in recent months, my research has focused even more on the diaperhedron: a multidimensional, topologically-nontrivial manifold rich enough to encompass all wastes that an 8-month-old human could possibly emit.  Well, at least to first-order approximation.)

Firewalls

Tuesday, August 27th, 2013

Updates (Aug. 29): John Preskill now has a very nice post summarizing the different views on offer at the firewall workshop, thereby alleviating my guilt for giving you only the mess below.  Thanks, John!

And if you check out John’s Twitter feed (which you should), you’ll find another, unrelated gem: a phenomenal TEDx talk on quantum computing by my friend, coauthor, and hero, the Lowerboundsman of Latvia, Andris Ambainis.  (Once again, when offered a feast of insight to dispel their misconceptions and ennoble their souls, the YouTube commenters are distinguishing themselves by focusing on the speaker’s voice.  Been there, man, been there.)

So, last week I was at the Fuzzorfire workshop at the Kavli Institute for Theoretical Physics in Santa Barbara, devoted to the black hole firewall paradox.  (The workshop is still going on this week, but I needed to get back early.)  For some background:

I had fantasies of writing a long, witty blog post that would set out my thoughts about firewalls, full of detailed responses to everything I’d heard at the conference, as well as ruminations about Harlow and Hayden’s striking argument that computational complexity might provide a key to resolving the paradox.  But the truth is, I’m recovering from a nasty stomach virus, am feeling “firewalled out,” and wish to use my few remaining non-childcare hours before the semester starts to finish writing papers.  So I decided that better than nothing would be a hastily-assembled pastiche of links.

First and most important, you can watch all the talks online.  In no particular order:

Here’s my own attempt to summarize what’s at stake, adapted from a comment on Peter Woit’s blog (see also a rapid response by Lubos):

As I understand it, the issue is actually pretty simple. Do you agree that
(1) the Hawking evaporation process should be unitary, and
(2) the laws of physics should describe the experiences of an infalling observer, not just those of an observer who stays outside the horizon?
If so, then you seem forced to accept
(3) the interior degrees of freedom should just be some sort of scrambled re-encoding of the exterior degrees, rather than living in a separate subfactor of Hilbert space (since otherwise we’d violate unitarity).
But then we get
(4) by applying a suitable unitary transformation to the Hawking radiation of an old enough black hole before you jump into it, someone ought to be able, in principle, to completely modify what you experience when you do jump in.  Moreover, that person could be far away from you—an apparent gross violation of locality.

So, there are a few options: you could reject either (1) or (2). You could bite the bullet and accept (4). You could say that the “experience of an infalling observer” should just be to die immediately at the horizon (firewalls). You could argue that for some reason (e.g., gravitational backreaction, or computational complexity), the unitary transformations required in (4) are impossible to implement even in principle. Or you could go the “Lubosian route,” and simply assert that the lack of any real difficulty is so obvious that, if you admit to being confused, then that just proves you’re an idiot.  AdS/CFT is clearly relevant, but as Polchinski pointed out, it does surprisingly little to solve the problem.

Now, what Almheiri et al. (AMPS) added to the simple logical argument above was really to make the consequence (4) more “concrete” and “vivid”—by describing something that, in principle, someone could actually do to the Hawking radiation before jumping in, such that after you jumped in, if there wasn’t anything dramatic that happened—something violating local QFT and the equivalence principle—then you’d apparently observe a violation of the monogamy of entanglement, a basic principle of quantum mechanics.  I’m sure the bare logic (1)-(4) was known to many people before AMPS: I certainly knew it, but I didn’t call it a “paradox,” I just called it “I don’t understand black hole complementarity”!

At any rate, thinking about the “Hawking radiation decoding problem” already led me to some very nice questions in quantum computing theory, which remain interesting even if you remove the black hole motivation entirely. And that helped convince me that something new and worthwhile might indeed come out of this business, despite how much fun it is. (Hopefully whatever does come out won’t be as garbled as Hawking radiation.)

For continuing live updates from the workshop, check out John Preskill’s Twitter feed.

Or you can ask me to expand on various things in the comments, and I’ll do my best.  (As I said in my talk, while I’m not sure that the correct quantum description of the black hole interior is within anyone‘s professional expertise, it’s certainly outside of mine!  But I do find this sort of thing fun to think about—how could I not?)

Unrelated, but also of interest: check out an excellent article in Quanta by Erica Klarreich, about the recent breakthroughs by Reichardt-Unger-Vazirani, Vazirani-Vidick, and others on classical command of quantum systems.

Quantum Computing Since Democritus now out in the US! 20% discount for Shtetl-Optimized readers

Saturday, April 27th, 2013

OK, this will be my last blog post hawking Quantum Computing Since Democritus, at least for a while.  But I do have four pieces of exciting news about the book that I want to share.

1. Amazon is finally listing the print version of QCSD as available for shipment in North America, slightly ahead of schedule!  Amazon’s price is $35.27. 2. Cambridge University Press has very generously offered readers of Shtetl-Optimized a 20% discount off their list price—meaning$31.99 instead of $39.99—if you click this link to order directly from them. Note that CUP has a shipping charge of$6.50.  So ordering from CUP might either be slightly cheaper or slightly more expensive than ordering from Amazon, depending (for example) on whether you get free shipping from Amazon Prime.
3. So far, there have been maybe 1000 orders and preorders for QCSD (not counting hundreds of Kindle sales).  The book has also spent a month as one of Amazon’s top few “Quantum Physics” sellers, with a fabulous average rating of 4.6 / 5 stars from 9 reviews (or 4.9 if we discount the pseudonymous rant by Joy Christian).  Thanks so much to everyone who ordered a copy; I hope you like it!  Alas, these sales figures also mean that QCSD still has a long way to go before it enters the rarefied echelon of—to pick a few top Amazon science sellers—Cosmos, A Brief History of TimeProof of Heaven (A Neurosurgeon’s Journey into the Afterlife), Turn On Your SUPER BRAIN, or The Lemon Book (Natural Recipes and Preparations).  So, if you believe that QCSD deserves to be with such timeless classics, then put your money where your mouth is and help make it happen!
4. The most exciting news of all?  Luboš Motl is reading the free copy of QCSD that I sent him and blogging his reactions chapter-by-chapter!  So, if you’d like to learn about how mathematicians and computer scientists simply lack the brainpower to do physics—which is why we obsess over kindergarten trivialities like the Church-Turing Thesis or the Axiom of Choice, and why we insist idiotically that Nature use only the mathematical structures that our inferior minds can grasp—then check out Luboš’s posts about Chapters 1-3 or Chapters 4-6.  If, on the other hand, you want to see our diacritical critic pleasantly surprised by QCSD’s later chapters on cryptography, quantum mechanics, and quantum computing, then here’s the post for you.  Either way, be sure to scroll down to the comments, where I patiently defend the honor of theoretical computer science against Luboš’s hilarious ad hominem onslaughts.

Valiant’s valiance recognized

Wednesday, March 9th, 2011

Update (March 25): I have a new paper called A Linear-Optical Proof that the Permanent is #P-Hard, which is dedicated to Les Valiant on the occasion of his Turing Award.  Here’s the abstract:

One of the crown jewels of complexity theory is Valiant’s 1979 theorem that computing the permanent of an n*n matrix is #P-hard. Here we show that, by using the model of linear-optical quantum computing—and in particular, a universality theorem due to Knill, Laflamme, and Milburn—one can give a different and arguably more intuitive proof of this theorem.

For decades, Harvard’s Leslie Valiant has obviously deserved a Turing Award—and today, the ACM most excellently announced its agreement with the obvious.  I have little to add to the prize citation (see also Lance’s post): from launching new fields whose reach extends beyond theory (PAC-learning), to proving epochal results (#P-completeness of the permanent), to asking hugely influential questions (permanent vs. determinant), Valiant has been a creative powerhouse of theoretical computer science for longer than I’ve been alive.

One thing the prize citation doesn’t mention is that Valiant is now the third Turing Award winner (after Andy Yao and Len Adleman) to have made a major contribution to quantum computing theory.  Valiant’s 2001 paper Quantum Computers that can be Simulated Classically in Polynomial Time introduced the beautiful computational model that computer scientists now know as “matchgates,” and that physicists know as “noninteracting fermions.” It still amazes that Valiant proposed this model for purely mathematical reasons—hitting physical relevance straight between the eyes despite (as far as I can tell) not having that target anywhere in his sights.

To put the point in terms that my physicist friends will understand, that Valiant himself would probably dispute, but that I would defend:

Valiant’s work has shown that, even if our universe hadn’t been made of bosons and fermions, theoretical computer scientists would have had compelling reasons of their own to invent those particles or something equivalent to them—and furthermore, that at least one theoretical computer scientist would have had the imagination to do so.

Certainly Valiant has had a huge influence on me, both through his work and as someone who made time to talk to me as an obscure grad student a decade ago.   Three of my papers—The Learnability of Quantum States, A Full Characterization of Quantum Advice, and The Computational Complexity of Linear Optics—would collapse entirely without Valiant-laid foundations.

Congratulations, Les!

My diavlog with Anthony Aguirre

Saturday, July 24th, 2010

Bloggingheads has just posted an hour-long diavlog between the cosmologist Anthony Aguirre and your humble blogger.  Topics discussed include: the anthropic principle; how to do quantum mechanics if the universe is so large that there could be multiple copies of you; Nick Bostrom’s “God’s Coin Toss” thought experiment; the cosmological constant; the total amount of computation in the observable universe; whether it’s reasonable to restrict cosmology to our observable region and ignore everything beyond that; whether the universe “is” a computer; whether, when we ask the preceding question, we’re no better than those Renaissance folks who asked whether the universe “is” a clockwork mechanism; and other questions that neither Anthony, myself, nor anyone else is really qualified to address.

There was one point that sort of implicit in the discussion, but I noticed afterward that I never said explicitly, so let me do it now.  The question of whether the universe “is” a computer, I see as almost too meaningless to deserve discussion.  The reason is that the notion of “computation” is so broad that pretty much any system, following any sort of rules whatsoever (yes, even non-Turing-computable rules) could be regarded as some sort of computation.  So the right question to ask is not whether the universe is a computer, but rather what kind of computer it is.  How many bits can it store?  How many operations can it perform?  What’s the class of problems that it can solve in polynomial time?

The Future of Computer Science, and Why Every Other Major Sucks By Comparison

Monday, April 12th, 2010

Does this post finally herald my return to regular blogging after a months-long absence?

I don’t know.  For me, writing a Shtetl-Optimized entry always followed the same process: I’d get an idea and start typing, furiously rocking back and forth in my chair.  Then the voices in my head would pipe up: no, I can’t say that—what will everyone think?—judging from past experience, they’ll probably take offense—I can already see the commenters boiling me alive—maybe if I rephrased it, or, y’know, provided some context—but to explain the real context, I’d need a whole book—and who has the time for that?—better wait till after tenure—meantime, maybe I could blog about something light and uncontroversial instead—but then what’s the point?—we already have one GASARCH—well, I could always put off a decision till later—

Back in the blog’s heyday, I’d win these fights about 40% the time and the voices would win about 60%.  (In other words: if you’ve ever taken offense at an entry of mine, rest assured that you haven’t even seen the half of my drafts folder.)  But now that I have an actual stake in this shabby world—students to advise and look after, a tenure case to build, conceivably even a family to start—the voices win more like 98% of the time.  And that’s why my blogging fell off.

Occasionally, though, something comes along so uncomplicatedly joyous that I feel no reservations about sharing it with the world.  Such was the case this weekend, when I was somehow called upon to represent MIT’s EECS Department in the annual “Professor Talent Show” at Campus Preview Weekend.  This is an event where six faculty members square off, taking eight minutes each to

(1) explain why their department is the coolest,
(2) crack jokes, and
(3) possibly demonstrate a musical or athletic talent.

Then, using electronic clickers, the several hundred prefrosh in attendence vote for which major carried the day.  Though I had no absolutely no talent of any kind to demonstrate, and was up against a banjo-player, violinist, and basketball-spinner among other tough competitors, for some reason EECS won!  You can see my PowerPoint slides here:

The Future of Computer Science, and Why Every Other Major Sucks By Comparison

http://www.scottaaronson.com/talks/futurecs.ppt

(You can read the jokes that go along with each slide in the slide notes at the bottom.)

Update (4/15): I hadn’t realized at all that there’s actually a video of me giving the talk!  (Click on “Part 2.”)

Science: the toroidal pyramid

Wednesday, January 23rd, 2008

Chad Orzel gripes about this month’s Scientific American special issue on “The Future of Physics” — which is actually extremely good, but which turns out to be exclusively about the future of high-energy particle physics. Not surprisingly, the commenters on Chad’s blog reignite the ancient debate about which science is more fundamental than which other one, and whether all sciences besides particle physics are stamp collecting.

I started writing a comment myself, but then I realized I hadn’t posted anything to my own blog in quite some time, so being nothing if not opportunistic, I decided to put it here instead.

To me, one of the most delicious things about computer science is the way it turns the traditional “pyramid of sciences” on its head. We all know, of course, that math and logic are more fundamental than particle physics (even particle physicists themselves will, if pressed, grudgingly admit as much), and that particle physics is in turn more fundamental than condensed-matter physics, which is more fundamental than chemistry, which is more fundamental than biology, which is more fundamental than psychology, anthropology, and so on, which still are more fundamental than grubby engineering fields like, say, computer science … but then you find out that computer science actually has as strong a claim as math to be the substrate beneath physics, that in a certain sense computer science is math, and that until you understand what kinds of machines the laws of physics do and don’t allow, you haven’t really understood the laws themselves … and the whole hierarchy of fundamental-ness gets twisted into a circle and revealed as the bad nerd joke that it always was.

That was a longer sentence than I intended.

Note (Jan. 25): From now on, all comments asking what I think of the movie “Teeth” will be instantly deleted. I’m sick of the general topic, and regret having ever brought it up. Thank you for your understanding.

My take on the Koblitz affair

Saturday, September 1st, 2007

Now that Luca, Michael Mitzenmacher, Jonathan Katz, and Oded Goldreich have all weighed in on Neal Koblitz’s critique of modern cryptography in the Notices of the AMS, I can no longer bear to be left out of the action.

My reaction is simple: we computer scientists should feel honored that the mathematicians have finally bestowed on us the level of contempt they once reserved for the physicists.

Update (9/6): If you want to understand what’s actually involved in this controversy, the best starting point I’ve found is this paper by Ivan Damgård.

Experimental complexity theory

Wednesday, June 27th, 2007

I just came back from the MIT CSAIL (Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Lab) annual meeting, which was held at a beach resort in Cape Cod. No, it isn’t California, but for at least a few months a year “my” coast can put up a respectable showing too:

Out of all the ideas I heard at the CSAIL meeting, the one that made me proudest to have become a professor was this: computer scientists should make a serious effort to address world hunger, deforestation, climate change, and other global crises, because of the significant opportunities to tap funding resources that are becoming available in these areas. I’m telling you, if a giant asteroid were going to hit the earth in a week, the first question academics would ask would be how to beat out competing proposals for the $50-million “Deflection of Space-Based Objects” initiative at NSF. The meeting ended with a “Wild & Crazy Ideas Session,” at which I (naturally) spoke. I briefly considered talking about quantum gravity computing, closed timelike curves, or quantum anthropic postselection, but ultimately decided on something a little less mainstream. My topic was “Experimental Computational Complexity Theory,” or “why do theoretical physicists get$8-billion machines for the sole purpose of confirming or refuting their speculative ideas, whereas theoretical computer scientists get diddlysquat?” More concretely, my proposal is to devote some of the world’s computing power to an all-out attempt to answer questions like the following: does computing the permanent of a 4-by-4 matrix require more arithmetic operations than computing its determinant? You can read my slides here.

The wisdom of Gian-Carlo Rota (1932-1999)

Monday, April 9th, 2007

From www.rota.org:

Graph theory, like lattice theory, is the whipping boy of mathematicians in need of concealing their feelings of insecurity.

Mathematicians also make terrible salesmen. Physicists can discover the same thing as a mathematician and say ‘We’ve discovered a great new law of nature. Give us a billion dollars.’ And if it doesn’t change the world, then they say, ‘There’s an even deeper thing. Give us another billion dollars.’

When an undergraduate asks me whether he or she should major in mathematics rather than in another field that I will simply call X, my answer is the following: “If you major in mathematics, you can switch to X anytime you want to, but not the other way around.”

Flakiness is nowadays creeping into the sciences like a virus through a computer system, and it may be the greatest present threat to our civilization. Mathematics can save the world from the invasion of the flakes by unmasking them, and by contributing some hard thinking. You and I know that mathematics, by definition, is not and never will be flaky.

Note: Quotation here does not necessarily imply endorsement by Shtetl-Optimized LLC or any of its subsidary enterprises.