The Bohr-Einstein Dialogue: a Rhetorical and Genre Analysis

THE BOHR-EINSTEIN DIALOGUE: A RHETORICAL AND GENRE ANALYSIS

Rebecca Carruthers

B.A. University of Waterloo 1999

A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT

OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF

MASTER OF ARTS

in the Department

of

English

O Rebecca Carruthers 2004 Simon Fraser University

January 2004

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Name: REBECCACARRUTHERS

Degree: MASTERS IN ENGLISH

Title of Thesis: THE BOHR-EINSTEIN DIALOGUE: A RHETORICAL AND GENRE ANALYSIS

Examining Committee: Chair: CAROLE GERSON

PROFESSOR

RICHARD COE

PROFESSOR

DAVID MIRHADY

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR, HUMANITIES

JANET GILTROW

PROFESSOR, ENGLISH, UBC

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Bennett Library Simon Fraser University Burnaby, BC, Canada ABSTRACT

As genre theories are applied to research sites across professional and academic settings, more researchers are identifying a need to develop reliable accounts of not only the relative stability of genres, but also the range of variation across generic texts. While researchers have long maintained that genres and their textual instantiations are not fixed, but rather stable-for-now configurations of formal features open to improvisation, renewal, and change, studies still tend to foreground a fair degree of stability within genres at the particular moments when investigations have occurred.

In an effort to better understand the range of creative generic strategies open to users, the power they offer users, and the circumstances in which they work, the present study examines a case in which a genre user both conforms to the stable generic expectations of a given situation and creatively manipulates his generic resources to redirect the flow of discourse to his advantage. In particular, the present study examines the final phase of the Bohr-Einstein dialogue, in which

Niels Bohr answers a challenge co-authored by Albert Einstein with a text that is, at once, generic enough to pass as a legitimate reply to Einstein and filled with unconventional generic forms borrowed from a neighbouring sphere of scientific activity. The borrowed generic forms in Bohr's reply are examined in terms of their role in providing Bohr with a coherent, innovative generic strategy through which he is able to reconfigure the perceived rhetorical situation at hand and prompt readers to rethink Einstein's challenge on Bohr's terms.

While genre theorists warn that this kind of innovative generic strategy can confuse readers, the present study clearly demonstrates the power available to those able to marshal their generic resources to not only resyo~ldto a rhetorical situation, but take control of it. Bohr's success with this particular strategy, however, seems to have hinged on two things: a readership able to recognize and willing to accept Bohr's use of unconventional forms in his reply to Einstein; and Bohr's own reputation in the scientific community, which allowed him the leeway to play with the generic conventions of the community. TABLE OF CONTENTS

Approval ...... ii ... Abstract ...... III Table of Contents...... v ... List of Tables ...... VIII List of Figures ...... ix

Chapter One: Introduction ...... 1 Research in the Field ...... 3 Opportunities for Research ...... 5 Preceding Studies ...... 9 The Present Study ...... II Case Study: The Bohr-Einstein Dialogue...... 15 Chapter Overview ...... 19

Chapter Two: Theories of Genre (and Situation) ...... 21 Classical Genre Theories ...... 22 Isocrates's Approach to Genre ...... 23 Aristotle's Genre Theory ...... 25 Cicero's Genre Theory ...... 30 Interim Genre Theories ...... 34 New Genre Theories ...... 37 Genre as Social Action ...... 38 Genre as Ecological Action ...... 40 Genre as Strategy for Invoking Situation ...... 42

Chapter Three: The Bohr-Einstein Dialogue ...... 49 The Dialogue in a Nutshell...... 50 The Fifth Solvay Conference (1 927) ...... 56 Einstein's First Thought Experiment & Bohr's Reply ...... 57 Einstein's Second Thought Experiment & Bohr's Reply...... 59 The Sixth Solvay Conference (1930) ...... 62 Einstein's Photon Box Experiment & Bohr's Reply ...... 64 The EPR Challenge and Bohr's Replylies (1935) ...... 70 The Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen (EPR) Paper ...... 71 Bohr's Replylies to EPR ...... 72 Bohr's Replylies to EPR: A Research Site ...... 77 Chapter Four: The EPR Paper and Bohr's Replylies ...... 81 Bohr's Reply to EPR in Physical Review ...... 83 Modern Critiques of Bohr's Reply ...... 87 An Opportunity to Reexamine Bohr's Reply ...... 89 Bohr's Reply: Unconventional in Physical Review ...... 9'l Repeated Interrogative Title ...... 93 Summary-Heavy Style ...... 95 Non-Mathematical Argument ...... 100 Bohr's Reply: More Conventional in Nature ...... 103 Review Articles in Nature ...... 105 Repeated Interrogative Title: Reconsidered...... 108 Summary-Heavy Style: Reconsidered ...... 110 Non-Mathematical Argument: Reconsidered ...... 115 Bohr's Reply: Elements of a Nature Article in Physical Review ...... 116 A Passable Theoretical Article ...... 117 Allusions to a Review Article ...... 120 A Reflection of the General Climate of Opinion ...... 126 A Formal Victory ...... 129 Bohr's Letter in Nature: Generic Reinforcements ...... 135

Chapter Five: Conclusion ...... 139 Bohr's Reply: A Risky Move ... Anchored ...... 140 The Importance of Audience Recognition ...... 142 The Importance of Audience Agreement ...... 143 The Importance of (Perceived) Authorial Intent ...... 144 Bohr's Reply: A Balance of Conformity and Creativity ...... 147 Conforming to the Given GenrelSituation ...... 149 Creatively Invoking a New Gemelsituation ...... 152 Bohr's Generic Strategy: A Strategy of Power ...... 160 Implications for Genre Theory ...... 162 Appendices ...... 166 Appendix A: Quantum Theory & Quantum Mechanics...... 167 Appendix B: The Fifth Solvay Conference (1927) ...... 177 Appendix C: The Sixth Solvay Conference (1930) ...... 195 Appendix D: The EPR Paper and Bohr's Reply (1935) ...... 203 Appendix E: Responses to EPR in Physical Review and Nature ...... 213 Appendix F: Titles Phrased as Questions in Physical Review ...... 216 Appendix G: Titles of Responses to EPR in Physical Review ...... 217 Appendix H: Typical Article Titles in Physical Review ...... 218 Appendix I: Repeated Titles in Nature ...... 220 Appendix J: Letters in Nature Announcing Forthcoming Articles ...... 221

Works Cited ...... 222

vii LIST OF TABLES

Table 1 : Responses to EPR; Physical Review and Nature ...... 213 Table 2: Titles Phrased as Questions; Physical Review, 1927-1935 ...... 216 Table 3: Titles of Published Responses to EPR; Physical Review. 1935 ....217 Table 4: Typical Article Titles in Physical Review. 1927 ...... 218 Table 5: Repeated Titles in a Sequence of Texts; Nature. 1926-1927 ...... 220 Table 6: Letters to the Editor Announcing Articles; Nature. 1927-1935 ...... 221

viii LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1: Einstein's First Thought Experiment; Solvay. 1927 ...... 185 Figure 2: Einstein's Second Thought Experiment; Solvay. 1927 ...... 190 Figure 3: Einstein's Photon-Box Thought Experiment; Solvay. 1930 ...... 198 Figure 4: Bohr's Revised Photon-Box Experiment; Solvay. 1930 ...... 200 Figure 5: EPR's Idealized Thought Experiment; Physical Review. 1935 .... 207 CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION

The better owcommand of genres, tlw nzorefieely we employ them, the tnorefirlly arzd clearly we reveal owouvz individuality irt them (where this is possible arid necessary), the moreflexibly and precisely 70e reflect the utzrepea&ble situation of comrntitzicufiotz-it1 a word, the more perfectly we irnplemerzt ourfree speech platt. (Bakhtir~"The Problem of Speech Genres " 80)

Despite the still pervasive (and pejorative) view that genres are nothing more than mere text types-used to classify texts according to regularities in form, content, and style (for a discussion of traditional conceptions of genre, see Clark

89-91; Devitt "Generalizing" 573-575; Freedman & Medway "Introduction" 1-2;

Freedman & Medway "Locating" 1-2)-new genre theories have been emerging and growing steadily for the past twenty years, advocating a more rhetorically sound and socially situated view of genre. These new theories acknowledge that genres are often "characterized by regularities in textual form" (Clark 92), but argue that such regularities represent "typical ways of engaging rhetorically with recurring situations" (Freedman & Medway "Introduction" 2). That is, "new genre theories focus on stable discursive forms as socially standard strategies for resporzding to reczcrring sifuations" (Coe rt a1. 2, emphasis mine).'

' In this new approach to genre, a researcher might analyze a letter and "categorize those textual features that mark it generically" (Freedman & Medway "Introduction" 2) as a personal letter. But, rather than study the letter as a text type with a set of standard features that arise out of arbitrary formal conventions, the researcher would study the letter As Medway points out in his recent article "Fuzzy Genres and Community

Identities," "[iln the short history of genre studies within North American 'New

Rhetoric' [. ..] a consensus has emerged around the notion of genre as mode of action" (123, emphasis mine). While genres are still "expected to display characteristic textual forms" (123), they are seen primarily as "typified rhetorical actioizs" (Miller 31, emphasis mine) that have developed as socially standard and strategic ways of addressing recurring situations. Within this framework, genres are defined in terms of their social actiorr (Bazerman "Genre" 13; Bazerman

"Systems" 79; Clark 91-93; Coe "Rhetoric" 183; Coe et ul. 1; Freadman "Anyone?"

59; Freadman "Uptake" 42; Medway 123; Miller 31-37; Pare 57; Russell "Kind- ness" 226; Schryer "Genre" 73-74; Schryer "Lab" 108; Yates & Orlikowski 103): that is, in terms of what they do, "how they act, both socially and on individuals"

(Coe et al. 1, emphasis mine). While "repeated patterns in the structure, rhetorical moves and style of texts are the most readily observable aspects of genre" (Pare & Smart 147), these patterns are only surface traces of the real work of genres: that is, rxctively respondirtg to-strategically and in line with established

as a typical rhetorical action taken within a recurring social situation. In this case, the rhetorical action undertaken is one in which intimate social ties are being maintained and strengthened [... and] the formal features specified can be understood to derive from and relate to the writer's social motive in responding to a recurrent social situation of a certain type. (Freedman & Medway "Introduction" 2-3) A researcher schooled in new genre theories might likewise analyze a play and categorize those textual features that mark it generically as a Greek tragedy. But, rather than stop therewith nothing more than a list of standard textual features that characterize a Greek tragedy-the researcher would study the play as a typical rhetorical action taken within a recurring social situation. In particular, the researcher might study the play in terms of its strategic attempt to provoke a socially stabilizing "effect-a catharsis of pity and fear-and [explain] generic structures of plot, character, language, thought, music, and spectacle as means of achieving that effect" (Coe "Rhetoric" 186). social conventions-"the problematics and opportunities" (Medway 125) of recurring situations.

In this way, genres-in this new, reconceptualized form-are typical ways of acting in the world, typical ways of getting things done, which individuals must master if they hope to participate in the social activities of the community.

Genres-in this new sense-are the socially standard discursive tools available to individuals who intend to participate in the "joint rhetorical actions available at a given point in history and culture" (Miller 31); they are "the levers which we must recognize, use and construct close to type" if we want to create "highly consequential meanings in highly articulated and developed systems"

(Bazerman "Systems" 79). Furthermore, given Bakhtin's argument that "all our utterances have definite and relatively stable typical forrrzs [i.e., generic forms]"

("Problem" 78), an individual's awareness of and ability to command "a repertoire of genres" (80) is-in this new approach to genre-a skill vital to dwelling in the social world and "necessary for mutual understanding" (80).

Research in the Field As a result of this focus on genre as social action, new genre theories have provoked and facilitated a wide range of research into discourse communities and the standard genres they use to structure their social activities: studying how even the most arbitrary-seeming genres are actually strategies for responding to recurring situations; how single genres interact with each other to coordinate complex activities; and how genres should be taught to avoid oversimplifying the relationship between their form, function, and corresponding situation. For instance, researchers have analyzed a wide array of genres used in academic, business, and professional settings in the hopes of laying bare their textual regularities and mapping out how those regularities correspond to standard strategies for responding to a situation (e.g., Swales;

Bhatia). These studies, in turn, have prompted research into how single genres interact with each other in intertextually linked systems (Bazerman "Systems") and sets (Devitt "Intertextuality"), and the extent to which individuals must learn a repertoire of genres to function in a community (e.g., Russell "Rethinking";

Yates & Orlikowski). As well, in response to all the renewed interest in analyzing and teaching genres as situated modes of action, researchers have investigated the relationship between teaching and learning genres, examining the effect of explicit versus implicit teaching methods and of teaching genres in authentic uevsrrs simulated situations (e.g., Freedman; Lingard & Haber).

In short, new genre theories have provoked a wealth of studies that map the workings of genres and explore strategies for teaching genres to those who wish to participate in the social activities of a community and gain "positions of influence, power, and status" (Coe et ul. 3). More recently, however, new genre researchers have delved into discussions of power, ideology, and politics. No longer content to simply map the workings of genres, researchers are now showing a determination to discern what participation in a genre does to, and for, certain individuals and groups (Freedman & Medway "Locating" 12).

This recent turn in new genre theory and research focuses on the ideological work of genres: their power to naturalize and perpetuate the practices of the dominant elite; their affinity for positioning users in prescribed, generic subject positions and within prescribed power relations; and their ability to restrict or prohibit the actions of some individuals. Qualitative research in veterinary medical discourse, for instance, has shown that disciplinary genres can enact and perpetuate the divisions, tensions, and hierarchies of a field, naturalizing the status quo through repeated and habitual genre use (Schryer "Lab). Research in a variety of discourse communities has also revealed some of the mechanisms whereby "genres locate or position individuals within the power relations of institutional action" (Pare 59) and impel individuals to adopt certain subject positions through the repeated performance of relatively innocuous loolung genres (e.g., Pare; Fuller & Lee; Schryer "Genre"). And finally, research is also revealing the extent to which genres exclude or prohibit the actions of certain individuals, barring them from sanctioned and reputable forms of discourse and reinforcing and maintaining hierarchies within the community (e.g., Trowse).

Opportunities for Research As genre theories are applied to research sites across professional and academic settings, however, more researchers are identifying a need to develop reliable accounts of not only the relative shzbility of genres (as socially standard strategies and vehicles for ideological control and identity formation), but also the range of variatiorz andfree-play across texts that instantiate genres. As Martin argues,

"Change happens" (243, quoting Lemke) and genre theories need to account for the varied ways texts draw on genres, renovating, hybridizing, and assembling canonical strategies in different ways to "nudge the culture along" (264).

Likewise, Berkenkotter & Huckin point out that genres are sites of tension between both unifying and stratifying forces (2, paraphrasing Bakhtin "Forms of

Time"), and while researchers have long studied the unifying forces of genres, researchers need to pay more "attention to ways in which genre users manipulate genres for particular purposes" (2): that is, draw on a variety of generic resources in concrete, specific, and individualized ways. Researchers are increasingly arguing that genres are not only "tool[s] for compliance and conventionality[, but also] the basis for creativity and critique" (Cranny-Francis

90; see also Clark 101), and that, ultimately, the concept of genre needs to be kept flexible to account for the range of variation that exists across texts instantiating the same genre (Medway; Segal).

However, while researchers increasingly maintain that genres and their textual instantiations are not fixed, but rather "stabilized-for-now" (Schryer "Lab" 107) configurations of formal strategies open to improvisation, renewal, and change

(e.g., Bakhtin "Problem" 66,79-80; Bazerman "Genre" 16; Schryer "Genre" 81), studies still tend to foreground "a fair degree of consistency within genres at the particular moments when the investigations occurred" (Medway 124).

Researchers, for instance, have studied how genres evolve in the face of changing exigences, sometimes giving rise to new genres (see especially Bazerman's

Shapitzg Writterz Ktlowledge); these studies, however, tend to understate the

"rhetorical dynamism" (Berkenkotter & Huckin 2) of individual texts, focusing instead on "lasting changes [. . . that] require sustained modification of norms by multiple actors, eventually changing the expectations of most participants"

(Yates & Orlikowski 107). In this approach, momentary and individualized strategies that manipulate generic resources to respond to particular rhetorical circumstances tend to get written off as "slippage" (Yates & Orlikowslu 107) tolerated by a community as long as they are only "occasional" (107), while lasting changes are valued as evidence that genres evolve in the face of evolving rhetorical situations.

This tendency to overlook momentary innovations in generic texts in favour of lasting, gradual changes in genre norms is most likely rooted in the fact that new genre theories were initially "motivated by concerns about social discrimination and exclusion" (Coe et al. 3)-about how to empower and instill novice genre users in the discursive habits of a community-whereas momentary, innovative generic strategies have always been considered the realm of nzuster genre users.

As a result, new genre theories and research have tended to focus on issues relevant to socializing novices and empowering disadvantaged students: mapping the workings of genres so that novices and students might learrz how to use genres; and chronicling the ideological effects of genres so that they might learn how to prevent geizresfvorn usirzg them. In contrast, texts that manipulate a range of genres to make things happen in particular, fleeting rhetorical circumstances have always been associated with genre masters, not novices. As

Bakhtin argues, "genres must be fully mastered in order to be manipulated freely" ("Problem" 80). And as Berkenkotter & Huckin argue, "Lflor writers to make things happen [. ..] they must know how to strategically utilize their understanding of genre" (3)-presuming, of course, they have already developed an understanding of genre. Hardly the realm of novices.

However, if we hope to understand both the "sociality of discourse" and the

"discursive freedom and agency" (Coe et al. 1-2) available to individuals in socially standard discursive fields, we need to understand both the stability and flexibility of genres: that is, how individuals draw on genres to address "those aspects of situations that tend to recur" (Berkenkotter & Huckin 24), and how individuals "marshal their generic resources to generate, creatively, the particular utterance that will work here and now" (Medway 149). And, as

Berkenkotter & Huckin point out, we need to look at the behaviour of relatively proficient genre users to advance our knowledge in this direction:

This tension between stability and change lies at the heart of genre use and genre knowledge and is perhaps best seen in the work of those who are most deeply engaged in disciplinary activity. (25) Preceding Studies

Happily, a few studies have already broken ground in this area: Berkenkotter &

Huckin's studies of disciplinary genres "in their actual contexts of use" (2),for instance, take care to highlight equally how proficient genre users both succumb to the more stable aspects of genres to conform to a discipline's norms and manipulate genres creatively to appear to be on the cutting edge. In a slightly different vein, Medway's study of senior-student architectural sketchbooks highlights the diversity exhibited across texts that instantiate the same genre, illustrating the unique ways individuals within a community engage in the same social action (141). And, similarly, Segal's study of doctor-patient interviews highlights the diffPrences exhibited across instances of the same conversational genre(s) and explicitly warns against "an excess of enthusiasm for the generalizing move [she calls] 'genrelization'" (172).

Perhaps most relevant to the present study, however, is Anne Freadman's study of an Australian premier using an innovative generic strategy to prevail in a struggle for jurisdiction over the sentence in a capital case ("Uptake"). Not only does Freadman locate an example of an experienced individual manipulating a genre to "more perfectly [. ..] implement [his] free speech plan" (Bakhtin

"Problem" 80)-that is, using his genre awareness to creatively bend a genre to his will, without bending it beyond recognition-she also stops to analyze the strategy in detail, unwilling to write it off as an anomaly. Furthermore,

Freadman highlights the power at stake in using such a strategy to derail a well known and established legal procedure, making it clear that such innovative generic strategies offer researchers a promising opportunity to study the freedom, agency, and power available to individuals working within the standardized forms and rhetorical moves of generic discourse.

In particular, Freadman studies an Australian premier manipulating a courtroom genre so he can overturn a judge's last minute stay of execution. The generic strategy Freadman observes-which she calls "pastiche" ("Uptake"

46)-involves the premier imitating a courtroom genre in the cabinet, and imitating it in such a way that "undermine[s] the authority of the court" (46) and

"discredit[s] the decision of the judge" (46) who ruled in the case. Specifically, the premier mimics "the properties of a courtroom exchange, but outside the ceremonial parameters of a trial" (47), effectively evoking a genre "outside the jurisdictional frame that validates [it]" (46) and rendering it vulnerable to resignification within its new setting. Furthermore, the premier imitates the courtroom genre in a way that "violates the generic rules in force in the legal arena" (46), scripting the judge variously "into the role of a defending counsel" and "crown witness" (46) and forcing him to speak out of turn in support of the original verdict. In either case, the judge "loses his speaking power as judge"

(46) and the premier's strategy confirms the "disempowerment of the legal system" (46) and the concomitant empowerment of the political system. Overall, the premier's unique strategy and degree of success illustrates the power available to those able to marshal their generic resources to take control of a rhetorical situation rather than simply resporzd to it. He refrains from simply adopting and performing the genres associated with cabinet activities in order to achieve his goals, and instead draws on a genre from a different sphere of activity-but related to the particular situation at hand-and bends it to his will, even violates its "generic rules" (46), to achieve the outcome he desires. While those around him share the feeling that he is committing an "abuse of process"

(45), the premier never violates the conventions of the community so much that his behaviour is ruled out entirely. Quite simply, he seems to find a safe balance between conforming to community discourse conventions and manipulating them-in the moment-to achieve his own goals.

The Present Study

In the present study, I will examine a similar case of an experienced genre user balancing conformity and creativity in this way: both conforming to the generic expectations of a situation and creatively manipulating his generic resources to redirect the flow of discourse to his advantage. The case I will study, like

Freadman's, centres around a seasoned genre user not just responding to a situation by performing the genres most expected of him, but rather taking control of a situation by drawing on generic strategies from another sphere of activity and assembling them with more expected ones to achieve the outcome he desires. Like Freadman's, this case offers us the opportunity to study the ways in which individuals creatively manipulate genres to address and influence typical situations not just in formulaic ways, but in unique and powerful ways-unique

"in the combination of genres [a text] alludes to and sets resonating" (Medway

149), and powerful in the way that text works "here and now" (149). Like

Freadman's, this case also offers us the opportunity to study what must be done

to keep such innovative strategies recognizable and effective. That is, while

genres are relatively stable configurations of rhetorical strategies, the individual

texts that draw on genres in unique ways must balance recognizable conformity

with creative manipulation to be effective. Most importantly, however, this case

(like Freadman's) offers us the opportunity to study the power available to genre

users who do not simply fill in genres like templates but who marshal their

generic resources in singular-yet recognizable-ways to act effectively in the

world.

While genres have long been studied as typical modes of action that address

typical rhetorical situations, little practical work has yet been done to examine

how genres are gestured at and referred to-woven together in unique

configurations and set resonating-in individual texts to effect change and

influence the flow of discourse. As Medway argues, each individual text is

a unique composition individually improvised, sometimes from specific strategies known from particular genres, but also from the rhythms and tonalities that have been "caught" from a range of genres that are more generally and diffusely "out there" in the culture. (149) Keeping this view of genre in mind, however, Medway argues that "what we still need" (149) are studies that "do justice to the irzdividuul text" (149, emphasis in original) that examine the different ways people assemble, hybridize, and renovate genres within an individual text in an effort to shape and influence the world around them.

In the present study, I will do just that: study an individual text in an attempt to do justice to the innovative fusion of generic strategies it instantiates. While I will focus on a single text, a single example of a singular generic innovation-which, some might argue, on its own proves nothing except as a counter-example-I will be doing this precisely to do justice, as Medway urges, to the individual text. While momentary innovations in individual texts are easily written off as anomalies-inconsequential precisely because they are not generic enough-we need to attend to these momentary innovations and study how they mix genres if we are to understand "the [varied] ways in which texts can draw on genres" (Martin 264) and the varied ways people exercise recognizable, social action in varied situations. Or, as Martin argues,

we need to distinguish genre (system) from text (instantiation)-[. ..] distinguish recurrent configurations of meaning immanent in our culture from the textual instances that draw on one or more of them to reinforce these configurations or nudge the culture along. (Martin 264)

Only then will we be in position to understand the power of genres-one text at a time. While Freadman's study begins this work, insofar as she examines a text that manipulates genres to exercise discursive power in a very particular way, I hope to further this work by examining a text that manipulates genres and exercises power in a very different way. As Martin argues, our current terminology for innovative generic strategies is lacking, and, to study generic change and innovation properly, researchers need to build a rich catalogue of strategies, rather than sweep them under a catch-all phrase like "genre mixing," which,

Martin argues,

is less than helpful as a characterization of discourse of this kind. For one thing, it confuses system and instance 1i.e. genre and text ....I. For another, the ways in which texts can draw on genres is varied, and a single cover term like "genre mixing" draws attention away from this variation. (Martin 264)

In the present study, I will examine one innovative generic strategy in particular, one way of combining and invoking genres to exert power in a given rhetorical situation, in the hopes of contributing to an emerging catalogue of innovative generic strategies-a catalogue of genre mixing that has only begun to take shape in the few years since I began this project.

While Freadman studies a generic strategy in "Uptake" that involves an individual drawing on generic forms from another sphere of activity only to violate that gevtre's con7)entior~sand undermine the authority of those who normally use it-a strategy she calls pastiche-I will examine a generic strategy involving an individual drawing on generic forms from another sphere of activity to invoke that genre's conventions and invite renders to accepts its determirution of the sitliutiotl at harzd. Unlike Freadman's study of a premier evolung a genre outside its

standard setting only to disempou~erit, I will study a physicist evoking a genre

outside its standard setting only to privilege it, endorse its conventions,

and-from within those newly invoked conventions-undermine the authority

of a rival text in an ongoing debate. By studying such a generic strategy, as well

as the social factors that underpin it, I hope to lay bare its rhetorical workings

and render it more accessible and transparent to genre users and researchers

alike.

Case Study: The Bohr-Einstein Dialogue In particular, Niels Bohr used this strategy to defeat Albert Einstein in a debate

in 1935-a debate I will be using as a representative anecdote in the present

study. Bohr and Einstein carried on a widely publicized debate over quantum

mechanics in the physics journal Physical Review. In May 1935, Einstein

published a highly theoretical challenge to quantum mechanics (Einstein et al.

"Can?")-a move that earned him a headline in the Ne7u York Tirnes (Petruccioli

192)-and in October of the same year, Bohr replied with a somewhat theoretical

refutation of Einstein's challenge (Bohr "Can?"). While Bohr's reply was, at the

time, touted as a timely and successful reply to Einstein's challenge, it has since

been hailed by scholars as a remarkably odd publication-one noticeably out of

place in the Physical Review and riddled with unconventional argumentative

moves (see especially Baggott 100-101; Beller Qunntm 149-151; Cushing 25). In fact, Bohr's reply is riddled with unconventional argumentative moves, moves not typically found in research articles published in the Physical Review and at odds with some of the discursive conventions associated with publishing a research article in this particular journal (Bazerman Shaping 153-253).2While

Bohr opens with a few paragraphs appropriate to the venue and audience3-giving his reply the semblance of a typical research article-the bulk of his reply remains somewhat odd and ill-suited to the needs and expectations of the audience addressed by the journal. For instance, Bohr frames his reply with an overtly confrontational title and stance-using the same title as Einstein,

"Can Quantum-Mechanical Description of Reality be Considered Complete?" but answering in the affirmative and openly attacking Einstein's argument. This kind of overt attack is rarely seen in scientific literature (Myers Writirzg 108) and is at odds with the convention of ignoring rival claims so "they will disappear into the morass of scientific publications" (Myers Writirzg 101).4

Furthermore, following the opening paragraphs of his reply, Bohr makes a few more odd moves: he drops all use of mathematics after the first four paragraphs

(despite discussing quantum mechanics-a highly mathematical field-for the

It should be noted that research articles were the mainstay of the Physical Review at this time. The journal published only theoretical and experimental research articles, letters to the editor, and Proceedings of the American Physical Society; and each genre was published in a different section of the journal. These relatively conventional features include a fairly typical abstract and introduction. For a discussion of typical sections in a research article, see Bazerman Shaping 241; Bhatia 77-92; Swales 179-182, 137-166. benefit of expert physicists) and spends the last five pages (of a six page article) summarizing old experiments and well-known theoretical claims (in a genre typically bent on presenting new results relevant to existing research programs in the field). Modern scholars not only wonder what Bohr was thinking when he submitted such a strange reply for publication, but also how such a text managed to best a challenge by, of all people, Einstein (e.g., Beller Quantum 149).

My research suggests, however, that Bohr's reply emerged victorious in the debate becuuse of, not despite, these unconventional generic forms. While these forms stand out as odd in the context of a research article published in the

Physical Reviezc~,my research shows they would have been recognized by many readers at the time as drawn from a familiar, neighbouring genre of scientific article published in a different kind of journal: namely, the review articles5 published regularly in high-prestige, interdisciplinary science journals such as

Nature and Science. Once recognized as generic forms drawn from this neighbouring genre (and journal), the odd features of Bohr's reply would have

- - -- "Bohr, in fact, seems to have done just that only four years prior, when Einstein published a similar co-authored challenge to quantum mechanics in the Physical Rez~iew:"Knowledge of Past and Future in Quantum Mechanics." This particular challenge disappeared without a trace not long after publication, having garnered no citations of consequence. such articles, it should be noted, have not yet been studied in detail. As Leah Ceccarelli notes in her study of community-forming genres in science, rhetoricians' "relative newness as critic[s] of scientific texts" has led them to "head first for the most well-known texts" (8); namely, the "'archetypal' texts of science [...I in which scientists try to convince their peers to accept a new knowledge claim" (8). Community-forming genres, as a result, tend to be overlooked because they do "not occupy a space in the progressive development of scientific theory" (9). While I will not be making a formal genre claim for review articles in the present study (e.g., on par with works like Loraux's monumental genre claim for funeral orations), I will be treating such articles as participating in a genre of scientific activity and substantiating this treatment with reference to several instantiations of the genre, remarks by scientists working within the genre, and studies by genre researchers who have noticed similar trends in scientific writing in physics. taken on new meaning, setting unexpected genre-knowledge resonating and invoking an alternative determination of the situation at hand as well as alternative discourse conventions from within which to position and judge both

Einstein's challenge and Bohr's reply.

Most importantly, though, the situation and discursive conventions invoked by the generic forms used in Bohr's reply would have been perceived by readers at the time as an acceptable (even natural) setting from within which the debate between Einstein and Bohr could properly unfold and be judged. Further, this newly invoked situation and set of conventions would have-and did, the evidence attests-encouraged readers to re-consider the debate so far, making uncharacteristic meaning from Einstein's challenge and, ultimately, undermining its validity as a viable challenge to the field. Ultimately, Bohr's creative use of generic forms seems to have been both recognized and tolerated by readers at the time-for reasons I will discuss at length in the present study-and seems to have given Bohr the power to redirect the flow of discourse in his favour-more power than he would have had by simply responding to Einstein's challenge using the most canonical instantiation of genres associated with publication in the Physical Review.

Overall, I hope to show in the present study that using generic forms this way-to invoke a shift in rhetorical situation and prowrpt the audience to rethink a discussion to date in terms of this shift-is not only possible, but a powerful discursive tool that offers individuals the means to redefine the rhetorical situation at hand and, ultimately, redirect the flow of discourse in strategic ways.

While genre theorists warn this kind of creative genre use can be risky, causing

"confusion for the reader" (Devitt "Generalizing" 578) if implemented poorly,

theorists also speculate that genres (and their characteristic features) can be used

to construct and defitze the rhetorical situation to suit the writer's needs and goals

(579) if implemented properly. Perhaps with more research, this kind of creative

genre use will prove a viable-if not common-rhetorical strategy to shift or

redefine the perceived situation in the writer's favour, thereby allowing

individuals to shape (and not just be shaped by) the discourse conventions they

participate in to make themselves understood.

Chapter Overview After a brief review of those genre theories (both classical and modern) that

inform the present study (Chapter Two), I will introduce the Bohr-Einstein

dialogue-its history and dynamics up to its final phase in 1935-for those who

are unfamiliar with this chapter in the history of science (Chapter Three).

I will then turn my attention to the final phase of the Bohr-Einstein dialogue, the

written stage of the dialogue, during which Bohr and Einstein sparred by way of

published articles in the Physical Review. At this stage of the dialogue, Bohr's

reply to Einstein stands out as quite unconventional (in contrast to his more

conventional replies at earlier stages of the dialogue) and I will attempt to trace both the source of the unconventional generic forms riddling Bohr's reply, as well as their rhetorical effect on Bohr's audience (and on lus main opponent,

Einstein) at the time of publication (Chapter Four). I will close with a few remarks on the implications of the present study and further avenues of research in the field (Chapter Five). CHAPTER TWO: THEORIES OF GENRE (AND SITUATION)

Knowing the genre rneatzs knowing tzot orily, or men, most ofall, how to cotzforrn to getzeric expectations but also how to resporzd appropriately to a givetz situatio~z. f.. . However, slime genre responds to reczlrring situatiotz, a text's rejlection of genre indirectly reflects sittiatiott. Thus the act of constructing getzre-of creating the formal traces of a genre-is dso the act of corzstrz~ctittgthe situatiorz. (Amy Devitt "Genwalizing about Genre " 577-578)

If we are to understand the ways in which individuals creatively manipulate genres to exercise discursive power in particular situations-in particular, how

Bohr draws on unexpected generic forms to invoke a new perception of the situation and to redirect the flow of discourse in his favour-we need to take a closer look at genre theory, itself. In particular, we need to take a closer look at how genre theory argues genres are linked to certain situations: how genres arguably respond to given situations and how they arguably invoke certain rhetorical situations6. Tracing the development of genre theory in this respect will provide us with the theoretical framework necessary to analyze Bohr's innovative generic strategy, as well as to assess how he managed to manipulate genres so creatively while keeping his innovative strategy both recognizable and effective.

1 am using rhetorical situation in the simplest and, hopefully, least contentious way possible, here: that is, to refer to a particular configuration of audience, purpose, and occasion. In both classical and contemporary rhetorical traditions, genres have consistently been considered typical ways of responding to a situation-or rather typical ways

of meeting audience expectations-and, as such, their effective use depends on

the user's ability to conform to the generic expectations associated with a

situation and to draw on relatively stable and recognizable communicative

strategies to address an audience. However, in more contemporary rhetorical

traditions, genres are also considered a means by which individuals can invoke a

situation or creatively "carve out" (Burke Rhetoric 64) an audience-by

systematically choosing generic forms that invite readers to participate, agree, or

thnk in certain ways-and, as such, their powerful use depends on the user's

ability to shape and influence the generic expectations associated with a

situation, to bend relatively stable and recognizable generic strategies in new and

unique ways. In this two-sided dance of responding to a given situation and

invoking a situation viu generic forms, balancing corzforrnity and creativity is

key-and tracing what genre theory has to say about this facet of genre use will

give us the framework we need to understand both Bohr's innovative strategy

and how he managed to keep it generic enough to remain intelligible to his

audience.

Classical Genre Theories In the classical tradition, we can begin to trace the development of a strong

relationship between a genre and a type of rhetorical situation. For instance, in

the works of Isocrates, we can see a non-systematic nomenclature of genres forming, within which different genres are tied to different purposes but not yet tied to different occasions or audiences (Too 19-29). In Aristotle's Otz Rhetoric and Poetics, however, we see the first systematic theory of genre wherein genres are typical configurations of content, form, and style that each mobilizes a specialized pzrrpose and addresses a typical kind of audience (On Rhetoric 1358b).

And in the works of Cicero, we see Aristotle's system of genres (and similar descriptions of their regularities in content, arrangement, and style) tied not only to a purpose and audietzce but also to an occusior~(see especially Cicero DP P~rtitio~le

Omtoria). By the end of the classical period, genres have become standard kinds of discourse that correspond to standard rhetorical sitzmtiorrs: that is, standard configurations of audience, occasion, and purpose (Coe Rhetoric 187; endnote 3).

While, in this tradition, genres are not yet deemed a means of invoking a rhetorical situation, they are firmly established as text types used to address a type of audience, conform to the expectations of a type of occasion, and mobilize some typified purpose-that is, respond to the needs and demands of some typified rhetorical situation.

Isocrates's Approach to Genre In her study of Isocrates's corylrs, for instance, Too argues that Isocrates articulates well developed ideas about genres (19) that, while not as systematic as

Aristotle's, provide us with early traces of a rhetorical theory of genre wherein genres are tied to types of rhetorical situation. In particular, Isocrates's

"unsystematic naming of genres" (21) treats different genres in terms of their different purposes-the first signs of a theory of genre in which genres are communicative tools for doing things, for achieving goals.

Within Isocrates's "unsystematic" (Too 21) approach-an approach that, Too argues, Isocrates keeps unsystematic to avoid systematizing something that is

"virtually innumerable" (21)7-one genre takes priority above all others-logos politikos, or political discourse (23)-and this genre is distinguished by its communicative purpose-"giving advice to Athens and to the Greeks" (23). Too, however, warns that "it would be mistaken to regard Isocrates' [sic] political language as a discourse defined by a particular place [. . .] or occasion" (29) insofar as Isocrates "rejects the idea" (29) that the political discourse he produces is designed to be performed in a particular "civic space" (29). In this way,

Isocrates's approach to genre does not yet tie genre explicitly to a full-fledged rhetorical situation (audience, purpose, occasion); Isocrates only goes so far to associate a genre with a particular purpose.'

Within Isocrates's approach, then, a speaker turns to a genre to achieve some typical pz~rpose,but genres are treated as relatively "mobile and fluid" (Too 33),

7 Isocrates, Too argues, also tends to reject the systematization of language in general (21) for edagogical reasons that Too discusses in detail (151-199). h socrates does, however, tie discourse-in-general (if not genre, in particular) to more than just purpose. In particular, Isocrates emphasizes that discourse should be rooted in a sense of occasion: that is, a discourse should "reflect the circumstances" (Isocrates "Against" 64); be suitable "for the occasion" ("Evagoras" 147); respond to the "opportunity" at hand ("Evagoras" 151); and be "adapted to the right moments" ("Antidosis" 240). However, Isocrates nowhere links this idea of fitness for the occasion directly to genre; rather, for Isocrates, all rhetorical discourse should take a kairofic stance, whereas genres, in particular, are instances of rhetorical discourse that advance some typical communicative purpose. resisting "a calcified and rigid set of norms and conventions which qualif[y] it as the genre in question" (26). While there is a lot of room for creativity and flexibility within this approach to genre, it is not the type I aim to study here, which is predicated on forms being so routinely associated with a genre that they invoke that genre upon use, and likewise invoke a certain set of corresponding discourse conventions as soon as they are recognized as genericfbrms. Within

Isocrates's approach, while genres are linked to dimensions of typical rhetorical situations, they are still so fluid and diverse to resist accounting for the phenomenon I propose to study here.'

Aristotle's Genre Theory In comparison to Isocrates's flexible approach to genre, Aristotle takes a more systematic approach and produces what is now considered the first comprehensive theory of genre (see, for instance, On Rhetoric 1358b; Poetics

1451a). Within Aristotle's system, genres are more closely tied to typical rhetorical situations than in Isocrates's (insofar as they are tied explicitly to both typical pz1rposes and audiences) and are characterized by relatively stable configurations of textual features rather than by textual diversity. In particular,

To a certain extent, Isocrates's work calls for the kind of balance I wrote of earlier-between conformity and creativity. In Isocrates's corpus, however, this balance is not linked to genres in particular, but to rhetorical discourse in general. Specifically, Isocrates argues that "speeches cannot be good unless they reflect the circumstances (kail-oi), propriety (to prepon), and originality" (Isocrates "Against" 64). That is, Isocrates emphasizes both fitness to the occasion (conformity) and originality of treatment (creativity), insofar as, What is said by one person is not useful in a similar way for the next speaker, but that man seems most artful (ferhnikofafos)who both speaks worthily of the subject matter and can discover things to say that are entirely different from what others have said. (64) Aristotle describes three rhetorical genres-three "genera of rhetorics" (On

Rhetoric 1358b)-that correspond to three types of audience:

Now it is necessary for the hearer to be either a spectator [theoros] or a judge [krites], and [in the latter case] a judge of either past or future happenings. [. ..] Thus there would necessarily be three genera of rhetorics; [. . .] symboulerttikon ["deliberative"], dikanikon ["judicial"]; epideiktikon ["epidei~tic"]'~.(1358b)

Further, these three genres of rhetoric have developed standard ways of persuading each kind of audience. As Aristotle argues, each genre has a different "end" (1358b) and that end "is actualized in the persuasion of [the] audience" (Kennedy in Aristotle On Rhetoric 48; footnote 80): for deliberative speakers, the end is persuading the audience that something is advantageous or harmful; for judicial speakers, persuading the audience that something is just or unjust; for epideictic speakers, that something is either honourable or shameful

(Aristotle On Rhetoric 135813).

These ends are realized, Aristotle argues, by way of a constellation of typical forms, including propositions and topics suited to each genre (On Rhetoric 1359a-

1366a); methods of arrangements suited to each genre (1414a-1420b); and styles suited to each genre (1413b-1414a). While each constellation is fairly flexible-insofar as Aristotle lists a range of options available to rhetors in each case (see, for instance, Aristotle's list of topics appropriate to judicial rhetoric,

lo While Kennedy uses the word "demonstrative" to translate epideiktikon (Aristotle On Rheforic 48), I have used the word "epideictic" to avoid confusion wth deliberative rhetoric, which demonstrates a case. which includes options for a variety of different cases 1375a-1377b)-it also describes a general configuration of features that, when combined, "represent one action, a complete whole" (Aristotle Poetics 1451a)." Ultimately, each genre's configuration of typical forms works toward achieving the genre's purpose, its end, its "one action" (Aristotle Poetics 1451a).

Genres, in this way, are communicative strategies designed to address a type of audience and achieve a typified purpose via a constellation of textual features that have a particular effect on the audience. While not explicitly linked to types of occasion, Aristotle hints at such a link when he describes the three types of audience the three rhetorical genres address: "A member of a democratic assembly is an example of one judging about future happenings, a juryman an example of one judging the past" (Aristotle On RIzetoric 135813). These examples, however, are not meant to bind each genre to a particular setting or occasion; in fact, Aristotle makes himself quite clear on this point when he states that deliberative rhetoric can take the form of "advising in private" or "spealung in public" (1358b), and is thus not tied to a particular setting or occasion.

As a result, Aristotle's concept of genres and how they work is more strongly tied to what is commonly considered the full, classical determination of a rhetorical situation: that is, audience, purpose, and occasion (Coe Rhetoric 187;

While Aristotle writes this in his discussion of poetic (rather than rhetorical) genres, he theorizes rhetorical and poetic genres in similar ways, albeit in different treatises. footnote 3)-but it still does not explicitly articulate the connection between genre and occasion. For the most part, Aristotle's theory emphasizes the extent to which genres are typified ways of addressing a type of audience and achieving a communicative purpose in relation to that audience; and for Aristotle addressing an arldienc~and adrievirzg a typificd pwpose are the key actions of genre.

It does, however, begin to capture the extent to which genres are typical ways of resyotzditzg to the needs and interests of a typical audience for a typified purpose.

As Burke points out, Aristotle treats "audiences purely as something given"

(Burke Rhetoric 64), as a pre-existing group with an already established "primary purpos[e] in listening" (70). In this way, genres are tools available to speakers to address a typical audience and accommodate that audience's purpose in listening-whether that purpose is to be a spectator (in the case of epideictic rhetoric) or a judge of future or past happenings (in the case of deliberative or judicial rhetoric). Speakers rely on genres to properly and efficiently address an

audience of a given type, to respoizd to that audience's needs and interests and their purpose in listening.

Aristotle's theory, however, does leave room for some creativity-it is not all about conforming to the needs and expectations of a typical audience and

purpose: he not only lists a range of options available to speakers using different

genres (as mentioned earlier), but he also concedes that generic forms (the forms

characteristic of each genre) can be mixed creatively within a single speech. Unlike Isocra tes, Aristotle argues that genres are characterized by loose configurations of textual features that actualize a genre's purpose for its given audience. Furthermore, the textual features characteristic of a genre are not so rigid that they cannot be mixed with features from another genre within a single speech. In fact, Aristotle points out that, for instance, deliberative speakers can include "other factors" in a deliberative speech, like "whether [something] is just or unjust, or honorable or disgraceful" (On Rhetoric 1358b)-propositions typical of judicial and demonstrative genres, respectively. However, such a speaker,

Aristotle claims, "includes other factors as incidental" (135813) with the understanding that such creatively deployed generic forms will be interpreted by the audience as "subsidiary and relative to" the genre that suits their needs and interests (1358b).

Thus, while Aristotle argues that speakers can mix generic forms creatively,12his theory-in which an audience is treated purely as given (Burke Rhetoric

64)-suggests that no amount of creativity on the speaker's part can change the audience's position: their purpose in listening, or their perception of the situation at hand. In Aristotle's theory, speakers are, quite simply, never in the position of inzoking an audience by providing generic cues that tell an audience what genre of discourse is unfolding. Cicero's Genre Theory Under the influence of Cicero, Aristotle's theories of genre develop even further-establishing an even stronger link between genre and the rhetorical situation that calls for it. In Cicero's hands, the focus also remains on genres responding to elements of rhetorical situations, rather than invoking or consf-ructitzg those elements upon deployment. In particular, Cicero "retains the Greek [i.e.,

Aristotle's] division of types of public speaking between political, judicial, and ceremonial" (Fantham 112-113)and retains each genre's correspondence to a type of audience, to a communicative goal, and to a constellation of features that actualize that goal (see especially Cicero's De Paytitione Ovatovia); however, Cicero makes explicit the role of occasion in calling for a particular genre, and he entrenches the notion that genres are, ultimately, typical ways of vesyonding to typical 1.lzetoricu1sitzutions.

In particular, Cicero retains Aristotle's approach to genre, with only slight modifications,13arguing that cases "limited by its referring to particular

occasions and persons" (De Pavtitiotre Ovatovia 561,357) can be divided into two

categories: "one aims at giving pleasure to the audience, the other aims solely at

l2 Jamieson & Campbell's study of "Rhetorical Hybrids," for instance, notes that "the elements of forensic, epideictic, and deliberative genres identified by Aristotle overlap and combine in practice" (146). Very much in line with Aristotle's theory, however, Jamieson & Campbell find that in these fusions "one generic form predominates" (150). It should be noted, however, that Jamieson & Campbell's study looks for elements of Aristotelian genres in modern discourse, wherein discourse conventions have changed significantly since the 5'hcentury BCE and, arguably, wherein new genres have evolved to suit the needs of speakers and writers. 13 Cicero, for instance, suggests another type of discourse, one that he never refers to as a genre, though: namely, discussing a universal abstract question, which he calls a thesis (Lemen Clark 131) maintaining, proving and establishing a case" (s69,363). The former category consists of "awarding praise and blame" (•˜70,363): that is, epideictic rhetoric.

The latter category consists of deliberative rhetoric-concerned with "what action is or is not possible and what course is necessary or not necessary" (583,

378)-and legal rhetoric-which "aims [at] equity" (•˜98,385). Each case, then, mirrors one of Aristotlefs three genres of rhetoric and its concomitant purpose.

Cicero also preserves Aristotle's link between genres and a type of audience; however he develops what were only hints in Aristotle into a clear sense that genres are also tied to typical occasions or settings for public speaking. We see both of these dimensions of a rhetorical situation (audience and occasion), for instance, in his characterization of genres as based in "particular occasions and persons" (•˜61,357). Cicero also reinforces this link between genre and audience and occasion when he specifies that genres correspond to "the class of the audience [whether the audience is] dealing with judgement, with deliberation

[or] with embellishment" (510, 319), and to standard settings and occasions: legal speeches, for instance, arise in "trial" and deliberative speeches arise in the

"senate" (Ochs 142).'%enres are, for Cicero, kinds of speech that arise from a configuration of occasion and audience and that mobilize a particular purpose; that is, they respond to a given rhetorical situation.

14Thisnew emphasis on setting or occasion might be the result of what Fantham refers to as "republican Rome's more hierarchical world" (112) in which "the two main forms of public speaking, political and judicial" (112) were tied to the public arenas of the "governing class": the assembly and senate, and the law courts (113). Furthermore, just as in Aristotle's theory, genres consist of a configuration of features that, together, mobilize the purpose of that genre. In Cicero's works, however, each genre is most notably characterized by a different arrangement

(dispositio) that suits the rhetorical situation: while all speeches, Cicero claims in

De partitione oratoria, have four parts-the exordium, the statement of facts, the proof, and the peroratiod5-(Cicero De Partitione Oratoria 527, 331-333),

the method of arrangement must be adapted to the purpose of the speech. In epideictic speeches [. ..] the sequence may be chronological, from genus to species, from large to small, or the reverse. [. . .] In deliberative speeches the exordium may be short or absent because deliberative bodies have more interest in the subject of discussion than do judges or juries. There may be very little statement of facts because deliberation looks to the future, not the past. (Lemen Clark 82).

Each genre is also characterized by a loose configuration of styles, which Cicero never articulates explicitly, but suggests in his discussions of arrangement and style. Each genre, after all, is characterized by an appropriate arrangement, in which each part of the speech has a different function: in a judicial speech, for instance, "perorations must appeal to the emotions" (Cicero De Partitione Oratoria

527,333). These different functions are realized, in part, by suitable styles: either plain, middle, or vigorous, each of which corresponds to a different function, to prove, to please, to persuade (Cicero "Orator" 569,339). In the case of a judicial peroration, for example, a strong feeling of "compassion" can only be achieved by "the grand style [used] for compelling [an] audience" (Cicero qtd. in Ochs

'"his division is slightly different in Orator, wherein Cicero divides a discourse into introduction, confirmation, refutation, and conclusion (Ochs 137). 138). Each genre, then, with its own arrangement into parts and each part with its own function, is characterized by a configuration of styles that achieves some overall effect on the audience."

Overall, by the end of the classical period, genres have emerged as text types that are closely tied to situation types. Each of Aristotle's three rhetorical genres is characterized by a loose configuration of textual features that, together, mobilize the genre's communicative purpose (be it to praise or blame, to accuse or defend, or to persuade or dissuade), and this purpose is based in the type of audience the genre addresses and the occasion for speaking (be it an audience of spectators at a ceremonial event, or an audience of judges of future happenings gathered for a senate or assembly vote, or an audience of judges of past happenings gathered as jurors and judges in the law courts). In each case, one genre is treated (especially by Aristotle and Cicero) as the upyropriote way of responding to a given configuration of purpose, audience, and occasion, to a given typical rhetorical situation.

At ths point in the history of genre theory, however, genres are still deemed text types that only address the demands and challenges of a typical rhetorical situation, and not text types also capable of invoking a situation (of invoking an

l6 Burke argues that Cicero's theory of styles, which asserts that the "three over-all styles of oratory are [. . .] means for carrying out the three 'offices' [of rhetoric]" (Burke Rhetoric 73), "cuts at an angle across the Aristotelian theory of [genres]" (74). Cicero's theory of styles, however, is still somewhat compatible with Aristotle's theory, as I have suggested briefly above. Burke, in fact, points out instances of compatibility: e.g., "the tempered style, with its aim to delight, does closely parallel the motive of eloquence for its own sake that centers in epideictic" (74). audience, purpose, and occasion). This other side of genre, however, begins to be explored and articulated centuries later with the rise of the new rhetoric and a wave of reconsiderations of genre.

Interim Genre Theories In many ways, new genre theory picks up where the classical rhetoricians leave off. New genre theory, however, has the added task of recovering genre-as a concept-from a literary tradition of viewing genres as text types for classifying texts according to their formal features (and nothing else). In this traditional literary view, genres are seen as "(a) primarily literary, (b) entirely defined by textual regularities in form and content, (c) fixed and immutable, and (d) classifiable into neat and mutually exclusive categories and subcategories"

(Freedman & Medway "Introduction" 1). In this view, poetry is a genre, prose is a genre, and each is distinct from others only because it has a unique set of textual regularities.

This literary approach to genre is based, by and large, on Aristotle's treatment of genres, but mostly on "the notion [drawn from Aristotle's Poetics] that certain subjects require 'appropriate forms and styles"' (Paltridge 18, quoting Dubrow) and less on the notion (drawn from Aristotle's 011 Rhetoric) that genres are effective ways of addressing a typical audience, purpose and (as hinted at by

Aristotle and developed more fully by Cicero) a typical social setting or occasion. As Paltridge explains, this notion of genres as text types characterized by a certain form and style,

was influential still, in the Middle Ages in the work of Chaucer [...I and Dante [...I, for example, who both held the view that certain kinds of literary works, such as tragedy and comedy, require certain kinds of style and form. The Renaissance brought with it, however, a questioning by some (although not all) of Aristotle's views, and in particular, the notion of literary genres being limited in number, and having fixed generic rules [this] was followed by a period of "neo-classicism" where, in Restoration and Augustan England, there was a return by many, such as Dryden [. . .] and Hobbes [. . .] to the notion of literary genres are being particular types, with appropriate rules and norms. (18)

This literary approach, which tended to abstract genres from their actual contexts of use, was worsened in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century by romantics for whom "[tlhe word 'genre' came to be a pejorative label for literature" (Cranny-Francis 92) that was not "individual, creative, [or] inspired"

(92). The romantics viewed "writing as the product of a lone author, the creative genius who labors in his or her garret to produce unique, original work" (Clark

89), and, from this perspective, genres were deemed the antithesis of good writing. As a result, by the nineteenth century, genres were considered not only mere text types, but "associated with an emphasis on rigidity and formalist conventions" that stifled creativity (Clark 89). While this traditional literary approach is still somewhat pervasive today

(Paltridge 18),17it drops the rhefo~icfrom the whole system-it drops the relationship between discourse and the rhetorical situation it addresses, between

a genre of rhetoric and its corresponding situation. In rhetorical circles, this traditional literary approach to genres is viewed as somewhat outdated and

misrepresentative of the communicative mechanisms that underlie the

emergence of typical rhetorical strategies (including their formal and textual

regularities) in response to recurring rhetorical situations. While the twentieth

century saw some rhetorical theorists trying to recapture the connection between

genre and pt~rpose-like Kinneavy's classification of forms of discourse based on

"the relationship between the purpose of language and discourse types"

(Paltridge 15)'" a full-fledged attempt to ground genres in "all the elements of

recurrent rhetorical situations" (Miller 37) did not emerge until the 1980's with

the articulation of a new rhetoric of genre.

l7 Bain's classification of kinds of discourse-narration, exposition, description, oratory, and poetry-for instance, which "deals not with the actual uses and effects ofwritten discourse but only with its most general categories and abstract features" (Bizzell & Herzberg 1142), still "influence[s] [...I rhetoric and composition studies to the present day" (Paltridge 15). This traditional approach to genres are neat and tidy text types, however; has been disrupted in recent years by "the work of poststructuralist theorists such as Barthes [. . .] and Derrida [...I, and, in particular, the notion of the indeterminacy of the text; that is, the impossibility [. ..] of presenting a precise and objective single reading of a literary work" (Paltridge 18). 18More specifically, Kinneavy's discourse categories, "are described in terms of which component in the communication process receives the primary focus" (Paltridge 15). So, if the focus is on the sender, the genre is expressive; If the focus is on the receiver, then it is a discursive genre; and so on, for literary genres (focus on linguistic form) and referential genres (focus on description of reality). New Genre Theories New genre theory, inspired in particular by the work of Jamieson, Kohrs-

Campbell, and later Miller,19 set out to reclaim genres from the decontextualized abyss of literary study and to re-establish the strong connection between a genre and its corresponding rhetorical situation. By way of reclaiming the rhetoric of genre, new genre theory argues that defining genres solely in terms of textual regularities denies the social and rhetorical motives that gave rise to those textual regularities; instead, new genre theory treats textual regularities as mere surface traces of deeper social and rhetorical motives. As a result, genres have "come to be seen as typical ways of engaging rhetorically with recurring situations"

(Freedman & Medway "Introduction" 2), and any "similarities in textual form and substance are seen as deriving from the similarity in the social action undertaken" (2). So once again, as in the classical approach to genres of rhetoric, genres are based in typical rhetorical situations and are defined in terms of the purpose they mobilize and how they address a typical audience and occasion. In a pronounced break from classical theory, however, new genre theories consider genres as the means by which individuals not only respond to typical situations but also invoke those situations, insofar as "[wle create our environments-our

l9 New Genre Theory has also developed in response to the ideas of Austin, Bakhtin, and Burke, all of whom theorize the situatedness of discourse, the relationship between discourse and situation (and how communities adapt remembered forms of discourse to new, similar appearing situations. See, in particular, Lectures I-IV in Austin's Hozu to DO Things with Words; Bakhtin's "The Problem of Speech Genres"; and Burke's "Psychology and Form," "Motives as Action," and "Symbolic Action." rhetorical situations-as we write within them; that is, we create our contexts as we create our texts" (Bawarshi 70).

Genre as Social Action Nowhere is this renewed concept of genre-as both an active response to a typical situation and a determination of that situation-more evident than in the work of Carolyn Miller, whose reconception of Aristotelian genre theory in terms of contemporary rhetorical theories is considered seminal in the field. In particular, Miller recuperates genre in a way that allows it to remain "a stable classi•’ying concept" while still being "rhetorically sound" (Miller 24), defining genre not so much for "the form of discourse but [rather for] the action it is used to accomplish (24). In Miller's view, genres are first and foremost a kind of social actiotz, as "typified rhetorical actions based in recurring situations" (31).

Miller argues that communities construct stock situation types to "interpret the[ir] indeterminate material environment" (29) and that these stock situation types define a "set of particular social patterns and expectations that [provide] a socially objectified motive" (31) for acting in the world. That is, each situation type comes to embody a motive, a "social need" (31) in which an individual can

"take an interest [... and] in which one can intend to participate" (31). That social need calls for a particular lund of discourse that addresses its characteristic problems and opportunities (36)-and, over time, genres develop as typical discursive actions to take in response to that social need, as "typical joint rhetorical actions" (31) to take in a given situation. Furthermore, genres

eventually become so standardized that are both expected and immediately recognimble to fellow members of the community in a given situation (see, for

instance, Bazerman "Systems" 82) and individuals must rely on them to

act-discursively-in recurring situations "in a socially recognizable and

interpretable way" (31).

For Miller, however, situation types are not given, pre-existing material

configurations of audience, occasion, and purpose; rather, they are social

constructs; "products of our socialization" (30-31); "distinctly linguistic

products" (Burke qtd. in Miller 31). That is, situations are constructed and

defined "by means of the particular vocabulary of the cultural group into which

we are born" (Burke qtd. in Miller 31) and the groups into which we are

socialized. As a result, genres not only respond to the problems and

opportunities of situation types, they also "constitute" (Miller 37) those situation

types-narrating and (re-)producingthem upon deployment.

In this renewed sense, genres are not only typical ways of engaging with

recurring situations-in ways that match the audience's shared perception of the

situation and that conform to established discourse conventions-but genres also

embody and constitute the recurring rhetorical situations in which they arise

(Miller 37)-producing and reproducing those rhetorical situations (linguistically) with every instantiation. As Devitt argues in "Generalizing about

Genre,"

Since genre responds to recurring situation, a text's reflection of genre indirectly reflects situation. Thus the act of constructing the genre-of creating or perceiving the formal traces of a genre-is also the act of constructing the situation. [ . . .] when we as readers recognize the genre of a particular text, we recognize, through the genre, its situation. (578)

Genre as Ecological Action This dual function of genre is a result of what Marilyn Cooper describes as the

"ecology of writing" (qtd. in Bawarshi 70) in which "a writer is continually engaged [. . . in] the social activity of writing" (70); writing, however is not "a social act simply because it takes place in some social context; it is social because it is at work in shaping the very context within which it functions" (70). In a similar way, genres are ecological (not just writing in general): as Bawarshi argues, genres

are both the familiar rhetorical tools communicants use to respond to recurring situations as well as the ways in which communicants come to know and define recurring situations. Genres, in short, are the sites in which communicants rhetorically reproduce the very environments to which they in turn respond-the habits and the habitats for acting in language. (71).

At their most conservative, genres simply reproduce the rhetorical situations that called for them in the first place (72): that is, genres are "the way in which we recognize a sociorhetorical environment as requiring a certain response and the way in which we actually rhetorically respond to, and act within, it" (77); 41 furthermore, those same sociorhetorical environments "are ideologically and

discursively embodied and reproduced by [the] genres" (72) used to respond to

them. Genres, however, can also be used to build and shape the rhetorical

contexts we use to communicate our realities and ourselves to others: that is, to

"assume different rhetorical identities and perform different social activities as

we negotiate our way from one environment to the nextrr (71), or to "move fron

one sociorhetorical environment to the next" (75). As Bawarshi argues, "[iln

helping communicants reproduce rhetorical environments, genres also help

communicants change rhetorical environments" (79; endnote 5). This power to

change sociorhetorical environments comes from variations with a generic text,

variations that can "resonat[e]" with other genres (Medway 149) and invoke nev

rhetorical situations to cast new light on the discussion to date.

This power to invoke new rhetorical situations is power indeed, insofar as a

reader's perception of the rhetorical situation determines what she or he believe!

can be said, can be done, even what can be desired, communicated, or heard

(Coe "Rhetoric" 182), not to mention what kind of sense can be made of the chai!

of texts that came before; after all, rhetorical situations govern hindsight as well

as foresight. As Freadman argues, a generic text invokes its corresponding situation, in part, by marlung its place in sequence relative to other, earlier I texts-narrating or describing earlier texts, in ways that either confirm or modify

their generic status, in order to depict the situation as unfolding in a certain way

("Uptake" 42). In this sense, a generic text invokes its situation by portraying past texts in a certain light, altering or modifying their perceived status as necessary-a generic text invokes its situation by shaping not only what readers perceive should unfold in future, but also what readers believe has already unfolded via earlier texts in the past.

Ultimately, invoking a new rhetorical situation-w hether the newly invoked situation is adopted by readers or not, whether it becomes the dominant perception of the situation at hand or not, whether its invocation is lasting or not-is equivalent to involung a new perspective, a new outlook, a new understanding of motivations, of appropriate and timely behaviour, or ritual and convention, however briefly. Ultimately, invoking a new rhetorical situation-perhaps one more stable than the current situation, or one equally stable but preferred to the current situation, or one that rivals the current situation and quickly subjected to parody or slander-casts new light on the conversation or exchange to date, and casts new light in both directions: constraining and provoking a range of appropriate behaviours and utterances that extend into the future and revising and reconstructing, according to the newly invoked situation's logic, the meaning and value or behaviours and utterances that occurred in the past.

Genre as Strategy for Invoking Situation Both rhetorical theory and qualitative research suggest using genres to invoke new rhetorical situations (rather than using genres to reinforce the current determination of the situation at hand) can unfold in three (if not more) ways, all to very different ends: (1)using generic forms from a different, more stable situation to invoke that situation and stabilize the earlier "situation of rhetorical indeterminacy" (Beale 51); (2) using generic forms from a rival situation to invoke that situation only to violate its "generic rules" (Freadman "Uptake" 46) and disempower it; (3) using generic forms from an alternative situation that invoke that situation and urge readers that the new situation is preferable to the situation previously engaged-what Devitt calls a strategy to "vary the situatiorz"

("Generalizing" 578, emphasis in original).

In the first case, Walter Beale argues in A Pragmatic Theory of Rlretoric that,

[oJneof the most interesting advantages of generic appropriation is that in almost every case the appropriated genre specifies a form of modal stance and contact, thus solving what may be a problem for the writer who finds himself [sic] in a situation of rhetorical indeterminacy. (51)

Within Beale's formulation, this kind of generic strategy "involves a lund of metaphoric transfer, the appropriated genre acting as 'vehicle' for the communication of uncharacteristic or unexpected fields of meaning" (49); and, like verbal metaphors, such strategies are especially useful for "naming something that does not have a proper name of its own" (Aristotle Otz Rhetoric

1405a), or rather for determining a situation that does not have a stable determination of its own. This lund of strategy has also been studied (and not just theorized) by researchers in new genre theory: Hardcastle, for instance, analyzes this strategy in the hands of a young student, who draws on a variety of genres-including "the genre of the travel narrative" (35)-to help him structure a particularly daunting "talk to the class" (35).

In the second case, generic forms are used in a setting wherein they are no longer in a position to achieve the goals they embody-either because certain required conditions are no longer in place in the new situation or because the new situation is so incompatible with the goals and action embodied by the generic forms that they seem ridiculous (empty or hollow) in the new situation. In this case, generic forms are used outside their standard situation and-once recognized by readers as belonging to a genre-they invoke their own situation; however, the genre and its situation are invoked only to be disabled by the transplant-somehow depleted or reduced, or mocked as it were. As John

Swales argues in Ger-zre Ar-zalysis, "[tlhe need [...I to ascribe privileged status to purpose [in defining genre] derives not only from a general recognition of the power it has to shape our affairs, but also because it provides a way of separating

'the real thing' from parody" (Swales 47); or, as Anne Freadman argues,

"[s]ometimes the insertion of a text into an inappropriate [situation] will make a parody(as Malcom Muggeridge is said to have said, 'how better could you parody this letter [which appeared in The Times] than by reprinting it verbatim in

Pmch?)" (Freadman "Anyone" 48). More specifically, when a text bearing the formal features of a generic text is deployed in a non-standard situation, those generic forms might not be in a position to secure an appropriate uptake-an appropriate response that confirms the generic status of the text and that allows whatever ritualized sequence of answers and responses to unfold as expected. Instead, the transplanted generic

forms are rendered vulnerable to a range of irzappropriate uptakes-responses

that take the text as something other than what the speaker intended, responses

that "may modify minimally, or even utterly" the generic status of the text by

taking it as "some other kind" (Freadman "Uptake" 40). These two associated

risks of deploying the features of a genre inappropriately-the risk of prmentirzg

typical uptakes (and hence preventing the text from prompting the kind of ritual

exchange it evolved to prompt) and of rnodzf$ing the generic status of the text via

inappropriate uptakes-are what actually disable a genre, Freadman argues,

when its features are deployed inappro yriately ("Uptake" 40).

Needless to say, this second case has been both theorized (Swales) and

documented by research (Freadman "Uptake"); however, the third case-in

which generic forms are used outside their standard situation to invoke and

privilege their own discourse conventions and invite readers to accept a new

determination of the rhetorical situation-remains, as yet, unconfirmed by

research. In the third case, generic forms are used to "change [the] rhetorical

environment" (Bawarshi 79; endnote 5), to invoke their own rhetorical situation

and prompt the audience to reconsider the discussion to date in terms of this new situation (or, in Walter Beale's words, prompt the audience to make

"uncharacteristic or unexpected fields of meaning" (49) from the texts thrown into relief by the appropriated generic forms).

For such an innovative generic strategy to escape the same risks that underpin the former kind-the kind of generic strategy Freadman studies, wherein generic forms are used in non-standard settings and are disabled by the transplant, violated, misused, and/ or parodied in a move that ultimately disempowers the situation the transplanted generic forms invoke-such a strategy must be balanced with some measure of conformity, some perception on the part of readers that the innovative strategy is expected (after all) and acceptable, even preferable to the situation previously recognized and sanctioned.

Perhaps if the audience recognizes the rhetorical situation invoked by the generic forms, and if the audience is ready and willing to accept a change or shift in rhetorical situation, this kind of strategy could work. Perhaps if the audience feels a shift in situation is called for, that an unexpected interruption is warranted, they will just go along with it. In this way, using generic forms unexpectedly-launching them into some other, ongoing rhetorical situation-could work as a signal to the audience that a new rhetorical situation is surfacing or that a shift in situation is warranted or at least possible. The idea that conversational rituals unfold neatly, from beginning to end, without interruption may be appealing, but in the world of everyday discourse, I believe, a rarity. As such, using generic forms in new and unexpected situations perhaps warrants examination as a possible strategy for moving across and between situations smoothly, invoking and suppressing determinations of the situation at hand, as necessary.

Given the fluidity and instability of contemporary rhetorical situations-as

Burke observes, motivation in contemporary society is "liquid" (qtd. in Miller

31)-people must, realistically, shift from situation to situation all the time, most likely in a fluid and seamless manner for the most part, otherwise the bulk of our discourse would tend to feel stilted and awkward. To assume that such shifts always occur neatly and conveniently when one situation ends and another begins would be somewhat naive. More likely than not, some shifts between rhetorical situations occur on the fly or in mid-swing, and some likely are only implied-only suggested to the audience, only gestured toward-and not actually mobilized (completely) until later. In any case, deploying the features of a genre unexpectedly in a non-standard setting may very well be a common method of signaling or initiating such shifts.

Unfortunately, however, no case studies, as yet, document or explore this type of strategic genre use. As a result, I'd like to pursue just such a case in the present study: the Bohr-Einstein dialogue. While the entire Bohr-Einstein dialogue is arguably a fruitful site for rhetorical analysis, I am most interested in the final phase of the dialogue-the papers Einstein and Bohr exchanged in 1935 in the Physical Revieu~.This third and final phase of the dialogue (having followed two earlier public sparring matches in years previous) is, on the one hand, touted as

Bohr's finest hour, as the occasion when he answered Einstein's objections best, and on the other hand, touted as Bohr's most ~~tzcotzventiotzalhour, as the occasion when he answered Einstein's objections with rather odd arguments and argumentative forms. Bohr's published paper in this final phase of the dialogue,

I would like to argue, is an instance of creatively deployed features of a genre that invoked its own rhetorical situation and, ultimately, prompted the audience to recotzsidev the dialogue so far in terms of this newly invoked rhetorical situation.

Ultimately, if we are to understand and catalogue such creative generic strategies-strategies that use genres and their features in innovative, non- standard ways to exercise discursive power in particular situations-we must begin to attend to them, as I intend to do with the Bohr-Einstein dialogue. Only by studying how genre users creatively manipulate genres in unusual and powerful ways-as Bohr does in the final phase of his dialogue with

Einstein-can we hope to understand the varied ways individuals can use genres to both respond as expected to standard situations and take control of the flow of discourse to more perfectly implement their free speech plan. Both /lad a deep need for simplicity, in thought and in behavior. Each /lad a lifelong boyish - tzot juverzile, boyish -curiosity, and pleasure in play. They took science very seriously, but to them it was ultimately a game. (Pais Niels Bohr's Times 227)

The Bohr-Einstein dialogue-as a whole-offers us a unique opportunity to

study a range of rhetorical strategies used in science, but the last stage of the

dialogue, in particular, offers us an opportunity to study some rather innovative

and creative genre-play. After all, in the final phase of the dialogue, Bohr-in a

subtle but strategic move-answered a challenge from Einstein with a text

riddled with unexpected generic forms, a reply that won Bohr the argument

rather than undermined Bohr's position with its generic difference. In order to

better understand how Bohr's uniquely creative genre-play worked in this final

phase of the dialogue, however, we should first review Bohr and Einstein's

interaction in the earlier stages of the dialogue and the climate of opinion among

other physicists throughout the dialogue.

Not only will such a review provide readers with an overview of the dialogue as

a whole, giving those unfamiliar with the debate a narrative of the events leading

up to Bohr's answer to Einstein in 1935, but it will also provide readers with the

context necessary to properly analyze and assess Bohr's answer. As I argue in

Chapter Four, many scholars looking back on the dialogue have tended to judge Bohr's text as flawed, as ill-suited to the journal in which it was published, and thereby have dismissed its apparent effectiveness at the time as an anomaly or fluke. What these scholars have tended to miss, however, is the larger context in which Bohr's reply was published and the range of traditions in scientific communication and argumentation Bohr might have been drawing on when he wrote his strange reply.

So far, few scholars have tried to understand the unconventional features of

Bohr's reply in terms of the range of genres Bohr might have drawn from (and set resonating) when he wrote his odd reply; and few scholars have tried to determine how readers at the time would likely have interpreted the odd features of Bohr's reply, given their knowledge of genres and the general climate of opinion in the physics community at the time. The purpose of the present chapter, therefore, is to describe this climate of opinion among physicists and to describe the genres Bohr (and other physicists) typically engaged in during the years before his final answer to Einstein in 1935. Ultimately, if we are to understand how Bohfs reply signified when it was published, we need to understand how it emerged from and capitalized on the social and rhetorical-and the generic-contexts within which it was deployed.

The Dialogue in a Nutshell Overall, the Bohr-Einstein Dialogue was a friendly (but serious) intellectual dispute between Niels Bohr and Albert Einstein over the viability and consequences of quantum mechanics, a dispute that spanned the years from 1927 to 1935. While disputes over quantum mechanics were prevalent during this period and attracted hundreds of elite and not-so-elite physicists, all trying to quell the controversies plaguing physics at the time (see Appendix A), one very public debate caught the attention of those on the frontlines of the new quantum physics: two of the most preeminent members of the scientific community-Niels Bohr and Albert Einstein-began to spar over the new mechanics at a physics conference in 1927, and again at the next meeting of the conference in 1930, and again in the pages of the Physical Revieup in 1935.

Ultimately, their dialogue became something of a spectator sport among physicists and became the subject of hundreds of scribbled notes, letters, articles, and heated conversations, all responding to the impressive arguments and counter-arguments deployed by Bohr and Einstein during the dialogue. The final phase of the dialogue even made it into the headlines of the New York Times, with the headline reading "Einstein Attacks Quantum Theory" (qtd. in

Petruccioli 192). All told, the dialogue lasted eight years, interrupted two high profile physics conferences, and graced the pages of no fewer than two reputable science journals; it was nothing to scoff at.

The Bohr-Einstein dialogue was, at its heart, a prolonged response to the emergence of quantum mechanics as a legitimate and fruitful field of study in the mid 1920's." While both Bohr and Einstein had been "founding fathers" (Pais

Niels 160) of the old quarztlrnz theory-contributing the quantum theory of the atom (1913) and the theory of light quanta (1905), respectively-the two men disagreed profoundly over the direction that the new quantum mechanics was taking" The new quantum mechanics was turning out to be a highly statistical mechanics, which claimed only to be able to calculate the probability of finding a particle in a region of space; it was abandoning, Einstein believed, the measurement of actual, physical phenomena, replacing measurement with mere guesswork. As well, the new mechanics seemed to suggest that quantum phenomena were, in part, defined by the experimental apparatuses used to measure them, making it nonsensical to speak about strict cause and effect relations because the act of measurement disturbed any such relations. As a result, Einstein believed the new mechanics was abandoning the law of causality, which had underwritten physics since its inception as a science. In short, the new mechanics suggested that quantum phenomena (atoms, electrons, particles) behaved in ways profoundly different from everyday phenomena (billiard balls,

20 While some historians of science claim the dialogue began carlier, in the earliest stages of the development of quantum theory (see, for example, Honner; Klein "First Phase"), and ended later, often with the death of Einstein (see, for cxample, Kaiser 130), the most stable core of the dialogue s ans the years 1927 to 1935 (see, for example, Baggott 88-106; Mehra 152; Pais Niels 316 & 425). "Quantum mechanics should not be confused with old quantum theory. Old quantum theory refers to the body of quantum research prior to the development of matrix and wave mechanics, to the body of research developed between 1900 and 1924. Old quantum theory was initiated by Max Planck in 1900 (with his research on black body radiation and his discovery of the quantum of action, h; Pais Niels 82-87), was popular~zedby Albert Einstein in 1905 (with the publication of his article announcing wave-particle duality in photons; Einstein "Uber"), and was ushered into atomic physics by Niels Bohr in 1913 (with the publication of his "Trilogy," a series of papers proposing a new quantum theory of the atom; Bohr "Constitution"). By 1924, old quantum theory was crumbling, and a new quantum mechanics was breathing life back into atomic physics. airplanes, trains) and abandoned a number of key concepts in classical

(Newtonian) mechanics in order to measure and observe quantum phenomena as much as was deemed possible at the time. For a more detailed description of the emergence and controversies of quantum theory and quantum mechanics, please refer to Appendix A.

In order to test the validity of such a counter-intuitive mechanics, Einstein insisted on challenging its propositions and assumptions; Bohr, in contrast, insisted on defending them. In particular, Einstein argued that quantum mechanics was logically irzcorzsistenf (that it contradicted itself and existing theory) and, later, that quantum mechanics was irzcomplete (that it could not measure or observe all of physical reality, when afurzdunrerztal theory of physics should be able to); ultimately, Einstein believed that a more reliable, epistemologically sound, unifying theory should be sought-a theory he sought, without success, until the end of his life (Baggott 88-105; Pais Niels 425-433; Fine

26-39; Einstein, et al. "Can?"). In contrast, Bohr argued that quantum mechanics was consistent, complete, and that any of its apparent paradoxes could be neutralized by his own philosophy of c~mplementarit~,~introduced only a few weeks prior to his first confrontation with Einstein at the Solvay conference of 1927 (Baggott 88-105; Pais Niels 316-343,425-436; Bohr "Quantum Postulate," llDi~~~~~i~n,""Can?").

Over the course of their eight-year-long dialogue, Einstein challenged (Bohr and) quantum mechanics on three separate occasions:

1. at the fifth Solvay conference in 1927, 2. at the sixth Solvay conference in 1930, and finally 3. in an article published in the Physical Rmiew in 1935.

On each occasion, Einstein presented a thought experiment23(or several) that, he believed, brought the difficulties of quantum mechanics to the fore. And on each occasion Bohr responded with an explanation of the experiment's apparent contradictions, an explanation that invariably vindicated quantum mechanics from whatever charge Einstein had laid against it.

Overall, the dialogue established Bohr and Einstein as well-matched opponents locked in battle over the new mechanics, with Einstein as the attacker armed with thought experiments and Bohr as the defender armed with theoretical

22 Bohr's philosophy of complementarity (Bohr "Quantum Postulate"), first introduced in 1927, asserted that, while classical language and classical experimental apparatuses used to observe quantuln phenomena invariably distorted observations and produced paradoxes and mutually exclusive results, such mutually exclusive results-when combined, when made complementary-were the only way to produce a complete understanding of a quantum particle's properties. This complementarity, Bohr argued, was the only completeness that quantum mechanics could provide. Anything more was an ideal description of physical reality that was beyond the limited capabilities of quantum mechanics and modern scientific inquiry. For a more detailed discussion of complementarity, please refer to Appendix A. refutations designed to dismantle Einstein's charges. As the dialogue unfolded, however, the climate of opinion among physicists increasingly favoured Bohr's position: not only was Bohr defeating Einstein at every encounter, but quantum mechanics was quickly becoming the mainstay of practicing physicists across

North America and Europe-quantum mechanics was quickly becoming the status quo and, while open to new ideas, practicing physicists were increasingly invested in it.

This growing sense of satisfaction with the new quantum mechanics revealed itself especially in the way physicists wrote about quantum physics in the years during the Bohr-Einstein dialogue: in the years after 1927, physicists increasingly published applications of the new mechanics, textbooks on the new mechanics, and review articles on developments in the new mechanics (rather than claims that ran counter to the new mechanics). Physicists, it seems, were increasingly busy building the field and encouraging its spread through graduate schools and across the scientific disciplines, and less and less concerned with the apparent paradoxes and problems of quantum mechanics.

Much of this faith in and acceptance of the new mechanics, however, was the result of Bohr's defeat of Einstein during the first phase of their dialogue-at the fifth annual Solvay Conference on Physics in 1927.

23 Thought experiments are idealized experiments that can "not be fully examined and that need not occur in nature at all" (Kuhn 240) but that bring difficulties "to the fore by confronting readers with the paradox[es] implicit in their mode of thought" (Kuhn 251). The Fifth Solvay Conference (1927) The fifth Solvay conference, held in Brussels in 1927 under the theme "Electrons and Protons" (Mehra 132), was, in short, a gathering of the most eminent physicists of the day to discuss the achievements in quantum physics to date.

The three founding fathers of the old quantum theory were present: Max Planck,

Albert Einstein, and Niels Bohr. As well, leading physicists in the new quantum mechanics-including Heisenberg, Schrodinger, Born, de Broglie, Pauli, Dirac, and Kramers-were present. The conference was a monumental gathering "of all those who had participated in the creation of the old and the new quantum theory" (Pais Niels 316). The rooms and hallways were abuzz with everything from excited whispers to heated debates, and the official sessions were brimming over with presentations on the new quantum mechanics, including presentations by Compton (Mehra 3 39-42), de Broglie (Mehra 142-46), Born and Heisenberg

(Mehra 146-49), Schrodinger (Mehra 149-51), and Bohr (Mehra 151-52).'4 The conference offered the elite of the 1920's physics community a chance to gather eri masse to discuss the limits and potential of the new mechanics.

While everyone at the conference immersed him or herself, to some extent, in discussions of the new quantum mechanics (especially in its renunciation of certainty and strict causality), Bohr and Einstein quickly emerged as the two dominant voices in these discussions. In fact, by the end of the conference,

Einstein and Bohr had become so embroiled in debate-so invested in a game of thought-experiment-and-reply-that they were drawing a crowd. On the one side, Einstein was wary of the indeterminism inherent in quantum mechanics and of the limitations it imposed on what could be known about physical reality, and he challenged its logical consisteizci~;on the other side, Bohr was confident that his new philosophy of complementarity could neutralize any problems with quantum mechanics and he resolutely defended the new mechanics as a co~zsistentphysical theory (for a discussion of Bohr's philosophy of complementarity, see Appendix A).

Einstein's First Thought Experiment & Bohr's Reply While Einstein kept his contributions brief for most of the conference, simply sitting through papers, listening attentively, and making a few careful remarksz5-giving him the appearance of a thoughtful and careful skeptic, as a man unwilling to pass judgement until all arguments had been heard-he finally

spoke up during the general discussions that took place in the dining room of the hotel (where conference participants were housed; Pais Niels 318). On this last

day, Einstein spoke up at breakfast, proclaiming his general misgivings about the

new quantum physics: he disliked its r~rzccrtairzty,he disliked the idea that one

24 For select proceedings from the conference, including extant notes chronicling the discussions that followed each presentation, see Mehra pg. 132-81. "While Einstein may have been invited to give a paper, in the end he participated only as a member of the scientific committee: attending presentations and participating in discussions. This choice to participate only as a committee member separated Einstein from the other presenters: his role was more that of a listener and judge, rather than of a participant; his brief contributions during formal discussion only reinforced the perception that he was once removed and somehow above all of the embroiled "working physics" that others were engaged in. See, for instance, Pais "Einstein" for a discussion of Einstein's ethos of apartness. could otzly measure a limited range of variables before disturbitzg a quantum system, thereby rendering all other variables in the system uncertlzitz and unknownble (Moore 164).

Later that same evening, he sat down with Niels Bohr (and a mutual friend,

Ehrenfest, who played mediator) to discuss, face-to-face, the problems of quantum mechanics. Einstein presented a thought experiment-drawing it on the board and walking Bohr through its steps-that he felt brought the inconsistencies of the new mechanics to the fore. If you followed this quantum mechanical thought experiment to its logical consequences, Einstein showed, the experiment produced results that clearly contradicted existing theory (in particular, the general theory of relativity, which was Einstein's own baby, but, more importantly, had been established as a consistent theory in physics in the years prior to 1927). If quantum mechanics produced results that contradicted relativity, then its tenets must somehow be flawed. For a more detailed discussion of Einstein's 1927 challenge, as well as Bohr's reply, please refer to

Appendix B.

Ultimately, Bohr rose to meet Einstein's challenge, and in a series of (perhaps unintentional) moves, managed to neutralize Einstein's criticisms and stabilize the new quantum mechanics with his own and Heisenberg's interpretations of the new mechanics (a combination of interpretational frameworks that would later become known as the Copenhagen Interpretation of quantum physics). In reply to Einstein, Bohr described the experimental apparatus of Einstein's thought experiment in more detail, drawing attention to features of the apparatus that Einstein had taken for granted. Most notably, Bohr pointed out that, while Einstein's thought experiment claimed to observe an electron behaving like both a particle and a wave-a dual observation that contradicted the principles of quantum mechanics and seemed to prove the theory was inconsistent-Einstein's experimental apparatus, itself, would prevent any such observation from ever occurring: elements of Einstein's experimental apparatus, upon closer inspection, would actually disturb the electron in its particle state, making any observation of the electron-as-particle uncertain or indeterminate.

Einstein's thought experiment, Bohr argued, produced a paradox only because

Einstein had neglected to consider how all the elements of his experimental apparatus would interfere with observations.

Einstein's Second Thought Experiment & Bohr's Reply Einstein, however, was not quite convinced, and he chose to continue his dialogue with Bohr the next evening, formulating a second thought experiment for Bohr to deal with. In this second thought experiment, Einstein complicated

matters somewhat, expanding his original thought experiment (which consisted of an electron, a slitted-screen, and a photographic plate) to include a moving one-

slit screen, a second, statioriary two-slitted screen, and an electron traveling through both. With this new thought experiment, Einstein claimed to have found an experiment that could actually observe both an electron's position and momentum: a dual observation that, in quantum mechanics, was supposed to be impossible. Einstein seem to have formulated a thought experiment that proved quantum mechanics was inconsistent.

Once again, however, Bohr replied by drawing attention to details of the experimental apparatus that Einstein had taken for granted. In particular, Bohr pointed out a stage in the experiment where observing the electron's momenttim would invariably interfere with an accurate measurement of the electron's position-just as quantum mechanics predicted. Bohr's answers to Einstein, it appeared, were able to neutralize any paradoxes or quandaries and, at the same time, cast doubt on Einstein's ability to challenge a theory he apparently knew little about (little enough, that is, to make similar mistakes in at least two thought e~periments).~~

26 Einstein, in fact, may have done Bohr a favour in challenging him so openly and so sequentially. Following Bohr's paper at Como earlier in 1927-a paper in which he introduced his philosophy of complementarity, a very obscure physical interpretation of quantum mechanics (see Appendix A)-most physicists were left feeling confused and disoriented. Bohr had always suffered what was known as his legendary impenetrable style: as Ehrenfest called it, "the awful Bohr incantation terminology. Impossible for anybody to summarize" (Ehrenfest, qtd. in Pais Niels 312). Abraham Pais, in fact, believes that the Como lecture, Bohr's first presentation of complementarity, was perhaps his most obscure presentation on the subject, introducing terminology that may have "contributed to the considerable confusion that for so long has reigned around this subject" (Pais Niels 316). By allowing Bohr a chance to respond to a number of thought experiments in terms of complementarity, Einstein may have given Bohr the opportunity he needed to apply and illustrate his views, which had remained, for the most part, abstract and obscure until then. The game initiated by Einstein, and the string of thought experiments provided by Einstein, may have given participants at the conference an opportunity to see Bohr's ideas in action. The repetition that likely resulted from Einstein's multiple thought experiments would have just kept driving Bohr's points home (along with his victory). Ehrenfest certainly recalls the conference in terms of Bohr's heightening clarity: "BOHR [sic.. .]At first not understood at all [. . .], then step by step defeating everybody" (Ehrenfest, qtd. in Honner 118). By the end of the conference, when Einstein, in the end, could not conceive of a thought experiment that would stump Bohr, the dominant perception was that the new mechanics had withstood Einstein's challenges: quantum mechanics, it seemed, was a strange but consistent theory, all the more strong from surviving

Einstein's onslaught. In 1963, Heisenberg recalled of the conference,

The most important success of the Brussels meeting [the Solvay conference] was that we could see that against any objections, against any attempts to disprove the theory, we could get along with it [the new quantum physics]. We could get anything clear by using the old words and limiting them by the uncertainty relations and still get a completely consistent picture. (Heisenberg, qtd. in Pais Niels 320).

Heisenberg conceded, of course, that by "we" he meant himself, Pauli, and Bohr

(Pais Niels 320), but very soon after the conference-arguably as a result of Bohr's success at the conference-consensus began to spread out.

Within a few months of the conference, Paul Dirac had published a two-part quantum theory of the electron in Scierzce ("Quantum Theory"; "Quantum

Theory 11"), and soon after (in the same journal) a quantum theory of multi- electron systems and of the electron and proton ("Many-Electron"; "Electron and

Proton"). In the two years following the conference, publication of applications of quantum mechanics also blossomed in the Physical Reuiew, soaring from near zero in 1927 to upwards of a dozen per year in 1928 and 1929. And in Nature, no fewer than eighteen books devoted to explaining the new quantum mechanics were reviewed, six special review articles on the new quantum mechanics were published, and, in March 1930, an eleven-page special supplement was devoted to letters to the editor on the new mechanics ("Atomic Physics and Related

Subjectsu)-simply to make room for the flurry of letters submitted on the subject. Rather than wallow in the uncertainties and paradoxes of the new mechanics, physicists obviously chose to reap the fruit of this new fundamental theory of physics and apply their energies to exploring its tenets and stabilizing its place in science (choices that Bohr's reply to Einstein in 1935 would later depend upon for its effect and appeal).

The Sixth Solvay Conference (1930) As Cushing confirms, by 1927 and 1928, the Copenhagen Interpretation-a consistent and functional interpretation of quantum physics that resulted from a combination of Bohr's complementarity and Heisenberg's uncertainty relations-had become a non-issue (121). Consensus had spread and most physicists had either accepted it or had chosen to look the other way, so long as it provided fruitful and meaningful results. The debate over the consistency of the new quantum mechanics, it seemed, was over. The dust had settled. However, at the sixth Solvay conference held in 1930 under a new theme-"Magnetism"

(Mehra 183)-it soon became clear that the debate was far from over. Within the short (three day) span of the conference, Einstein again rattled the physics community with a new thought experiment-this one three years in the making-and, before long, Einstein and Bohr picked up their dialogue where they had left off, three years earlier. While, in 1930 the Solvay conference (with its official theme of "Magnetism") had become a slightly less appropriate venue for their dialogue, casting Einstein as a persistent and determined critic who, on the one hand, must have had something important to say (if he was willing to interrupt a conference with what was considered a settled issue), and who, on the other hand, was subtly close to overstepping his bounds, the effect that Einstein's new challenge had on Bohr soon justified Einstein's almost-unconventional return to problems of quantum mechanics. Bohr was shocked by Einstein's new thought experiment, as

Rosenfeld recalled from the conference, and Bohr feared that it would be the downfall of physics if Einstein's thought experiment had, indeed, revealed an inconsistency in quantum mechanics. Bohr's anxiety soon characterized

Einstein's thought experiment as the concern of all physicists, making the continuation of their dialogue not only suddenly more appropriate to the conference (in fact, to any physics conference), but also suddenly crucial to address at once. As Rosenfeld described:

It was quite a shock for Bohr . . . he did not see the solution at once. During the whole evening he was extremely unhappy, going from one to the other and trying to persuade them that it couldn't be true, that it would be the end of physics if Einstein were right; but he couldn't produce any refutation. I shall never forget the sight of the two antagonists leaving [the Foundation Universitaire], Einstein a tall majestic figure, walking quietly, with a somewhat ironic smile, and Bohr trotting near him, very excited.. . (Rosenfeld, qtd. in Pais Niels 427). Einstein's Photon Box Thought Experiment & Bohr's Reply Einstein's new thought experiment involved a photon box-a box filled with photons-rigged to release a single photon at a predetermined time. The experiment was conceived such that a photon was released, the box was weighed, and both the photon's energy and time of passage were calculated-this last achievement being a dual measurement that contradicted the most basic principles of quantum mechanics (Pais NieIs 427). Einstein's experiment was ingenious. Quite simply, it seemed to prove that Heisenberg's uncertainty relations were inconsistent-undermining the Copenhagen Interpretation of quantum physics and, hence, undermining the reigning interpretation of quantum mechanics. For a more detailed discussion of Einstein's 1930 challenge to quantum mechanics, as well as of Bohr's reply, please refer to Appendix C.

While perhaps a little off topic, and while perhaps casting him as a critic on the edge of appropriateness, Einstein's photon-box thought experiment was risky but successful: the very fact it was introduced three years after the Copenhagen interpretation had become a non-issue in the physics community (Cushing 121), and at a conference with a theme only indirectly related to the fundamental principles of quantum physics, made Einstein's thought experiment a clever and effective ploy to catch Bohr off-guard. And Bohr u~asshocked; he was unable to see the solution at once, and unable to see the solution even after discussing the matter with a number of the physicists attending the conference. Unlike in 1927,

Bohr came to the 1930 conference expecting to discuss quantum physics, but not expecting a battle. Einstein's challenge caught Bohr unprepared and left him stunned (Rosenfeld, qtd. in Pais Niels 427).

Overall, Einstein's thought experiment and Bohr's reaction to it created a sense of crisis that, as long as Bohr was unable to find a flaw with Einstein's logic, worked in Einstein's favour. Had Bohr not eventually found a solution to the problem, this sense of crisis might have provided the impetus necessary to stimulate an overhaul of quantum physics and pursue a truly unified theory, as Einstein wished. However, Bohr did find a solution-after a sleepless night, and in the final hours of the conference-ending the crisis in a way that may have, in the end, reinforced the rhetorical force of Bohr's solution. He had, in effect, hit a home run at the bottom of the ninth in a tied game.

Bohr's reply was, at first, reminiscent of his answers to Einstein in 1927: he argued Einstein had neglected to consider the impact of certain details of the experimental apparatus on the act of measurement, and Bohr reconfigured the experiment to account for a few missing details and to draw attention to the interference that would result from unaccounted for elements of the experiment.

However, after drawing on all these old strategies, Bohr found himself stuck, and he had yet to completely unravel the logic of Einstein's thought experiment.

While drawing on these old strategies helped give spectators the impression that

Einstein's new experiment was flawed in a manner similar to his experiments of 1927 (which would have undermined Einstein's doxa", to say the least, if after three years he had been unable to solve the problems Bohr had pointed out to him at Solvay in 1927)' Bohr needed something more to defeat Einstein's experiment.

What eventually turned the argument in Bohr's favour was yet another shift of the argument. First, he had shifted Einstein's experiment onto his own theoretical turf, much in the same way he had done in 1927: reconfiguring

Einstein's experiment in subtle ways to foreground the extent to which observation in the experiment was subject to (could be explained via) Bohr's own principle of complemetztarify. To defeat Einstein's new experiment, however,

Bohr chose to shift the argument once more, this time onto Einstein's theoretical turf in a move that would use Einstein's own theory of relativity against him., after reconfiguring and analyzing the photon-box experiment in terms of complementarity, Bohr focused on the acts of weighing and timing-those two features of Einstein's experiment presumably most familiar to Einstein, since he had formulated the theory of relativity, all about time and gravity-and argued that Einstein's own theory of relativity proved that Einstein's challenge of quantum mechanics was flawed. Weighing the box and calculating the energy and time of the photon would, Bohr argued, not be possible-counter to

27 That is, Einstein's established reputation, his ethos established prior to any of his utterances at the conference. Einstein's charge (Baggott 93). And Einstein's own theory proved that this was

SO.

The overall effect of Bohr's reply was astounding. Not only had he constructed a crisis in the community by expressing his shock at Einstein's thought experiment, and then conveniently quelled it by breakfast (via his excited and anxious response to Einstein's new thought experiment and his dramatic solution following a sleepless night) but he had found and corrected a weakness in the experiment using his own philosophy of complementarity (a blow to

Einstein's doxu, if not to the logic of his argument) and he had undermined the logic of the experiment using Einstein's own theory of relativity (a profound blow to both Einstein's doxu and the logos of his challenge to quantum mechanics). It is no wonder that Einstein chose not to present another thought experiment after Bohr's resounding defeat of his photon-box experiment.

Furthermore, when Einstein presented no further challenges, it appeared Bohr had undermined the logic of a crlrcial experiment: a single, decisive experiment that embodied and proved the crux of Einstein's argument. While Einstein may have had other thought experiments in mind-or even if he had no other experiments in mind-Einstein chose to stop presenting experiments after orze simply reinforced the power and rhetorical force of Bohr's single answer.28

In the end, Bohr's solution to Einstein's challenge assaulted Einstein's argument on two fronts, in two voices: in terms of Bohr's own philosophy of complementarity and in terms of Einstein's theory of relativity. Both voices deflated Einstein's thought experiment to different degrees, and together-and only together-they deflated his thought experiment outright. This doubling was not only incredibly effective in 1930, clinching the argument for Bohr, but also would be invoked-in an improved form-by Bohr in the final phase of the dialogue, in 1935, and the effect would be the same: Bohr's double-response would clinch the argument in Bohr's favour. The only significant difference between 1930 and 1935, of course, would be that, by 1935, Bohr doubled his response to Einstein not on the level of logic or theory, but on the level of genre, participating in at least two genres at once (one that responded to Einstein's article as was expected, and one that responded in a way that was unexpected and that was more aligned with Bohr's own objectives than with Einstein's).

28 In an ironic twist of fate, Einstein succumbed to the same rhetorical flaw of crucial experiments that Newton succumbed to hundreds of years earlier. The twist of fate is ironic, of course, insofar as Einstein and Newton are often compared and celebrated as the fathers (and representative geniuses) of classical physics. The twist of fate, however, highlights the extent to which supporting an argument with a single, crucial experiment can backfire (rhetorically). As Alan Gross argues, the "notion of a crucial experiment [. . .] is designed to be as conclusive as a Euclidean QED, but is seriously flawed as a persuasive device" (Gross 28). As Gross argues, insofar as the persuasive effect of a crucial experiment "depends on [its] univocal interpretation" (Gross 29), a lack of unanimity in the interpretation of the experiment can result in its swift demise, as well as the swift demise of whatever theory the crucial experiment was designed to prove or illustrate. This shift in strategy from the level of logic and theory to the level of genre was, most likely, linked to the overwhelming sense within the physics community, after 1930, that quantum mechanics was stable and safe-a sense within the community that Bohr capitalized on in his reply to Einstein's final challenge in

1935. Following Einstein's defeat in 1930, the physics community settled considerably: physicists went back to their everyday work and treated quantum mechanics with the confidence that came from knowing it was consistent with existing theory (as Bohr had confirmed); and Bohr now had two victories under his belt and no fewer than two vivid proofs-in part, provided by Einstein-that quantum mechanics was a consistent fundamental physical theory.

By 1935, when Einstein challenged quantum mechanics one last time, Bohr not only had the complacency of the physics community on his side, but a range of past victories to allude to in his final defense of quantum mechanics. Perhaps

Bohr's confidence-his confidence that quantum mechanics was stable and that any further challenges would be moot, and his confidence that most physicists favoured his position-led him to address Einstein's challenge not primarily on the level of logic and theory (as he had done in the past), but rather primarily on the level of genre: addressing Einstein's challenge with a reply that, via its generic forms, suggested that Einstein's challenge was a non-issue and (while worthy of reply) was nothing more that another failed challenge to quantum mechanics. With an audience already very much on his side, Bohr perhaps did not need the explicit maneuvers of rigorous, mathematical logic to refute Einstein; he needed only the subtle forms of a creatively invoked genre (or two) to suggest that Einstein was, in fact, wrong and that his challenge was no real threat to the field.

The EPR Challenge and Bohr's Replylies (1935) Following their public encounters at the Solvay congresses in 1927 and 1930

(both held in Brussels), Bohr and Einstein retreated into relatively separate worlds of work for a few years; however, the two scientists met one last time in

1935 and clashed again-this time in print. Bohr is purported to have been ready for a third Solvay conference showdown in 1933, but world events prevented

Einstein from attending the seventh Solvay conference held in that year. Hitler's rise to power in Germany was making science hard to pursue for European Jews, and Einstein spent the early thirties trying to maneuver his way out of Germany; he finally succeeded in relocating to the United States (to Princeton) in 1933

(Sopka 330). At the same time, Bohr was busy fundraising for his institute in

Copenhagen and busy helping refugee scientists find work and lodgings outside of Germany (Pais Niels 394).

In 1935, however, Einstein initiated their game once again. And as always, Bohr replied swiftly, taking up Einstein's challenge and reconfiguring Einstein's thought experiment until Bohr could explain it away. Bohr's response to

Einstein's 1935 challenge, however, took on afornl that proved particularly convincing: answering Einstein in a physical settittg and with a few genericforms that suggested Bohr was playing along with the generic rules invoked by

Einstein, but also answering Einstein with a host of other genericforms that suggested Bohr was playing at another game, a game which belonged in another venue, another journal, addressing a different audience, and advancing different rhetorical goals-that is, another rhetorical situation. Ultimately, Bohr's reply answered in two voices: one voice that answered Einstein as was expected (i.e. on Einstein's own terms) and another voice that answered Einstein in an unexpected way (on Bohr's own terms). While the first voice was passably typical, the second voice invoked a new rhetorical situation and prompted readers to revise their understanding of Einstein's position and his challenges to date.

The Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen (EPR) Paper In 1935, in the pages of an American journal, Physical Review, Albert Einstein,

Nathan Rosen, and Boris Podolsky made what is now often characterized as a counter-proposal to complementarity, an attack that allegedly targeted Bohr's doctrines and philosophies head-on (Pais Niels 429; Fine 34). Their attack consisted of a joint paper entitled "Can Quantum-Mechanical Description of

Physical Reality Be Considered Complete?" published in the May 15,1935 issue of Physical Review, and the authors answered the question posed in the title in the negative: no, quantum theory was rtot complete, presenting a detailed thought experiment to illustrate their position. For a more detailed description of the

EPR paper and of Bohr's replies, please refer to Appendix D. The impact the article had was immediate and monumental. As Petruccioli

writes, "[elven before the paper appeared in the Physiml Review, a

comprehensive account of the views it contained was splashed over the pages of

the New York Times in an article headlined 'Einstein Attacks Quantum Theory"'

(Petruccioli 192). Einstein, of course, was not pleased; the newspapers, he

thought, were hardly the place to engage in serious scientific debate (Petruccioli

192). Paying no heed to the news hounds, Einstein preferred to wait for real

physicists to respond to his joint paper in sister journals, where genuine

dialectical reasoning could unfold unhindered by sensationalist arguments and

unschooled opinions.

Einstein, Podolsky, and Rosen's paper (now called the EPR paper) was, in short, yet another challenge to quantum mechanics. However, instead of attacking the

consistency of the theory (its consistency with existing theory and its own internal

consistency), EPR attacked the completeness of the theory. The paper argued that,

as successful as quantum mechanics proved to be in some cases, it was not a

theory that could give a complete account of reality. Or, as John Honner puts it in

The Description of Nature, "Einstein's intention was no longer to expose quantum

theory as untrue, but to demonstrate that it did not tell the whole truth (125).

Bohr's Replylies to EPR Bohr, meanwhile, was caught unawares. Einstein had not warned him about the

publication, and Bohr's colleague, Leon Rosenfeld, had to give him the news second hand. In a now famous passage, Rosenfeld recalls the effect this news

had on Bohr:

This onslaught came down upon us as a bolt from the blue. Its effect on Bohr was remarkable. [...I A new worry could not come at a less propitious time. Yet, as soon as Bohr had heard my report of Einstein's argument, everything else was abandoned: we had to clear up such a misunderstanding at once. We should reply by taking up the same example and showing the right way to speak about it. In great excitement, Bohr immediately started dictating to me the outline of such a reply. [....I 'They do it 'smartly", Bohr commented, 'but what counts is to do it right.' (Rosenfeld 128-29)

Bohr replied with two publications of his own: first, a short letter to the editor of

Nature, which announced his opposition to the EPR paper and his upcoming full-

length reply in Physical Review (Bohr "Quantum"); and, second, an article in

Physical Review that replied to the EPR paper in full (Bohr "Can?"). Bohr's full-

length reply was not only published is the same journal as EPR-Physical

Revim-but used the same title as the EPR paper-"Can Quantum-Mechanical

Description of Physical Reality Be Considered Complete?" Bohr, however,

answered this question in the affirmative: yes, quantum mechanics was

complete.

Put quite simply, Bohr's main reply-his article in Physical Revieu?echoing EPR's

title-argued that EPR's thought experiment revealed nothing more than the

ambiguities inherent and unavoidable in measuring and discussing quantum

phenomena in terms of classical concepts and theory. Rather than revealing a

fatal flaw in quantum mechanics itself, Bohr argued, EPR presented just another in a long line of challenges and thought experiments that seemed to reveal contradictions in quantum mechanics, but really only revealed problems that could be controlled and limited by complementary. Rather than address the logic of EPR, Bohr chose to frame EPR in terms of past thought experiments, in terms of past victories for Bohr and past defeats for Ein~tein.~~Bohr implied that

EPR was just another one of Einstein's many clever, but ultimately unsuccessful, challenges to quantum mechanics, one that could easily be neutralized by

complementarity.

This full-length reply of Bohrfs is often considered the last text in the Bohr-

Einstein dialogue. While Bohr wrote an article about their discussions in 1949

(Bohr "Discussion"), Bohr and Einstein never resumed their highly formalized

game of theory-refutation, which had preoccupied them for nearly eight years.

And while "subsequent refinements of the EPR paradox [have since] raised further issues" (Honner 133), Bohr's reply marked-at the time-the definitive

reply to Einstein's last challenge. As Honner points out,

[i]n 1936 Einstein acknowledged that it was 'logically' possible without contradiction to hold that quantum theory offered a valid description of individual, and in so doing, he extended an olive branch to Bohr. (Honnor 132)

29 In particular, Bvhr compared the EPR thought experiment to a long line of thought experiments involving electrons passing through slitted-screens-invoking the (by then) well known thought experiments of Bohr and Einstein's first sparring match at the Solvay conference of 1927 (sce Appendix B)-and implied that EPR simply reproduced errors that had been caught and neutralized years before. Bohr then compared the EPR experiment to a thought experiment with moving parts controlled by timing mechanisms-invoking the (by then) well known photon-box thought experiment of Bohr and Einstein's second sparring match at the Solvay conference of 1930 (see Appendix C)-and implied that EPR, again, reproduced errors that had neutralized years ago. While, in his heart, Einstein was not convinced, after Bohr's reply he did seem to back down.30

And so, the three texts described above-the EPR paper, Bohr's announcement, and Bohr's reply-are the last three texts of the Bohr-Einstein dialogue. They constitute the last public occasion on which Bohr and Einstein clashed over the interpretation of quantum mechanics. Bohr's announcement and reply, of course, were by no means the only texts published in response to EPR: a flurry of articles were published in direct response to Einstein, Podolsky, and Rosen's challenge to quantum mechanics (H. T. F.; Kemble; Ruark; Margenau; Wolfe;

Furry; See Appendix E for a table of all responses to EPR published in either

Plzysical Revim or Nature, between 1935 and 1936). While the dialogue centred on the opposing viewpoints of Einstein and Bohr, several other physicists figured in their sparring match, taking on a variety of roles: mediators, spectators, co- authors, note-takers, record keepers, sounding board^.^' Even in the y ears

Einstein, however, would pursue a unified field theory-which promised to offer that complete description of physical reality Einstein "missed in the quantum mechanics he had helped so much to develop" (Klein "Einstein" 151)-until the end of his life. As Martin Klein describes, Einstein "saw his whole career as striving to create a new unified foundation for physics" (Klein "Einstein" 151). 31 While some historians dislike the erasure of such secondary participants by the label "Bohr- Einstein dialogue," one cannot deny that both history and rhetoric dichotomized the dialogue for reasons either scientific or symbolic (or both). The truth is, Bohr and Einstein were well-matched opponents and, even if they were not the only participants in general discussions about quantum mechanics at the time, they were perceived by members of the community as the two most esteemed and invested participants in discussions over the meaning and consequences of the new mechanics. following the dialogue, texts surfaced by other physicists-all either witnesses or peripheral participants in the dialogue-that described or commented on the three public meetings between Bohr and Einstein, first hand. Such texts eventually came to be considered official records of the dialogue, and a number of studies of these texts have emerged to date (Baggott; Beller Quantum; Cushing;

Fine; Honner; Jammer; Kaiser; Petruccioli; Sachs; Whitaker). As well, all manner of witnesses and participants in the dialogue have written commemorative or

(auto)biographical works that narrate events of the dialogue itz retrospect, often 20 or 30 years after the dialogue took place (Bohr "Discussion"; deBroglie;

Heisenberg "Quantum" and "Reminiscences"; Kennedy; Klein "Einstein" and

"First Phase"; MacKinnon; Mermin; Moore; Murdoch; Pais Niels ;Rosenfeld; von

Weizsacher; Wheeler).

The EPR paper and Bohr's two replies (his announcement and reply) were, however, the two star texts in this last phase of the general debate over quantum mechanics. Being the two most prestigious participants in the debate-the two most visible and equally matched opponents-Bohr's and Einstein's publications garnered the most attention, both at the time publication and in the years

Bohr, on the one hand, had opened an institute in Copenhagen in 1921 that housed and supported many of the proponents of the old quantum theory and the new mechanics (for instance, Kramers, Slater, and Heisenberg). In fact, the institute had been set up specifically to initiate experiments that tested the many theoretical advances in atomic and quantum physics to date (Pais Niels 169); Bohr (a mere 35 years old when his institute was formally opened), was highly invested in guiding scientific experiments in direct connection with the theoretical investigations of quantum theory (Bohr, qtd. in Pais Niels 169). In the other hand, while Einstein had contributed several ideas to quantum theory in its earliest stages, his greatest contribution to physics-general rclatively-was essentially a classical theory, and he defended many tenets of classical physics to the end. following publication. For the purposes of this study, however, I will be referring to a number of the other texts published around the same time in response to EPR (published in 1935 and 1936, in the same two journals, Physical

Review and Nature). While these other texts are not officially part of the Bohr-

Einstein dialogue (since they were not authored or co-authored by either Bohr or

Einstein), they do offer invaluable insight into the opinions of Bohr's and

Einstein's contemporaries-opinions that will ultimately help us understand how Bohr managed to reply as effectively (and as unconventionally) as he did.

Bohr's Replylies to EPR: A Research Site Historians and philosophers of science are particularly intrigued by the whole dialogue-including texts documenting and recollecting the oral components of the dialogue-for a number of reasons: for its groundbreaking reliance on thought experiments; its reliance on metaphor and paradox as generative sites for scientific debate and inquiry; the extent to which it "sprang in fundamental ways from personal scientific considerations" (Kaiser 132), not just common scientific considerations; its discussion of the epistemological consequences of quantum mechanics, only the most monumental scientific revolution of the twentieth century.

I am more concerned, however, with the last stage of the dialogue-the papers published by Bohr and Einstein (and Podolsky and Rosen) in 1935. Not only is it the most reliably recorded of Bohr and Einstein's three sparring matches (insofar as it consists of published articles and letters, rather than notes and recollections of dining room discussions held during the Solvay conferences), but it is also the site of some rather interesting genre play and is often cited-in retrospect-as the most unconventional of Bohr's contributions to the dialogue, despite the fact that-at the time of publication-Boht's contributions were considered convincing and were thought to be (if perhaps stylistically out of place) both timely and sound.

The published exchange of articles in 1935-the oft-claimed closing moments of the dialogue-seem to stand out as both a relatively stable system of texts to study and as an example of some rather strange participation in the standard scientific genres of the time-participation that did not raise many eyebrows at the time (certainly not so many as to undermine the perceived validity, credibility, or timeliness of Bohr's contributions to the dialogue), but participation that (to scholars removed from the larger rhetorical context of the debate and looking at it solely as a response to EPR designed for Physical Review) now seems anything if not vague, inappropriate, and unconvincing. Historians and philosophers of science, alike, seem at a loss to explain the popularity and success of Bohr's final contributions to the dialogue; his contributions now seem, if anything, out of place when compared to other articles published at the time in response to EPR, and the relative stability of Bohr's published contribution-preserved forever, unchanging, in the annals of the Physical Revim and Nature-only reinforces this modern sense of frustration with Bohr's texts.

The larger rhetorical context I have outlined here, however, along with a firm understanding of genre theory, will provide us with the framework needed to understand (more fully) the impact and power of Bohr's reply-a text that, otherwise, tends to get written off as unconventional, and as effective for reasons contemporary scholars are at a loss to explain. With a comprehensive rhetorical framework in place, we will be in a better position to determine what situational elements Bohr drew on in his odd reply-in particular, what genres he drew on and how his readers would likely have responded to these generic elements at the time of publication (given the traditions, expectations, and opinions circulating, at the time, around issues in quantum mechanics).

By 1935, there were several situational elements Bohr was able to capitalize on in his reply to Einstein's final challenge: Bohr had the complacency of the physics community on his side (a community deeply invested in the new mechanics); he had a firmly established reputation as the man consistently able to defend quantum mechanics from Einstein's theoretical attacks; Bohr had the benefit of

Einstein's newly won reputation for being a stubborn yet unsuccessful aggressor in response to the new mechanics; finally, Bohr had several victories under his belt, victories associated with memorable thought experiments that Bohr could allude to at any moment in order to frame future attacks on quantum mechanics in terms of pastfailed ones.

From within this rhetorical context, Einstein (and Podolsky and Rosen)

published their final challenge to quantum mechanics; and from within this

rhetorical context, Bohr answered-drawing on several situational elements to

turn (or rather entrench) the debate between himself and Einstein to his own

advantage. Bohr, however, not only drew on certain situational elements to craft

his 1935 reply to Einstein, he drew on the gettres that invoked them: genres that were

common in the larger discussions to date about quantum mechanics (many of

which I have already referred to: e.g., review articles, theoretical articles), genres

that I will analyze in more detail in the following chapter. CHAPTER FOUR: THE EPR PAPER AND BOHR'S REPLYIIES

While inzugining that I understand the position of Einsteitz, as regards the EPR correlations, I have little zinderstanding of the position of his principal opponent, Bohr. Yet most contempora y theorists have the impressiotz that Bohr got the better of Einsteitz itz the argmerlt and are under the inzpressiolz that they themselves share Bohr's view. (I. S. Bell, qtd. in Beller Quantum 145)

With both a theoretical and rhetorical framework in place (established in

Chapters Two and Three, respectively), we are now in a position to analyze and assess Bohrls 1935 reply to Einstein and the innovative use of genres clearly manifest in this text. That is, we are now in a position to attend to the momentary generic innovation in Bohrls text and to analyze the way he drew on and mixed genres to address and influence a given rhetorical situation. Bohr's

1935 reply to Einstein, in short, offers us the opportunity to study a new lund of generic innovation not yet confirmed beyond theory, but of vital importance if we are to broaden our understanding of the range of generic strategies-beyond formulaic conformity-available to genre users.

In the present chapter I will overview the key features of Bohr's reply as well as several scholars' standing assessments of these features and of their rhetorical effectiveness. From there, I will analyze the unconventional features of Bohr's reply and assess not only their apparent strangeness in the journal wherein they were published, but also their apparent dysfunction in that journal. The key to understanding these unconventional features, however, lies in knowing where they more typically belonged, the genre and situation with which they were more typically associated with and, arguably, drawn from to craft a reply to

Bohr's liking. To clarify these facets of Bohr's reply, I will demonstrate just

where the unconventional features of Bohr's reply hailed from and, drawing on

the rhetorical context established in Chapter Three, just what kind of effect they

likely would have had on readers at the time, given the climate of opinion.

Overall, I hope to shed light on the creative way Bohr drew on genres to answer

a rather difficult and subtle challenge, and demonstrate just how Bohr's

innovative text managed to work given the context into which it was deployed.

While genres, for some, still embody the very essence of conformity and

formulaic discourse, I hope to show just how empowering they can be when

used creatively-mixed, fused, or set resonating in order to control and influence

a situation, rather than submit to its typical exigencies. By studying Bohr's

text-by attending to its momentary, fleeting features and strategies-as well as

the social factors that underpinned and informed it, I hope to lay bare its

rhetorical workings and render it more accessible and transparent to genres users

and researchers alike.

With his joint publication of EPR with Podolsky and Rosen, Einstein initiated yet

another bout of theory-refutation over quantum mechanics, this time with the

wider physics community-not just participants in the elite Solvay conferences-offering up an argument written by accredited mathematical physicists for accredited mathematical physicists and publishing it in the

Princeton based journal, Plzysicul Review. The EPR paper offered readers a highly theoretical and mathematical argument that, in classic style, proceeded from definitions and assumptions, drew logical conclusions therefrom, and offered a thought experiment to illustrate those conclusions in more detail (Einstein et al.

"Can?"). In line with the communicative goals of a journal designed for experimental and theoretical physicists, the EPR paper, as stated by its concl~sion,~~was designed to stirnrdate research in a new direction, specifically in the direction of a new unified physical theory that would provide a complete description of physical reality where, the authors claimed, quantum mechanics failed.

Bohr's Reply to EPR in Physical Review While a number of physicists rushed to answer Einstein, Podolsky, and Rosen's text, Bohr's was the first full length reply to be published (as opposed to quick letters to the editor), and it remains to this day the most fondly (and frustratingly) remembered. Bohr's quick timing, his preeminent standing in the community, and his well known history with Einstein gave Bohr's reply immediate appeal. As well, the form and substance of Bohr's reply seems to

32 EPR1s conclusion reads as follows: "While we have thus shown that the wave function does not provide a complete description of the physical reality, we left open the question of whether or not such a description exists. We believe, however, that such a theory is possible" (Einstein ef al. "Can?" 780). have impressed readers, including Einstein, who in weighing the many responses to EPR-including a flurry of letters Einstein received from physicists

"eagerly pointing out to him just where the argument was wrong" (Banesh

Hoffman, qtd. in Whitaker 228)-believed that "[olf the 'orthodox' quantum theoreticians whose position I know, Niels Bohr's seems to [...I come nearest to doing justice to the [EPR] problem" (Einstein "Reply" 649).

Bohr's reply, however, has since sparked considerable debate among historians of science insofar as it seems, upon close inspection, to be riddled with unconventional argumentative moves (e.g., Baggott 100-101; Beller Quatztum 145-

167; Cushing 25-26; Fine 26-39; Whitaker 108-141). While no one seems to have complained at the time, scholars have since recognized that-for all its apparent persuasiveness when it was published-Bohr's reply is a profoundly unconventional text. Not so unconventional as to prevent it from being published all together, but unconventional enough to make scholars looking back on the dialogue scratch their heads and wonder how it ever managed to win over EPR's oft-noted graceful and subtle mathematical argument (e.g., Fine

26-39).

Specifically, in response to EPR's challenge to quantum mechanics, Bohr

published a somewhat-theoretical paper in the same journal, hard on the heels of

EPR-a reply that seemed, on the surface, to be about as conventional, typical,

and generic as need be, given the audience invoked and addressed by EPR, given that audience's perception of the rhetorical situation at hand, and their

expectations for appropriate uptakes (responses) to EPR. Giving readers the impression that he was answering EPR on its own terms,33Bohr used a conventional fornz of reply (a multi-page theoretical paper that addressed EPR1s argument) and published his reply in the most conventional setting available to him (in the Physical Review, the same journal where EPR had appeared a mere two issues earlier). In fact, to entrench the sense that he was playing along with

EPR, Bohr used the same title as that of the EPR paper ("Can the Quantum

Mechanical Description of Physical Reality be Considered Complete?"), reinforcing the sense that Bohr was answering EPR according to its own logic, taking up the exact same issue as that addressed by EPR, but answering

according to Bohr's own views. In short, on the surface, Bohr's reply seemed to confirm the generic status of EPR and take it up in a typical way.

Beyond these typical surface features, however, Bohr's reply did not conform in any consistent or whole-hearted way to the dynamics of the genre invoked by

EPR: that is, theoretical case-making, a kind of research article that became

prominent in the Physical Rmie~i~in the 1920's in response to the increasingly

"theoretical vein" (Bazerman Shaping 179) of physics. Nor did he conform fully

to the immediate expectations of the audience addressed by EPR. While Bohr

answered EPR in the same journal, with the same title, and presented arguments

33 That is, abiding by the conventions and expectations set up by EPR's placement in Physical Review and its form as a theoretical objection to quantum mechanics addressed to mathematical physicists. that attempted to show why EPR's argument was logically flawed, Bohr's reply did not present any newfindings or argirrnerlts to counter the logic of EPR's argument, and it did not use complex chairzs of reasoizirtg, specifically mutlte~natical reasoning. Both of these were typical features of theoretical articles printed in the

Physical Revim and both would have been appropriate for an audience of expert physicists whose function it was to judge the relative value of new claims and results in physics, and both of these typical features would have been expected by the audience following the EPR paper in Physical Review. Rather than focus on features typical of and suited to the venue and audience invoked by EPR, Bohr's article seemed to slip into a surmnary of well-known ideas and thought experiments, arguing by loose aizalogy nzther than precise mnat!zernutical dedrrction that

EPR's logic was flawed.

Bohr's reply appears, after the first few paragraphs, strangely vague and philosophical relative to EPR's highly mathematical argument. Even accounting for the differences that often characterize a genre like theoretical case-making

(wherein the interacting texts rarely look the same, since they are positioned on different sides of the exchange and, therefore, must use different strategies to persuade and communicate; Freadman "Anyone?" 48), Bohr's reply does not seem to answer EPR in entirely the right voice. While Bohr's article appears in the right setting to answer EPR conventionally-in the Plzysicnl Revieu7-and makes some conventional rhetorical moves to quash EPR's argument in front of an audience of fellow physicists-e-g., take issue with EPR's underlying assumptions and definitions-Bohr's reply ultimately slips into an array of increasingly unconventioml argumentative moves that neither fit the venue nor the audience invoked and addressed by EPR.

Modern Critiques of Bohr's Reply Overall, the odd qualities of Bohr's reply are likely to strike anyone who reads

Bohr's reply as an answer to EPR, as an answer published in the Physical Revieu~ and presumably designed to address an audience of expert, practicing physicists

(both experimental and theoretical). Contemporary scholars, in fact, are quick to point out that the bulk of Bohr's reply is odd when viewed from this perspective, and many marvel that Bohr's reply managed to convince anyone that EPR was flawed at all. As Jim Baggott explains, "Bohr's [reply to EPR] is essentially a summary of the complementarity idea and its application to quantum theory.

[....I I find Bohr's wording really rather vague and unconvincing" (Baggott 100-

101). Likewise, James Cushing seems to sigh with exasperation as he argues-echoing J. S. Bell (Bell 155)-that "Bohr is usually depicted as the victor of the 'Bohr-Einstein' debates, even though it is not always made clear just what issues were at stake there or in precisely what sense Bohr actually clarified the points being contended" (Cushing 25); in regards to Bohr's reply to the EPR paper, Cushing further argues that, "Bohr's slip from epistemology [...I to ontology [...I was [...I not only logically unjustified but also not demanded, either by experiment or by the formalism of quantum mechanics" (Cushing 25). And in the words of Andrew Whitaker, "Bohr's arguments often [seem] unduly abstract, and linguistic rather than physical" to those lookmg back at Bohr's reply 25 to 30 years after its publication (Whitaker 233).

Mara Beller's critique of Bohr's reply is somewhat less subtle:

it is not clear why he needed six weeks of 'utmost concentration and unrelenting efforts' to fashion such a response [...I. Where [...I do we find the 'painstaking scrutiny of every detail' [quoting Rosenfeld]? There must clearly be something more in the text than this simple [...I countermove. (Beller Quantum 149)

Beller argues that in places Bohr "even violates the EPR case" rather than refutes it (Beller Qtlnnturn 149) and that, in other places, his arguments and approaches

"seem to be strangely out of place" (Beller Quatzturn 150). While Beller acknowledges the "widespread myth that Bohr enjoyed a triumph over Einstein in their dialogue on EPR (Beller Quantum 151), she proclaims that "none of

Bohr's answers are satisfactory" (Beller Quantum 151). Along similar (although far less critical) lines, John Honner points out that, in the last phase of the Bohr-

Einstein dialogue, "[d]iscussing their arguments is almost like adjudicating a debate conducted in two different languages, neither of which is understood by the other speaker" (Honner 133).

Scholars looking back on the dialogue seem to agree that Bohr's reply seems out of place: all he does is summarize the EPR argument, summarize his own philosophy of complementarity (by then eight years old), summarize old thought experiments, and nowhere does he address the mathematical intricacies of EPR. Scholars writing since the 1960's all seem convinced that Bohrls reply was vague, out of place-shifting the arguments of EPR into linguistics (Whitaker 233), semantics (Fine 35), ontology (Cushing 25), or philosophy (Beller Quantum 152), or as Beller argues "changing the rules of the game" (Beller Qimrtum 152) and refusing to enter (fully or consistently) into the kind of argumentation expected given the venue, audience, and argumentative dynamic invoked by EPR. And yet the fact remains that, at the time of publication, Bohrls reply was convincing, to the point of being a no-brainer. As Abraham Pais points out, "[mlost physicists" at the time (Pais included) agreed with Bohrls judgement of EPR

(Pais Niels 431). And even Baggott admits that "[mlany in the physics community seemed to accept that Bohrls paper put the record straight on the

EPR experiment" (Baggott 101). Whitaker argues thatU[i]nthe years following

1935, the overwhelming majority of physicists would have supported him"

(Whitaker 233).

An Opportunity to Reexamine Bohr's Reply

What Ibelieve these scholars are missing, however, is the larger context in which

Bohrls reply was published-a context I reconstructed, in large part, in Chapter

Three. While they are quick to judge Bohr's reply as an article in the Physical

Review designed (presumably) to address fellow expert physicists, and, as a result, are quick to list the many unconventional features of Bohrls reply (which are there, when the text is judged from this perspective), they often forget to look beyond the pages of Physical Xevieul to consider what other traditions in communication and argumentation Bohr might have been drawing on when he wrote his strange reply (either consciously or unconsciously).34So far, few scholars have tried to place the unconventional features that make Bohr's reply so remarkable; few have tried to determine what tradition or ritual of exchange

Bohr was drawing from when he inserted such odd features into his reply; and few have tried to determine how readers at the time might have interpreted such features, given the climate of debate over quantum mechanics at the time and given the general climate of opinion among physicists at the time.

Ultimately, if we are to understand how Bohr's reply signified when it was published, we need to ask more questions of its unique form and function: Such as, where might the unconventional forms of Bohrls reply have been more conventional? Would they have been recognizable as such to his readers? And, if so, what sense of situation would they have invoked, and how might readers have responded to such an invocation, given the climate of opinion at the time?

34 Of all the scholars mentioned above, Mara Beller comes closest to conducting a contextual, historical (dialogical, almost rhetorical) analysis of the Bohr-Einstein dialogue, and even she agrees (in the end) that the only way to make sense of Bohr's reply is to accept that his mathematical (physics based) logic is less-than-conventional and that the strength of his argument lies in "a few ingenious rhetorical moves" (Beller Quantum 153). Rather than rely on conventional logical counter-moves to battle EPR, Beller concludes that Bohr must have relied on rhetorical moves that appealed to his readers in a way that extended beyond the pages and traditions of a journal like Physical Review. Even Beller, however, seems to hold this rhetorical appeal of Bohr's reply at arm's length, using the term rhetoric in a pejorative sense and implying that Bohr's rhetoric may have clinched him his victory over EPR but that it tainted his reply with less-than-purely-logical moves. Overall, I consider the current controversy over Bohr's reply an opportunity to answer some of these questions, and an opportunity to study the underlying rhetoric-specifically, the rhetoric of genre-he invoked for readers at the time his reply was published. The fact remains, after all, that Bohr's audience was convinced. And his audience can hardly be tossed aside as an uneducated, gullible mass; rather, they consisted of fellow physics experts; they would have been a tough bunch to manipulate with weak or questionable argumentative moves. Rather, it is more likely that Bohr's reply drew on something rooted in their common sense, in their sense of propriety, of tradition in scientific argument, their sense of what needed to be said and what genre(s) to draw on to say it-something that we can no longer see very easily, living and reading as we do so many years after his reply was published. While Bohr's reply may have been an unconventional reply to EPR-given the genre the EPR paper initiated, the venue in which in was published, and the readership it addressed-it was also quite persuasive. Perhaps it is time we try to assess the gerleric force of

Bohr's reply, taking care to reconstruct and consider the rhetorical context that likely constrained and provoked Bohr's rhetorical strategies-in large part

outlined in Chapter Three-as well as his audience's responses to his final published reply.

Bohr's Reply: Unconventional in Physical Review

When we look at Bohr's Reply in the physical setting in which it was

published-as a theoretical paper (responding to previously published literature in the field) in the Physical Review-then, yes, it looks a little unconventional.

Three textual features, in particular, stand out as a little odd:

the title of Bohr's reply, which repeats the title of EPR verbatim

and takes an overtly confrontational stance to EPR;

the extent to which Bohr' relies on surninary (summary of EPR,

of complementarity, and of past thought experiments) to refute

EPR;

the extent to which Bohr's reply relies on simple ttott-

rruzthematical arguments to make his case.

Not only are these three features atypical of the Physical Review (appearing seldom therein, regardless of context or purpose), but they also seem poorly equipped to address the journal's primary audience (experimental and theoretical physicists), advance the communicative purposes championed by other articles in the same journal (the heralding of new research results), or even answer EPR on its own terms (by addressing EPR's specific challenge to quantum mechanics). The three features listed above are not only tincommon in the venue chosen by Bohr for publication, but they seem poorly aligned with the rhetorical situation invoked by EPR and to which Bohr's reply was presumably an active response. Repeated Interrogative Title First of all, consider the title of Bohr's reply: "Can the Quantum-Mechanical

Description of Physical Reality be Considered Complete?" Not only were questions as titles notably rare in Physical Review (averaging fewer than one per year between 1927 and 1934, including articles and letters to the editor; see

Appendix F for a chart of all titles phrased as questions in Physical Revieu~ between 1927 and 1934), but titles repeated verbatim were unheard of-Bohr's reply was the only instance of this strategy in the years between 1927 and 1935, the years spanning the Bohr-Einstein dial~gue.~'While texts often used titles that were pe~mutatiorzsof the titles (articles) they responded to,%repeating another text's title verbatim was, as I mentioned, unheard of. For example, consider the texts surrounding the 1935 stage of the Bohr-Einstein dialogue: many articles and letters to the editor were published in direct response to EPR, under titles that, for the most part, were permutations of EPR's title, "Can the Quantum-

Mechanical Description of Physical Reality be Considered Complete?" (see

Appendix G for a chart of such permutations). Most articles and letters to the editor published in response to EPR pluy with its title: each plays on keywords in

35 While the EPR also had a title that was a question, it did not repeat another article's title verbatim, as did the title of Bohr's reply. The repetition, as will be seen, is the more unconventional aspect of Bohr's reply. 36Bazermanpoints out that such permutations in article-titles are used by physicists reading field-specific journals (like thc Physical Review) to scan the title of contents to locate articles of interest quickly: in particular, "certain words seem to trigger the attention and make the scanner question a particular title more actively" (Slmping 239-240). It is likely that these same physicists, when they submit articles of their own to journals for publication, use permutations of key phrases in their article-titles to catch the attention of readers in particular specialties; as Bazerman argues, the activities of "reading and writing are tied together [intimately] in [such] an intertextual system of knowledge creation" (Shaping 237). 94

EPR's title, including quantum, mecha~zics,mechanical, physical, and reolity. I However, none of these responding texts lnirkc EPR's title; that strategy-a strategy alien to the pages of Physical Revieu7-is reserved for Bohr. While Arthu~

Ruark's letter to the editor comes quite close to the title of EPR (he even frames it as a question), he does not slip into verbatim repetition like Bohr does.37

Not only was this kind of title (a question repeated verbatim) uncommon in the pages of Physical Review, it is also unsuited to the journal's primary readers

(expert physicists) and to its main communicative purposes (as embodied by the majority of articles published therein; namely, the heralding of new research results, new findings and interpretations of those findings). As a journal that typically publishes papers-to this day-announcing new results (both experimental and theoretical), titles of articles in Physical Review typically consist of long noun phrases-identifying things, phenomena, ideas that can be pointed at, reported, discovered, and argued into existence via each article-not issue questions (See Appendix H for a representative list of article titles). In fact, the

Physical Revieulfs longstanding emphasis on publishing new results (Bazerman

Shaping 238) makes titles consisting of questions appear unnecessary and grandiose relative to other articles: findings and theories are the typical stock

37 It is unlikely that Bohr saw Ruark's letter to the editor and simply followed suit, titling his reply with a question, just as Ruark does, and just as EPR does: Ruark's letter was received on July 3,1935-10 days before Bohr's article was received by Physical Review-and Ruark was working and writing from North Carolina, as oppose to Bohr's home in Copenhagen (see Ruark). Rather, it is more likely that Bohr's strange title is solely a response to EPR, not to both EPR and Ruark's letter. and trade of the journal, not issues, controversies, or scandals (Myers Writirrg

101,108). Bohr's title, which directs readers's attention more to the debate over quantum mechanics than to Bohr's particular knowledge claim, seems at odds with the conventions of the journal and the interests of its readership, who read primarily with "[tlhe continuation of their own research projects" (Bazerman

Shaping 238) in mind, looking for concrete results "they feel [are] necessary for

current or anticipated work" (238).

The narrow scope and readership of the journal also makes verbatim repetition

of any title an unnecessary and exaggerated signal that one article answers or

follows another: with such a select range of subjects and readers, simply

repeating a keyword would be enough to mark articles on a shared topic or

following a common thread of discussion (Bazerman Shaping 239-240). Given the

audience and communicative goals of Physical Review, the title of Bohr's reply

seems unnecessary and extravagant relative to other articles in the same journal

(and in the same dialogue with EPR; see Appendix G), if not quite so

inappropriate to be ruled out (and left unpublished) all together.

Summary-Heavy Style Second of all, consider Bohr's heavy use of summary, which actually

overshadows his theoretical case-making for much of his reply to EPR's

challenge. In fact, in the first paragraph, wherein Bohr states his opposition to

EPR, he announces that the rest of his reply (i.e. the bulk of his reply) will consist of an explanation "in somewhat greater detail a general viewpoint, conveniently termed 'complementarity,"' (Bohr "Can?" 91); that is, Bohr announces his reply will consist mainly of a summary of his ow7nphilosophy of complementarity, by then eight years old and well known in the physics community (see Appendix

B). Not surprisingly, many scholars, looking back on the Bohr-Einstein dialogue from the 1960's onward call attention to the strange concentration of summary in

Bohr's reply to EPR: Beller, for instance, describes Bohr's reply as a "short,

nonmathematical summary of the dense and complex EPR paper" (Beller

Quant~rm153); and Baggott points out that "Bohr's paper is essentially a summary of the complementarity idea and its application to quantum theory"

(Baggott 100).

By looking at Bohr's reply, we can see that it is mostly summary: he begins with

a summary of the criterion of physical reality, as defined in EPR (696; •÷I-2);he

moves on to a summary of complementarity (696-7; 93); Bohr then summarizes

two thought experiments (697-9; q[4-8), which bear a striking resemblance to a

those he and Einstein discussed in 1927 at the fifth Solvay conference3; he then

summarizes the EPR thought experiment (699; •÷9),and then returns to his

summary of complementarity (699-700; •÷lo-11)and to a summary of yet another

thought experiment, involving "shutters before the slits of [.. .] diaphragms [...I

controlled by mechanisms serving as clocks" (700), which is reminiscent of the

thought experiment he and Einstein discussed in 1930 at the sixth Solvay 97 conference39(700; 9I12); he then concludes with one last summary of the principles of complementarity (700-2; qI13-15). Most of Bohr's reply is summary

He adds little if anything new to the discussion of quantum mechanics let alone any new argument tailored to the logic of EPR: as Rosenfeld points out, "[tlhis refutation of Einstein's [sic] criticism [did] not add any new argument to the conception of complementarity" (Rosenfeld 129). Given that scientific journal articles tend to foreground "novel results" (Berkenkotter & Huckin 28) to catch , the attention of readers loolung (selectively) for new knowledge claims, Bohr's summary-heavy style seems not only odd, but ill-suited to its environs and its ostensible communicative purpose.

While summary, in and of itself, is not unheard of in scientific argument, summary to this extent is out of place in the Physical Review. When we compare

Bohr's reply to other replies to EPRa published in Physical Revie7u1 it becomes quite clear that Bohr's reply is summary-heavy in a way that stands out relative to other articles-other articles deployed in the same venue in response to the same article and addressed to the same audience. Margenau's article, for examplc published as a response to EPR three and half months after Bohr's reply, refutes

EPR by defining and removing a "single postulate commonly accepted"

------%Bohrjustifies this summary by asserting it is necessary to make the principles of complementarity "as clear as possible" (Bohr "Can?" 697). 39 For a brief discussion of the similarity between Bohr's mention of thought experiments in his reply to EPR and the thought experiments from the Solvay Conferences, see Whitaker 231. " Comparing Bohr's reply to EPR simply wouldn't be fair--or helpful. Bohr's article is, after all, a reply to EPR's challenge to quantum mechanics; it is one half of what is typically considered theory-refutation. And, as Anne Freadman points out, texts in a generic pair "will have different properties, like question and answer" (Freadman, "Anyone?" 48). (Margenau 241) from quantum mechanics and then moving through a series of axioms to prove that the conceptual difficulties highlighted by EPR can be eliminated. Nowhere does Margenau rely on summary to the extent that Bohr does; the most he indulges in summary is in the following introductory passage:

'The discussion of a recent paper by Einstein, Podolski [sic] and Rosen has brought to light an interesting divergence of opinions as to the meaning of reality" (Margenau 240). And then the summary ends.

Likewise, Furry's article, published as a response to EPR one month after

Margenaufs, summarizes EPR and Bohrls reply in two paragraphs, then summarizes von Neumannfs theory of measurement in the next four paragraphs,

"[slince the mathematical language of von Neumann's work is not that most current among physicists" (Furry "Note" 394). And then the summary ends.

That is, in Furry's article, summary functions as an introduction, a re- presentation of preceding articles, a springboard from which to present his own neu?argument. Once he has summarized the necessary past results, Furry proceeds (in the last three pages of his six and a half page article) to present his own, new argument, which compares actual results from quantum mechanics to those predicted from a system of assumptions, and which works out an actual physical example to test his comparison (Furry "Note" 395-9). Neither

Margenau's nor Furry's article, each a response to EPR published in the same journal as Bohr's reply, depend quite so heavily on summary as Bohr does-in fact, in many ways Bohrfs reply is nothing more than summary. Relative to these texts (and to any number of texts in Physical Review, a journal specializing in the publication of new results), Bohr's reply is noticeably odd.

Bohr's refutation of EPR, in fact, hinges on Bohr's detailed review of past thought

experiments (that bear a remarkable resemblance to those Einstein presented at

the Solvay conferences of 1927 and 1930, as described in Chapter Three; see also

Appendices B and C) and of how those experiments were defeated (using

arguments that bear a remarkable resemblance to those Bohr used to overcome

Einstein's challenges in 1927 and 1930, again as described in Chapter Three; see

also Appendices B and C) and then a simple conclusion that the same points hold

true for EPR. This rather simple argumentative move is clearest midway

through Bohr's reply when he writes, following a rather long-winded summary

of long-since defeated thought experiments, that,

the last remarks apply equally well to the special problem treated by Einstein, Podolsky and Rosen, which [. . .] does not actually involve any greater intricacies than the simple examples discussed above. (Bohr "Can?" 910)

Rather than actually address the special problem of EPR's thought experiment,

Bohr simply argues from historical precedenf that EPR's logic is flawed, drawing

on a history of past failed challenges to quantum mechanics-those challenges

Bohr defeated in 1927 and 1930-to quell Einstein's latest challenge. That is, in a

journal dedicated to publishing new results-be they experimental or

theoretical-Bohr refutes EPR with a summary of old, well-known arguments

made in years past, rather than present a new theoretical case that addresses the intricacies of EPR's specific challenge. Hardly an argumentative strategy typical or well-suited to a journal like Physical Review.

Non-Mathematical Argument Finally, consider the extent to which Bohr relies on non-mathemtical argument to refute EPR, as though addressing an audience either unaccustomed to or unwilling to engage in precise mathematical reasoning. In a journal where articles are typically brimming with mathematics, Bohr's reply saves all his math for the footnotes; in fact, no single part of Bohr's reply hinges on mathematical demonstration and what little mathematical reasoning he includes is relegated to the world of expendable notes tacked onto the article for those interested in such detail. Throughout his entire reply Bohr includes only two instances of mathematical reasoning:

he demonstrates how to describe EPR's thought experiment in

terms of the mathematical formalism of quantum mechanics

(Bohr "Can?" (n3 footnote41); and

he argues that one of his descriptions of a past thought

experiment corresponds to the mathematics of the preceding

footnote (y11; footnote).

41 These mathematical footnotes are not numbered in Bohr's reply; rather, they are both designated by asterisks (*). At one other moment he invokes a single (well-known) mathematical equation

(Heisenberg's uncertainty principle), but only to introduce the shorthand terms

Ap and Aq, rather than to reason anything with or from the equation itself (q4). And this in contrast with Margenau, who responds to EPR a short time later and who develops his argument with no fewer than two mathematical equations per page (see especially Margenau 241), and in contrast with Furry (again, a respondent to EPR) who invokes no fewer than three mathematical equations per page to counter EPR's mathematical logic (see especially Furry 394).

Considering that Bohr himself describes quantum mechanics as inherently

"based on a coherent mathematical formalism" (Bohr "Can?" 696), it seems odd that he should rely on so little mathematics to support and develop his argument; his reply, in fact, appears more philosophical than mathematical.

Given that Bohr's reply is published in a journal geared towards expert physicists (who are more than capable of deciphering the complex mathematics of quantum mechanics and, in fact, rely on mathematics in their daily work to avoid the ambiguities of natural language; see, for instance, Beller Quantum 259-

262), Bohr's dismissive use of mathematics to develop his refutation of EPR seems out of place, to say the least. As Alan Gross points out, scientific argument in physics draws from a deeply mathematical tradition, dating back to Newton's

"Euclidean arrangement of the Principin" (Gross 93) and inheriting from Newton a deep commitment to Euclidean deduction, wherein mathematics is used to model the world as an ideal system (93) before the model is tested via experiment. Without a coherent mathematical framework to anchor his comparison of EPR's mathematical model of the world against his own model of complementarity, Bohr's reply to EPR seems to be more of a philosophical response uttered in the vagaries of natural language, than a precise mathematical response that can later be tested and investigated by other physicists.

While Bohfs strange aversion to mathematical argumentation in his reply to EPR was by no means peculiar to him (as author), it was inordinately peculiar in an article published in the Physical Revim. As Mara Beller notes, Bohr seems to have had "no use for mathematics" (Quartturn 259) in general, preferring instead an "intuitive analogy-based approach to science" (259): in fact, in Bohr's own words, "[p]hysical understanding [. ..] should precede mathematical formulation" (qtd. in Beller Quantum 259). While Beller goes on to argue that this aversion for mathematics may have resulted from Bohr's limited mathematical abilities (259-62), the reasons for Bohr's non-mathematical style are moot in this case. The fact is that Bohr's non-mathematical style makes his reply to EPR stand out like a sore thumb in the Physical Rmieu?. While Bohr's text seems to have included just enough mathematics to be taken seriously (even hidden, as these mathematical moments are, in footnotes), Bohr's reliance on non-mathematical analogies to refute the intricacies of EPR's challenge seem ill-suited to the journal and its audience of expert physicists, and ill-suited to the parameters of debate initiated by EPR. While Bohr includes a few mathematical moves in footnotes, these moves read like after-thoughts and are a poor substitute for the level of mathematical argumentation expected in such a ~ituation.~'

Overall, Bohr's reply, when compared to other articles published in the Physical

Review (in fact, other replies to EPR), does seem odd. The title stands out, repeating EPR's title verbatim and highlighting the controversy more than new knowledge; its reliance on summary stands out, avoiding as it does the presentation of any new line of argument or counter-example to refute EPR; the non-mathematical nature of the article stands out, underpinning as it does Bohr's refutation to EPR's arguably mathematical attack on quantum mechanics-a field of study "based on [...I mathematical formalism" (Bohr "Can?" 696).

Bohr's Reply: More Conventional in Nature To those familiar with Bohr's publishing habits, however, the obvious was: why not publish such a reply to EPR in Nature?-a journal wherein Bohr Izabitzmlly published review articles on new developments in quantum theory and mechanics (see, for instance, Bohr "Atomic"; "Light"; "Maxwell"; "Postulate";

"Quantum"; "Structure"); and a journal wherein such review articles

42 In fact, Bohr's tendency to relegate complex mathematical formulations to footnotes is reminiscent of a strategy used by Schrodinger to address a broad, interdisciplinary audience in his book What is Life?: while careful not to privilege the views of more expert members of his audience by addressing their need for precise argumentation in the body of his text, Schrodinger uses footnotes to appease these expert readers and reassure them that he knows the intricacies of the subject matter his is discussing (see Ceccarelli 10-11). Likewise, Bohr's reliance on footnotes for expert mathematical argumentation seems better suited to addressing a mixed or interdisciplinary audience (and appeasing expert readers with the occasional footnote), than to addressing the expert-physicist readers of Physical Rez~iew. explanations of important field-specific developments-developed via non- mathematical reviews of well-known scientific concepts-were commonly published by prominent members of the scientific community for the journal's interdisciplinary readership. While the three features of Bohr's reply discussed above all stand out as unconventional in and ill-suited to the Physical Review (in particular, as somewhat odd and dysfunctional in a theoretical article intended for expert physicists), these same features mark Bohr's reply as better suited to

Nature and to a review article published therein: not only was Nature a journal that addressed a more varied, interdisciplinary science readers (and hence readers who would have appreciated Bohr's non-mathematical style), but the articles that often graced its pages were addressed to scientists trying to keep in touch with recent development from neighbouring fields (Lodge 982) (and hence readers who would have appreciated Bohr's discussion of EPR in familiar terms: i.e., in terms of Bohrfs well-known concept of complementarity and in terms of a series of simple, well-known thought-experiments, all of which Bohr summarized in detail, establishing a stable framework of interpretation for an interdisciplinary audience of scientists).

This is not to say, however, that Bohr's reply is a review article from Nature simply transplanted (intact) into the Physical Review. Rather, Bohr's reply is clearly positioned as a theoretical article intended for readers of the Physical

Revieul; it just appears to make its case by drawing on strategies characteristic of the review articles typically published in Nature. More specifically, Bohr's reply is framed as theoretical article that addresses a problem set forth in recent

(expert) scientific literature (i.e., the EPR paradox), but Bohr's reply addresses that problem by commemorating it, by explaining it in terms of a non- mathematical review of similar problems advanced over years and positioning it within long tradition of noteworthy and well-known advances in the field. To better understand the strategy of this generic move, however, we need to consider the genre Bohr's article seems to draw from in his refutation of EPR's rather subtle argument.

Review Articles in Nature The genre that Bohr's reply seems to draw on, a genre I am calling a review article, was a common type of publication in Nnture, as well as in Science (the

American equivalent of the U.K.-based Nature). These articles often appeared in such journals as feature articles or special supplements, written by prominent members of a field, resembling each other in a few characteristic ways, and-most importantly-all aligned with a common communicative purpose: to explain (and implicitly celebrate) some noteworthy recent development in a field

(one that is little known or little understood in neighbouring fields) by describing it in terms of a series of well-known and relatively stable past hallmark advances

(all of which are surveyed in some detail). For example, in Condon's 1928 review article in Science, "Recent Developments in Quantum Mechanics," he explains

(and celebrates) recent developments by Davisson and Germer (relative unknowns) in the corpuscular aspect of radiation by comparing their developments to well-known theories and advances by de Broglie and Bohr; similarly, Bohr's 1937 review article in Scietzce, 'Transmutations of Atomic

Nuclei," illustrates a recent theory of Bohr's by walking through a series of well- known and simple experiments with billiard balls and bullets; and Einstein's

1940 article in Science, "Considerations Concerning the Fundaments of

Theoretical Physics," describes Einstein's recent push for developing a unified theory of physics by walking through a comprehensive history of all past

(eminent) physicists who attempted to formulate similar uniform theoretical foundations of physics.

In each article, some recent development or concept is explained (and implicitly defended and celebrated) by positioning it relative to similar, past, and well- known accomplishments or feats. In something resembling scientific epideictic

such review articles explain a relatively unknown (but noteworthy) concept by way of extended and amplified non-mathematical summaries of similar past, developments in the field-a process that celebrates the recent development by association, insofar as it is compared to past celebrated developments already well-established and agreed upon by the community; and a process that also stabilizes the recent development by simplifying its more contentious aspects for a non-specialist audience and positioning it within a

'3 Many such review articles were, in fact, revised versions of keynote speeches, awards- acceptance speeches, or memorial lectures, refined and reworked to publish and distribute in science journals with broad, interdisciplinary appeal (like Naturr in the UK, or Science in the US). These review articles, however, should not be equated with such speeches-insofar as they were always revised for publication, never submitted for reproduction. tradition relatively stable and well-established (i.e., no longer debated) scientific advances. Such articles were quite common in both Nature and Science, with at least two (on any scientific topic, ranging from biology to optics) appearing in each issue, and articles on the topic of quantum physics (one very small branch of physics) appearing on average every two years during the 1930's and 1940's

(and more often in the 1920rs,the heyday of quantum mechanics).

Keeping this tradition of scientific publication (and implicit argumentation) in mind, some of Bohr's -~itzcorzvev~tiovzaImoves in the Physical Review suddenly makc more sense-as moves characteristic of and better suited to a review article in a journal like Nature.44 Furthermore, this tradition of scientific publication also I allows us to see some of the strategy behind Bohr's appropriation of these generic forms: they would have cast EPR in the role of, on the one hand, a subject worthy of explanation and celebration; and, on the other hand, a subject past the point of heated debate within the wider scientific community and hence a timely subject for review. In short, Bohr's appropriated generic forms would have cast EPR less as an adversary to be defeated and more as an adversary long- ago fallen and worthy of tribute.

While such review articles also appeared in Scimce, the American equivalent of Nature, I will be referring to Nature throughout the rest of this chapter for a number of reasons: Bohr was working and publishing in Europe, making Nature the more fitting journal for him; Bohr was also a renowned and frequent writer for Nature, making the journal, again, more fitting for him. By doing this, however, I am in no way pretending that review articles were unique to Nature; rather, I am simply limiting my discussion to the more relevant of two possible venues for the publication of such an article. Repeated Interrogative Title: Reconsidered First of all, let us reconsider the title of Bohr's reply, a verbatim repetition of the title of EPR: "Can the Quantum-Mechanical Description of Physical Reality be

Considered Complete?" This title stands out like a sore thumb in Physicul Reviez

(a journal wherein questions as titles are rare and wherein titles repeated verbatim are unheard of, around the time Bohr's reply was published). This titlc though, would have been quite at home-and in many ways expected-in a journal like Nature. While not always characteristic of a review article, such a title was characteristic of publication in a journal like Nature, in general (and of some review articles, in particular; see, for instance, Fowler "Spinning"). After all, one of the most remarkable features about journals like Nature is the way in I which they foster dialogue, a quick exchange of views between writers. And one of the most remarkable ways these dialogues are marked in Nature is via verbutim

~epetitionof titles between texts engaged in dialogue. This kind of marking system is analogous to threads in an on-line discussion or news group. Take, for instance, the long standing dialogue on the issue of spinning electrons that emerged in

Nature in 1926 and continued well into 1927 (see Appendix I for a complete list of texts that participated in this sequence of texts). While many titles of the letters in this series played off each other in the form of permutations (also common in

Physicd Review), many also repeat the title of previous letters verbatim in a way that makes tracing the dialogue from issue to issue-knowing immediately which letters (and articles) are participating at any given moment-that much easier. Appendix I, in particular, shows a chain of thirteen texts-twelve letters to the editor and one review article-on a single subject: spinning electrons in theoretical physics. Three letters share the title "Spinning Electrons and the

Structure of Spectra"; four letters share the title "Spinning Electrons"; and a review article, also titled "Spinning Electrons" and authored by eminent physicist R. H. Fowler, caps the discussion, prompted by "[tlhe past fourteen or fifteen months" of discussion (Fowler "Spinning" 90), and reviews developments in theoretical physics to date to stabilize and contextualize the issues for readers of Nature. From this example of an ongoing dialogue in Nature, it becomes clear just where Bohis reply (or at least its title) would have been considered more conventional: as one of many informal texts in an ongoing discussion, or more likely, as a review article-under the same title-authored by a preeminent scientist called in to recap a series of rapid developments in a field and stabilize the subject for non-specialist readers.

As the final step in one of these chains, one of these extended dialogues, the title of Bohr's reply would have been right at home. It would have signaled immediately to readers that it was a direct reply to an earlier text (or texts) in the same journal. It would have stood out to a reader slumming brief articles, loolung for voices in a particular conversation: looking for, as it were, a thread to follow in a maze of other voices. In a journal like Physical Rmiew, with such a small audience and such a narrow subject, repeated key words and permutations of familiar titles would have been enough for skimming readers, but repeating a title verbatim three or four times would be unnecessary. In a smaller, more specialized journal like Physical Review, such explicit repetition would be overkill in an author's attempt to refer back to an earlier text-keywords and citations work well enough for that. Research shows, in fact, that in small, professional journals llke Physical Review articles are far less likely engage in the "sort of back and forth exchange in print" typical of more popular journals, like Natur~,

(Myers Writirzg 101), and more likely to deal with troublesome research claims via citation: that is, if they are troublesome, ignore them; if they are worthy, cite them. In a journal like Physical Rmim, "the lack of any citation is a much more effective way of dismissing a claim" (Myers Writing 101 ) than an explicit counter- article-especially one with the same title thrown back, one might say, in the author's face. But addressing an audience accustomed to Nature, such titular repetition and open back and forth exchange was quite familiar and functional-expected even.

Summary-Heavy Style Reconsidered Secondly, reconsider the issue of the summary-heavy style of Bohr's reply. All

Bohr seems to do, in fact, is summarize: summarize EPR, summarize complementarity, summarize old thought experiments. Nowhere does he present any new claims or new findings in experimental or theoretical physics, as do his colleagues and fellow respondents to EPR. In Nature, however, this feature would have been quite at home. In Nature, an interdisciplirznry science journal, reviews and summaries were quite normal, necessary, in fact, to address such a varied scientific audience. While many letters to the editor of Nature quickly reported new findings, new calculations, new methodologies, new challenges in any given field-summary free-these summary-light letters were balanced by the wide array of review articles that summarized, described, or reviewed the state of a particular line of inquiry in a given field. While these summary-heavy review articles would often discuss recent findings, such findings would invariably be sirnzmarized or revieuled relative to (or along with) past advances, not explicitly announced or defended. Often, the recent findings in a field would be couched in a long historical narrative informing readers of how such findings evolved from and compared to well-known hallmarks in the field.

Bohr, in fact, published often in Nature in this way-summarizing developments in the very field (quantum theory) he was often credited with co-founding

(following his publication of his quantum theory of the atom in 1913; Bohr

"Constitution"). While Bohr had, prior to 1935, never once published in Physical

Review, he had published several lengthy review articles-many of them special

Supplements to Nature-on quantum theory and quantum mechanics (see, for instance, Bohr "Structure"; "Atomic"; "Quantum Postulate"; "Maxwell";

"Light"). In these articles, Bohr would invariably walk readers through a long history of developments before getting to a description of some cutting edge developments at the very end of the article in question. In "Structure," for example, Bohr narrates the development of atomic theory: experiments and results that confirmed and expanded this theory, the origin of quantum theory, the development of a quantum theory of the atom, and on through events and developments chronologically (or in what appears to be chronological order) up to the most recent findings and challenges relating to x-ray spectra (Bohr

"Structure"). Likewise, Bohr summarizes a wide array of developments in quantum theory in "Atomic," "Quantum Postulate," and "Light" such that, in these review articles, summary makes up the bulk of each article.45

Bohr's habit of relying on summary in his Nature articles, however, was not simply a personal quirk of his; rather, it was typical of the venue in which he was publishing and, more specifically, typical of the genre in which he was participating: the review article. In a review article by Robert Millikan, for example, Millikan states explicitly that his "task is to attempt to trace the history of the development of scientific evidence bearing on the question of the origin and destiny of the physical elements" (Millikan 167). The very function of his article is to summarize recent development in a particular subject: his task is to write a history. Such is the function of review articles: to inform a broad audience of recent developments to date in a particular field, as well as the relative status and value of those developments. To do so, review articles couch recent developments in a summary of more established and familiar concepts &

45 A similar phenomenon is noticed by Myers in his study of scientists tailored articles to specific journals. In those journals with wider appeal, introductions and review of previous literature tend to take up more space in articles than in journal with narrower, more field-specific audiences (Myers Texts" 201-2). advances: either in a history of past landmark developments, or in comparison to one older, more established and familiar development. The new is not merely presented, it is couched in terms of the old, the familiar, in terms of necessary background information.

Granted, even small field-specific journals indulge in a little bit of summary here and there to couch new claims in terms of older, more familiar ideas (scholars are expected to position themselves and their claims relative to the work and ideas of others; see Bazerman Shaping 157-159); however, in journals like Nature, with broad interdisciplinary scientific audiences, articles rely on a disproportionate amount of summary to provide readers with the background information necessary to understand and follow more recent developments (and to understand the relative significance of such recent developments). In R. H.

Fowler's review article on "Matrix and Wave Mechanics," for instance

(published in Nature in 1927), in order to "give some sort of description of the ideas of the new mechanics" (Fowler "Matrix" 239), Fowler first summarizes

Bohr's quantum postulates (by then 14 years old) and the history of matrices in algebra (Fowler "Matrix" 239), then describes matrix mechanics in terms of old quantum theory (Fowler "Matrix" 240), and then describes wave mechanics in terms of optics (Fowler "Matrix" 240). Any new developments are not merely described via a series of mathematical axioms; rather they are described in terms of older, more familiar concepts (indicated in italics, above), and these older, more familiar concepts are, necessarily, summarized for the better part of the article.

This tendency to present recent developments couched in a summary of previous developments-even summarizing developments from as far back as the 17th century (see, for instance, Piaggio)-arguably emerged to accommodate the varying levels of expertise and background knowledge enjoyed by a broad, interdisciplinary audience, like that of Nature, a journal filled with articles, as

Oliver Lodge describes in a 1929 article,

addressed not merely to experts in the same line of work as their writer [...I nor [...I specially addressed to the school-educated general public [...I. Articles in these pages are [...I primarily intended to reach workers in other branches of science, thereby putting them into touch with modes of thought differing from but akin to their own. (Lodge 982)

While this strategy would not have suited the pages of a journal like Physical

Review, it was extremely well suited to (and typical of) the pages of Nature. By extension, Bohr's tendency to sum up the work of all those who came before him-to couch, for instance, his rebuttal to EPR in summaries of EPR, of complementarity, of well known thought experiments-was atypical of and poorly suited to a theoretical article in Physical Revino, but reminiscent of review strategies common in an interdisciplinary science journal like Nature. Non-Mathematical Argument Reconsidered

Thirdly, reconsider the non-mathematical nature of Bohr's reply. While unconventional in the pages Plnjsical Review, this approach would have been quite at home in the pages of Natwe-not necessarily in a letter to the editor reporting new calculations or findings, but certainly in a review article addressed to the wider scientific community. For an interdisciplinary scientific audience, a mathematical treatment of a field-specific subject would, by and large, have been inaccessible, and articles (like review articles) addressed to a broad audience consistently dispense with detailed mathematical reasoning. Even Einstein, renowned for his meticulous mathematical arguments, avoids detailed mathematical treatments in his review articles, preferring, instead, to discuss advances in terms of figures like Newton, Faraday, Maxwell, and Hertz

("Considerations"). In fact, on those few occasions when writers of review articles simply cannot do without mathematics, they consistently apologize for or justify their decision to include any detailed mathematical demonstration.

Consider, for example, Eddington's justification for relying on mathematics in short review article on Field-Theory:

For the present, at any rate, a non-mathematical explanation is out of the question, and in any case would miss the main purpose of the theory, which is to weld a number of laws into a mathematical expression of formal simplicity. (Eddington "Einstein" 280)

Rather than simply rely on the math, Eddington first justifies lus use of it. In contrast, in a journal like Physical Review, mathematics was a necessary means of arguing a case precisely and of refuting or challenging (or even exploring) such a case with an equivalent level of precision. Experts in a field like physics

(steeped, as it is, in a tradition of mathematical deduction, a tradition only exacerbated by the increasingly theoretical nature of the field) needed mathematics to articulate the intricacies of a given theoretical or experimental argument, as well as to make such intricacies accessible to other physicists working in different languages, in slightly different fields, or on different projects. Mathematics was the common language, to be respected as well as expected by fellow experts (Beller Qua~ltum4; Franklin 331-334). In Nature, however, a review article riddled with detailed mathematical reasoning would have been considered difficult if not exclusive-tantamount to field-specific jargon sprinkled liberally in a text for experts and non-experts alike.

Bohr's Reply: Elements of A Nature Article in Physical Review Overall, the three most unconventional features of Bohr's reply in Physical

Review-those features that scholars looking back on the dialogue consistently pick out as unsatisfactory and unconvincing-are all conventional features of a review article in Natz~re~~:they appear designed to address an inter-disciplinary scientific audience (one consisting of advanced scientists, including both non-

46 While admittedly the title of Bohr's reply is more characteristic in a chain of letters to the editor, it is important to point out that such sequences were capped by a review article of the same title written by some prestigious, visible member of the community (See Appendix I; esp. the article written by R. H. Fowler-"Spinning Electronsn-in response to the flurry of letters to the editor on the subject). expert and expert physicists), and they provide such an audience with a non- mathematical summary of important and well-known development~in the field championed by the author, a summary that helps the audience understand a more recent, and less familiar development in the same field. That is, Bohr's reply in Physical Review relies on textual features more at home in Nature, better suited to a review article in Nature than to a theoretical case-making article in

Physical Review-making Bohr's reply a rather innovative mix of generic features that managed to have, as we will see, a rather pronounced effect on his readers at the time.

A Passable Theoretical Article Bohr's reply, of course, is not exclr4sively a review article suited to Nature and not suited at all to Physical Review. Bohr's reply takes on a few of the textual features required to make sense as a theoretical case-making article to the EPR paper published in a journal like Physical Review: he explicitly argues for a particular theoretical interpretation of quantum mechanics, rather than just describe the status of quantum mechanics to date; he positions his argument as prompted by problems within recent scientific literature (i.e., EPR), rather than by an editorial request to survey recent developments in the field; he limits his discussion to concepts in quantum physics, rather than veer off and discuss science in as would have been appropriate for the expert-physicist readership of the

Physical Review; and he refers to several theoretical concepts specific to advanced qluuztlnm mechatzics without stopping to provide definitions or explanations of those concepts (again, as would have been appropriate for readers of the Physical

Review).* Bohr's reply, at its most basic, passes as an acceptable theoretical text, if not an outstanding text, in the Physical Revieiru.

Bohr's article, after all, passed the inspection of the managing editor at the

Physical Review, and even Bohr could not have submitted a nonsense article to

Physical Review and had it published; a cartoon, for instance, while a typical pastime at his Copenhagen In~titute~~'would not have been accepted. While

Bohr's standing in the community would have garnered him a little leeway-that is, the managing editor would likely have overlooked some of Bohr's more unconventional argumentative moves in light of Bohr's elite standing in the physics community and pressures at the Physical Revie7u not to delay publications of noteworthy papers on quantum mechanicsm-Bohr's standing would not have enabled him to break entirely from established publication conventions. As

Berkenkotter & Huckin balance, physicists-regardless of their status in the field-need to limit "whatever rhetorical moves [they] make to get the attention of their readership [. . .] to small ones, done discreetly within the conventional

-

'7 See Myers for a discussion of discipline-centered versus human-centered scientific writing (Writing 63-100). Granted, Bohr does describe complementarity at length (by then, a well-known philosophy), but he does not consistently slow down to define other physics-specific terms or theories. Instead, Bohr simply refers his less-than-expert readers to his introductory collection of essays on quantum and atomic physics. ' See Beller "Jocular Commemorations" and von Weizsacker. Minimal refereeing was a privilege often accorded to "noteworthy papers dealing with various applications of quantum mechanics" (Sopka 144), in accordance with policy changes made at the Physical Review in 1926 while John Tate was the managing editor (Sopka 143). formats currently in use" (39)' if they want to balance both their "personal credibility" and the "facticity" and scientific merit of their ideas (39); in the world of journal-article publication in physics, "only powerful journal editors are in a position to change existing genre conventions in any major way" (39).

As strategy, though, Bohr's passable theoretical article would have bolstered (or reinforced) his credibility (his ethos) as a physicist able to compete with Einstein

(and his colleagues) oil Einsteiu's own turf-within the pages of the Princeton- based journal, Physicul Reuiezu. In particular, Bohr's ability to craft a response to

EPR in the same generic form as EPR, publish it in the same venue as EPR, and address it to the same (elite) audience as EPR, would have reaffirmed and secured Bohr's status as EPR's (and Einstein's) equal and worthy adversary. In short, Bohr's ability to disseminate his claims through the same conventions of

"journal article publication" (Berkenkotter & Huckin 39) as those invoked (and heeded) by his rival text would have secured the "certification [. . .] of [Bohr's] claims" (39) as viable and appropriate opposition to EPR.

Furthermore, Bohr's ability to answer EPR on its own terms-in the same journal, in (roughly) the same genre, for the same audience-would have fostered the sense of timeliness (kairos) to Bohr's reply and reinforced its status as an appropriate and worthy response to EPR's challenge. Specifically, replying to

EPR in the same journal-in the very next volume of the same journal, in fact-guaranteed that readers would see Bohr's reply as thefirst, most prompt, urrd rnost ready reply to the crisis invoked hj EPR. Bohr's choice to abide by the conventions invoked by EPR and answer them in kind-visibly brandishing the position of his article as a direct answer to EPR-helped secure the text's status as a reply that struck at "the opportune moment, [in] the right measure, [in a] fitting or appropriate [way]" (Carter 98). EPR had challenged quantum mechanics, throwing down the gauntlet specifically in the pages of the Physical Review, and

Bohr had answered the challenge in kind, addressing the crisis EPR had constructed directly and unapologetically.

In his innovative reply to EPR, then, Bohr was careful to engage in just enough expected generic forms to be perceived as appropriately addressing the rhetorical situation established by the publication of EPR. Bohr, however, also mixed in enough unexpected generic forms to take control of the determination of the situation at hand, as well.

Allusions to a Review Article That is, Bohr's passable generic text in the Physical Review also manages to smuggle imposter generic forms into an unlikely journal (generic forms better suited to a review article in Nature). That is, while his reply is framed by the generic features of a theoretical (case-making) article addressed to an audience of working physicists-forms aligned with the venue and audience already in play following EPR-Bohr's reply slips into the generic features of a review article addressed to an audience of interdisciplinary scientists. Bohr, however, does not simply fuse generic forms to respond to an indeterminate rhetorical situation (a strategy described by Beale and deemed a way to stabilize poorly defined rhetorical situations, discussed in Chapter Two of the present study; Beale 51); rather, he opens with generic forms appropriate to a verzrle nrzd audience already in ploy and then slowly launches other forms into that well established rhetorical situatiorz, forms that seem a little out of place, if not completely inappropriate or dysfunctional. While Bohr chooses to play EPR on its own ground (in the pages of Physical Review using some textual features deemed appropriate to that venue and audience), Bohr slips into forms-into a style and logic-characteristic of a review article in Natrlre, ultimately addressing his readers like a group of interdisciplinary scientists seeking arz authoritative review of the latest developments in a field, and treating EPR like the focal text of nlarzy to be surveyed in a comprehensive review of key developments in the quantum mechanics.

Knowing that these uncharacteristic forms were, in fact, characteristic of a genre in a another lund of scientific journal, however, does not actually tell us how readers of Physical Review (at the time) would likely have read Bohr's reply. The question remains: would readers have recognized the inserted generic features of Bohr's reply (either consciously or unconsciously)? Would they have recognized his explanation of a recent development (EPR) by summarizing it and positioning it relative to a review of similar, well-known, and celebrated developments in the field (the well-known Solvay thought experiments5' and

Bohr's own philosophy of complementarity; see Appendixes A-C)?

The answer to both of these questions is yes. While not all of Bohr's readers would have been able to articulate where the odd features of Bohr's reply would have been more at home (after all, tacitly recognizing a genre is not the same as being able to articulate its textual regularities, the recurring situation it addresses, or its underlying communicative purpose52),many readers of Physical

Review at the time would have been familiar with the format, tone, and approach of a journal like Nuture, including its genres, and would have tacitly recognized the odd generic forms riddling Bohr's reply to EPR. After all, Nature was at the time (and still is) one of the most well-respected and widely distributed interdisciplinary science journals in the West-rivaled only by its American cousin, Science (Myers Writing 71), and practicing scientists across the disciplines tend to be either reading it to keep abreast of "important [. ..] claims" (Myers

Writing 75), or corresponding with editors to get their own claims published (se, for instance, Myers Writing 63-100). Whet her readers could articulate their recognition of generic forms drawn from the review articles typical of Natrwe or not, they would have had, at the very least, a tacit understanding of the unconventionality of those forms in the Physical Review and their resemblance to

51 The Solvay conference thought experiments reviewed by Bohr were well-known by this time; see, for instance, Pettruccioli 195. 52 Recognizing or participating in a genre is not the same as describing it or articulating your understanding of how it works (e.g.,Freedman 195-202; Lingard & Haber 161-168). forms more commonly found in articles found in science journals with wider appeal.

Many readers of the Physical Review would likely have noticed that Bohr's reply was strangely summary-heavy and non-mathematical; some may even have recognized his odd title, repeated verbatim from EPR's. And these same readers would have recognized that Bohr was historicizing, reviewing past experiments and philosophies more than addressing the EPR problem with detailed mathematical reasoning. As strategy, this recognition among readers would have cast EPR-however briefly-in the role of a noteworthy development in physics being addressed (i.e., solved as a standing problem in the field) by being compared to past experiments and positioned as a brief moment in a long tradition of failed challenges to quantum mechanics, rather than dismantled logically, mathematically, or experimentally on its own merit or on its own terms. That is, EPR would have been cast by such recognizable generic forms as a worthy problem in physics, but one that was ready to be explained to the larger scientific community and stabilized for their benefit, rather than seriously refuted by (and for) fellow expert physicists.

Perhaps most telling is Rosenfeld's reaction to Bohr's reply:

The refutation of Einstein's criticism does not add any new element to the conception of complementarity, but is of great importance in laying bare a very deep-lying opposition between Bohis general philosophical attitude and the still widespread habits of thought belonging to a glorious but irrevocably bygone stage in the evolution of science. (qtd. in Wheeler and Zureck 143).

Notice that nowhere does Rosenfeld laud Bohr's reply for dispuouing Einstein's

(EPR's) argument against quantum mechanics. That is, nowhere does he laud

Bohr for accomplishing the very goal that would have been typical and expected

of a successful theoretical article. Rather, Rosenfeld lauds Bohfs reply for foregrounding the difference between complementarity and old habits of

thought in physics, including the old habits of thought exemplified in EPR itself.

Rosenfeld, in a sense, celebrates Bohr's text as a timely review of important

theories and arguments in the field, a review that positions EPR along with a series of long-defeated thought experiments and highlights complementarity as

the philosophy responsible for saving quantum mechanics from such theoretical assaults. In short, Rosenfeld celebrates Bohr's reply to EPR as a text behaving differently from a theoretical case in defense of quantum mechanics, as a text

behaving differently from what would have been typical of Physical Review;

Rosenfeld, instead, celebrates Bohr's reply as a review article that successfully

positions and lauds EPR as part of a longstanding and glorious-albeit bygone-tradition of thought in science.

Bohr's reply ultimately casts EPR in a new light-as an article that caps the old

habits of a bygone age, an article worthy of review and respect, but nonetheless

ready to be stabilized for the science community at large and laid to rest as a legitimate controversy or subject of serious, scientific debate. Bohr's reply, in short, signals to readers that it is perhaps well past the time for serious, mathematical and theoretical case-making for or against quantum mechanics, and more appropriately time to celebrate and review bygone challenges to quantum mechanics and accept the new mechanics as a viable field (and complementarity as its reigning interpretive framework). Such a signal would thereby encourage readers to reconsider the rhetorical situation at hand-judging it a time for historicizing and reviewing bygone developments, instead of a time for haggling over the theoretical foundations of physics.

Overall, Bohr's strange reply was taken quite seriously by other physicists and

considered an acceptable and timely response to EPR. Gathering from

Rosenfeld's telling reaction, as well as from the forms of Bohr's reply, it is safe to conclude that Bohis reply seems to have-for some readers-not only made

sense, but signaled to readers via its uncharacteristic configuration of generic forms that Bohr was slliftirzg the discussion somewhat: from detailed

mathematical refutation to non-mathematical review that historicized and monumentalized EPR's argument as one of many in a long chain of failed thought experiments, all defeated by Bohr's own philosophy of complemerztarify. This

signal is reflected in Rosenfeld's description of Bohr's success and reflected in the form of Bohis reply, itself. A Reflection of the General Climate of Opinion

This signal embedded in Bohr's reply was likely taken seriously by some readers-not dismissed as a mistake or confusing anomaly in Bohr's argument-because it matched the general climate of opinion among many physicists at the time. That is, as the rhetorical context reconstructed in Chapter

Three suggests, many physicists already agreed with Bohr, agreed that the debate belonged in a history and not in a serious, ongoing debate. As a result, they were more inclined to accept the odd generic forms of Bohr's reply because those forms treated EPR as worthy of review, worthy of commemoration as part of physics history-that is, they reflected the climate of opinion among physicists at the time.

While odd generic forms-transplanted into non-standard settings-risk being reduced to nonsense or parody, Bohr managed to avoid these risks by drawing on odd generic forms that many of his readers would have accepted as an accurate invocation of the real, underlying situation at hand: EPR was a worthy but out-dated attack on quantum mechanics; one that deserved review as part of the Bohr-Einstein dialogue, but not serious mathematical debate as Einstein wished.

As Abraham Pais points out, by the time Bohr's reply appeared, the average active working physicist believed the matter (i.e. the debate over the viability of quantum mechanics) was really none of their concern, that it no longer had any bearing on their work, and that it was as issue that "could safely be left to Bohr and Einstein" (George Uhlenbeck, qtd. in Pais Niels 430). As Whitaker points out, this kind of indifference among working physicists stemmed from the simple fact that they were "too busy using quantum theory [. . .] to worry about the actual meaning of the theory" (Whitaker 223). Consensus among working physicists at the time was that the issues raised by EPR were the proper concern of philosophers and historians, not of those working on the front lines (Pais Niels

431). It was a long-dead debate, and warranted review rather than rigorous refutation.

As Arthur Ruark so bluntly puts it in a letter to the editor of Physical Revie717 just a few months after EPR was published, in a sentence that captures the sentiment among physicists just prior to Bohr's reply:

the question cannot be decided by reasoning based on accepted physical principles. The arguments which can be advanced on either side seem to be far from conclusive, and the issue involved appears to be a matter of personal choice or of definition. (Ruark 467, italics mine)

That is, the issues raised by EPR were not issues pertaining to physics, they were issues pertaining, if anything, to personal choice and possibly metaphysics. The proper place for such issues, mind you, would have been the pages of a journal with much broader appeal and a much more contemplative tone and purpose than Physical Reviezu. And, thus, a large part of Bohr's audience seemed to agree already, prior to and at the time of Bohr's reply, that the discussion initiated by EPR was better left to the philosophers, was better suited to those members of the community who could afford to engage in metaphysical debate, who were not bogged down by the difficulties and demands of empirical research-and hence better suited to a journal and genre wherein philosophical and conceptual hallmarks were typically reviewed and celebrated, than to a journal dedicated to

reporting and examining new experimental and theoretical results.

In this way, consensus would likely have been in Bohr's favour: to those physicists who actually read Bohr's reply in Physical Review, Bohr's unconventional forms would likely have seemed unconventional as a direct

response to EPR in Physical Reuiew, but would also likely have seemed like a more appropriate tone for the whole debate. This audience would likely have deemed

Bohr's inserted generic forms the right and appropriate-the timely

(kairotic)-move to make, given the larger context of the debate over quantum mechanics, long since initiated and pursued and settled by Bohr and Einstein at the Solvay conferences. Bohr's reply would have been deemed a called for shift

of the whole debate into a discursive space more open to philosophical and

conceptual review as well as celebration and commemoration.

Overall, the unconventional features of Bohr's reply were a configuration of

features typical and characteristic of a review article in a journal like Nature or

Science. Such generic forms would not only have likely been recognized by

Physical Review readers, given the overlap in readership between Physical Review and Nature/ Science and given the prestige and frequency of such review articles, but would, as Devitt argues (about genres, in general), have allowed readers to tacitly recognize "through the genre, its situation" ("Generalizing" 578), allowing readers to tacitly recognize that Bohr was reviewing, historicizing, couching EPR in a string of well-known and celebrated landmark concepts and philosophies to make better sense of it (at the very same time that his article claimed he was refding EPR). Furthermore, comments made by biographers and colleagues of

Bohr and Einstein (see especially Pais Niels 430-431; Wheeler & Zureck 143;

Mermin 143-144) suggest that some readers accepted the review function of

Bohr's reply and, in fact, that many physicists would have been inclined to praise the timeliness of such a review, insofar as they believed (well before Bohr's reply) that the debate over quantum mechanics was long over and no longer of any real consequence to their everyday work as physicists.

A Formal Victory Bohr, in fact, won the debate with Einstein in large part with the jurisdictional claim silently advanced by the form of his strange reply. His article-when considered as a straight theoretical refutation of EPR-is, after all, somewhat weak: his mathematics is insufficient to handle the dense and subtle argument presented in EPR, and his summary-heavy style seems to impede his case- making. As David Mermin argues, in "A Bolt from the Blue: The E-P-R

Paradox," [wlhen I read the E-P-R paper [. ..] it gave me shock. [. . .] That most physicists were not, apparently, shocked at the time-that Bohr was generally and immediately viewed as having once again set things straight-surprised and perplexed me. (143)

Bohr's casual extension of certain basic views, Mermin argues, seems "radical and bold (143), hardly an adequate logical-mathematical-refutation of EPR.

However, as a review of EPR, Bohr's reply was quite resounding: it voiced the opinions of most physicists at the time, who believed the EPR problem (and the larger debate over quantum mechanics it represented) was long overdue for a retreat into history as a challenge to quantum mechanics of conceptual significance but of no real threat to the field. Many physicists were ready for the debate to retreat into the realm of metaphysics, rather than interrupt that of physics-not that the debate should be silenced all together, just that it should no longer hinder the work of practicing physicists. As Wolfgang Pauli, for example, proclaimed, physicists should not rack their brains over EPR because,

one should no more rack one's brains about the problem of whether something one cannot know anything about exists all the same than about the ancient question of how many angels are able to sit on the point of a needle. (qtd. in Mermin 144)

The views expressed in EPR were fascinating, to be sure, of conceptual significance, yes, but they were metaphysical and undeserving of the lund of rigorous mathematical attention typically showered on results of immediate experimental or theoretical consequence-or at least this was the prevailing opinion at the time. Theform of Bohr's reply simply confirmed and echoed this opinion. This is not to say that Bohr's reply shut down or prevented expert physicist from submitting detailed mathematical refutations to EPR: far from it. Some physicists, indeed, felt EPR was a threat, and they jumped at the chance to tackle the subtle mathematical dance of its argument (see, for instance, Furry,

Margenau, Kemble). Unlike the generic strategy studied by Freadman in

"Uptake," Bohr's use of odd generic forms in his reply to EPR did not siletzce othm possible, appropriate uptakes to EPR in a strategy of power (by violating or parodying the generic conventions governing publication in the Physical Review, conventions that would have provoked and authorized appropriate uptakes).

However, Bohr's reply-the form of Bohr's reply-made it possible to respond to

EPR in a range of other ways, as well, encouraging readers to accept EPR as fodder for review and articulating (loud and clear) the views of many that such a shift from debate to review and philosophical discussion was timely.

While Bohr chose to meet EPR in the same venue and abide by some of the conventions EPR had invoked, he also chose to answer EPR with generic forms that addressed and privileged those readers familiar with the forms of a journal like Nature and ready to accept a shift in jurisdiction and situation. Bohr's reply-in all its unconventionality-met EPR on its own turf (in the same physical setting), but answered EPR with a number of textual forms that spoke to readers ready and willing to interpret Bohr's reply from another point of view, from the point of view of embodied by a review article typical of a journal like

Nature. This balance between conforming to the conventions of the Physical Review and creatively (and meaningfully) drawing on a genre from Nature seems, in fact, to be the reason Bohr's reply was deemed definitive once it appeared by many-if not most-working physicists at the time. His reply, in the eyes of those who did not already count themselves among Einstein's supporters or among those who believed more serious debate was needed on the subject, was deemed enough. It was, after all, written by Bohr, the foremost spokesperson for quantum physics in the wider scientific community and the ideal spokesperson for a review of thought-experiment challenges to the field. Bohr was beyond censure on the subject. Even Einstein would not have been able to compete with Bohr's ethos in this generic framework: after all, Einstein was deemed in the wider scientific community an expert on relativity andfield theoiy, but not on quantum physics.53

Bohr, in contrast, was deemed the reigning expert on atomic and quantum physics, having formulated the parent theory of quantum theory (his quantum theory of the atom) and the dominant interpretation of quantum mechanics

(complementarity). For many physicists, in fact, it was enough that Bohr simply respond to EPR; Bohr's publication of a quasi-review article on the matter was considered definitive-a feature article that, just in the nick of time, settled the

53 See, for instance, Einstein's contributions to Nature and Science (Einstein "Time"; "Theory"), which revolved around relativity, gravitation, and field theory. Einstein's prestige in the larger scientific community, through his own words and the words of others, was most often linked to his formulation of relativity, his work with electromagnetism, and to his work with field theory, not to his contributions to quantum physics. See, for instance, Jeans: "Einstein was the first since Newton to make any definite physical predictions arising out of a theory of gravitation" (Jeans 310). In a book review written by L. M. Milne-Thompson, Einstein is even written-out of his pivotal role as co-founder of the original quantum theory: credit is given by Milne-Thompson to only Planck and Bohr (Milne-Thompson 527). matter and positioned EPR in the relative scheme of things: as just another doomed thought experiment ready to be defeated by Bohr's philosophy of complementarity.

Furthermore, for those who read Bohr's reply, even in part, as a review article typical of a journal like Nature, part of the text's significance would have hinged on the very fact that it appeared to be published (in part) in the wrong journal.

To those readers who recognized-even tacitly-that key features of Bohr's reply were characteristic of a brand of generic discourse in Nature and uncharacteristic of a journal like Physical Reuiew, Bohr's reply would have signified, in large part, in terms of its very out-of-placeness. To those readers, positioned at the intersection between the two journals and two genres, Bohr's text would likely have signified that jurisdiction was, itself, at issue, that Bohr and Einstein were not simply arguing over the completeness of quantum mechanics, but rather that

(in light of Bohr's reply) they were also arguing over which audience and venue owrzed the debate, over which genre was the more appropriate voice for the discussion. To many readers, Bohr's reply would likely have whined: 'While I am here in Physical Revim, I am behaving, in many ways, like an article that belongs somewhere else, maybe in a journal with wider circulation, with more interdisciplinary appeal. I am answering EPR on its own turf, but I am answering in a style that marks me as more at home elsewhere. Would you not prefer, in fact, discussing the matter on my terms? Does the issue not seem better addressed in my style?' Even the most closed-minded readers would likely have recognized the generic moves and strategies of Bohr's reply: he is reviewing well-known philosophy, not engaging in mathematical refutation; he is reviewing well-known thought experiments, not presenting new theoretical or mathematical arguments to make his case; he is dismissing EPR on precedent and by analogy to past thought experiments, rather than refuting it via detailed, logical argument. Bohr's reply was designed to be viewed by scientists, in general, not only expert physicists: it was addressed to anyone concerned with the fundamental relationship between observer and observed, with the nature of physical reality, to anyone wishing to see how EPR places and ranks relative to past achievements in physics. In fact,

Bohr's reply constituted a veiled argument that perhaps the whole debate was really the property of the whole community, not just of a few physicists, that it was a philosophical debate, not a mathematical one, and that it was worthy of review, not refutation. This thinly veiled jurisdictional argument, advanced by the unconventional forms riddling Bohr's reply more than by the logic of his argument, played a large role in clinching the whole debate in his favour.

Bohr's creative use of generic forms signaled Bohr's attempt to nudge the debate to a different jurisdiction, his attempt to change the rules of the genre midway through his response to EPR. In the end, his unconventional generic forms were subtle, yet effective: blending in enough to avoid ridicule, and standing out enough to communicate Bohr's subtle (and strictly formal) claim that the debate might be more appropriately played out somewhere else, in another venue, for a different kind of audience (in terms of function, if not education), and according to a different set of conventions and expectations than those invoked by EPR in

Physical Review. Whereas Einstein, Podolsky, and Rosen seemed to want to keep the debate between physicists for the purpose of stimulating physical inquiry,

Bohr seemed to want to shift the debate into a setting and rhetorical situation more amenable to scientists interested in surveying recent advancements in quantum mechanics and understanding the value of EPR relative to past hallmark advances or controversies in the field.

Bohr's Letter in Nature: Generic Reinforcements

Granted, while this kind of generic strategy seems to have proved successful for

Bohr (whether he undertook it consciously or not), it also appears to have depended a great deal on the climate of opinion at the time: namely, readers seem to have been open to and ready for the generic shift signaled by Bohr's reply and, as a result, seem to have accepted it rather than become disoriented or confused. As Devitt argues, such a generic shift risks confusing readers:

a writer who shifts genre in the middle of a text causes confusion for the reader, not because the reader cannot label the genre but because the reader cannot be sure of the writer's purpose. ("Generalizing" 578)

In the case of Bohr's reply to EPR, however, he seems to have reinforced the purpose embodied by his mixed reply by way of a rather strategic, forerunning letter to the editor of Nature, which effectively announced his intention of publishing a longer reply in Physical Review and which also invited readers of Nature to follow the discussion in Physical Revieu?as soon as his full length reply

Bohr's announcement in Nature functions something like a bridge, linking one journal to another and inviting readers across. While readers did not have to cross-and actually pick up and read Bohr's promised reply-the bridge was built regardless, and likely suggested to readers a point of intersection between two otherwise distinct venues for publication and scientific exchange. As a bridge between two settings, blurring the line that might normally be presumed to divide them, Bohr's letter announcing his forthcoming reply to EPR in Physical

Review embodied an invitation to Nature readers to follow, or at the very least, feel welcome, feel at home in the exchange that would take place between Bohr and EPR in Physical Review in upcoming months. It would likely have beckoned those readers of Nature interested in the subject and keen enough to pursue the debate in another journal and would likely have reassured them that the upcoming exchange would take place in another venue, but a discursive space nonetheless open to them: the letter essentially said, 'you should see this; you

54 Letters to the editor were often used by authors to announce articles that were to be published-as a full-fledged articlein an upcoming issue of some other journal. Such letters never announced an upcoming article in the sume journal; rather, they were used consistently to announce upcoming articles in ofher journals, in many ways functioning like an arrow pointing across the confines of one journal into the pages of another, an invitation of sorts to pursue a more detailed report of new findings-r new arguments, or new theories-in another, perhaps less widely circulated, journal. Such letters to the editor were the rhetorical equivalent of a come hither look-a subtle invitation to move from one journal into another in pursuit of some promising idea. See, for example, Slater "Radiation." should know about it; the conversation really should be witnessed by you, not just the readers of Physical Rmiew; this is your debate, too.'

Bohr's letter to the editor of Nature announcing his opposition to EPR and his forthcoming reply effectively reinforces the generic strategy Bohr plays out in his full-length reply in Physical Review: it signals an attempt to address the readership of both journals (each home to a different range of rhetorical situations and genres) and to subject EPR to the judgment and appraisal of readers at home with the format, tone, and genres of Nature.55 Bohr's announcement in Nature links his full reply in Physical Review to an audience capable of reading Bohr's reply as reminiscent of a review article, and paves the way for his risky generic strategy in the Physical Review to work, in spite of the odds.

While an overlap in readership existed between the two journals long before the publication of Bohr's full-length reply, and while the generic strategy of Bohr's reply seemed to match and confirm the widespread belief that EPR was an out- dated and purely metaphysical challenge to quantum mechanics, Bohr's announcement in Nature may have stabilized the intersection between the two journals and reinforced the impression that Bohr's odd reply in Physical Revim

55 Whether or not Bohr's strategy to invite Nature readers over to the Physical Rez~ieu~to follow the debate actually worked has not, as yet, been documented or elaborated in existing literature. However, regardless of whether the strategy worked or not on readers at the time, the letter still reflects Bohr's desire to address both readers of Natzlre and of Physical Review and engage all of them in the conversation. was intentional, purposeful. With his announcement in Nature and his unconventional reply in Physical Review, Bohr deftly negotiated between two journals, doing his best to answer EPR on its own terms arzd signal a timely shift of the exchange into a different rhetorical situation and genre, one that Bohr

(consciously or unconsciously) considered more appropriate for the debate-and perhaps considered more conducive to his victory.

Overall, despite undertaking a generic move that risked confusing readers with its unique mix of generic features, Bohr not only managed to convince many readers to rethink the impact and importance of the EPR paper-by riddling his reply to EPR with generic features that prompted readers to think of EPR as the worthy subject of review rather than refutation-but he also managed to stabilize the power and effect of his text by using a kind of pro-active redundancy to counteract any misinterpretations of his true intentions-namely, an earlier text that announced Bohr's intentions toward EPR and toward his readers and that reinforced the impression that Bohr's later (odd) reply was not an anomaly, but rather a purposeful (if perhaps playful) reply to Einstein. In these respects, bot only is Bohr's innovative text impressive, but its rhetorical workings offer us a better understanding of how such innovations make sense, how they persuade, and how they remain stable (when they are clearly predicated upon bending generic rules rather than following them). CHAPTER FIVE: CONCLUSION

This last phase of the Bohr-Einstein debates is particularly difficult to evaluate because it does not really touch on the basic d~erencesof wtlook between the two men. Discussing their arguments is alnlost like adjudicating a debate conducted in tu~odiferent languages, neither ofwhich is utzderstood by the other speaker. (lohn Honner The Description of Nature 133)

Overall, Bohr's reply to EPR in 1935 shows us just how effective using generic forms creatively-in the moment, in individual texts-can be. While the inserted generic forms riddling Bohr's reply did not prevent the text from working (or passing as typical enough) in Physical Review, they signaled to some readers that another genre and situation were possible, and enabled those readers to interpret

EPR as a fitting subject for review (rather than just a fitting subject for straightforward theoretical case-making). Furthermore, the unconventional generic forms in Bohr's reply signaled that another situation was not only possible but perhaps preferable to quell EPR1s challenge to quantum mechanics.

Bohr may, in fact, have won the debate with EPR (and Einstein) by way of the odd generic moves he made throughout his reply in the Physical Review. While

Bohr's article (when considered as a theoretical refutation of EPR) was somewhat weak, the odd generic forms riddling the article (when considered as enacting a review of EPR) were quite resounding, insofar as they voiced the opinions of most physicists at the time, who wished the EPR problem (and the larger debate over quantum mechanics) would retreat into the relative stability of scientific history and be dismissed as a non-threat to the activities of practicing physicists in the field.

Overall, the form of Bohr's reply seems to have defeated the challenge posed by

EPR, working (i.e., signifying) on at least three levels:

1. looking enough like a standard reply to EPR in Physical Review

to participate in the genre of theoretical case-making and pass

as an appropriate text in that ritualized pattern of debate;

2. slipping into a host of odd generic forms more characteristic of a

review article in Nature, thereby treating EPR like a recent

development that needed to be explained to a broad scientific

audience by positioning it in a review of similar but well-known

advances in the field; and

3. signaling by way of this slip into unconventional generic forms

that perhaps EPR was unworthy, in part, because it had chosen

a less appropriate genre, a less appropriate journal to re-open

such an old debate.

Bohr's Reply: A Risky Move.. .Anchored While Bohr's reply-framed, as it was, with a few conventional generic forms and riddled with far more unconventional generic forms-was a risky move to make in such a visible scientific debate, it nonetheless seems to have worked, securing Bohr the advantage in his exchange with EPR in what was thereafter recognized as the final phase of Bohr's long-standing dialogue with Einstein over the consistency and completeness of quantum mechanics. Bohr's reply, riddled with out-of-place generic forms characteristic of a review article typical of another journal and another determination of the situation at hand, risked being ruled out by readers as either "nonsense" (Freadman "Anyone?" 48) or simply confusing (Devitt "Generalizing" 578), but it seems instead to have signaled to readers that a shift in genre and situation were possible and perhaps called for.

The success of such a risky move seems to have hinged on three factors:

1. a readership who recognized the uncharacteristic forms riddling

Bohr's reply and able to recognize, through those forms, their

situation (however tacitly);

2. a readership ready for and willing to accept the genre and

situation invoked by Bohr's reply, believing, in fact, that such a

genre and situation might be preferable to the one initiated by

the EPR paper, itself; and

3. a letter to the editor that signaled Bohr's intention to address

readers of Nature and invite them to read his full reply in

Physical Review and subject EPR to the judgment of readers at

home with the format, tone, and genres of Nature. The Importance of Audience Recognition Ultimately, Bohr's reply worked as well as it did because of how well it deployed generic forms that would have been recognized by readers of the Physical Review, rather than dismissed as nonsense or merely overlooked. While the format, tone, and genres of Physical Review and Nature were noticeably different at the time

(and still are)-addressing audiences with different roles and functions, different priorities and goals, different attitudes and motivations-they were also rreighbouring journals with overlapping audiences: one journal centering around scholarly publication among expert physicists, and the other around scholarly publication among scientists, includilzg physicists. Furthermore, Nattive was at the time (and still is) one of the most prestigious and widely distributed interdisciplinary science journals in the world-rivaled only by its American cousin, Science (Myers Writing 71). Readers of the Physical Review would have been familiar with Nature's format, tone, and genres, and would have been in a position to recognize (however tacitly) that the odd generic forms of Bohr's reply were reminiscent of a review article in Nature (a genre both common and highly visible in Nature, often appearing as a special supplement or feature article). For those physicists schooled in the rituals and genres of both journals, who from time to time participated in the activities of both journals, the inserted generic forms of Bohr's reply would have been immediately recognizable as generic, but as generic forms that were out-of-place, transposed unconventionally into the

Physical Review. For this group of physicists-located in the intersection between the two journals-Bohr's reply would have made a well-defined kind of sense, communicated by way of the fact that many of the reply's forms were out of place and more typical of a review article in Nature. The intersection between the two journals created a pool of readers able to decipher the meaning and implications of Bohr's generic forms. Rather than just dismiss Bohr's reply as odd or nonsensical, this pool of readers would have been able to recognize the unconventional forms of Bohr's reply, recognized the genre and situation they normally belonged in, and would have been in a position to then evaluate the meaning and significance of EPR in terms of this other point of view. As odd as

Bohr's reply may have looked in Physical Aevieu~,the intersection between the two journals meant that a good number of readers were able to recognize Bohr's inserted generic forms and were able to make sense of EPR in terms of such a move.

The Importance of Audience Agreement Another reason why Bohr's reply succeeded (despite being a risky generic strategy) was that it advanced an argument (via its very form) already accepted by much of the physics community. After all, many physicists at the time believed that EPR was wrong as soon as it was published and felt instinctively, without even necessarily reading it (see Beller Quantum 153), that the matter had been resolved long ago (at the Solvay conferences; see Appendixes B and C).

Many physicists, however, did not have the means to legitimately express such feelings publicly and chose to rely, instead, on a flurry of personal letters to

Einstein (Whitaker 228)-letters that did nothing to publicize or legitimize their views, but at least made an attempt to articulate them. Other physicists relied on letters to the editor of Nature to voice their objections to EPR renewing a long- ago-settled debate (Kemble; Ruark)-letters that were public but not equally matched to the full-length, peer-reviewed EPR paper.

Bohr's reply, however, found a way to articulate such feelings in a public and well-respected journal and genre. While he had to bend a few rules to do so, while he had to borrow a few forms from a neighbouring journal to get his point across and legitimated, he still managed to articulate-publicly-what many physicists already felt. The connections implied by the inserted generic forms riddling Bohr's reply simply articulated and reinforced feelings already shared by many in the community. His borrowing of generic forms would have been deemed appropriate and convincing because it found a way to communicate-formally-what so many physicists already felt but had been unable to articulate (publicly, legitimately) since the appearance of EPR.

The Importance of (Perceived) Authorial Intention Bohr's reply also worked as well as it did is because Bohr actually announced his intention to play more than one journal at a time (and, by extension, more than one genre and situation) in a letter to the editor of Nature published only three months before his full reply appeared in the Physical Review. This letters not only announced Bohr's intention to reply to EPR in the Physical Review, but also made it clear that Bohr wanted Nature readers to pursue the dialogue into the pages of the Physical Review and that he believed Nature to be a good place to solicit qualified and interested readers to judge Bohr's full reply to EPR, bringing their familiarity with the genre systems and discourse conventions of Nature with them. Bohr's letter functioned much like a bridge, linking one journal to another and inviting Nature readers across. While readers did not have to cross, the bridge was built nonetheless, and-perhaps more importantly-Bohr's letter signaled his intention to craft a full reply to EPR that addressed both regular readers of the Physical Review (where his full reply would later be published) and readers of Nature (readers who otherwise might have been excluded from the discussion), a signal that helped stabilize Bohr's intentions in crafting such an odd reply that fused generic forms characteristic of both venues and audiences.

Rather than confuse readers by riddling his reply in Physical Review with generic forms drawn from Nature, Bohr seems to have tried to signal his intention to negotiate two rhetorical situations, two genres at once.

This overt signal of Bohr's intention was only reinforced by Bohr's well- established reputation for wanting to stabilize quantum mechanics, in general,

The existence of Bohr's letter to the editor of Nature-in fact of a whole host of such letters, see Appendix J-suggests that perhaps the scientific community has developed a genre whose purpose is to mediate and stabilize attempts to negotiate multiple audiences and multiple journals, as Bohr does. and popularize complementarity, in particular (Whitaker 176)-intentions that

Bohr commonly articulated and enacted via regular publication of review articles on these subjects in Nature (see, for instance, Bohr "Atomic"; "Light"; "Maxwell";

"Postulate"; "Quantum"; "Structure"). For those readers able to recognize the odd generic forms riddling Bohr's reply, those forms would have seemed entirely appropriate for Bohr-that is, aligned with his desire to stabilize and popularize quantum mechanics along with its concomitant metaphysics-as well as characteristic of Bohr's most recent and fervent publications in the years prior to the EPR challenge. Far from confusing his readers with unconventional generic forms, Bohr drew on generic forms that would have only reaffirmed for his readers his well-known preference for genres geared towards explaining the metaphysical intricacies of quantum mechanics to the larger scientific community (like review articles) over genres geared toward debate over the status and viability of the very field he helped found (like theoretical case- making).

Overall, Bohr takes care to stabilize the range of interpretations available to readers of his reply, and hence stabilize his generic strategy in general: on the one hand, he aligns the unconventional generic forms of his reply with the background knowledge and beliefs of his audience, ensuring that they are in a position to both recognize the generic forms he borrows and agree with his formal argument against EPR; and, on the other hand, he signals his intention to publish in one journal but address the audience of another journal (as well), ensuring that his negotiation of the differences in genre and situation between the two journals is perceived by readers as purposeful, rather than as nonsense.

Bohr's Reply: A Balance of Conformity and Creativity Bohr's strategy, however, also worked as well as it did because his reply was designed in such a way that it advanced a rather risky and unconventional formal argument (one that signified via its resonance with a neighbouring genre, a genre that corresponded to the recurring rhetorical situations of a neighbouring journal), but also in such a way that it was not ruled out as an invalid answer to

EPR in the Physical Review. That is, Bohr's reply successfully balanced the kind of generic conformity and creativity that new genre theorists tend to associate with genre mastery-with users who have developed their genre knowledge to such an extent that they are able to both yield to the constraints (and respond to the demands ) of a given situation and take control of that situation and bend its conventions to the user's will.

Bohr's reply, in short, reveals the extent to which genres are not only "tool[s] for compliance and conventionality[, but also] the basis for creativity and critique"

(Cranny-Francis 90; see also Clark 101); furthermore, it reminds us, as genre researchers and theorists, that if we hope to understand both the "sociality of discourse" and the "discursive freedom and agency" (Coe et al. 1-2) available to individuals in socially standard discursive fields, we need to understand both the sfability and flexibility of genres: that is, how individuals draw on genres to address "those aspects of situations that tend to recur" (Berkenkotter & Huckin

24), and how individuals "marshal their generic resources to generate, creatively, the particular utterance that will work here and now" (Medway 149), renovating, hybridizing, and assembling canonical strategies in different ways to "nudge the culture along" (264).

Quite simply, Bohr strikes a safe balance between conforming to community discourse conventions and manipulating them in the moment to achieve his own goals. On the one hand, Bohr's reply passes as a legitimate text engaging in theoretical case-making in response to the claims advanced by EPR and in response to the larger debate among physicists about the viability of quantum mechanics. While the features that allow Bohr's text to pass in the Physical

Review do tend to cluster around the opening paragraphs of Bohr's reply, they are present and help frame his reply (however unconventional at its core) as a reply to EPR in the tradition of theory-driven research articles that emerged as quantum theory emerged in the first thirty years of the twentieth century

(Bazerman Shaping 179). On the other hand, Bohr's reply is riddled with unconventional argumentative moves, moves not typically found in research articles published in the Physical Review and at odds with some of the discursive conventions associated with publishing a research article in this particular journal (Bazerman Shaping 153-253)' and yet moves that resonated with the audience's sense of appropriateness and timeliness in the context of the larger debate over quantum mechanics. The balance that Bohr strikes between conformity and creativity in his reply to

EPR surfaces in the following ways:

1. Bohr's text at once responds to the given circumstances in a

timely (kairotic) manner, reaffirming his credibility (his ethos) in

the community by conforming to the discourse conventions

invoked by EPR; and

2. Bohr's text at once constructs an alternative sense of timeliness

(kairos) by way of the unconventional generic forms in his reply,

drawing on his credibility (ethos) to ensure his text is taken

seriously (and taken the right way) by readers.

Conforming to the Given GenreISituation In the first case, and in a manner very much aligned with the classical approach to rhetorical genres, Bohr uses his genre knowledge to appropriately and functionally respond to a pre-existing rhetorical situation: that is, to the rhetorical situation set up by EPR's appearance in the Physical Review. Given the publication conventions at the time, the appearance of EPR in the Physical Review cast EPR as a theoretical challerzge to quantum mechanics addressed to expert quantum physicists-a challenge that the community needed to address as soon as possible via a limited range of appropriate (generic) uptakes, ranging from outright silence to full-length articles published in the network of peer-reviewed physics journals circulating at the time. And Bohr successfully responded to the situation at hand-which was a typical recurring situation in the physics community at the time-with a genre of text that was one of the few established, expected, and functional ways of responding to such a situation.

Ultimately, EPR set the stage by appearing as a theoretical article addressed to quantum physicists and published in the Physical Review, and Bohr responded to the rhetorical situation established by EPR with a text that drew on the same generic conventions as those used by EPR and that conformed to the expectations and needs of the audience addressed by EPR. Bohr gives the audience a text that answers EPR in the same genre, in the same venue, and with an argument that addresses the urgent theoretical problem proposed by EPR.

That is, Bohr's replies with a text that accommodates the standard perception of the situation at hand, thereby avoiding the kind of surprise and uncooperativeness that a text of an unexpected form can provoke (Bazerman

"Systems" 82).

More specifically, though, Bohis reply addresses the "rhetorical opportunity associated with [the] particular [. . .] situational context" at hand (Yates &

Orlikowski 109), and establishes Bohr's reply as timely (kairotic). He thereby establishes its status as an appropriate and worthy response to EPR's challenge.

In fact, by replying to EPR in the very next volume of the same journal, Bohr guarantees that readers see his reply as thefirst, most prompt, and rrzost ready reply to the crisis invoked by EPR. While other physicists in the community felt the urge-the socialized need-to respond to EPR and the circumstances it had established, Bohr was the first to reply with a full article in the same journal: that is, with a reply that was not only timely but also formally and substantively oil par with EPR, insofar as Bohr mimicked the discursive conventions and norms donned by EPR itself. In short, Bohr's choice to abide by the conventions invoked by EPR and answer them in kind secured the text's status as a reply that struck at "the opportune moment, [in] the right measure, [and in a] fitting or appropriate [way]" (Carter 98).

The more conventional aspects of Bohr's reply also establish (or rather confirm)

Bohr ethos as a qualified physicist able to compete with EPR on its own turf and in accordance with the discourse conventions already in play. In particular,

Bohr's ability to craft a response to EPR in the same generic form as EPR, publish it in the same venue as EPR, and address it to the same audience as EPR, secures

Bohr's status as EPR's (and Einstein's) equal and worthy adversary. That is,

Bohr's ability to disseminate his claims through the same conventions of "journal article publication" (Berkenkotter & Huckin 39) as those invoked by his rival text certifies Bohr's claims as both viable and appropriate responses to EPR. By limiting "whatever rhetorical moves [he] make[s] to get the attention of [his] readership [. . .] to small ones, done discreetly within the conventional formats currently in use" (Berkenkotter & Huckin 39), Bo hr successfully balances his personal credibility with the more unconventional merit of his ideas. Creatively Invoking a New GenreISituation In counter-balance with these more conventional aspects of his reply-all of which conform to pre-existing circumstances and conventions and secure both

Bohr as a reliable respondent to EPR and his reply as a timely and appropriate response to EPR-Bohr also draws on his generic resources to creatively invoke an alternative determination of the rhetorical situation at hand in a way that redirects the flow of discourse to his advantage. In a manner very much aligned with contemporary approaches to genre, Bohr uses his genre knowledge to reconfigure (rather than merely respond to) the situation at hand, invoking a new situation via generic forms borrowed from a neighbouring sphere of activity.

That is, Bohr draws on generic strategies from a review article in Nature to invoke that genre (rather unexpectedly) in the Physical Reviezu, and through that genre invoke its determination of the rhetorical situation at hand: a situation in which EPR is not so much a challenge of quantum mechanics, as a subject worthy of review in terms of other well-known (failed) challenges to quantum mechanics. Bohr's reply, in effect, draws on a range of generic resources to adapt-in the moment-to the particular situation he faces and use those generic resources to make unexpected meaning from surrounding texts rather than simply conform to his audience's immediate generic expectations.

More specifically, Bohr marshals his generic resources to reconfigure the rhetorical situation established by the publication of the EPR paper in a way that invokes an alternative sense of the timeliness (kairos)of Bohr's reply. Rather than simply respond to the kaivos established by EPR and its demand for an immediate refutation (or confirmation) of its claims, Bohr crafts a reply that also reconfigures that knivos slightly so that readers are reminded of the lavgev debate over quantum mechanics, the larger need to stabilize quantum mechanics, and the relative positions of both EPR and Bohr's reply in this lavger set of circumstances. Bohr does this not by undermining or denying the knivos set up by EPR, but rather by weaving into his reply the generic forms characteristic of a review article in Natuve-generic forms structured and designed to represent a much larger slice of history than other scientific genres, and hence generic forms well-equipped to re-frame EPR and Bohr's reply in terms of a larger context and history of debate in the physics community.

Within this larger context and history of debate, EPR is positioned as just one in a long line of challenges to quantum mechanics resolved years earlier, and Bohr's reply is positioned as the long awaited conclusion to the debate-a review published by the reigning spokesman for quantum mechanics intended to quell and contextualize any residual disputes in the field following several long years of disagreement. This timeliness of Bohr's reply is nowhere asserted outside the pages of his reply, but rather is constructed within the reply itself by way of the unconventional forms riddling the text. Given the added fact that so many in the community believed it was time to put any lingering challenges to quantum mechanics to rest, the kniros constructed within Bohr's reply (i.e., invoked by his use of generic forms drawn from an unexpected, but neighbouring, sphere of activity) was especially effective given that it resonated with the beliefs of most physicists at the time, and addressed the need they had for some sanctioned articulation of these beliefs.

In many ways, this finding confirms what many contemporary genre theorists have identified as one of the most powerful dimensions of genre: its power to invoke a situation and, by extension, an exigence-a problem or opportunity that needs to be addressed. This exigence is tantamount to a kairotic moment: an opportunity or opening in the discourse to date that seems to demand or invite particular discursive actions. While, in the classical sense, genres were deemed active responses to these typified kairotic moments, in the contemporary sense, genres also have the power to invoke their own, corresponding situation and-along with it-their own sense of kairos or timeliness. In this way, genres have the power to warrant themselves, as long as the audience can identify and agrees with a particular genre's determination of the situation at hand and the need or opportunity for discourse.

The situation at hand-and the sequence of texts it demands by way of response-can be, as Bohr's reply testifies, constructed and invoked, and not just responded to, giving genre users the power to redirect the flow to discourse in ways that benefit them, rather than simply be directed by the genres valued and used within their particular discourse community. While Bohr was careful to balance his creative invocation of a new situation and exigence with a few generic moves that addressed rival texts on their own terms, he nonetheless wielded a powerful generic strategy to take control of the situation (as well as respond to the situation established by his predecessors).

To succeed in this balance of rhetorical timing-between responding to the crisis established by EPR and invoking the need to address EPR as a topic worthy of review-Bohr relied a great deal on his established reputation (his ethos) in the community. In particular, Bohr relied on his ethos in the physics community to get his reply,

published in the Physical Reviac~,

confirmed by readers as a valued text in the Physical Review,

recognized as text with one foot in the tradition of publishing

review articles in Nature, and

valued over EPR as a definitive case for the viability of quantum

mechanics.

Overall, without his already established reputation in the physics community, it is doubtful that Bohr could have published such an unconventional reply to EPR and had it achieve such celebrated status as to garner even Einstein's support as the orthodox position that "seems to [...I come nearest to doing justice to the

[EPR] problem" (Einstein "Reply" 649). In the first two cases, Bohr's ethos in the community likely had something to do with his unconventional reply's acceptance by editors of the Physical Review and its confirmation by other physicists as a legitimate response to EPR in that journal. Had anyone else with a lesser or different standing in the community, tried to submit the article Bohr did odds are that it might not have been published and, if published, it would not have garnered the support Bohr's reply did in the pages of the Physical Review. While Bohr's ethos would not have allowed him to get away with submitting any old text to the Physical Review, it likely allowed him a little more leeway than that granted to less-celebrated authors. Given his ethos-his standing in the physics community-readers were likely more inclined to accept and value his response, even riddled with unconventional forms.

Several other physicists, in fact, treated Bohr's reply as worthy response to

EPR-even in the tradition of theory-refutation in Physical Rmieu+by citing

Bohr's reply and referring to it as both the precursor to and the motivator for their own texts (Furry "Note" and "Remarks"; Margenau). In effect, these other respondents confirmed Bohr's reply as a functional, valid, and authorized contribution to the genre of theory-refutation by treating Bohr's reply as such.

These other respondents actually made Bohr's reply by taking his reply seriously and responding to it as though it were just a regular, conventional text (and ignoring its more unconventional features). This behaviour on the part of other physicists likely had a lot do with Bohr's ethos in the community. That is, they likely cited Bohr's reply and took it seriously because Bohr was held in such high esteem in the community. Furthermore, they likely cited Bohr's reply because a physicist could easily bolster his own credibilify by simply aligning his argument with that of someone as well- respected as Bohr-effecting a kind of scientific slip-streaming, taking advantage of someone's else ethos to bolster your own (standing on the shoulders of giants, as Newton would have said). Had Bohr not been the author of such an unconventional reply, it is unlikely that it would have been published in Physical

Revim, let alone taken seriously. So Bohr's ethos, in a sense, empowered him to get away with such an unconventional text; the very fact that he was Bohr allowed him a little leeway, a little room for generic play and creativity.

In the last two cases, Bohr's ethos in the community likely had a lot to do with his reply being recognized by readers as a text that drew on the generic forms of a review article in Nature and as a text with the power to silence a challenge penned (even collaboratively) by Einstein. Had anyone else with a lesser or different standing in the community tried to submit the article Bohr did, odds are its gestures towards review articles in Nature would have been difficult for readers to decipher and, even if recognized, its generic borrowings would not have had the power to silence EPR. Not only was Bohr renowned for publishing articles in journals more geared toward interdisciplinary journals-especially

Nature-he was also a prolific writer of review articles for Nature, thereby making his gesture to such a genre in his reply to EPR all the easier for readers to recognize and interpret (see, for instance, Bohr "Atomic"; "Light"; "Maxwell";

"Postulate"; "Quantum"; "Structure"). Furthermore, Bohr was renowned-across the physics community, but especially in Natuve, wherein distinctions were often glossed over and tributes often sensationalized for a wide interdisciplinary readership-as the foremost spokesperson for quantum physics and the ideal spokesperson for a review of key challenges to the field. Bohr was beyond censure on the subject.

Even Einstein would not have been able to compete with Bohr's ethos in this generic framework: after all, Einstein was deemed in the wider scientific community an expert on relativity andfield theory, but not on quantum

Bohr, in contrast, was deemed the reigning expert on atomic and quantum physics, having formulated the parent theory of quantum theory (his quantum theory of the atom) and the dominant interpretation of quantum mechanics

(complementarity), and having established the first Institute devoted to the study of quantum mechanics at the expense of all else. The power of Bohrfs unconventional reply to EPR, in many ways, hinged on Bohr's established ethos

57 See, for instance, Einstein's contributions to Nature and Science (Einstein "Time"; "Theory"), which revolved around relativity, gravitation, and field theory. Einstein's prestige in the larger scientific community, through his own words and the words of others, was most often linked to his formulation of relativity, his work with electromagnetism, and to his work with field theory, not to his contributions to quantum physics. See, for instance, Jeans: "Einstein was the first since Newton to make any definite physical predictions arising out of a theory of gravitation" (Jeans 310). In a book review written by L. M. Milne-Thompson, Einstein is even written-out of his pivotal role as co-founder of the original quantum theory: credit is given by Milne-Thompson to only Planck and Bohr (Milne-Thompson 527). in the scientific community: readers recognized his generic allusions because they were familiar with his publishing habit, and readers accepted his generic free-play because he was considered the person most qualified to speak on the subject.

Whether Bohr intended to write such an unconventional reply or not, his reply was taken seriously by others-was assumed to be meaningful, strategic, and timely-by virtue of the fact that he was Bohr. While Bakhtin argues that "[tlhe better our command of genres, the more freely we employ them, the more fully and clearly we reveal our own individuality in them" (Bakhtin "Problem" 80), this instance of Bohr's creative play with generic conventions suggests that perhaps our ability to freely employ genres has more to do with how others perceive our membership within a discourse community, including our command of certain genres. That is, the better others perceive our command of genres, the more freely others allow us to employ them, the more freely others trust arzd giz~e credence to our creative use of them. Insofar as genres and genre-play depends, in large part, on others recognizing our intentions through our utterances, the success or failure-or simply the outcome-of an unconventional text may have a lot do to with how others perceive the speaker or writer deploying that text, and less to do with the speaker or writer's level of expertise, degree of Mastery. Bohr's Generic Strategy: A Strategy of Power Overall, Bohr's reply to EPR clearly demonstrates the power available to those able to marshal their generic resources to not only respond to a rhetorical situation, but take control of it, as well. Bohr adopts and performs a few moves characteristic of the genres expected of him, given the rhetorical situation and genres invoked and initiated by EPR itself, but he also draws on a genre from a neighbouring sphere of activity-albeit related to the particular situation at hand-and bends it to his will to achieve the outcome he desires. While those who have studied Bohr's reply in recent years-cut off, as it were, from the immediate climate of opinion and circumstances surrounding the exchange-share the feeling that Bohr produced an unconvincing text that

"chang[ed] the rules of the game" (Beller Quarztum 152) rather than address EPR on its own terms, Bohr never violated the conventions of the community so much that his behaviour is ruled out by his contemporaries and, in fact, seems to have appeased his audience with his unconventional reply by voicing (via his innovative generic strategy) the widespread belief that EPR was wrong and that the matter had been resolved long ago-an opinion that had not, by the time of

Bohr's reply, found a legitimate and valued means of being voiced.

Furthermore, Bohr's reply clearly demonstrates that generic strategies can be used to reconfigure the situation at hand and the range of interpretations available to readers in an ongoing conversation on a given topic. In the case of the Bohr's reply, the unconventional generic forms riddling the text effectively cast EPR in a new light-as an article that articulates the old habits of a bygone age, an article worthy of review and respect but nonetheless ready to be stabilized and reviewed for the science community at large. Bohr's reply, in short, signaled to readers that it was perhaps past the time for serious theoretical case-making, and more appropriately the time to review bygone challenges to quantum mechanics. Such a signal, in turn, encouraged readers to reconsider the rhetorical situation at hand-judging it a time for historicizing and reviewing bygone developments, instead of a time for haggling over the theoretical foundations of physics. Perhaps most importantly, though, this signal was taken seriously only insofar as it matched the general climate of opinion among physicists at the time: that is, that Einstein's stubborn array of challenges to quantum mechanics belonged in the annals of scientific history and not in the serious, ongoing debutes of the physics community.

Overall, Bohr's reply to EPR demonstrates the extent to which using generic forms to invoke a ship in rhetorical situation and prompt the audience to rethink a discussion to date in terms is not only possible, but a powerful discursive tool that offers individuals the means to redefine the rhetorical situation at hand and, ultimately, redirect the flow of discourse in strategic ways. While genre theorists warn this kind of creative genre use can be risky, causing "confusion for the reader" (Devitt "Generalizing" 578) if implemented poorly, Bohr's reply to EPR shows us that genres can be used to reconfigure the rhetorical situation at hand to suit the writer's purposes, as long as this reconfiguration clearly resonates with the audience's beliefs and attitudes about the topic under discussion.

Bohr's reply to EPR reveals that this kind of creative genre use is not only a viable rhetorical strategy to shift the perceived rhetorical situation in the writer's favour, but also a means by which individuals can shape (and not just be shaped by) the discourse conventions they participate in to make themselves understood.

Implications for Genre Theory So what does all this mean for genre theory? Ultimately, it means that genres are not just tools for following the rules of a game, but also tools for chnrzgirzg the rules of a game. While this is the most striking lament against Bohr's reply-that

"he chang[ed] the rules of the game" (Beller Quanttirn 152) when he replied to

EPR-this is also the most strilung lesson we have to learn, as genre theorists, from Bohr's text.

Whether he did so consciously or not, Bohr managed to use his genre knowledge not just to give in to the conventions and expectations of a rhetorical situation, but to redefine it to his advantage. And while he had to be careful to make his reply both uniquely effective and decipherable, Bohr managed to draw on more than one genre-creatively, in the moment-to act effectively and powerfully in the world around him. I63 lThe existence of texts like Bohr's-specially designed to invoke a shift in

rhetorical situation by way of an innovative use of genres-suggests that

innovative generic strategies demand as much attention as contemporary genre

theory urges. While genres have long been understood as formal strategies open

to improvisation, renewal, and change, little practical work has yet been done to

study individual texts that manipulate genres-renovating, hybridizing, and

assembling generic strategies-to address to the particulars of an otherwise

typical situation. And while the present study attempts to conduct some of this

practical work, more research needs to be done if we are to understand the vrzried

ways individuals can draw on genres to respond powerfully to varied situations.

Bohr's text has allowed us to catalogue one particular instance of generic

innovation and the social factors that underpinned it-making it possible and

effective-but more work has yet to be done. In particular, Bohr's text suggests

that perhaps there exist a range of similar generic strategies that help individuals

shift, nudge, or redefine rhetorical situations to their liking or advantage. Bohr's

text, the success it enjoyed, and what little resistance it encountered, in fact, all

suggest that perhaps shifting-or moving across and between-rhetorical

situations is not as counter-intuitive or risky as we might have previously

thought.

What should genre theorists do about this? Perhaps genre theorists should be on

guard for smaller mediating genres-like Bohr's letter to the editor of Nature-that signal and stabilize an individual's intention to shift situations and change the rules of a game already underway. Or perhaps genre theorists should look for texts that open with a few conventional, expected generic forms only to smuggle in a host of situation-altering forms a few paragraphs later-much as Bohr did in his full length reply to EPR in the Physical Review-a generic strategy Martin calls "embedding" (264). Or perhaps genre theorists should consider the possibility that individuals move across and between rhetorical situations all the time, perhaps in a ritualized movement all its own-interrupting, involung, entering, and leaving rhetorical situations as necessary, in a patterned movement that is more fluid than stilted and facilitated by a family of similar of generic strategies.

After all, as Burke argues, contemporary rhetorical situations-and the motivations they embody-tend to be more "liquid" (qtd. in Miller 31) than stable and bounded, making it conceivable that people shift from situation to situation-fluidly and seamlessly-all the time. If this were not the case, much of our everyday discourse would be stilted, jumping or stalling every time we tried to move from one situation to another without the discursive tools to do so.

Perhaps we currently use a range of generic strategies to do just this-strategies that have yet to be catalogued because of the current trend to dismiss innovations as anomalies or slippage. In the end, Medway's appeal that "what we still need" (149) are studies that "do justice to the individual text" (149, emphasis in original) to do justice to the innovative generic strategies each text instantiates still stands. While the present study does just this and manages to catalogue the creative generic strategy instantiated by Bohr's reply to EPR, this is only one in a range of generic strateges arguably available to genre users facing similar situations. To better understand this range of available generic strategies and to make these strategies available to users-and to assess the rhetoric and ideology of these strategies-we need to attend to them rather than write them off as anomalies, as no generic enough. APPENDICES APPENDIX A: QUANTUM THEORY & QUANTUM MECHANICS

At its core, the Bohr-Einstein dialogue was a response to the revolutions in physics that had been rattling physicists since the turn of the (twentieth) century.

At the end of the nineteenth century, the field of physics was dominated by wave theories of light, electricity, and magnetism. The physical world, evidence attested, was filled with phenomena moving through space and time likes waves traveling at continuously variable speeds-a kind of motion that was contir~uous, predictable, and vistializnble. While a few difficulties remained (like the existence of ether as a medium for light waves), physics was a relatively stable field; certain patterns and expectations had been built into classical physics so that the physical world, quite simply, made mathematical, theoretical, practical, and intuitive sense to physicists and laypersons alike.

The Birth of Quantum Theory At the end of the nineteenth century, however, Max Planck began to study a

"seemingly innocuous, phenomenon involving light" (Baggott 4)-black body radiation-and, as a result of his work, Planck proposed a radiation formula that suggested energy was taken in or given out only in discrete elements (quanta), rather than continuously. While classical physics, dating back to Newton, "said that energy was co~rtinr~ouslyvariable" (Baggott 9, italics mine)-just as light, electricity, and magnetism were all presumed to be continuos phenomena-~lanck's radiation formula suddenly suggested that energy was

discrete, quantized. And the quantum revolution began.

A few years following Planck's quantization of radiation, two more

advances-made by Albert Einstein and Niels Bohr-ushered quantum theory

into the mainstream. First, in 1905, Albert Einstein proposed a quantum theory

of light, theorizing, contrary to the expectations of the reigning theory, that light 1 behaved like particles (as discrete light quanta) rather than as waves. While Einstein's theory wasn't confirmed (in a series of experiments) until ten years

after its publication, the theory made a quiet mark on the physics community, 1 inspiring a few physicists to re-examine the behaviour of light and energy.

In contrast, the second advance, Niels Bohr's quantum theory of the atom, made

an immediate and resounding impact on the community. In it, Bohr

hypothesized that electrons moved in orbits around the nucleus and made

discrete quantum jumps between orbits when energy was taken in or given out.

Steeped in references to experimental data (unlike Einstein's highly theoretical

paper), Bohr's theory was rigorous, comprehensive, and-to top it off-quickly

confirmed by new experimental data. When Einstein heard about the

confirmation, he described Bohr's theory as "an enormous achievement"

(Einstein, qtd. in Baggott 13). When considered all together, these three advances-Planck's, Einstein's, and

Bohr's new quantum theories-suggested that the most fundamental elements of the physical world-energy, light, and matter-were emitted, absorbed, and behaved like discrete (not continuous) elements. The suggestion was breathtaking-and radical.

To make matters even more complicated, in 1923, Louis deBroglie combined

Einstein's theory of relativity and Planck's quantum theory of black body radiation to produce a neuj theory of light quanta that shook the physics community to its foundations. Apparently, according to deBroglie, light quarlfa exhibited wave-like properties; that is, light behaved like both particles (quanta) and waves. While this strange wave-particle duality was only apparent in the microscopic world of fundamental particles, it ran so counter to classical physics that it had everyone in a twist. No one, however, could have predicted how far the new quantum theory would eventually break from classical physics.

While the successes of quantum theory were striking, the paradoxes it created

(like deBroglie's wave-particle duality) were disturbing and hinted at an underlying inconsistencies that would eventually need fixing. As Abraham Pais writes, during the period between 1913 and 1924,

the quantum theory of the atom would claim several more successes [. . .. But tlhere were also spectacular failures, however [...I, which made increasingly clear that the procedure used, pasting quantum rules on to the classical equations, was but a poor palliative for a systematic, consistent framework (Pais Niels 176- 177).

The Birth of Quantum Mechanics In the years between 1925 and 1927, though, a series of rapid-fire advances would address some of the failures of quantum theory and usher in a more mathematically consistent quantum mechanics. These rapid-fire advances, however, also forced open a rift between the microscopic quantum world and the macroscopic Newtonian world-a rift that has yet to be closed, and that, ultimately, fuelled what would later become known as the Bohr-Einstein dialogue.

In 1925 & 1926, the ne7u pnntum mechanics began to emerge, and it quickly revealed itself to be far more complex and confounding than the old qlraizt~rm theory. It started with a double breakthrough: in 1925, Werner Heisenberg proposed a new matrix quantum mechanicsw;and, in 1926, Erwin Schrodinger proposed a new quantum wave mechanicss9. Each mechanics provided methods of analyzing the motion and energy of particles; however each was profoundly different from the other. While Heisenberg's matrix mechanics proposed a strictly mathematical method of analyzing the motion and energy of particles

(Heisenberg iiQuantentheoretische"), Schrodinger's wave mechanics

58 For a brief discussion of matrix mechanics, see Abraham Pais Niels , pg. 275-280; Jim Baggntt, pg. 29-33. $'%or a brief discussion of wave mechanics, see Abraham Pais Niels , pg. 280-285; Jim Baggott, pg. 19-28. (Schrodinger "Quantisierung I" and "11") treated atoms like wave packets, which could be used to analyze the (wave-like) motion and energy of particles.

Heisenberg's mechanics-by far the more radical of the two-talked about quantum phenomena without even using terms like "wave" or "particle," in an apparent all-out rejection of concepts from classical physics. In contrast,

Schrodinger's mechanics-the more conservative-talked about quantum phenomena using wavefunctions and wave packets, reminiscent of the characteristic wave-like motion of classical physics. Before physicists could begin to argue over which mechanics was better, however, Schrodinger proved that the two theories were mathematically equivalent: that is, they were two different ways of addressing the same problem, two different routes that nonetheless arrived at the same destination. Despite their obvious differences,

"the matrix and wave methods gave identical results" (Pais Niels 284, italics mine), and so both were deemed reliable methods for analyzing quantum phenomena.

The trouble was, however, that no physical itzterpretatiotz of quantum mechanics existed to date. All Heisenberg's and Schrodinger's mechanics offered were mathenlatically consistent methods of analyzing the motion and energy of particles: particles that, for Heisenberg, only existed as abstract mathematical entities; or particles that, for Schrodinger, exhibited wave-like behaviour for no discernable reason. Nobody, as yet, could make any physical sense of quantum mechanics, let alone visualize the behaviour of quantum phenomena:

Indeed, until the summer of 1926, quantum mechanics, whether in its matrix or wave formulation, was high mathematical technology, manifestly important because of the answers it produced, but without clearly stated underlying physical principles. (Pais Niels 285).

As a result of this lack of underlying physical principles, physicists strove to piece together a physical interpretation of the promising new mechanics.

Schrodinger was the first to propose a physical interpretation: he took up the challenge posed by his own wave mechanics, and proposed that waves (wave packets) were the real quantum phenomenon and that particles were only derivative things:

a particle is nothing more nor less than a very confined packed of waves, and [.. .], therefore, wave mechanics would turn out to be a branch of classical physics (Pais NieIs 285)

Schrodinger's anticipation, however, was incorrect: wave packets almost never held together permanently over time, so it didn't make sense to replace particles with these often temporary mathematical constructs. Rather, a more decisive break from classical physics was necessary to make physical sense of quantum mechanics.

A paper written by Max Born in 1926 soon provided the decisive break required to launch quantum mechanics into its own, into a new direction profoundly different from-if not completely incompatible with-that of the old classical physics. Born's paper, the first paper to introduce probabilify into quantum

mechanic^,^ reasoned that Schrodinger's wave mechanics didn't tell us anything about two particles after a collision; rather, wave mechanics told us how to calculate the probabilities of various possible states of particles following such a collision. In fact, Born argued, Schrodinger's wave packets didn't correspond to real phenomena at all; rather, they corresponded only to the probability of finding a quantum particle in a given region of space. "Unlike Schrodinger, who wanted to invest an element of physical reality in the wavefunctions, Born argued that they actually represent[ed] our krzowledge of the state of a physical object"

(Baggott 27). According to Born, wavefunctions just represented the "evolution of our state of knowledge of a quantum system" (Baggott 27, italics mine), not the real quantum system at all.

With Born's interpretation came the realization that causality and determinism were simply falling away at the microscopic (quantum) level. Born, in fact, wrote the following about his statistical interpretation of the new mechanics:

One obtains the answer to the question, riot 'what is the state after the collision' but 'how probable is a given effect of the collision' [. . .] I myself tend to give up determinism in the atomic world. (Born, qtd. in Pais Niels 286)

For a brief discussion of Born's statistical interpretation of quantum mechanics, see Abraham Pais Niels ,pg. 284-289; Jim Baggott, pg. 27-29. While Schrodinger had tried to reintroduce a classical interpretation to the mechanics of the atom, Born's interpretation suggested that such a reintroduction might well be impossible.

The final blow-a blow that took place in the months prior to the first phase of the Bohr-Einstein dialogue-was the advent of Heisenberg's uncertainty principle." Heisenberg's 1927 article on the principle of indeterminism

(Heisenberg "~ber")proclaimed that all measurements of particles and particle interaction were subject to inaccuracies which could not be avoided or prevented-they were simply inherent consequences of quantum mechanics. If you were to measure, for example, with any degree of accuracy, the position of a particle, Heisenberg argued, you could no longer measure its velocity with any accuracy-because your measurement of its position would have changed the particle's velocity. And the same principle held when you measured its velocity, and then tried to measure its position: the act of measuring its velocity would change or disturb the particle's position.

The only way to measure a particle, Heisenberg argued, was to observe the results of a large number of experiments and establish the probubility of finding a particle in a given state. You must, he argued, to the best of your ability, represent the approximate state of a particle, all the while trying to make these

61 For brief a discussion of Heisenberg's uncertainty relations, see Abraham Pais Niels , pg. 304- 308; Jim Baggott, pg. 32-33. approximations "so close that they do not cause mathematical difficulties"

(Heisenberg, qtd. in Pais Niels 305). Thus, the new quantum mechanics had apparently become an entirely statistical theory, a theory of highly formalized and constrained guesswork and approximation, that both produced wonderful experimental and mathematical results and broke with classical notions of causality and determinism in a radical way.

In fact, Heisenberg's famous uncertainty relations were just mathematical equations that expressed the fimdamental limitations on how accurately we can know variables in a given (quantum) experiment (Pais Niels 306, italics mine).

Quantum mechanics, it seemed, expressed the fundamental limitations of what we could know about quantum phenomena: we could only calculate the probability of finding a particle in a given region of space; we could only measure eithu its position or its velocity with any accuracy-never both simultaneously; and the act of measurement would actually disturb the particle being measured.

Put quite simply, quantum mechanics had turned classical physics on its head.

Causality, realism, objective measurement-all cornerstones of classical physics-were being cast aside by the new mechanics.

Quite understandably, reactions from members of the physics community were mixed; some were excited about the fruitfulness of the new mechanics; others were concerned with the radical break it made from classical physics. Einstein, in particular, was skeptical: Quantum mechanics is certainly imposing. But an inner voice tells me that it is not yet the real thing. The theory says a lot, but does not really bring us any closer to the secret of the 'old one.' I, at any rate, am convinced that He is not playing at dice. (Einstein "Letter")

Quantum mechanics' break from strict causality was, for Einstein, not only unpalatable but also an indication that something was fundamentally wrong with quantum mechanics, itself, and he soon set out to challenge the tenets of the new mechanics, in order to demonstrate that it was not the new fundamental theory it claimed to be.

In the end, all the excitement over so many advancements made in so few years and Einstein's (and others's) skepticism over the new mechanics both fuelled what would later become known as one of most profound and significant scientific dialogues in history: the Bohr-Einstein dialogue. APPENDIX 6: THE FIFTH SOLVAY CONFERENCE (1927)

In the two years before the fifth Solvay conference, the world of quantum physics had been turned on its head: Heisenberg had published his paper on matrix mechanics (Heisenberg "Quantentheoretische"), Schrodinger had published his two papers on wave mechanics (Schrodinger "Quantisierung I" and "11"), and these two seemingly incompatible systems-one that sought to abandon all classical concepts of time and space (matrix mechanics), and one that sought to return to classical concepts (wave mechanics)-had been proven mathematically equivalent; Schrodinger had tried (unsuccessfully) to reintroduce classicd physics into his interpretation of the wave mechanics; Born, in contrast, had proposed a highly controversial (if ultimately more successful) statistical interpretation of the wave mechanics; Heisenberg had published his paper on the uncertainty relations, thereby proving that quantum measurements were plagued by inaccuracies that were inevitable consequences of the quantum region and that undermined all classical notions of causality and determinism (Heisenberg "Uber").

After several years during which the old quantum theory had increasingly shown its age, quantum physics was suddenly revived, if a little disoriented.

Physicists were at once confused by the rapid succession of discoveries and thrilled with the results they were able to produce with the new methods popularized by Heisenberg and Schrodinger. As R. H. Fowler proclaims in an article in Nature, early in 1927:

However abstract the new mechanics may yet seem to us, however incomplete our grasp of its fundamental principles, it is impossible to overestimate its value to theoretical physics. We have at least in the simpler problems, ceased to grope, and fudge our results until they are useable. (Fowler "Matrix" 241)

The skin of the old quantum theory was being cast off and a new beast-both exciting and a little unrecognizable-was emerging.

Bohr's Philosophy of Complementarity Bohr's philosophy (or principle) of complementarity had been introduced only a few weeks prior to the Solvay conference in a lecture at the Como congress, held in honour of the hundredth anniversary of Volta's death. Einstein was not at the

Como congress, and physicists were keen to hear how he would react to this new development. As Ruth Moore describes, "until the master [Einstein] was heard from, no one could be wholly certain in his own position. The question all over

Europe was 'What will Einstein say?' Would he demolish Bohr?" (Moore 163).

While Bohr's philosophy proposed a physical interpretation of the new quantum mechanics that seemed to neutralize many of the ambiguities and paradoxes of quantum physics, many physicists were as yet unwilling to give up looking for a classical interpretation of quantum physics; other physicists conceded an interpretation that broke from classical physics was necessary, but disliked

Bohr's ideas. In short, some physicists were displeased with Bohr's ideas because they made a partial break from classical physics that was radical and perhaps unnecessary, and others were displeased with them because they made a partial break from classical physics that wasn't radical enough.

Einstein's opinion was perceived as key. Not only was the physics community keen to hear his general thoughts on the new mechanics-the wave and matrix mechanics-and on the two older interpretations-Born's statistical interpretation, and Heisenberg's uncertainty principle-(on which Einstein had not yet published, having been busy with the formulation of general relativity and issues relating to cosmology), the community was also keen to witness

Einstein in discussion with Niels Bohr. The two men were at the top of their field and Bohr, in particular, embodied, for many, the emerging leader and spokesperson for the new mechanics: he was co-founder of the old quantum theory, director of his own Institute for Theoretical Physics in Copenhagen

(opened in 1921 specifically to guide experimental research in quantum theory), and mentor or colleague of many of the more radical researchers in the new mechanics (most notably, Heisenberg). Einstein's reactions to Bohr's ideas on complementarity and to Bohr's loyalty to the uncertainty principle were what everyone was waiting for; they hoped to see how, exactly, Einstein would take on Bohr.

Following a number of other papers presented at the conference, Bohr finally presented his own paper. He discussed the "epistemological problems facing quantum physics" (Mehra 135), giving essentially the same paper that he had given a few weeks prior at the Como congress, which outlined his new philosophy of C~mplementarity.~'As Whitaker argues, Bohr considered his lecture on complementarity to be profoundly important: he "considered himself to be delivering an epistemological lesson, applicable [. . .] well beyond the confines of atomic physics" (Whitaker 176). While Bohr's philosophy was (and remains) quite complex, it sought, in a nutshell, to remove the ambiguities and paradoxes of quantum mechanics by "restricting use of a particular physical quantity to experimental situations where evidence related to that quantity may be obtained" (Whitaker 176).

At the quantum level, he argued, we are limited in what we can observe or measure. These limitations, he argued, are the result of the fact that we conceive of physical phenomena in classical terms. That is, we speak and think about-we measure and observe-the physical world in terms of macro, classical objects and phenomena, like springs, shutters, billiard balls, clocks, trains, or lightening.

When we try to discuss or measure quarztum phenomena using classicnl concepts or classical npparatuses, we introduce an essential ambiguity into the discussion or measurement. We disturb the very quantum phenomenon we are trying to discuss or measure by doing so using inappropriate classical concepts or apparatuses. The result is a poor and clumsy translation: quantum phenomena

O2 For a slightly altered version of Bohr's Como lecture, see Bohr "Quantum Postulate." This version of his Como lecture, however, was edited for publication in Nature. discussed using the lumbering concepts of classical physics, or measured using the gargantuan apparatuses of classical physics. Such huge concepts and apparatuses are the equivalent of the huge fingers of a giant trying to knit lace for a flea. The two worlds are so disparate-not just in size, but in logic, in physics-that when they meet, the join is clumsy and uncertain.

An example of the kind of poor translation was well known at the time: trying to measure a quantum particle's position invariably disturbed the particle's momerztum, and vice versa, making it impossible to measure both using the same experiment-and hence malung it impossible to know the properties of a particle

(which required knowing both positions and momentum) with any degree of certainty without relying on two mutually exclusive experimetzts and combining the results. That is, Bohr argued, if you wanted to measure a quantum object's positiorz, you could do so only in an experiment designed to measure position, and in such an experiment, an "indefinably large uncontrollable transfer of momentum takes place between observed and observing system" (Whitaker 177), so you could no longer measure the object's momentum with any precision. That is, measuring an electron's position precisely would ruin your chances to measure its momentum with any accuracy. And the same holds for measuring momentum precisely-it could ruin your chances of measuring position with any accuracy. You could only, Bohr argued, measure one or the other (position or momentum) at a time; you could never measure both simultaneously. In fact, an experimental apparatus designed to measure one would necessarily preclude the simultaneous measurement of the ~ther.~

While we can remove ambiguities caused by subjecting quantum phenomena to a classical framework (by restricting how we discuss and measure quantum phenomena using classical concepts), we cannot, Bohr argued, give up classical concepts all together; we carztzot simply invent new quantum concepts and experimental apparatuses that are more appropriate for quantum phenomena.

Why not? Because we are classical beings. We exist and discuss and observe phenomena on the level of classical physics. We can't theorize or discuss in quantum terms, because we are not quantum beings. Quantum physics, Bohr argued, will always be foreign to us; we will always need classical concepts to speak about and observe this foreign world. And so Bohr's complementarity proposed that we remove ambiguities by restricting how we measure and discuss quantum phenomena using classical concepts, but that such classical concepts were necessary, were indispensable. The result was a careful balance between classical concepts and quantum phenomena. Bohr proposed that we allow these two very disparate systems to meet each other halfway, to reach a careful compromise, and that we simply do our best to minimize the ambiguities that result from such a meeting.

63 Another example is observing an electron as both a wave and particle simultaneously: any experimental apparatus designed to observe an electron behaving like a wave will be incapable of observing the electron behaving like a particle, and vice versa; that is, observing one rules out the possibility of observing the other; the observations are mutually exclusive. Einstein's First Thought Experiment While Einstein did attend the Solvay conference, as well as Bohr's recycled lecture from the Como congress, he contributed only briefly during the formal discussion following Bohr's presentation. In fact, for most of the conference,

Einstein, remained quiet and asked few questions (Pais Niels 318). On the last day of the congress, however, he became lively for the general discussions that took place in the dining room of the hotel (where conference participants were housed; Pais Niels 318) . On this last day, Einstein finally spoke up at breakfast, proclaiming his general misgivings about the new quantum physics-he did not like uncertainty, he did not like the abandonment of reality, and he didn't believe

Bohr's complementarity was "an acceptable solution, or a necessary one" (Moore

164).

Discussions of Einstein's misgivings, taken up by most conference participants, continued in smaller groups throughout the afternoon and evening. As

Heisenberg recollects, the younger participants (especially he and Pa~li)~~ discussed Einstein's misgivings at lunch and during breaks between papers, as did Bohr and others from Copenhagen (where Bohr's famous Institute was located) (Heisenberg "Quantum" 107). In the evening, however, Einstein sat down with Bohr and discussed the matter face to face. A mutual friend,

Ehrenfest, joined them and took on the role of mediator (Moore 164; Pais Niels 318). During this sit-down meeting, Einstein challenged Bohr with an idealized thought experiment-"one of his imagined but correctly set up experiments"

(Moore 165), that challenged the need for Heisenberg's uncertainty relations in quantum physic^.^"

Einstein stepped up the blackboard and "drew one line with a small slit in it, and just beyond it another line representing a photographic plate" (Moore 165).%He described an idealized experiment in which a beam of electrons, traveling from left to right, hits a screen with a single slit in it. The beam passes through the slit and emerges as a typical wave. When the beam hits a photographic plate on the right, it hits as a bunch of individual particles (not as a wave) and forms a diffraction pattern. See Figure 1 for a diagram of the experiment. All the consequences and factors of the idealized experiment were well documented by experimental evidence known at the time.

'.'Interestingly, Otto Stern recalls that, in particular, Heisenberg and Pauli "did not pay much attention" (Otto Stern, qtd. in Pais Niels 318) to Einstein's misgivings. Recollections of the details of the conference are, perhaps understandably, foggy and contradictory. I have tried to indicate alternative versions of events where possible. "Some say that Einstein first presented his thought experiment at breakfast, along with his general misgivings (see, for example, Heisenberg "Quantum" 107; Pais Niels 318); others say Einstein first presented it directly to Bohr in the evening in the hours before dinner (see, for example, Moore). Biographers and historians seem to agree, however, that Einstein waited until near the end of the conference to challenge participants at the conference, and that Bohr had the whole matter sorted out by dinner time. 66 For detailed discussions of Einstein's thought experiment, see Pais Niels 318-9; Baggott 88-9; Heisenberg "Quantum"; Honner 117-25; Murdoch 155-6; Moore 154-69. the beam emerges from the slit and fans out as a wave the beam hits a screen with a single slit in it electrons hit a beam of photographic plate as individual particles, forming a diffraction

Figure 1: Einstein's First Thought Experiment; Solvay, 1927.67

-- - - - " Figure by author, based on the work of Bohr "Discussion" pg. 20; Baggott pg. 89; Moore pg. 165. Einstein believed that the collapse of the wavefunction (the observation of the wave hitting the photographic plate as a particle) entailed a peculiar action-at-a- distance, which contradicted the relativity postulate. The electron, which before observation is somehow distributed over a large region of space (the photographic plate), becomes, upon observation, instantly localized (point A),

"the act of measurement appearing to change the physical state of the system far from the point where the measurement is actually made" (Baggott 90). This action-at-a-distance contradicts Einstein's own relativity postulate, which states that any signal cannot be instantaneous; rather, it must take the time necessary for the signal to travel the distance. This apparent contradiction, Einstein argued, was evidence that the new quantum physics could not describe the behaviour of an individual electron without violating existing theory. In short, quantum mechanics was inconsistent, and there must be, Einstein argued, a way to correct such a mistake-namely, by reworking or abandoning such ideas as

Heisenberg's uncertainty relations, which obviously led to contradictions with existing theory.

While there is "no official record of Bohf s comments following Einstein's 'very simple objection"' (Otto Stern, qtd. in Pais Niels 318), notes taken by Hendrik

Kramers at the conference suggest that Bohr "did not directly address Einstein's remarks, but rather spoke in general terms" (Pais Niels 318), neutralizing

Einstein's challenges with his own philosophy of complementarity. While some biographers claim that he countered with a thought experiment of his own, this fact appears to be a misinterpretation of Bohr's reminiscences of the dialogue, written years later, in which he came up with a counter-experiment (in retrospect) that demonstrated his philosophy of complementarity and pointed out the flaws with Einstein's thought e~periment.~'

At this point in the dialogue, Bohr's replies were apparently very general and somewhat obscure (since many physicists did not yet understand his philosophy of complementarity). He seems to have switched the focus from the quantum object being observed (the individual electron) to the experimental apparatus used and the conditions for observation. He seems to have argued that to observe the electron one would need sufficient light to see what was going on, and the light photons (being quantum objects on par with the electron being observed) would invariably interfere with the motion of the electron being observed, making its position uncertain, just as Heisenberg's uncertainty relations predicted (see Moore 166). Heisenberg's uncertainty relations, therefore, were needed: they were the only way to account for the unavoidable interference that resulted from measuring qrrantutn phenomenon with bulky classical experimental apparatuses.

Moore, for instance, narrates Bohr's counter-experiment as though it was his immediate response to Einstein back in 1927 (Moore 164). Bohr's recollections, however, clearly state that he came up with the thought experiment in the years following the dialogue (Bohr "Discussion" 21- 4). To understand this inevitable interference between classical experimental apparatuses and quantum phenomena, consider the following scenario: a physicist wants to observe the course of two billiard balls when they collide, and also wants to observe the course of two electrons when they collide. In both cases, the physicist needs sufficient light to observe the phenomenon. In the classical case-the observation of billiard balls-the impact of light on the experiment is minimal and can be ignored (the light doesn't really affect the course of the billiard balls). However, in the quantum case-the observation of electrons-the impact of the light on the experiment is sufficient to alter the course of the electrons being observed. Because light photons and electrons are of an equivalent size and energy, they could conceivably bump into each other and change each other's trajectory; as a result, the light that can be neglected in the classical case must be considered in the quantum case because it irlterferes with the measurement of quantum objects. So the uncertainty of the electron's position in a thought experiment like Einstein's, is necessary, is an unavoidable consequence of the interference between the electron being observed and elements of the experimental apparatus being used to observe it.

Bohr's alleged reply to Einstein's thought experiment attempted to demonstrate that Heisenberg's uncertainty relations are necessary. Einstein, however, was neither impressed nor convinced. Einstein's Second Thought Experiment At their next sit-down meeting (apparently later the same day), Einstein was ready with another experiment. This time, however, Einstein challenged Bohr's philosophy of complementarity rather than Heisenberg's uncertainty relations.

He sketched a new experimental apparatus, similar to the first, but this time he inserted another screen with two slits between the first screen and the photographic plate. Using the proposed apparatus, Einstein argued, it would be possible to both measure an individual electron's momentum and determine

"through which of the two slits the electron had passed (Moore 167)-that is, deduce its trajectory, its position-contrary to Bohr's philosophy of complementarity. If Bohr had, indeed, neutralized Einstein's first thought experiment with his own philosophy of complementarity, then Einstein was now attacking complementarity head on. See Figure 2 for a diagram of Einstein's second thought experiment. single- double-slit photographic slit screen plate screen

beam of electron electrons detected here

(a) movement of (b) an individual (c) if the electron is the screen controls electron's deflection detected, then it the transfer of towards one of the must have passed momentum two possible slits is through one of the between screen discovered two slits; the and electron electron's trajectory can be deduced

Figure 2: Einstein's Second Thought Experiment; Solvay, 1927.69

69 Figure by author, based on the work of Bohr "Discussion" pg. 24; Baggott pg. 91. Einstein asked what would happen if an electron passed through the apparatus shown in Figure 2, under conditions where the transfer ofmornentum between electrons and first screen was controlled. Under such conditions, Einstein argued, an electron passing through the slit in the first screen would be deflected, and its path could be determined by the conservation of momentum. In particular, one could discover towards which of the two slits (in the second screen) the electron was deflected. Then, if the electron was actually detected (on the photographic plate), one could deduce through which of the two slits in the second screen the electron had passed. By working backwards, Einstein argued, in an experiment that controlled the rnornentzrm of an electron, the trajectory (i.e. the position) of the same electron could be determined. Thus, contrary to Bohr's philosophy of complementarity, Einstein argued that a single (correctly designed) experimental apparatus could yield accurate measurements of both an electron's momentum and position. It seemed Einstein had undermined the consistency of

Bohr's philosophy of complementarity.

Bohr, however, countered once again with his philosophy of complementarity, pointing out an apparent flaws in Einstein's logic. In order to control the transfer of momentum between the electron and the first screen, the first screen would have to be able to move up and down (in the vertical plane); that is, it would have to be attached to weak springs (or some similar contraption) so that the whole screen would recoil as an electron passed through (presuming the apparatus was sensitive enough to pick up the movement of a single ele~tron).~'

In order to measure how far and in what direction the screen recoiled-and hence the momentum imparted to the screen by the electron, and hence the momentum of the electron, using the conservation of momentum-a pointer and

a scale would need to the fitted on the screen (much like the pointer and scale you see at the local grocer, used to weigh produce). To read the pointer and

scale, though, sufficient lighting would be necessary, and again the light would

interfere with the exact position of the screen. So controlling the transfer of rnornerzturiz in Einstein's experiment, Bohr argued, resulted in an uncertainty in

the screen's position. As a result, Bohr claimed, his philosophy of

complementarity was not inconsistent in the way Einstein claimed.71

70 It is important to note that Bohr was not trying to envisage how the experiment might be undertaken in real life; rather, he was trying to highlight what he perceived to be the flaws in Einstein's argument. 71 Moore claims that Bohr addressed Einstein's thought experiment by arguing that there would be an inevitable interference between the electron and the second (double-slit)screen, and "again indeterminacy would come into play" (Moore 167). Baggott seems to disagree, claiming that the uncertainty would centre around the electron and thefirst (single-slit) screen (Baggott 91-2). I think this discrepancy, however, can be overlooked in light of the fundamental resemblance between Moore's and Baggott's respective versions of Bohr's responses at the Solvay conference in 1927. While they disagree on when Bohr made his counter-argument (i.e. in response to which of Einstein's thought experiments), and while they disagree on a few details of the experiments, they both agree that Bohr's responded-at some point-to Einstein's challenges with the fact that light zilould interfere with the observation of the electron in question. Moore claims that Bohr responded to Einstein'sfirst thought experiment with this counter-argument; Baggott claims Bohr responded to the second thought e.uyeriment with this counter-argument. Given this underlying similarity, I think it safe to assume that Bohr's responses (in general) at the fifth Solvay conference centred around what he perceived to be an unavoidable interference between classical experimental apparatuses and quantum phenomena, in accordance with his philosophy of "Complementarity." Admittedly, the conflicting versions of Bohr's responses to Einstein's thought experiments is discouraging-and most certainly the result of Bohr's own retrospective article "Discussion with Einstein," which tends to re-member the dialogue in Bohr's favour and re-write many discussions so that Bohr can present what he meant to say-but at the very least we have the notes taken by Hendrik Kramers at the conference, which suggest that Bohr "did not directly address Einstein's remarks, but rather spoke in general terms, making some of the same points he had raised in Como" (Pais Niels 318). Kramers's notes are now in the Bohr Archives. Bohr explained his position carefully, and, at the end of it all, the new quantum physics seemed to have withstood Einstein's critiques. As Otto Stern describes,

Bohr "reflected on [the problems presented by Einstein] with care and in the evening, at dinner, we were all together and he cleared up the matter in detail"

(Stern, qtd. in Pais Niels 318). Bohr seems to have successfully demonstrated the logical consistency of both Heisenberg's uncertainty relations and complementarity, which, when considered together, comprised the keystones of what would eventually be called the Copenhagen Interpretation of quantum physics (Copenhagen was the location of Bohr's famous Institute for Theoretical

Physics and was considered a bastion of the new quantum physics).

Despite Bohr's answers, though, Einstein left the conference harbouring serious doubts about the epistemological consequences of the new quantum physics.

However, Heisenberg recalls that the conference-for himself, Bohr, and

Pauli-was largely a success: "we could see that against any objections, against any attempts to disprove the [new quantum] theory, we could get along with it

[... and] very soon [this consensus] spread out" (Heisenberg interview by T. S.

Kuhn, 19 February 1963, qtd. in Pais Niels 320). Likewise, Ehrenfest's strongest impression of the conference was of Bohr's success defending the new mechanics

(despite Bohr's initial obscurity, which had cleared by the end of the conference).

In a letter he wrote to his students only a few days after the conference, Ehrenfest recalls: BOHR [his capitals] towering completely over everybody. At first not understood at all [...I then step by step defeating everybody. [....I It was delightful for me to be present during the dialogue between Bohr and Einstein. Like a game of chess. Einstein all the time with new examples. [. . .] Bohr from out of the philosophical smoke clouds constantly searching for tools to crush one example after the other. (Ehrenfest, qtd. in Honner 118) APPENDIX C: THE SIXTH SOLVAY CONFERENCE (1930)

As Cushing argues, by 1928, the Copenhagen Interpretation of quantum physics

(a marriage of Bohr's complementarity and Heisenberg's uncertainty relations) had become a non-issue:

by 1927-1928, the issue of the Copenhagen interpretation versus a causal one had been effecfively settled" (Cushing 121). Ralph Kronig, a quantum physicist himself, recalled that "the idea of Bohr and the interpretation of Heisenberg [. . .] in 1928, already, was not a subject one discussed very much any more. (Kronig, qtd. in Cushing 121)

Physicists, apparently, fell into line rather quickly after the conference of 1927.

Bohr's successful defense of quantum physics in the face of Einstein's attacks at the Solvay conference in 1927 helped reassure members of the physics community that the field could be safely pursued and that the crisis in physics

(that had resulted from the rather violent birth of quantum physics) had, by and large, passed. The result, ultimately, was to stabilize an interpretation of quantum mechanics and allow working physicists to carry on with their research without having to worry about whether the physics they were using were consistent. Bohr had demonstrated that the new quantum mechanics, despite its apparent contradictions and paradoxes, was consistent, or at least consistent enough for now. However, while the new mechanics had withstood the scrutiny of the foremost experts in the field, all in attendance at the Solvay conference in 1927, Einstein had not given up his well-founded skepticism, and he raised a few more note- worthy objections when the physics community met again, at the sixth Solvay conference in 1930.

Einstein's Photon-Box Thought Experiment At the Solvay conference in 1930, Bohr and Einstein dialogued once again on the topic of quantum physics, which was, by this time, quickly becoming firmly entrenched in the physics community as a consistent and reliable-in fact, fruitful-new fundamental physical theory. At this meeting of the Solvay conference, Einstein apparently came down to dinner one evening and announced that he had found a counter-example to Heisenberg's uncertainty principle (Pais Niels 427). Using another thought experiment, Einstein challenged quantum mechanics once again. This time, though, the community agreed that the thought experiment was "quite ingenious" (Pais Niels 427) and posed a serious threat to quantum physics. Such a wake-up call, however, was just what Einstein intended:

The soothing philosophy-or religion?-of Heisenberg-Bohr is so cleverly concocted that for the present it offers the believers a soft resting pillow from which they are not easily chased away. (Einstein, written in 1928, qtd. in Pais Niels 320)

Einstein's new thought experiment involved a photon box-a box filled with photons-rigged to release a single photon at a predetermined time. Suppose, Einstein argued, one built a box that contained a clock mechanism connected to a shutter. The shutter, he argued, would cover a small hole in the box and would be designed to open-for a very short interval-at a predetermined (and precisely known) time. The box would be weighed when full. Then the shutter would open, a single photon would escape, and the shutter would close. The box would be weighed again. From the mass difference, Einstein claimed, and from special relativity (E=mc2)one could determine the precise energy of the photon. In principle, Einstein had found an experiment that could find to

"arbitrary accuracy both the photon energy and its time of passage, in conflict with the energy-time uncertainty relations" (Pais Niels 427). For a diagram of

Einstein's photon-box experiment, see Figure 3. Einstein's experiment was ingenious. Quite simply, it seemed to prove that Heisenberg's uncertainty relations were inconsistent-undermining the Copenhagen Interpretation of quantum physics. a box filled with photons

a clock mechanism connected to a the shutter covers a shutter small hole in the box; at a predetermined time, the shutter opens and one photon escapes from the box; the shutter closes

Figure 3: Einstein's Photon-Box Thought Experiment; Solvay, 1930."

Figure by author, based on the work of Bohr "Discussion" pg. 33. Bohr was floored. As Rosenfeld recalled after the conference,

It was quite a shock for Bohr ... he did not see the solution at once. During the whole evening he was extremely unhappy, going from one to the other and trying to persuade them that it couldn't be true, that it would be the end of physics if Einstein were right; but he couldn't produce any refutation. (Rosenfeld, qtd. in Pais Niels 427)

Bohr spent a sleepless night pondering the thought experiment and finally emerged at breakfast with his solution (Pais Niels 427), a clever take on Einstein's photon-box experiment that invoked Einstein's own theory of relativity to prove

Bohr's point (and undermine Einstein's). First of all, Bohr took a step back and revised Einstein's experimental apparatus. To weigh the box, Bohr pointed out, it would have to be suspended by a spring and fitted with a pointer so that its weight could be read from a scale. To weigh the full photon-box, a small weight would be suspended from the box to bring the pointer to zero on the scale. To weigh the box after one photon had escaped, a heavier weight would be suspended until the pointer reaches zero. For a diagram of Bohr's revised apparatus, see Figure 4. a box suspended from a spring

a pointer and scale to read the weight of the box

a weight suspended froi the box

Figure 4: Bohr's Revised Photon-Box Experiment; Solvay, 1930."

73 Figure by author, based on the work of Bohr "Discussion" pg. 35. With his revised apparatus in place, Bohr first pointed out a minor flaw in

Einstein's argument; nothing serious enough to undermine Einstein's challenge, but a flaw that prove key to Bohr's counter-argument later. To weigh the box,

Bohr pointed out, one would have to read the scale and, to do this, the pointer and scale would have to be illuminated. Again (as in Einstein's thought experiments of 1927), photons from the illumination would interfere with the momentum of the box, causing the box to jump around unpredictably. This unpredictable movement would in turn interfere with an accurate reading of the scale. This problem, however, could be overcome by measuring the average position of the pointer over a long finze infernal.

Bohr, however, had-in the wee hours of the morning-discovered another problem with Einstein's argument that would, combined with the first, undermine Einstein's challenge entirely. According to the theory of relativity, the rate of a clock changes when it's moving in a gravitational field. Now, because the box, as Bohr pointed out, is jumping about unpredictably in a gravitational field (due to the interference from the illumination, see above), the rate of the clock will also jump around unpredictably, introducing a degree of unpredictability in the precise timing of the shutter. And the longer physicists take to calculate the average position of the pointer (see above), the greater, the longer the box (and clock) spends jumping around in a gravitational field, and the greater the unpredictability in the precise timing of the shutter. This means that the greater the precision in measuring the energy of the photon (by weighing the box), the greater the unpredictability in measuring the time the photon is released. Bohr had proven that Heisenberg's energy-time uncertainty relations were, indeed, consistent-and he had used Einstein's own gravitational red shift formula to do it.7"

Consensus, at this point, seems to have shifted in Bohr's favour: Even Einstein came away from the congress convinced that quantum mechanics contained, at least, "a part of the ultimate truth" (Einstein, qtd. in Pais Niels 428). And while the photon-box experiment had initially been a shock for Bohr, his ability to overcome this shock and answer Einstein's challenge by breakfast the next morning was, as Rosenfeld described, "Bohr's Triumph (Rosenfeld, qtd. in Pais

Niels 427).

71 F or a detailed discussion of this exchange at the Solvay conference in 1930, see also Baggott 93; Sachs 140-45; Murdoch 157-63. APPENDIX D: THE EPR PAPER AND BOHR'S REPLY (1935)

Bohr and Einstein's final confrontation over quantum mechanics took place in

1935, after a rushed relocation for Einstein (from a politically tumultuous Nazi

Germany to Princeton) and during Bohr's rush to keep his own Institute funded and to find other refugee-scientists work outside of Germany. What would have been the seventh Solvay conference in 1933 had been cancelled, due to the political unrest in Europe, so the two physicists were unable to reprise their old dining-room discussions. Einstein, then, chose a new venue for the dialogue: publishing the now famous EPR paper in Physical Review (a physics journal published out of Princeton) and, in effect, attacking quantum mechanics head-on in a highly visible journal accessible to more than the few elite physicists invited to the Solvay conferences every three years. And Einstein's challenge in no way fell on deaf ears.

The Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen (EPR) Paper

EPR's argument unfolded thus: first, the authors defined a criterion of the completeness of a physical theory, stating that in any complete theory, "every elemerzt of the physical reality rnust have a coz~nterpartirz the physical theory" (Einstein et al. "Can?" 777, italics in original). According to this definition, if anyone could demonstrate the existence of elements of physical reality that had no counterpart in quantum mechanics, then quantum mechanics must be incomplete. Second, the authors defined a criterion of physical reality, which, the authors claimed, explained what was meant by physical reality in their definition of a complete theory: "lf, without in any way disturbitzg a system, we can predict with certainty (ie., with probability eqriality to unity) the value ofa physical quantity, there exists an element ofphysical reality correspondirzg to this physical quantity" (Einstein et al.

"Can?" 777, italics in original).

In short, EPR posited, if humans can predict-flawlessly, unerringly-that some physical quantity exists, then that physical quantity is physically real. So it follows from these two definitions that a complete physical theory is one that can account for every physical quantity that can be predicted with certainty. Third, the authors claimed that assuming quantum mechanics was complete (according to their definitions of completeness and physical reality) "leads to a contradiction" (Einstein et al. "Can?" 779). Fourth, the authors described a thought experiment that revealed this contradiction, when followed to its logical consequences (779-80).

The thought experiment in EPR goes something like this: imagine a system of two particles-and only two particles-called particle 1 and particle 2. These two particles interact for a while, but then eventually drift so far apart they no longer interact (that is, the particles move so far apart that measuring one in no way affects or disturbs the other). Now, while the particles were still interacting, some basic physics allows the respective momenta and positions of particle 1 and

2 to be combined in a state with total momentum (P) and relative distance (Q):

Once the particles stop interacting, particle 1 is measured. Let's say the momentlim of particle 1 (p,) is measured. Using the nifty equation above, we can calculate the momentum of particle 2-all without distrrrbirzg particle 2, because it's simply so far away and no longer interacting with particle 1. According to the

EPR definitions, being able to calculate p, with certainty must mean that this quantity exists as an element of physical reality. If, instead of momentum, the position of particle 1 (q,) is measured, then we can again calculate the position of particle 2 (q,) using the same nifty equation above. And again, measuring particle 1 in no way disturbed particle 2, and being able to calculate q, with certainty must mean that this quantity exists as an element of physical reality. In this way, the experiment seemed to show that both the momentum (p,) and the position (q,) of particle 2 could both be calculated with certainty without in any way disturbing the particle itself, which, in turn meant that both p, and q, corresponded to elements in physical re~ility.~"ee Figure 5 for a diagram of

EPR's idealized experiment.

"This summary of EPR's thought experiment has been adapted from the EPR paper itself and from Honner 128-9, whose summary of EPR seems to come close to the actual argument advanced in EPR. While Sachs provides a simpler explanation of the experiment, he reformulates it in terms of spin, instead of discussing it in terms of momentum and position. While this reformulation helps clarify the gist of EPR's argument, it misrepresents the actual argument presented in EPR (even if only slightly). For Sachs's full discussion see Sachs pg. 154-157. particle 1 0 particle 1 O

particle 2 0

(a) two particles interact in an (b) the momentum particle 1 (pl) isolated system; the total state of is measured but doesn't disturb the system is known and given the other particle (because they by (P, Q); and the total state is a no longer interact), and the value combination of the states of the of pl is used to predict the value two individual particles, (pl, q2) of p2 mathematically; or, the and (p2, q2). position of particle 1 (ql) is measured and is used to predict q2; either way, because both p2 and q2 can be predicted with mathematical certainty without ever disturbing particle 2, they must both correspond to elements of physical reality.. .but quantum mechanics can't measure both the momentum (p) and position (q) of any quantum object simultaneously, so the theory must be incomplete.

Figure 5: EPRfs Idealized Thought Experiment; Physical Review, 1935. But-and here's the clincher-quantum mechanics asserted that both the momentum and position of a particle could never be measured simultaneously

(with any precision) because any precise measurement of one automatically interfered with the precise measurement of the other. So the EPR thought experiment seemed to show that there existed elements of physical reality (p, and q?)that could not always be measured or observed-accounted for-using quantum mechanics. While both p, and q, seemed to be elements of physical reality, the authors argued, quantum mechanics could only account for one at a time: quantum mechanics could only either measure/ discuss one or the other, but never both at the same time. And this, the authors argued, despite the fact that both p, and q, apparently existed in physical reality at the same time. EPR seemed to show there existed elements of physical reality that didn't always have counterparts in quantum mechanics, and therefore that quantum mechanics-as a theory-must only offer an incomplete description of physical reality.

Boh r's Replylies Bohr's first reply, his announcement, appeared two months after EPR in the July

13,1935 issue of Nrzt~lreas a letter to the editor. It announced, quite simply,

Bohr's "disagreement with the recently-expressed opinion by Prof. A. Einstein,

B. Podolsky, and N. Rosen that the quantum mechanics description of physical reality is incomplete" ("Points" 71). While the announcement was brief, a mere three paragraphs long, it clearly identified the crux of Bohr's counter-argument.

Namely, Bohr claimed that the criterion of physical reality Einstein, Podolsky, and Rosen had posited "contain[ed] an essential ambiguity when [. ..] applied to problems of quantum mechanics" (Bohr "Quantum" 65). He then concluded his announcement by revealing that a longer, fuller reply-"to be published shortly in the Physical RevimP (Bohr "Quantum" 65)-would attack, along the same lines but presumably in more detail, EPR's assumptions about how a complete theory should correspond to physical reality (the named criterion of physical reality).

Bohr's second reply, often simply referred to as "Bohr's Reply," appeared three months after his announcement in Nature, in the October 15,1935 issue of

Physical Review. This, his full-length six page long reply to EPR, essentially rejected the idea that EPR posed any real threat to quantum mechanics and argued that their "criterion of physical reality could not be applied unambiguously to quantum mechanics. The alleged contradiction that EPR revealed in quantum mechanics, Bohr argued, managed to "disclos[e] only an essential inadequacy of the customary [classical] viewpoint of natural philosophy for a rational account of physical phenomena of the type with which we are concerned in quantum mechanics" (Bohr "Can?" 697). That is, the EPR paper only served to reveal the essential inadequacy of old, classical approaches when used to observe and measure quantum phenomena. The EPR paper only revealed the problems inherent in using a classical viewpoint to observe and discuss qtlarztum phenomena-the very same problems that Bohr's philosophy of complementarity argued were necessary, unavoidable, and yet manageable by way of specific restrictions and limitations set out by complementarity.

In the paragraphs following, Bohr then summarized his doctrine of complementarity-as though reminding his readers and opponents of the basic principles of quantum mechanics-and listed a series of idealized experiments-reminiscent of those discussed at the Solvay conferetzce in 1927.

Bohr claimed, while all these idealized experiments seemed to reveal contradictions in quantum mechanics, they could all be explained away by way of his doctrine of complementarity. Further, these simple thought experiments

"appl[ied] equally well to the special problem treated by Einstein, Podolsky, and

Rosen, [...I which d[id] not actually involve any greater intricacies than the simple examples discussed" (Bohr "Can?" 699). Thus Bohr claimed that EPR's thought experiment was simply one in a long line of thought experiments that could all be neutralized by complementarity. Bohr then reconfigured EPR's thought experiment to fit the configuration of the experiments he had just listed, reworking EPR's thought experiments in terms of screens with slits in them and electrons measured and observed in terms of their positiorz and rnonzentunz (recall

Einstein's thought experiments of 1927; Figures 1 & 2), and Bohr then explained how complementarity neutralized the EPR experiment when reconfigured in this form. After this comparison of EPR's thought experiment to those proposed by

Einstein in 1927, Bohr shifted the discussion from the issue of measuring positiou and momentum to the issue of measuring energy and time, and, in a vein reminiscent of the dialogue held between Bohr and Einstein at the Solvay conference in 1930, Bohr amplified his reconfiguration of EPR's thought experiment by considering what might happen if the experimental apparatus were reconfigured to contain "moving parts,-like shutters before the slits of the diaphragms,-controlled by mechanisms serving as clocks" (recall Einstein's photon-box thought experiment of 1930; Figure 3; Bohr "Can?" 700). Bohr argued that EPR's thought experiment, if it were reconfigured to measure the quantum particles in terms of energy and time, would still be susceptible to the essential ambiguities characteristic of quantum mechanics, ambiguities that, Bohr argued, could be controlled by way of the restrictions proposed by complementarity. In particular, Bohr argued that one would "have to consider an eventual exchange of energy between the object and these clock-like mechanisms"(Bohr "Can?" 700) and that "it is excluded it1 principle to control the energy which goes into the clocks without interfering essentially with their use as time indicators" (Bohr "Can?" 701, italics his). That is, Bohr argued that controlling the energy in such an experimental apparatus would interfere with the measurement of time in the same experiment, and that, therefore, an element of uncertainty would necessarily characterize EPR's thought experiment, an element of uncertainty that undermined the logic of EPR's argument and that could be explained and limited using complementarity. This full-length reply of Bohr's is typically considered the last text in the Bohr-

Einstein dialogue. While Bohr wrote a article about their discussions in 1949

(Bohr "Discussion"), Bohr and Einstein never resumed their highly formalized game of theory-refutation, which had preoccupied them for nearly eight years.

And while "subsequent refinements of the EPR paradox [have since] raised further issues" (Honner 133), Bohr's reply marked-at the time-the definitive reply to Einstein's last challenge. As Honner points out, "[iln 1936 Einstein acknowledged that it was 'logically' possible without contradiction to hold that quantum theory offered a valid description of individual, and in so doing, he extended an olive branch to Bohr" (Honnor 132). While, in his heart, Einstein was not convinced, after Bohr's reply he did seem to back down.76

7" Einstein, however, would pursue a unified field theory, which promised to offer that complete description of physical reality Einstein "missed in the quantum mechanics he had helped so much to develop" (Klein "Einstein" 151), until the end of his life. As Martin Klein describes, Einstein "say his whole career as striving to create a new unified foundation for physics" (Klein "Einstein" 151). APPENDIX E: RESPONSES TO EPR IN PHYSICAL REVIEWAND NATURE

Table 1: Responses to EPR; Physical Review and Nature. I Public I Date urnal Form

"Can Quantum- A. Einstein, March 25, Mechanical B. Podolsky, 1935 Description of N. Rosen Physical Reality be Considered Complete?"

B "Quantum Mechanics H. T. F. n/ a June 22, as a Physical Theory"

C "The Correlation of E. C. May 25, Wave Functions with Kemble 1935 the States of Physical (date of Systems" letter) * D "Quantum Mechanics N. Bohr June 24, July 13, and Physical Reality" 1935 1935 (date of letter)

APPENDIX F: TITLES PHRASED AS QUESTIONS IN PHYSICAL REVIEW

Table 2: Titles Phrased as Questions; Physical Review, 1927-1935.

none

Is it Possible to Determine the Piezoelectric R. D. Schulwas- Constant at High Temperatures by Statical Sorokina Method? none What Requirements must the Schrodinger v- R. M. Langer, Function Satisfy? N. Rosen

Do Protons in the Nucleus Possess Orbital H. E. White Angular Momentum?

none How Far Do Cosmic Rays Travel? F. Zwicky none Are the Formulae for the Absorption of High R. J. Energy Radiations Valid? Oppenheimer Can Quantum-Mechanical Description of A. Einstein, Physical Reality be Considered Complete? B. Podolsky, N. Rosen Where Can Negative Protons Be Found? F. Zwicky Is the Quantum-Mechanical Description of A. E. Ruark Physical Reality Complete? Can Quantum-Mechanical Description of N. Bohr Physical Reality be Considered Complete?

77 Data was gathered using the table of contents for each volume. Letters to the editor were not listed in the table of contents until July 1930 (vol. 36). APPENDIX G: TITLES OF RESPONSES TO EPR IN PHYSICAL REVIEW

Table 3: Titles of Published Responses to EPR; Physical Review, 1935. Note the extent to which responding texts rely on permutations of EPR's title to indicate an inter-relationship between the two texts.

Repeated Words

EPR Can the Quantum-Mechanical Einstein, Description of Physical Reality be Podolsky, Considered Complete? Rosen

Letters to Quantum Mechanics as a Physical quantum, the Editor Theory mechanics, physical

Is the Quantum-Mechanical Ruark quantum, Description of Physical Reality mechanical, Complete? description, physical, reality, complete

Remarks on Measurements in Furry quantum Quantum Theory

Articles Quantum-Mechanical Description Margenau quantum, mechanical, description

Quantum Mechanics and Physical Wolfe quantum, Reality mechanics, physical, reality

Note on the Quantum-Mechanical Furry quantum, Theory of Measurement mechanical APPENDIX H: TYPICAL ARTICLE TITLES IN PHYSICAL REVIEW

Table 4: Typical Article Titles in Physical Review, 1927.7s Note that titles are typically long noun phrases; issues questions as titles are atypical.

January, Electron Distribution in the Atoms of Crystals. Sodium Chloride and 1927. Lithium, Sodium and Calcium Fluorides.

Measurements and Intrepretation of the Intnesity of X-rays Reflected from Sodium Chloride Aluminum.

The Crystal Structure of Magnesium Di-Zincide.

Absorption in the Region of Soft X-rays.

Line Spectra of the Isotopes of Merceury and Chlorine.

Quantum Analysis of the Band Spectrum of Aluminum Oxide (h5200- h4650).

Axygen Bands in the Ultra-Violet.

Many-Lined Spectrum of Sodium Hydride.

Band Spectrum of Clacium Hydride.

Correlation of the Fluorescent and Absorption Spectra of Iodine.

Absorption Coefficient of Helium for its own Radiation.

Electron Collisions in Carbon Monoxide.

Influence of a Magnetic Field on the Dielectric Constant of a Diatomic Dipole Gas.

-- - - Differences in the Time Lags of the Faraday Effect behind the Magnetic Field in Various Liquids.

7vontentsadapted from Physical Revieul 29 (1927): iii. Table 4: Typical Article Titles in Physical Review, 1927 (continued)

1 Resistance of Copper Wires at Very High Frequencies. Principal Magnetic Susceptibilities of Crystals.

Scattering of Particles by an Einstein Center.

Breakdown of Atoms at High Pressures.

Continuous Motion Produced by Vibration. APPENDIX I: REPEATED TITLES IN NATURE

Table 5: Repeated Titles in a Sequence of Texts; Nature, 1926-1927.

Form

Spinning Electrons and G. E. Uhlenbeck, letter to the editor Feb. 20,1926 the Structure of Spectra S. Goudsmit

Spinning Electrons and R. De L. Kronig letter to the editor April 17, 1926 the Structure of Spectra

Spinning Electrons and J. C. Slater letter to the editor April 24, 1926 the Structure of Spectra

Spinning Electrons A. S. Eddington letter to the editor May 8,1926

Spinning Electrons 0. W. letter to the editor May 8,1926 Richardson

Spinning Electrons F. A. Lindemann letter to the editor May 8,1926

Spinning Electrons J. Frenkel letter to the editor May 8,1926

Spinning Electrons R. H. Fowler review article Jan. 15,1927

Spinning Electrons and H. S. Allen letter to the editor Feb. 12, 1927 Protons

The Spinning Electron in A. Carrelli letter to the editor April 2,1927 Wave Mechanics

Spinning Electron and E. Guth letter to the editor May 21,1927 Wave Mechanics APPENDIX J: LETTERS IN NATURE ANNOUNCING FORTHCOMING ARTICLES

Table 6: Letters to the Editor Announcing Articles; Nature, 1927-1935.~~

Author Journal Referred to

Radiation and Atoms. J. C. Slater Philosophical Magazine

The Law of Dispersion and Bohr's H. A. Kramers Philosophical Theory of Spectra. Magazine

Wave Mechanics and the Rotation D. M. not specified of Homopolar Molecules. Dennison

The Spinning Electron in Wave B. Lewis not specified Mechanics.

Quantum Geometry. V. Fock, Zeit. jiir Physik D. Iwanenko

Scattering of Electrons and a- G. Beck Zeit. fur Physik Particles.

The Quantum Theory of Chemical M. Born Zeit. fur Physik Valence.

Quantum Energy of y-Rays S. Kikuchi, Proc. Phys. Math. Excited by Slow Neutrons. K. Husimi, Soc. Japan H. Aoki

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