LONDON

When I started my PhD, I took on a part time job teaching a research course titled “Applied Quantum Algorithms”. I was told to expect undergraduates with a strong background in STEM subjects.

Then one student introduced themselves:

> “My name is Amara.

> I majored in philosophy many years ago.

> I am a yoga teacher and an amateur photographer.

> I have great interest in I Ching,

> I came here because I hope to understand I Ching in a scientific way.

> My primary aim this year is to upgrade every cell in my brain and my body.

> I think this course is a great method to help me achieve my aim.

> I am not good at computers, but I hope we can make a breakthrough in quantum computing by finding the hidden wisdom in I Ching.”

Such words raise red flags for physicists.

The I Ching is an ancient Chinese book about divination. It advocates that we accept change and understand its patterns so we can live peacefully and harmoniously. It contains a formal system of 64 figures called “hexagrams” that build upon the dual concepts of Yin and Yang. Each hexagram corresponds to a type of scenario one might encounter in life and the text provides advice for how one should approach it.

It’s fascinating, but it has nothing to do with algorithms for quantum computers. I was planning to teach students the postulates of quantum computing and some basic quantum algorithms. My curriculum did not prioritise spiritual growth.

I wonder what sequence of events led to her signing up for my course. The word “quantum” is dangerously alluring, often misappropriated to give scientific legitimacy to baseless ideas. “Quantum healing,” the “quantum realm” in Marvel films, and now the quantum wisdom of the I Ching. This works because few understand it. Allegedly, not even physicists. Feynman is quoted as saying: “If you think you understand quantum mechanics, then you don’t”. But I think this quote misrepresents the situation, because a lot of people do understand a lot of things about quantum mechanics even if they find some of it counterintuitive. Importantly, we know enough about it that you are not entitled to your own opinion about quantum mechanics. She must have read something that carelessly used the word quantum.

Amara was questioning excessively. She refused to accept the physical laws that govern quantum information, which form the basic assumptions of quantum computing. Her initial progress was painstakingly slow. She asked philosophical questions that sprawled far beyond her technical grasp. After I explained the mathematics of a simple scenario of two entangled qubits, she asked me if parents were entangled to their children or whether wearing clothes entangled them with us. I pulled out my undergraduate experience with philosophy and made a quick distinction between the use of the word “entanglement” as mathematical jargon, and its use in poetic metaphors.

One day I asked the class to list examples of quantum logic gates they had come across. Amara excitedly began reading from detailed notes she’d prepared over the week, confidently naming gates and describing their functions. At the end, she smiled and said: “I knew you would ask, so I prepared.”

It came as a surprise, but I still believed that she was likely to lose interest in the maths eventually and judge the course to be too different from her expectations. I said to her, “Great work! It will all pay off in the end, as linear algebra is the language of the universe.” 

After that, Amara began coming to class armed with precise, well-thought-out questions about exercises from a quantum computing textbook she’d ordered online. She found it all challenging and clearly worked many more hours each week than other students, but she was becoming socialised with the rigor of mathematical sciences. Yet even after this transformation, once in a while she would passionately bring up philosophy, for example suggesting that the quantum interference of computational branches could symbolize a deeper cosmic balance.

Eventually, she cited a Calvin and Hobbes comic:

“Calvin: You know, I don’t think math is a science, I think it’s a religion.
Hobbes: A religion?
Calvin: Yeah. All these equations are like miracles. You take two numbers and when you add them, they magically become one NEW number! No one can say how it happens. You either believe it or you don’t.”,

and she commented:

“I think quantum is a religion too. You either believe it or not. Sorry for using the non-jargon words, I will try my best to use precise and serious words.”

Plato insisted on ten years of mathematical training before studying philosophy. Mathematics trains the mind in logical reasoning from sound facts, whereas philosophy grapples with tentative ones. I’m glad that Amara was multiplying matrices competently by the end of the course. That was a victory for me. I’m also glad she kept sharing her musings.

We all get into science because of our grandiose and crazy ideas. Excitement is important. But socialising and disciplining someone into the technicalities and procedures of science is also important. 

Or perhaps Amara was playing along and exemplifying the openness to change advocated by the I Ching. 

(Name and details of the student were changed to protect their identity)