Escape from the clutches of the dark sector?
Dark matter and dark energy make up 95% of the universe — or at least, we think so. Since these components are “dark,” we infer their existence only from their gravitational influences. Some of us have been foolhardy enough to imagine that these observations signal a breakdown of gravity as described by general relativity, rather than new stuff out there in the universe; but so far, the smart money is still on the existence of a dark sector that we have not yet directly detected.
There remains another possibility worth considering — that there is no dark stuff, and that gravity is perfectly well described by general relativity, but that we just aren’t using GR correctly. In other words, that the conventional theory can explain the observations perfectly well without dark matter or dark energy, we just have to be clever enough to figure out how. This would be the most radically conservative approach to the problem, in John Wheeler’s sense: we should push the smallest number of assumptions as far as they can possibly go.
Recently, separate attempts have been made to explain away “dark matter” and “dark energy” by this kind of strategy. In a paper that somehow got mentioned in the CERN Courier and on Slashdot, authors Cooperstock and Tieu have suggested that nonlinear effects in GR could explain flat rotation curves in spiral galaxies (one of the historically important pieces of evidence for dark matter). And in two papers, Kolb, Matarrese, Notari and Riotto and then just Kolb, Matarrese, and Riotto have suggested that nonlinear effects in GR could explain the acceleration of the universe (a key piece of evidence for dark energy). Are these people making sense? Are they crazy? Is this worth thinking about? Have they actually explained away the entire dark sector? (Answers: occasionally, possibly, yes, no.)
In both cases, the relevant technical issue is perturbation theory, specifically in the context of general relativity. Imagine that we have some equation (in particular, Einstein’s equation for the curvature of spacetime), and we’d like to solve it, but it’s just too complicated. But it could be that physically interesting solutions are somehow “close to” certain very special solutions that we can find exactly. That’s when perturbation theory is useful.
Call the solution we are looking for f(x), the special solution we know f0(x), and the small parameter that tells us how close we are to the special solution ε. For example, gravity is weak, so in GR the small paramter ε is typically something proportional to Newton’s constant G. Then for a wide variety of situations, the sought-after solution can be written as the special solution plus a series of corrections:
f(x) = f0(x) + ε f1(x) + ε2 f2(x) + …
So there are a series of functions that come into the answer, each of which is accompanied by a progressively larger power of ε. By only knowing the first one to start, we can often plug that solution into the equation we are trying to solve, and get an equation for the next function fi(x) that is much simpler than the full equation we are struggling to solve.
The point, of course, is that we don’t really need to get the whole infinite series of contributions. Since ε is by hypothesis small, every time we raise it to a higher power we get smaller and smaller numbers. Often you do more than well enough by just “going to first order” — calculating the εf1(x) term and forgetting about the rest. But it’s certainly possible to get into trouble — for example, there could be “non-perturbative effects” that this procedure simply can’t capture, or the perturbation series itself could be sick, for example if the function f2(x) were so huge itself that it overwhelmed the extra factor of ε it comes along with. We would then say that perturbation theory was breaking down.
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