Volume 3, May 2003
www.psljournal.com/archives/newsedit/shields.cfm
A Response to Avner Levin’s
“The Problem of Observation”*
Bill Shields,
J.D.**
*Avner
Levin’s article was published in the March 2003 edition of the Journal of Philosophy,
Science & Law.
**Associate
General Counsel, Defense Nuclear Facilities Safety Board, and Ph.D. candidate,
Science and Technology Studies Program, Virginia Tech.
With
regard to the representation of quantum mechanics in the article, I have no
serious scientific reservations, except to note that Bohr’s particular version
of the Problem of Observation was not and is not universally accepted. Although we continue to believe today that the
fundamental limits imposed on certain measurements hold true, the connection
between these limits and other aspects of physical theory remains unclear. The
physicist David Bohm, for example, long advocated a "Hidden Variable"
formulation that attempted to restore the notion of causality in the sense
Einstein preferred.[1] John S. Bell, in a series of papers beginning
in 1965 has identified inequalities (called "Bell’s inequalities")
that can be applied to the outcome of certain quantum mechanical experiments in
which the Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen paradox can be tested.[2] A variety of such experiments have been
carried out, and the results have confirmed that the inequalities are violated,
i.e., locality in the usual sense cannot be assumed.[3] My point is that "Bohr’s Problem of
Observation" is at bottom a very complicated problem that continues to
confound physicists. Levin’s discussion
leaves the reader with the notion that Bohr settled the matter with a
"philosophical detour" and there the matter lies. While Bohr’s view has certainly not been
refuted, the last chapter in this story has hardly been written.[4]
The difficulties I have with Levin’s
drawing of a parallel between indeterminacy of measurement at the quantum level
and “the law” are manifold, but in this brief comment I will note only a few.
First, beginning at the sub-heading
“Law,” Levin creates a parallel between a “scientist observing nature” and a
“legal participant commenting on law.”
This parallel is simply too generalized to draw any conclusions from. A “scientist observing nature” under most
circumstances (as Levin acknowledges) can make arbitrarily exact measurements
so long as quantum phenomena are not important.
Things can be counted, spectroanalyzed, weighed, chemically analyzed,
and so on. None of these measurements
have anything to do (in any important respect) with quantum theory. “Law” can mean quite a few different things,
and what meaning is taken affects any parallel to be drawn. Law can be regarded as what is in the books,
i.e., the Constitution, statutes, cases, and regulations, or the body of broad
legal principles such as fairness, equity, impartiality, and transparency, or
what lawyers and judges do for a living, or in the very broadest sense, a
social contract that all members of society are expected to sign. “Writing about law” can involve any or all of
these meanings.
With regard to what might be regarded
as “measurement” in the law, the closest parallel I can draw to a physical
measurement is when a client asks me, “what is the law on X?” To answer that question, I conduct research
and the results of that, plus my own tacit knowledge and legal experience,
allow me to offer an answer. That answer
will be indeterminate to a degree, and that is made clear to the client. Levin refers to this (I believe) as
“descriptive writing” though no actual writing is necessary. This is a reasonable parallel to a scientist
attempting to take measurements without disturbing the system.
I can agree with Levin that
“prescriptive legal writing” as he defines it does have change as its
goal. The writer is trying to disturb the system. But here again, the parallel breaks
down. Huge amounts of legal writing are
generated in our society, and much of it has no measurable impact on any aspect
of “the law” in the various ways it can be defined. As a legal colleague with much legislative
experience sometimes remarks when asked about some controversial piece of
legislation proposed in the U.S. Congress, “there are thousands of bills
introduced every year and
90% of them never get beyond referral
to committee.” The formulation
“descriptive writing–prescriptive writing–law changes” is simply not true. Moreover, someone writing prescriptively
about law with the intent of disturbing the system is quite unlike a scientist
using a complex piece of apparatus in an attempt to measure precisely the
position and momentum of a particle. In
that case, the scientist is trying not to
disturb the system, but in the end is defeated by a fundamental principle that
limits his or her ability to avoid the disturbance. There is no parallel principle I know of in
the practice of law. Changes in the law,
however defined, are a complex societal process and the net impact of those who
write about the law is probably negligible.
In the last paragraph of the essay,
Levin argues that “descriptive work and prescriptive work both continue to be
necessary to the advancement of knowledge about the law.” As a lawyer, I do not understand Levin’s
view. Descriptive work (as I understand
Levin means it) is an attempt to learn the current state of the law in some
area, “legal research,” whereas prescriptive work is a deliberate attempt to
disturb the law in some area, which might be viewed as “creating law” if it
succeeds. There is no legitimate sense
in which the law is “out there” waiting to be “known” in the sense that
physical phenomena may be.
Finally, Levin comments that “so long
as we understand law as a product of our perceptions, that is the unfortunate
reality of our knowledge about the law.”
In fact, because law however defined is a form of societal consent, it
is very much a product of our perceptions.
In Baghdad over the last week, when the residents perceived that the
“rule of law” (an admittedly oppressive one) had been temporarily destroyed,
the social contract broke down and “lawlessness” was rampant. Whatever may be written in all the books and
treatises, law at bottom is our consent to live by certain rules, and in a very
real sense, those rules are what we
perceive them to be.