Poincaré, inertia, and a common misconception

A historical, and ongoing, alternative conception


Keith S. Taber


"…and eleventhly Madame Curie…" Henri Poincaré enjoying small talk at a physics conference (image source: 'Marie Curie and Poincaré talk at the 1911 Solvay Conference', Wikipedia)


One of the most fundamental ideas in physics, surely taught in every secondary school science curriculum around the world, is also the focus of one of the most common alternative conceptions documented in science education. Inertia. Much research in the latter part of the twentieth century has detailed how most people have great trouble with this very simple idea.

But that would likely not have surprised the nineteenth century French physicist (and mathematician and philosopher) Henri Poincaré in the least. Over a century ago he had this to say about the subject of Newton's first law, inertia,

"The principle of inertia. A body acted on by no force can only move uniformly in a straight line.

Is this a truth imposed a priori upon the mind? If it were so, how could the Greeks have failed to recognise it? How could they have believed that motion stops when the cause which gave birth to it ceases? Or again that every body if nothing prevents, will move in a circle, the noblest of motions?

If it is said that the velocity of a body can not change if there is no reason for it to change, could it not be maintained just as well that the position of this body can not change, or that the curvature of its trajectory can not change, if no external cause intervenes to modify them?

Is the principle of inertia, which is not an a priori truth, therefore an experimental fact? But has any one ever experimented on bodies withdrawn from the action of every force? and, if so, how was it known that these bodies were subjected to no force?"

Poincaré, 1902/1913/2015

There is quite a lot going on in that quote, so it is worth breaking it down.

The principle of inertia

"The principle of inertia. A body acted on by no force can only move uniformly in a straight line."

Poincaré, 1902/1913/2015

We might today choose to phrase this differently – at least in teaching. Perhaps along the lines that

a body remains at rest, or moving with uniform motion, unless it is acted upon by a net (overall) force

That's a pretty simple idea.

  • If you want something that is stationary to start moving, you need to apply a force to it. Otherwise it will remain stationary. And:
  • If you want something that is moving with constant velocity to slow down (decelerate), speed up (accelerate), or change direction, you need to apply a force to it. Otherwise it will carry on moving in the same direction at the same speed.

A simple idea, but one which most people struggle with!

It is worth noting that Poincaré's formulation seems simpler than the versions more commonly presented in school today. He does not make reference to a body at rest; and we might detect a potential ambiguity in what is meant by "can only move uniformly in a straight line".

Is the emphasis:

  • can only move uniformly in a straight line:
    • i.e., 〈 can only 〉 〈 move uniformly in a straight line 〉, or
  • can only move uniformly in a straight line:
    • i.e., 〈 can only move 〉 〈 uniformly in a straight line 〉

That is, must such a body "move uniformly in a straight line" or must such a body, if moving, "move uniformly in a straight line"? A body acted on by no force may be stationary.

Perhaps this is less ambiguous in the original French? But I suspect that, as a physicist, Poincairé did not, particularly, see the body at rest as being much of a special case.

To most people the distinction between something stationary and something moving is very salient (evolution has prepared us to notice movement). But to a physicist the more important distinction is between any body at constant velocity, and one accelerating* – and a body not moving has constant velocity (of 0 ms-1!)

*and for a physicist accelerating usually includes decelerating, as that is just acceleration with a negative vale, or indeed positive acceleration in a different direction. These 'simplifications' seem very neat – to the initiated (but perhaps not to novices!)

A historical scientific conception

Poincaré then asks:

Is this a truth imposed a priori upon the mind? If it were so, how could the Greeks have failed to recognise it? How could they have believed that motion stops when the cause which gave birth to it ceases?"

Poincaré, 1902/1913/2015

Poincairé asks a rhetorical question: "Is this a truth imposed a priori upon the mind?" Rhetorical, as he immediately suggests the answer. No, it cannot be.

Science is very much an empirical endeavour. The world is investigated by observation, indeed often observation of the effects of interventions (i.e., experiments).

In this way, it diverges from a rationalist approach to understanding the world based on reflection and reasoning that occurs without seeking empirical evidence.

An aside on simulations and perpetual change

Yet, even empirical science depends on some (a priori) metaphysical commitments that cannot themselves be demonstrated by scientific observation (e.g., Taber, 2013). As one example, the famous 'brain in a vat' scenario (that informed films such as The Matrix) asks how we could know that we really experience an external world rather than a very elaborate virtual reality fed directly into our central nervous system (assuming we have such a thing!) 1

Science only makes sense if we believe that the world we experience is an objective reality originating outside our own minds
(Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay)

Despite this, scientists operate on the assumption this is a physical world (that we all experience), and one that has a certain degree of stability and consistency. 2 The natural scientist has to assume this is not a capricious universe if science (a search for the underlying order of the world) is to make sense!

It may seem this (that we live in is an objective physical world that has a certain degree of stability and consistency) is obviously the case, as our observations of the world find this stability. But not really: rather, we impose an assumption of an underlying stability, and interpret accordingly. The sun 'rises' every day. (We see stability.) But the amount of daylight changes each day. (We observe change, but assume, and look for, and posit, some underlying stability to explain this.)

Continental drift, new comets, evolution of new species and extinction of others, supernovae, the appearance of HIV and COVID, increasing IQ (disguised by periodically renormalising scoring), climate change, the expanding universe, plant growth, senile dementia, rotting fruit, printers running out of ink, lovers falling out of love, et cetera,…are all assumed to be (and subsequently found to be) explainable in terms of underlying stable and consistent features of the world!

But it would be possible to consider nothing stays the same, and seek to explain away any apparent examples of stability!

Parmenides thought change is impossible

Heraclitus though everything was in flux

An a priori?

So Poincaré was asking if the principle of is inertia was something that would appear to us as a given; is inertia something that seems a necessary and obvious feature of the world (which it probably does to most physicists – but that is after years of indoctrination into that perspective).

But, Poincaré was pointing out, we know that for centuries people did not think that objects not subject any force would continue to move with constant velocity.

There were (considered to be) certain natural motions, and these had a teleological aspect. So, heavy objects, that were considered mainly earth naturally fell down to their natural place on the ground. 3 Once there, mission accomplished (so to speak), they would stop moving. No further explanation was considered necessary.

Violent motions were (considered to be) different as they needed an active cause – such as a javelin moving through the air because someone had thrown it. Yet, clearly (it was believed), the athlete could only impart a finite motion to the javelin, which it would soon exhaust, so the javelin would (naturally) stop soon enough.

Today, such ideas are seen as alternative conceptions (misconceptions), but for hundreds of years these ideas were largely taken as self-evident and secure principles describing aspects of the world. The idea that the javelin might carry on moving for ever if it was 'left to its own devices' seemed absurd. (And to most people today who are not physicists or science teachers, it probably still does!)

An interesting question is if, and if so, to what extent, the people who become physicists and physics teachers start out with intuitions more aligned with the principles of physics than most of their classmates.

"Assuming that there is significant variation in the extent to which our intuitive physics matches what we are taught in school, I would expect that most physics teachers are among those to whom the subject seemed logical and made good sense when they were students. I have no evidence for this, but it just seems natural that these students would have enjoyed and continued with the subject.

If I am right about this intuition, then this may be another reason why physics is so hard for some of our students. Not only do they have to struggle with subject matter that seems counterintuitive, but the very people who are charged with helping them may be those who instinctively think most differently from the way in which they do."

Taber, 2004, p.124

Another historical scientific conception

And Poincaré went on:

"Or again that every body if nothing prevents, will move in a circle, the noblest of motions?"

Poincaré, 1902/1913/2015

It was also long thought that in the heavens bodies naturally moved spontaneously in circles – a circle being a perfect shape, and the heavens being a perfect place.

Orbital motion – once viewed to be natural (i.e., not requiring any further explanation) and circular in 'the heavens'.
(Image by WikiImages from Pixabay: Body sizes and separations not to the same scale!)

It is common for people to feel that what seems natural does not need further explanation (Watts & Taber, 1996) – even though most of what we consider natural is likely just familiarity with common phenomena. We start noticing how the floor arrests the motion of falling objects very young in life, so by the time we have language to help reflect on this, we simply explain this as motion stopping because the floor was in the way! Similarly, reaction forces are not obvious when an object rests on another – a desk, a shelf, etc – as the object cannot fall 'because it is supported'.

Again, we (sic, we the initiated) now think that without an acting centripetal force, an orbiting body would move off at a tangent – but that would have seemed pretty bizarre for much of European history.

The idea that bodies moved in circles (as the fixed stars seemed to do) was maintained despite extensive observational evidence collected over centuries that the planets appeared to do something quite different. Today Kepler's laws are taught in physics, including that the solar system's orbiting bodies move (almost) in ellipses. ('Almost', as they bodies perturb each other a little.)

But when Kepler tried to fit observations to theory by adopting Copernicus's 'heliocentric' model of the Earth and planets orbiting the Sun (Earth and other planets, we would say), he still struggled to make progress for a considerable time because of an unquestioned assumption that the planetary motions had to be circular, or some combination of multiple circles.

Learners' alternative conceptions

These historical ideas are of more than historical interest. Many people, research suggests most people, today share similar intuitions.

  • Objects will naturally come to a stop when they have used up their imparted motion without the need for any forces to act.
  • Something that falls to the floor does not need a force to act on it to stop it moving, as the ground is in its way.
  • Moons and planets continue in orbits because there is no overall force acting on them.

The vast majority of learners some to school science holding versions of such alternative conceptions.

Read about common alternative conceptions related to Newton's first law

Read about common alternative conceptions related to Newton's second law

The majority of learners also leave school holding versions of such alternative conceptions – even if some of them have mastered the ability to usually respond to physics test questions as if they accepted a different worldview.

The idea that objects soon stop moving once the applied force ceases to act may be contrary to physics, but it is not, of course, contrary to common experience – at least not contrary to common experience as most people perceive it.

Metaphysical principles

Poincaré recognised this.

"If it is said that the velocity of a body can not change if there is no reason for it to change [i.e. the principle of inertia],

could it not be maintained just as well that

the position of this body can not change, or

that the curvature of its trajectory can not change,

if no external cause intervenes to modify them?"

Poincaré, 1902/1913/2015 (emphasis added)

After all, as Poincairé pointed out, there seems no reason, a priori, that is intuitively, to assume the world must work according to the principle of inertia (though some physicists and science teachers whom have been indoctrinated over many years may have come to think otherwise – of course after indoctrination is not a priori!), rather than assuming, say, that force must act for movement to occur and/or that force must act to change an orbit.

Science as an empirical enterprise

Science teachers might reply, that our initial intuitions are not the point, because myriad empirical tests have demonstrated the principle of inertia. But Poincairé suggested this was strictly not so,

"Is the principle of inertia, which is not an a priori truth, therefore an experimental fact? But has any one ever experimented on bodies withdrawn from the action of every force? and, if so, how was it known that these bodies were subjected to no force?"

Poincaré, 1902/1913/2015

For example, if we accept the ideas of universal gravitation, than anywhere in the universe a body will be subject to gravitational attractions (that is, forces). A body could only be completely free of this by being in a universe of its own with no other gravitating bodies. Then we might think we could test, in principle at least, whether the body "acted on by no force can only move uniformly in a straight line".

Well, apart from a couple of small difficulties. There would be no observers in this universe to see, as we have excluded all other massive bodies. And if this was the only body there, it would be the only frame of reference available – a frame of reference in which it was always stationary. It would always be at the centre of, and indeed would be the extent of, its universe.

Poincaré and pedagogic awareness

Poincaré was certainly not denying the principle of inertia so fundamental to mechanics. But he was showing that he appreciated that a simple principle which seems (comes to seem?) so basic and obvious to the inducted physics expert:

  • was hard won in the history of science
  • in not 'given' in intuition
  • is not the only possible basic principle on which a mechanics (in some other universe) could be based
  • is contrary to immediate experience (that is, to those who have not been indoctrinated to 'see' resistive forces sch as friction acting everywhere)
  • could never be entirely demonstrated in a pure form, but rather must be inferred from experimental tests of more complex situations where we will only deduce the principle of inertia if we assume a range of other principles (about the action of gravitational fields, air resistance, etc.)

Poincaré may have been seen as one of the great physicists of his time, but his own expertise certainly did not him appreciating the challenges facing the learner of physics, or indeed the teacher of physics.


Work cited:

Notes

1 With current human technology we cannot achieve this – even the best virtual worlds clearly do not yet come close to the real one! But that argument falls away if 'the real' world we experience is such a virtual reality created by very advanced technology, and what we think of as virtual worlds are low definition simulations being created within that! (After all, when people saw the first jumpy black-and-white movies, they then came out from the cinema into a colourful, smooth and high definition world.) If you have ever awaken from a dream, only to later realise you are still asleep, and had been dreaming of being asleep in the dream, then you may appreciate how such nesting of worlds could work.

Probably no one actually believes they are a brain in a vat, but how would we know. There is an argument that

  • 1) the evolution of complex life is a very slow process that requires a complex ecosystem, but
  • 2) once humans (or indeed non-humans) have the technology to create convincing virtual worlds this can be done very much more quickly, and with much less resource [i.e., than the evolution of the physical world which within which the programmers of the simulations themselves live]. So,
  • 3) if we are living in a phase of the universe where such technology has been achieved, then we would expect there to be a great many more such virtual worlds than planets inhabited by life forms with the level of self-consciousness to think about whether they are in a simulation.4 So,
  • 4) [if we are living in a phase of the universe where such technology has been achieved] we would be much more likely to be living in one of these worlds (a character in a very complex simulation) than an actual organic being. 5

2 That is, not a simulation where an adolescent programmer is going to suddenly increase gravity or add a new fundamental force just to make things more interesting.


3 Everything on earth was considered to be made up of different proportions of the four elements, which in terms of increasing rarity were earth, water, air and fire. The rocks of the earth were predominately the element earth – and objects that were mainly earth fell to their natural place. (Rarity in this context means the inverse of density, not scarcity.)


4 When I was a child (perhaps in part because I think I started Sunday School before I could start 'proper' school), I used to muse about God being able to create everything, and being omniscient – although I am pretty sure I did not use that term! It seemed to me (and, sensibly, I do not think I shared this at Sunday School) that if God knew everything and was infallible, then he did not need to actually create the world as a physical universe, but rather just think what would happen. For God, that would work just as well, as a perfect mind could imagine things exactly as they would be in exquisite detail and with absolute precision. So, I thought I might just be an aspect of the mind of God – so part of a simulation in effect. This was a comforting rather than worrying thought – surely there is no safer place to be than in the mind of God?

Sadly, I grew to be much less sure of God (the creation seems just as incredible – in the literal sense – either way), but still think that, for God, thinking it would be as good as (if not the same as) making it. I suspect some theologians would not entirely dismiss this.

If I am just a character in someone's simulation, I'd rather it was that of a supreme being than some alien adolescent likely to abandon my world at the first sign of romantic interest from a passing conspecific.


5 Unless we assume a dystopian Matrix like simulation, the technology has to be able to create characters (sub-routines?) with self-awareness – which goes some way beyond just a convincing simulation, as it also requires components complex enough to be convinced about their own existence, as well as the reality of the wider simulation!

Fuels get used-up when we burn them

Keith S. Taber

Sophia was a participant in the Understanding Science Project. Sophia (then in Y7) had been burning materials in science. She had burnt some paraffin in a small burner (a glass burner with a wick). Her understanding of the process was not in terms of a chemical reaction, but at a more 'phenomenological' level:

So what happens to paraffin when it burns then?

It keeps on burning… but you, you can put it out easily as well…. we just blew it out…

I see, but otherwise it just carried on burning, did it? Did it carry on burning for ever, if you don't blow it out?

No, 'cause it would run out.

What would it run out of?

The paraffin.

So where does the paraffin go then?

(There was a pause, of about 4 seconds. Sophia laughs, but does not offer answer.)

And what happens to the level of the paraffin in the burner?

It gets lower and lower.

So why's that, what's happened to it?

'cause you are using all of it up, when it's burning.

So it get all used up does, it – so what happens when it's all used up?

You have to refill it.

So for Sophia the burning of paraffin is not seen in terms of basic chemistry (what happens to the substance paraffin during the process of burning?), but rather she seems to interpret what she has seen in terms of everyday ideas – stuff, such as fuels, get used up – if we use it, we no longer have it.

The final question in this sequence ('what happens when it's all used up') is not treated in scientific terms (e.g., from the perspective of the conservation of matter, there is an issue of where the 'stuff' what was the paraffin has gone), but in practical terms: when we use up the fuel in the burner, we need to refill it to do more burning.

Here, understanding in 'everyday' or 'lifeworld' terms seems to dominate her thinking: the familiar idea that things get used-up obscures the scientific question of what happens to the matter in the fuel. Presumably, her teacher wanted her to focus on the scientific perspective, where burning is combustion, a type of chemical change, but it appears her life-world perspective acted as a grounded learning impediment – an existing way of thinking about a phenomenon that is taken for granted and obscures the scientific perspective.

The everyday way of understanding the world could be called the natural attitude. It seems that for Sophia it is 'just natural' that fuels get used up, and so there is nothing there to explain. Arguably, the work of a science teacher sometimes involves persuading students to seek explanations for things they had considered 'just natural', and so not in need of explanation.

Peter and Patricia Pigeon set up house together

Keith S. Taber

In my work I've spent a lot of time analysing the things learners say about science topics in order to characterise their thinking. Although this work is meant to have an ethnographic feel, and to be ideographic (valuing the thinking of the individual in its own terms), there is always an underlying normative aspect: that is, inevitably there is a question of how well learners' conceptualisations match target curricular knowledge and canonical science. We all have intuitions which are at odd with scientific accounts of the world, and we all develop alternative conceptions – notions which are inconsistent with canonical concepts.

Peter and Patricia started seeing each other at this local fence earlier this year.

Soon passion got too much for them and they (publicly) consummated their relationship on this very fence (some birds have no shame).

It is easier to spot this in others (you think what?!) than it is in ourselves. But occasionally you may reflect on the way you think about a topic and recognise aberrations in your own thinking. One of these examples in my own thinking relates to bird's nests. I know that birds build nests as a place to lay and hatch eggs. Using the ground would be very dangerous due to vulnerability to predators. Simply using branches would be precarious – especially as eggs are hardly best shaped to be balanced on a tree branch. I also know that once the young are fledged have fled the nest, it has outlived its purposes.

They quite liked the area, and decided to look for a place nearby.

Soon they had identified a nice place to build their new home in some nearby ivy.

Yet it was only a few years ago – I think when came across discarded nests in the garden – that I released I have carried around with me since quite young the metaphor that a nest is a bird's home – it is where the bird family lives. Perhaps I made up that idea as a child. More likely I was told that or heard it on a children's programme. If so, perhaps it was not meant to be taken too literally – it was just meant to compare the nest with something that would be familiar to a child. But I think well into adulthood I had this notion of that birds lived in trees – not explicitly, but insidiously in the back of my mind: as if a bird had a home in a tree and that was where it was based – unless and until perhaps it could afford to move upmarket to a better tree!

They decided to do their own build, which involved Peter in the tiring work of going out to get building materials.

Peter set about the serious business of setting up their new dream home.

Peter was quite confident, and would often return which rather large pieces of nesting material.

"Oh, that seems to have got caught up."

Over time Peter started to be more realistic in selecting material he could get through the front door.

Although I was well aware (at one level) that birds do not have permanent family homes to which they return at the end of a hard day's exertions, I also had this nest=home identity at the 'back of my mind' giving the impression that this is how birds live. As humans we take for granted certain kinds of forms of life (perhaps home, work, family, etc.), and these act as default templates for understanding the world. This makes anthropomorphising nature seem quite a natural thing to do.

Peter heading out to work, again.

And getting home with his latest acquisition – landing on his feet.

Watching this process develop was quite entertaining. Peter would spend ages pecking at pieces of plant that were firmly fixed in the ground, ignoring nearby loose material. His early attempts to take material back to the nest were troubled. He would take material that was too large to get through the foliage into the secluded nesting area. He would also fly close to 'home' and then abort as found he could not land with his goods. However, he soon seemed to learn what worked, and developed a technique of first flying onto the fence or the roof the ivy was growing on to, so he would not be flying up to the nesting place from the ground in a single stage.

The sequences below show the pigeon flying out from, and back to, the nest.

The jumping/diving action is clear in the sequence below:

The fourth and fifth frames in the sequence below show the 'landing gear' coming into position (reminiscent of a bird of prey taking its prey):

The landing action is also clear near the end of the sequence below:

Another take off. catching the first few flaps:

My favourite sequence – quite extended for my hand-held camera work! – in the 11th frame our pigeon is just entering frame right. But notice a sparrow sitting on top of the foliage to the left. The sparrow has presumably seen/heard the much larger bird comings it way, and in the next frame can be seen to be moving its wings ready to take off. The next three frames have the sparrow heading right as the pigeon moves to the left (the sparrow is a smudge beneath the pigeon's left wing in the third of these frames), and the sparrow appears to have disappeared from view in the next, but must have been obscured by the pigeon as it seen to the right of the next frame. The sequence ends with the pigeon in landing mode.

An element needs a certain number of electrons

An element needs a certain amount of electrons in the outer shell

Keith S. Taber

Bert was a participant in the Understanding Science project. In Y10 Bert was talking about how he had been studying electrolysis in class. Bill had described electrolysis as "where different elements are, are taken out from a compound", but it transpired that Bert thought that "a compound is just a lot of different elements put together"*. He seemed to have a tentative understanding that electrolysis could only be used to separate elements in some compounds.

if they're positive and negative then they would be able to be separated into different ones.

So some things are, some things aren't?

Yeah, it matters how many electrons that they have.

Ah. [pause, c.3s] So have you got any examples of things that you know would definitely be positive and negative?

Well I could tell you what happens.

Yeah, go on then.

Well erm, well if a, if an element gives away, electrons, then it becomes positive. But if it gains, then it becomes negative. Because the electrons are negative, so if they gain more, they just go a bit negative.

Yeah. So why would an element give away or gain some electrons? Why would it do that?

Because erm, it needs a certain amount of electrons in the outer shell. It matters on what part of the periodic table they are.

Okay, let me be really awkward. Why does it need a certain number of electrons in the outer shell?

[Pause, c.2 s]

Erm, well, I don't know. It just – 

So Bert thought that an element "needs a certain amount of electrons in the outer shell" depending upon it's position in the periodic table, but he did not seem to recall having been given any reason why this was. The use of the term 'needs' is an example of anthropomorphism, which is commonly used by students talking about atoms and molecules. Often this derives from language used by teachers to help humanise the science, and provide a way for students to make sense of the abstract ideas. If Bert comes to feel this is a sufficient explanation, then talk of what an element needs can come to stand in place of learning a more scientifically acceptable explanation, and so can act as a grounded learning impediment.

References to atoms needing a certain number of electrons is often used as an explanatory principle (the full shells explanatory principle) considered to explain why bonding occurs, why reactions occur and so forth.

Bert's final comment in the short extract above seems to reflect a sense of 'well that's just the way the world is'. It is inevitable that if we keep asking someone a sequence of 'well, why is that' question when they tell us about their understanding of the world, they eventually reach the limits of their understanding. (This tendency has been labelled 'the explanatory gestalt of essence'.) Ultimately, even science has to accept the possibility that eventually we reach answers and can not longer explain further – that's just the way the world is. Research suggests that some students seem to reach the 'it's just natural' or 'well that's just the way it is' point when teachers might hope they would be looking for further levels of explanation. This may link to when phenomena fit well with the learner's intuitive understanding of the world, or tacit knowledge.

Bert's reference to an element needing a certain amount of electrons in the outer shell also seems to confuse description at two different levels: he explicitly refer to substance (element), when he seems to mean a quanticle (atom). Element refers to the substance, at the macroscopic level of materials that can be handled in the laboratory, whilst an atom of the element (which might better be considered to gain or lose electrons) is part of the theoretical model of matter at a submicroscopic level, used by chemists as a basis for explaining much macroscopic, observed behaviour of samples of substances.