past Gracie,” as we have now specified Gracie as the benchmark. As our example shows, this last statement is completely equivalent to “Gracie is traveling at 10 miles per hour past George (in the opposite direction).” In other words, there is no “absolute” notion of motion. Motion is relative.
A key element of this story is that neither George nor Gracie is being pushed, pulled, or in any other way acted upon by a force or influence that could disturb their serene state of force-free, constant-velocity motion. Thus, a more precise statement is that force-free motion has meaning only by comparison with other objects. This is an important clarification, because if forces are involved, they cause changes in the velocity of the observers—changes to their speed and/or their direction of motion—and these changes can be felt. For instance, if George were wearing a jet-pack firing away from his back, he would definitely feel that he was moving. This feeling is intrinsic. If the jet-pack is firing away, George knows he is moving, even if his eyes are closed and therefore can make no comparisons with other objects. Even without such comparisons, he would no longer claim that he was stationary while “the rest of the world was moving by him.” Constant-velocity motion is relative; not so for non-constant-velocity motion, or, equivalently, accelerated motion. (We will re-examine this statement in the next chapter when we take up accelerated motion and discuss Einstein’s general theory of relativity.)
Setting these stories in the darkness of empty space aids understanding by removing such familiar things as streets and buildings, which we typically, although unjustifiably, accord the special status of “stationary.” Nonetheless, the same principle applies to terrestrial settings, and in fact is commonly experienced.1 For example, imagine that after you have fallen asleep on a train, you awake just as your train is passing another on adjacent parallel tracks. With your view through the window completely blocked by the other train, thereby preventing you from seeing any other objects, you may temporarily be uncertain as to whether your train is moving, the other train is moving, or both. Of course, if your train shakes or jostles, or if the train changes direction by rounding a bend, you can feel that you are moving. But if the ride is perfectly smooth—if the train’s velocity remains constant—you will observe relative motion between the trains without being able to tell for certain which is moving.
Let’s take this one step further. Imagine you are on such a train and that you pull down the shades so that the windows are fully covered. Without the ability to see anything outside your own compartment, and assuming that the train moves at absolutely constant velocity, there will be no way for you to determine your state of motion. The compartment around you will look precisely the same regardless of whether the train is sitting still on the tracks or moving at high speed. Einstein formalized this idea, one that actually goes back to insights of Galileo, by proclaiming that it is impossible for you or any fellow traveler to perform an experiment within the closed compartment that will determine whether or not the train is moving. This again captures the principle of relativity: since all force-free motion is relative, it has meaning only by comparison with other objects or individuals also undergoing force-free motion. There is no way for you to determine anything about your state of motion without making some direct or indirect comparison with “outside” objects. There simply is no notion of “absolute” constant-velocity motion; only comparisons have any physical meaning.
In fact, Einstein realized that the principle of relativity makes an even grander claim: the laws of physics—whatever they may be—must be absolutely identical for all observers undergoing constant-velocity motion. If George and Gracie
Benjamin Blech, Roy Doliner