# The quantization of magnetic moments

You may not have many questions after a first read of Feynman’s Lecture on the Stern-Gerlach experiment and his more general musings on the quantization of the magnetic moment of an elementary particle. [At least I didn’t have all that many after my first reading, which I summarized in a previous post.]

However, a second, third or fourth reading should trigger some, I’d think. My key question is the following: what happens to that magnetic moment of a particle – and its spin [1] – as it travels through a homogeneous or inhomogeneous magnetic field? We know – or, to be precise, we assume – its spin is either “up” (Jz = +ħ/2) or “down” (Jz = −ħ/2) when it enters the Stern-Gerlach apparatus, but then – when it’s moving in the field itself – we would expect that the magnetic field would, somehow, line up the magnetic moment, right?

Feynman says that it doesn’t: from all of the schematic drawings – and the subsequent discussion of Stern-Gerlach filters – it is obvious that the magnetic field – which we denote as B, and which we assume to be inhomogeneous [2] – should not result in a change of the magnetic moment. Feynman states it as follows: “The magnetic field produces a torque. Such a torque you would think is trying to line up the (atomic) magnet with the field, but it only causes its precession.”

[…] OK. That’s too much information already, I guess. Let’s start with the basics. The key to a good understanding of this discussion is the force formula:

We should first explain this formula before discussing the obvious question: over what time – or over what distance – should we expect this force to pull the particle up or down in the magnetic field? Indeed, if the force ends up aligning the moment, then the force will disappear!

So let’s first explain the formula. We start by explaining the energy U. U is the potential energy of our particle, which it gets from its magnetic moment μ and its orientation in the magnetic field B. To be precise, we can write the following:

Of course, μ and B are the magnitudes of μ and B respectively, and θ is the angle between μ and B: if the angle θ is zero, then Umag will be negative. Hence, the total energy of our particle (U) will actually be less than what it would be without the magnetic field: it is the energy when the magnetic moment of our particle is fully lined up with the magnetic field. When the angle is a right angle (θ = ±π/2), then the energy doesn’t change (Umag = 0). Finally, when θ is equal to π or −π, then its energy will be more than what it would be outside of the magnetic field. [Note that the angle θ effectively varies between –π and π – not between 0 and 2π!]Of course, we may already note that, in quantum mechanics, Umag will only take on a very limited set of values. To be precise, for a particle with spin number j = 1/2, the possible values of Umag will be limited to two values only. We will come back to that in a moment. First that force formula.

Energy is force over a distance. To be precise, when a particle is moved from point a to point b, then its change in energy can be written as the following line integral:

Note that the minus sign is there because of the convention that we’re doing work against the force when increasing the (potential) energy of that what we’re moving. Also note that F∙ds product is a vector (dot) product: it is, obviously, equal to Ft times ds, with Ft the magnitude of the tangential component of the force. The equation above gives us that force formula:

Feynman calls it the principle of virtual work, which sounds a bit mysterious – but so you get it by taking the derivative of both sides of the energy formula.

Let me now get back to the real mystery of quantum mechanics, which tells us that the magnetic moment – as measured along our z-axis – will only take one of two possible values. To be precise, we have the following formula for μz:

This is a formula you just have to accept for the moment. It needs a bit of interpretation, and you need to watch out for the sign. The g-factor is the so-called Landé g-factor: it is equal to 1 for a so-called pure orbital moment, 2 for a so-called pure spin moment, and some number in-between in reality, which is always some mixture of the two: both the electron’s orbit around the nucleus as well as the electron’s rotation about its own axis contribute to the total angular momentum and, hence, to the total magnetic moment of our electron. As for the other factors, m and qe are, of course, the mass and the charge of our electron, and Jz is either +ħ/2 or −ħ/2. Hence, if we know g, we can easily calculate the two possible values for μz.

Now, that also means we could – theoretically – calculate the two possible values of that angle θ. For some reason, no handbook in physics ever does that. The reason is probably a good one: electron orbits, and the concept of spin itself, are not like the orbit and the spin of some planet in a planetary system. In fact, we know that we should not think of electrons like that at all: quantum physicists tell us we may only think of it as some kind of weird cloud around a center. That cloud has a density which is to be calculated by taking the absolute square of the quantum-mechanical amplitude of our electron.

In fact, when thinking about the two possible values for θ, we may want to remind ourselves of another peculiar consequence of the fact that the angular momentum – and, hence, the magnetic moment – is not continuous but quantized: the magnitude of the angular momentum J is not  J = √(J·J) = √J2 in quantum mechanics but J = √(J·J) = √[j·(j+1)·ħ2] = √[j·(j+1)]·ħ. For our electron, j = 1/2 and, hence, the magnitude of J is equal to J = √[(1/2)∙(3/2)]∙ ħ = √(3/4)∙ħ ≈ 0.866∙ħ. Hence, the magnitude of the angular momentum is larger than the maximum value of Jz – and not just a little bit, because the maximum value of ħ is ħ/2! That leads to that weird conclusion: in quantum mechanics, we find that the angular momentum is never completely along any one direction [3]! In fact, this conclusion basically undercuts the very idea of the angular momentum – and, hence, the magnetic moment – of having any precise direction at all! [This may sound spectacular, but there is actually a classical equivalent to the idea of the angular momentum having no precisely defined direction: gyroscopes may not only precess, but nutate as well. Nutation refers to a kind of wobbling around the direction of the angular momentum. For more details, see the post I wrote after my first reading of Feynman’s Lecture on the quantization of magnetic moments. :-)]

Let’s move on. So if, in quantum mechanics, we cannot associate the magnetic moment – or the angular momentum – with some specific direction, then how should we imagine it? Well… I won’t dwell on that here, but you may want to have a look at another post of mine, where I develop a metaphor for the wavefunction which may help you to sort of understand what it might be. The metaphor may help you to think of some oscillation in two directions – rather than in one only – with the two directions separated by a right angle. Hence, the whole thing obviously points in some direction but it’s not very precise. In any case, I need to move on here.

We said that the magnetic moment will take one of two values only, in any direction along which we’d want to measure it. We also said that the (maximum) value along that direction – any direction, really – will be smaller than the magnitude of the moment. [To be precise, we said that for the angular momentum, but the formulas above make it clear the conclusions also hold for the magnetic moment.] So that means that the magnetic moment is, in fact, never fully aligned with the magnetic field. Now, if it is not aligned – and, importantly, if it also does not line up – then it should precess. Now, precession is a difficult enough concept in classical mechanics, so you may think it’s going to be totally abstruse in quantum mechanics. Well… That is true – to some extent. At the same time, it is surely not unintelligible. I will not repeat Feynman’s argument here, but he uses the classical formulas once more to calculate an angular velocity and a precession frequency – although he doesn’t explain what they might actually physically represent. Let me just jot down the formula for the precession frequency:

We get the same factors: g, qe and m. In addition, you should also note that the precession frequency is directly proportional  to the strength of the magnetic field, which makes sense. Now, you may wonder: what is the relevance of this? Can we actually measure any of this?

We can. In fact, you may wonder about the if I inserted above: if we can measure the Landé g-factor… Can we? We can. It’s done in a resonance experiment, which is referred to as the Rabi molecular-beam method – but then it might also be just an atomic beam, of course!

The experiment is interesting, because it shows the precession is – somehow – real. It also illustrates some other principles we have been describing above.

The set-up looks pretty complicated. We have a series of three magnets. The first magnet is just a Stern-Gerlach apparatus: a magnet with a very sharp edge on one of the pole tips so as to produce an inhomogeneous magnetic field. Indeed, a homogeneous magnetic field implies that ∂B/∂z = 0 and, hence, the force along the z-direction would be zero and our atomic magnets would not be displaced.

The second magnet is more complicated. Its magnetic field is uniform, so there are no vertical forces on the atoms and they go straight through. However, the magnet includes an extra set of coils that can produce an alternating horizontal field as well. I’ll come back to that in a moment. Finally, the third magnet is just like the first one, but with the field inverted. Have a look at it:

It may not look very obvious but, after some thinking, you’ll agree that the atoms can only arrive at the detector if they follow the trajectories a and/or b. In fact, these trajectories are the only possible ones because of the slits S1 and S2.

Now what’s the idea of that horizontal field B’ in magnet 2? In a classical situation, we could change the angular momentum – and the magnetic moment – by applying some torque about the z-axis. The idea is shown in Figure (a) and (b) below.

Figure (a) shows – or tries to show – some rotating field B’ – one that is always at right angles to both the angular momentum as well as to the (uniform) B field. That would be effective. However, Figure (b) shows another arrangement that is almost equally effective: an oscillating field that sort of pulls and pushes at some frequency ω. Classically, such fields would effectively change the angle of our gyroscope with respect to the z-axis. Is it also the case quantum-mechanically?

It turns out it sort of works the same in quantum mechanics. There is a big difference though. Classically, μz would change gradually, but in quantum mechanics it cannot: in quantum mechanics, it must jump suddenly from one value to the other, i.e. from +ħ/2 to −ħ/2, or the other way around. In other words, it must flip up or down. Now, if an atom flips, then it will, of course, no longer follow the (a) or (b) trajectories: it will follow some other path, like a’ or b’, which make it crash into the magnet. Now, it turns out that almost all atoms will flip if we get that frequency ω right. The graph below shows this ‘resonance’ phenomenon: there is a sharp drop in the ’current’ of atoms if ω is close or equal to ωp.

What’s ωp? It’s that precession frequency for which we gave you that formula above. To make a long story short, from the experiment, we can calculate the Landé g-factor for that particular beam of atoms – say, silver atoms [4]. So… Well… Now we know it all, don’t we?

Maybe. As mentioned when I started this post, when going through all of this material, I always wonder why there is no magnetization effect: why would an atom remain in the same state when it crosses a magnetic field? When it’s already aligned with the magnetic field – to the maximum extent possible, that is – then it shouldn’t flip, but what if its magnetic moment is opposite? It should lower its energy by flipping, right? And it should flip just like that. Why would it need an oscillating B’ field?

In fact, Feynman does describe how the magnetization phenomenon can be analyzed – classically and quantum-mechanically, but he does that for bulk materials: solids, or liquids, or gases – anything that involves lots of atoms that are kicked around because of the thermal motions. So that involves statistical mechanics – which I am sure you’ve skipped so far. 🙂 It is a beautiful argument – which ends with an equally beautiful formula, which tells us the magnetization (M) of a material – which is defined as the net magnetic moment per unit volume – has the same direction as the magnetic field (B) and a magnitude M that is proportional the magnitude of B:

The μ in this formula is the magnitude of the magnetic moment of the individual atoms and so… Well… It’s just like the formula for the electric polarization P, which we described in some other post. In fact, the formula for P and M are same-same but different, as they would say in Thailand. 🙂 But this wonderful story doesn’t answer our question. The magnetic moment of an individual particle should not stay what it is: if it doesn’t change because of all the kicking around as a result of thermal motions, then… Well… These little atomic magnets should line up. That means atoms with their spin “up” should go into the “spin-down” state.

I don’t have an answer to my own question as for now. I suspect it’s got to do with the strength of the magnetic field: a Stern-Gerlach apparatus involves a weak magnetic field. If it’s too strong, the atomic magnets must flip. Hence, a more advanced analysis should probably include that flipping effect. When quickly googling – just now – I found an MIT lab exercise on it, which also provides a historical account of the Stern-Gerlach experiment itself. I skimmed through it – and will read all of it in the coming days – but let me just quote this from the historical background section:

“Stern predicted that the effect would be be just barely observable. They had difficulty in raising support in the midst of the post war financial turmoil in Germany. The apparatus, which required extremely precise alignment and a high vacuum, kept breaking down. Finally, after a year of struggle, they obtained an exposure of sufficient length to give promise of an observable silver deposit. At first, when they examined the glass plate they saw nothing. Then, gradually, the deposit became visible, showing a beam separation of 0.2 millimeters! Apparently, Stern could only afford cheap cigars with a high sulfur content. As he breathed on the glass plate, sulfur fumes converted the invisible silver deposit into visible black silver sufide, and the splitting of the beam was discovered.”

Isn’t this funny? And great at the same time? 🙂 But… Well… The point is: the paper for that MIT lab exercise makes me realize Feynman does cut corners when explaining stuff – and some corners are more significant than others. I note, for example, that they talk about interference peaks rather than “two distinct spots on the glass plate.” Hence, the analysis is somewhat more sophisticated than Feynman pretends it to be. So, when everything is said and done, Feynman’s Lectures may indeed be reading for undergraduate students only. Is it time to move on?

[1] The magnetic moment – as measured in a particular coordinate system – is equal to μ = −g·[q/(2m)]·J. The factor J in this expression is the angular momentum, and the coordinate system is chosen such that its z-axis is along the direction of the magnetic field B. The component of J along the z-axis is written as Jz. This z-component of the angular momentum is what is, rather loosely, being referred to as the spin of the particle in this context. In most other contexts, spin refers to the spin number j which appears in the formula for the value of Jz, which is Jz = j∙ħ, (j−1)∙ħ, (j−2)∙ħ,…, (−j+2)∙ħ, (−j+1), −j∙ħ. Note the separation between the possible values of Jz is equal to ħ. Hence, j itself must be an integer (e.g. 1 or 2) or a half-integer (e.g. 1/2). We usually look at electrons, whose spin number j is 1/2.

[2] One of the pole tips of the magnet that is used in the Stern-Gerlach experiment has a sharp edge. Therefore, the magnetic field strength varies with z. We write: ∂B/∂z ≠ 0.

[3] The z-direction can be any direction, really.

[4] The original experiment was effectively done with a beam of silver atoms. The lab exercise which MIT uses to show the effect to physics students involves potassium atoms.

# Feynman’s Seminar on Superconductivity (1)

The ultimate challenge for students of Feynman’s iconic Lectures series is, of course, to understand his final one: A Seminar on Superconductivity. As he notes in his introduction to this formidably dense piece, the text does not present the detail of each and every step in the development and, therefore, we’re not supposed to immediately understand everything. As Feynman puts it: we should just believe (more or less) that things would come out if we would be able to go through each and every step. Well… Let’s see. Feynman throws a lot of stuff in here—including, I suspect, some stuff that may not be directly relevant, but that he sort of couldn’t insert into all of his other Lectures. So where do we start?

It took me one long maddening day to figure out the first formula:It says that the amplitude for a particle to go from to in a vector potential (think of a classical magnetic field) is the amplitude for the same particle to go from to b when there is no field (A = 0) multiplied by the exponential of the line integral of the vector potential times the electric charge divided by Planck’s constant. I stared at this for quite a while, but then I recognized the formula for the magnetic effect on an amplitude, which I described in my previous post, which tells us that a magnetic field will shift the phase of the amplitude of a particle with an amount equal to:

Hence, if we write 〈b|a〉 for A = 0 as 〈b|aA = 0 = C·eiθ, then 〈b|a〉 in A will, naturally, be equal to 〈b|a〉 in A = C·ei(θ+φ) = C·eiθ·eiφ = 〈b|aA = 0 ·eiφ, and so that explains it. 🙂 Alright… Next. Or… Well… Let us briefly re-examine the concept of the vector potential, because we’ll need it a lot. We introduced it in our post on magnetostatics. Let’s briefly re-cap the development there. In Maxwell’s set of equations, two out of the four equations give us the magnetic field: B = 0 and c2×B = j0. We noted the following in this regard:

1. The ∇B = 0 equation is true, always, unlike the ×E = 0 expression, which is true for electrostatics only (no moving charges). So the B = 0 equation says the divergence of B is zero, always.
2. The divergence of the curl of a vector field is always zero. Hence, if A is some vector field, then div(curl A) = •(×A) = 0, always.
3. We can now apply another theorem: if the divergence of a vector field, say D, is zero—so if D = 0—then will be the the curl of some other vector field C, so we can write: D = ×C.  Applying this to B = 0, we can write:

If B = 0, then there is an A such that B = ×A

So, in essence, we’re just re-defining the magnetic field (B) in terms of some other vector field. To be precise, we write it as the curl of some other vector field, which we refer to as the (magnetic) vector potential. The components of the magnetic field vector can then be re-written as:

We need to note an important point here: the equations above suggest that the components of B depend on position only. In other words, we assume static magnetic fields, so they do not change with time. That, in turn, assumes steady currents. We will want to extend the analysis to also include magnetodynamics. It complicates the analysis but… Well… Quantum mechanics is complicated. Let us remind ourselves here of Feynman’s re-formulation of Maxwell’s equations as a set of two equations (expressed in terms of the magnetic (vector) and the electric potential) only:

These equations are wave equations, as you can see by writing out the second equation:

It is a wave equation in three dimensions. Note that, even in regions where we do no have any charges or currents, we have non-zero solutions for φ and A. These non-zero solutions are, effectively, representing the electric and magnetic fields as they travel through free space. As Feynman notes, the advantage of re-writing Maxwell’s equations as we do above, is that the two new equations make it immediately apparent that we’re talking electromagnetic waves, really. As he notes, for many practical purposes, it will still be convenient to use the original equations in terms of E and B, but… Well… Not in quantum mechanics, it turns out. As Feynman puts it: “E and B are on the other side of the mountain we have climbed. Now we are ready to cross over to the other side of the peak. Things will look different—we are ready for some new and beautiful views.”

Well… Maybe. Appreciating those views, as part of our study of quantum mechanics, does take time and effort, unfortunately. 😦

### The Schrödinger equation in an electromagnetic field

Feynman then jots down Schrödinger’s equation for the same particle (with charge q) moving in an electromagnetic field that is characterized not only by the (scalar) potential Φ but also by a vector potential A:

Now where does that come from? We know the standard formula in an electric field, right? It’s the formula we used to find the energy states of electrons in a hydrogen atom:

i·ħ·∂ψ/∂t = −(1/2)·(ħ2/m)∇2ψ + V·ψ

Of course, it is easy to see that we replaced V by q·Φ, which makes sense: the potential of a charge in an electric field is the product of the charge (q) and the (electric) potential (Φ), because Φ is, obviously, the potential energy of the unit charge. It’s also easy to see we can re-write −ħ2·∇2ψ as [(ħ/i)·∇]·[(ħ/i)·∇]ψ because (1/i)·(1/i) = 1/i2 = 1/(−1) = −1. 🙂 Alright. So it’s just that −q·A term in the (ħ/i)∇ − q·A expression that we need to explain now.

Unfortunately, that explanation is not so easy. Feynman basically re-derives Schrödinger’s equation using his trade-mark historical argument – which did not include any magnetic field – with a vector potential. The re-derivation is rather annoying, and I didn’t have the courage to go through it myself, so you should – just like me – just believe Feynman when he says that, when there’s a vector potential – i.e. when there’s a magnetic field – then that (ħ/i)·∇ operator – which is the momentum operator– ought to be replaced by a new momentum operator:

So… Well… There we are… 🙂 So far, so good? Well… Maybe.

While, as mentioned, you won’t be interested in the mathematical argument, it is probably worthwhile to reproduce Feynman’s more intuitive explanation of why the operator above is what it is. In other words, let us try to understand that −qA term. Look at the following situation: we’ve got a solenoid here, and some current I is going through it so there’s a magnetic field B. Think of the dynamics while we turn on this flux. Maxwell’s second equation (∇×E = −∂B/∂t) tells us the line integral of E around a loop will be equal to the time rate of change of the magnetic flux through that loop. The ∇×E = −∂B/∂t equation is a differential equation, of course, so it doesn’t have the integral, but you get the idea—I hope.

Now, using the B = ×A equation we can re-write the ∇×E = −∂B/∂t as ∇×E = −∂(×A)/∂t. This allows us to write the following:

∇×E = −∂(×A)/∂t = −×(∂A/∂t) ⇔ E = −∂A/∂t

This is a remarkable expression. Note its derivation is based on the commutativity of the curl and time derivative operators, which is a property that can easily be explained: if we have a function in two variables—say x and t—then the order of the derivation doesn’t matter: we can first take the derivative with respect to and then to t or, alternatively, we can first take the time derivative and then do the ∂/∂x operation. So… Well… The curl is, effectively, a derivative with regard to the spatial variables. OK. So what? What’s the point?

Well… If we’d have some charge q, as shown in the illustration above, that would happen to be there as the flux is being switched on, it will experience a force which is equal to F = qE. We can now integrate this over the time interval (t) during which the flux is being built up to get the following:

0t F = ∫0t m·a = ∫0t m·dv/dt = m·vt= ∫0t q·E = −∫0t q·∂A/∂t = −q·At

Assuming v0 and Aare zero, we may drop the time subscript and simply write:

v = −q·A

The point is: during the build-up of the magnetic flux, our charge will pick up some (classical) momentum that is equal to p = m·v = −q·A. So… Well… That sort of explains the additional term in our new momentum operator.

Note: For some reason I don’t quite understand, Feynman introduces the weird concept of ‘dynamical momentum’, which he defines as the quantity m·v + q·A, so that quantity must be zero in the analysis above. I quickly googled to see why but didn’t invest too much time in the research here. It’s just… Well… A bit puzzling. I don’t really see the relevance of his point here: I am quite happy to go along with the new operator, as it’s rather obvious that introducing changing magnetic fields must, obviously, also have some impact on our wave equations—in classical as well as in quantum mechanics.

### Local conservation of probability

The title of this section in Feynman’s Lecture (yes, still the same Lecture – we’re not switching topics here) is the equation of continuity for probabilities. I find it brilliant, because it confirms my interpretation of the wave function as describing some kind of energy flow. Let me quote Feynman on his endeavor here:

“An important part of the Schrödinger equation for a single particle is the idea that the probability to find the particle at a position is given by the absolute square of the wave function. It is also characteristic of the quantum mechanics that probability is conserved in a local sense. When the probability of finding the electron somewhere decreases, while the probability of the electron being elsewhere increases (keeping the total probability unchanged), something must be going on in between. In other words, the electron has a continuity in the sense that if the probability decreases at one place and builds up at another place, there must be some kind of flow between. If you put a wall, for example, in the way, it will have an influence and the probabilities will not be the same. So the conservation of probability alone is not the complete statement of the conservation law, just as the conservation of energy alone is not as deep and important as the local conservation of energy. If energy is disappearing, there must be a flow of energy to correspond. In the same way, we would like to find a “current” of probability such that if there is any change in the probability density (the probability of being found in a unit volume), it can be considered as coming from an inflow or an outflow due to some current.”

This is it, really ! The wave function does represent some kind of energy flow – between a so-called ‘real’ and a so-called ‘imaginary’ space, which are to be defined in terms of directional versus rotational energy, as I try to point out – admittedly: more by appealing to intuition than to mathematical rigor – in that post of mine on the meaning of the wavefunction.

So what is the flow – or probability current as Feynman refers to it? Well… Here’s the formula:

Huh? Yes. Don’t worry too much about it right now. The essential point is to understand what this current – denoted by J – actually stands for:

So what’s next? Well… Nothing. I’ll actually refer you to Feynman now, because I can’t improve on how he explains how pairs of electrons start behaving when temperatures are low enough to render Boltzmann’s Law irrelevant: the kinetic energy that’s associated with temperature can no longer break up electron pairs if temperature comes close to the zero point.

Huh? What? Electron pairs? Electrons are not supposed to form pairs, are they? They carry the same charge and are, therefore, supposed to repel each other. Well… Yes and no. In my post on the electron orbitals in a hydrogen atom – which just presented Feynman’s presentation on the subject-matter in a, hopefully, somewhat more readable format – we calculated electron orbitals neglecting spin. In Feynman’s words:

“We make another approximation by forgetting that the electron has spin. […] The non-relativistic Schrödinger equation disregards magnetic effects. [However] Small magnetic effects [do] occur because, from the electron’s point-of-view, the proton is a circulating charge which produces a magnetic field. In this field the electron will have a different energy with its spin up than with it down. [Hence] The energy of the atom will be shifted a little bit from what we will calculate. We will ignore this small energy shift. Also we will imagine that the electron is just like a gyroscope moving around in space always keeping the same direction of spin. Since we will be considering a free atom in space the total angular momentum will be conserved. In our approximation we will assume that the angular momentum of the electron spin stays constant, so all the rest of the angular momentum of the atom—what is usually called “orbital” angular momentum—will also be conserved. To an excellent approximation the electron moves in the hydrogen atom like a particle without spin—the angular momentum of the motion is a constant.”

To an excellent approximation… But… Well… Electrons in a metal do form pairs, because they can give up energy in that way and, hence, they are more stable that way. Feynman does not go into the details here – I guess because that’s way beyond the undergrad level – but refers to the Bardeen-Coopers-Schrieffer (BCS) theory instead – the authors of which got a Nobel Prize in Physics in 1972 (that’s a decade or so after Feynman wrote this particular Lecture), so I must assume the theory is well accepted now. 🙂

Of course, you’ll shout now: Hey! Hydrogen is not a metal! Well… Think again: the latest breakthrough in physics is making hydrogen behave like a metal. 🙂 And I am really talking the latest breakthrough: Science just published the findings of this experiment last month! 🙂 🙂 In any case, we’re not talking hydrogen here but superconducting materials, to which – as far as we know – the BCS theory does apply.

So… Well… I am done. I just wanted to show you why it’s important to work your way through Feynman’s last Lecture because… Well… Quantum mechanics does explain everything – although the nitty-gritty of it (the Meissner effect, the London equation, flux quantization, etc.) are rather hard bullets to bite. 😦

Don’t give up ! I am struggling with the nitty-gritty too ! 🙂