In
1916, when general relativity was new, Karl Schwarzschild worked out a useful solution to the Einstein equation describing
the evolution of space time geometry. This solution, a possible shape of space time, would describe the effects of gravity
*outside* a spherically symmetric, uncharged, nonrotating object (and would serve approximately to describe even slowly rotating
objects like the Earth or Sun). It worked in much the same way that you can treat the Earth as a point mass for purposes of
Newtonian gravity if all you want to do is describe gravity *outside* the Earth's surface.
What such a solution really looks like is a "metric,"
which is a kind of generalization of the Pythagorean formula that gives the length of a line segment in the plane. The metric
is a formula that may be used to obtain the "length" of a curve in space time. In the case of a curve corresponding to the
motion of an object as time passes (a "timelike worldline,") the "length" computed by the metric is actually the elapsed time
experienced by an object with that motion. The actual formula depends on the coordinates chosen in which to express things,
but it may be transformed into various coordinate systems without affecting anything physical, like the space time curvature.
Schwarzschild expressed his metric in terms of coordinates which, at large distances from the object, resembled spherical
coordinates with an extra coordinate t for time. Another coordinate, called r, functioned as a radial coordinate at large
distances; out there it just gave the distance to the massive object.
Now, at small radii, the solution began to act
strangely. There was a "singularity" at the center, r = 0, where the curvature of space time was infinite. Surrounding that
was a region where the "radial" direction of decreasing r was actually a direction in *time* rather than in space. Anything
in that region, including light, would be obligated to fall toward the singularity, to be crushed as tidal forces diverged.
This was separated from the rest of the universe by a place where Schwarzschild's coordinates blew up, though nothing was
wrong with the curvature of space time there. (This was called the Schwarzschild radius. Later, other coordinate systems were
discovered in which the blow-up didn't happen; it was an artifact of the coordinates, a little like the problem of defining
the longitude of the North Pole. The physically important thing about the Schwarzschild radius was not the coordinate problem,
but the fact that within it the direction into the hole became a direction in time.)
Nobody really worried about this at the time,
because there was no known object that was dense enough for that inner region to actually be outside it, so for all known
cases, this odd part of the solution would not apply. Arthur Stanley Eddington considered the possibility of a dying star
collapsing to such a density, but rejected it as aesthetically unpleasant and proposed that some new physics must intervene.
In 1939, Oppenheimer and Snyder finally took seriously the possibility that stars a few times more massive than the sun might
be doomed to collapse to such a state at the end of their lives.
Once the star gets smaller than the place where
Schwarzschild's coordinates fail (called the Schwarzschild radius for an uncharged, nonrotating object, or the event horizon)
there's no way it can avoid collapsing further. It has to collapse all the way to a singularity for the same reason that you
can't keep from moving into the future! Nothing else that goes into that region afterward can avoid it either, at least in
this simple case. The event horizon is a point of no return.
In 1971 John Archibald Wheeler named such a thing
a black hole, since light could not escape from it. Astronomers have many candidate objects they think are probably black
holes, on the basis of several kinds of evidence (typically they are dark objects whose large mass can be deduced from their
gravitational effects on other objects, and which sometimes emit X-rays, presumably from infalling matter). But the properties
of black holes I'll talk about here are entirely theoretical. They're based on general relativity, which is a theory that
seems supported by available evidence.
Suppose
that, possessing a proper spacecraft and a self-destructive urge, I decide to go black-hole jumping and head for an uncharged,
nonrotating ("Schwarzschild") black hole. In this and other kinds of hole, I won't, before I fall in, be able to see anything
within the event horizon. But there's nothing *locally* special about the event horizon; when I get there it won't seem like
a particularly unusual place, except that I will see strange optical distortions of the sky around me from all the bending
of light that goes on. But as soon as I fall through, I'm doomed. No bungee will help me, since bungees can't keep Sunday
from turning into Monday. I have to hit the singularity eventually, and before I get there will be enormous tidal forces--
forces due to the curvature of space time-- which will squash me and my spaceship in some directions and stretch them in another
until I look like a piece of spaghetti. At the singularity all of present physics is mute as to what will happen, but I won't
care. I'll be dead.
For ordinary black holes of a few solar masses,
there are actually large tidal forces well outside the event horizon, so I probably wouldn't even make it into the hole alive
and unstretched. For a black hole of 8 solar masses, for instance, the value of r at which tides become fatal is about 400
km, and the Schwarzschild radius is just 24 km. But tidal stresses are proportional to M/r^3. Therefore the fatal r goes as
the cube root of the mass, whereas the Schwarzschild radius of the black hole is proportional to the mass. So for black holes
larger than about 1000 solar masses I could probably fall in alive, and for still larger ones I might not even notice the
tidal forces until I'm through the horizon and doomed.
Not
in any useful sense. The time I experience before I hit the event horizon, and even until I hit the singularity-- the "proper
time" calculated by using Schwarzschild's metric on my worldline -- is finite. The same goes for the collapsing star; if I
somehow stood on the surface of the star as it became a black hole, I would experience the star's demise in a finite time.
On my worldline as I fall into the black hole,
it turns out that the Schwarzschild coordinate called t goes to infinity when I go through the event horizon. That doesn't
correspond to anyone's proper time, though; it's just a coordinate called t. In fact, inside the event horizon, t is actually
a *spatial* direction, and the future corresponds instead to decreasing r. It's only outside the black hole that t even points
in a direction of increasing time. In any case, this doesn't indicate that I take forever to fall in, since the proper time
involved is actually finite.
A more physical sense in which it might be said
that things take forever to fall in is provided by looking at the paths of emerging light rays. The event horizon is what,
in relativity parlance, is called a "lightlike surface"; light rays can remain there. For an ideal Schwarzschild hole the
horizon lasts forever, so the light can stay there without escaping. (If you wonder how this is reconciled with the fact that
light has to travel at the constant speed c-- well, the horizon *is* traveling at c! Relative speeds in GR are also only unambiguously
defined locally, and if you're at the event horizon you are necessarily falling in; it comes at you at the speed of light.)
Light beams aimed directly outward from just outside the horizon don't escape to large distances until late values of t. For
someone at a large distance from the black hole and approximately at rest with respect to it, the coordinate t does correspond
well to proper time.
So if you, watching from a safe distance, attempt
to witness my fall into the hole, you'll see me fall more and more slowly as the light delay increases. You'll never see me
actually *get to* the event horizon. My watch, to you, will tick more and more slowly, but will never reach the time that
I see as I fall into the black hole. Notice that this is really an optical effect caused by the paths of the light rays.
This is also true for the dying star itself.
If you attempt to witness the black hole's formation, you'll see the star collapse more and more slowly, never precisely reaching
the Schwarzschild radius.
Now, this led early on to an image of a black
hole as a strange sort of suspended-animation object, a "frozen star" with immobilized falling debris and gedankenexperiment
astronauts hanging above it in eternally slowing precipitation. This is, however, not what you'd see. The reason is that as
things get closer to the event horizon, they also get *dimmer*. Light from them is red shifted and dimmed, and if one considers
that light is actually made up of discrete photons, the time of escape of *the last photon* is actually finite, and not very
large. So things would wink out as they got close, including the dying star, and the name "black hole" is justified.
As an example, take the eight-solar-mass black
hole I mentioned before. If you start timing from the moment the you see the object half a Schwarzschild radius away from
the event horizon, the light will dim exponentially from that point on with a characteristic time of about 0.2 milliseconds,
and the time of the last photon is about a hundredth of a second later. The times scale proportionally to the mass of the
black hole. If I jump into a black hole, I don't remain visible for long.
If
an external observer sees me slow down asymptotically as I fall, it might seem reasonable that I'd see the universe speed
up asymptotically-- that I'd see the universe end in a spectacular flash as I went through the horizon. This isn't the case,
though. What an external observer sees depends on what light does after I emit it. What I see, however, depends on what light
does before it gets to me. And there's no way that light from future events far away can get to me. Faraway events in the
arbitrarily distant future never end up on my "past light-cone," the surface made of light rays that get to me at a given
time.
That, at least, is the story for an uncharged,
nonrotating black hole. For charged or rotating holes, the story is different. Such holes can contain, in the idealized solutions,
"timelike wormholes" which serve as gateways to otherwise disconnected regions-- effectively, different universes. Instead
of hitting the singularity, I can go through the wormhole. But at the entrance to the wormhole, which acts as a kind of inner
event horizon, an infinite speed-up effect actually does occur. If I fall into the wormhole I see the entire history of the
universe outside play itself out to the end. Even worse, as the picture speeds up the light gets blueshifted and more energetic,
so that as I pass into the wormhole an "infinite blue shift" happens which fries me with hard radiation. There is apparently
good reason to believe that the infinite blue shift would imperil the wormhole itself, replacing it with a singularity no
less pernicious than the one I've managed to miss. In any case it would render wormhole travel an undertaking of questionable
practicality.
From thermodynamic arguments Stephen Hawking realized that a black hole should
have a nonzero temperature, and ought therefore to emit blackbody radiation. He eventually figured out a quantum- mechanical
mechanism for this. Suffice it to say that black holes should very, very slowly lose mass through radiation, a loss which
accelerates as the hole gets smaller and eventually evaporates completely in a burst of radiation. This happens in a finite
time according to an outside observer.
But I just said that an outside observer would
*never* observe an object actually entering the horizon! If I jump in, will you see the black hole evaporate out from under
me, leaving me intact but marooned in the very distant future from gravitational time dilation?
You won't, and the reason is that the discussion
above only applies to a black hole that is not shrinking to nil from evaporation. Remember that the apparent slowing of my
fall is due to the paths of outgoing light rays near the event horizon. If the black hole *does* evaporate, the delay in escaping
light caused by proximity to the event horizon can only last as long as the event horizon does! Consider your external view
of me as I fall in.
If the black hole is eternal, events happening
to me (by my watch) closer and closer to the time I fall through happen divertingly later according to you (supposing that
your vision is somehow not limited by the discreteness of photons, or the red shift).
If the black hole is mortal, you'll instead
see those events happen closer and closer to the time the black hole evaporates. Extrapolating, you would calculate my time
of passage through the event horizon as the exact moment the hole disappears! (Of course, even if you could see me, the image
would be drowned out by all the radiation from the evaporating hole.) I won't experience that cataclysm myself, though; I'll
be through the horizon, leaving only my light behind. As far as I'm concerned, my grisly fate is unaffected by the evaporation.
All of this assumes you can see me at all,
of course. In practice the time of the last photon would have long been past. Besides, there's the brilliant background of
Hawking radiation to see through as the hole shrinks to nothing.
Purely
in terms of general relativity, there is no problem here. The gravity doesn't have to get out of the black hole. General relativity
is a local theory, which means that the field at a certain point in space time is determined entirely by things going on at
places that can communicate with it at speeds less than or equal to c. If a star collapses into a black hole, the gravitational
field outside the black hole may be calculated entirely from the properties of the star and its external gravitational field
*before* it becomes a black hole. Just as the light registering late stages in my fall takes longer and longer to get out
to you at a large distance, the gravitational consequences of events late in the star's collapse take longer and longer to
ripple out to the world at large. In this sense the black hole *is* a kind of "frozen star": the gravitational field is a
fossil field. The same is true of the electromagnetic field that a black hole may possess.
Often this question is phrased in terms of gravitons,
the hypothetical quanta of space time distortion. If things like gravity correspond to the exchange of "particles" like gravitons,
how can they get out of the event horizon to do their job?
Gravitons don't exist in general relativity,
because GR is not a quantum theory. They might be part of a theory of quantum gravity when it is completely developed, but
even then it might not be best to describe gravitational attraction as produced by virtual gravitons. See the FAQ on virtual
particles for a discussion of this.
Nevertheless, the question in this form is still
worth asking, because black holes *can* have static electric fields, and we know that these may be described in terms of virtual
photons. So how do the virtual photons get out of the event horizon? Well, for one thing, they can come from the charged matter
prior to collapse, just like classical effects. In addition, however, virtual particles aren't confined to the interiors of
light cones: they can go faster than light! Consequently the event horizon, which is really just a surface that moves at the
speed of light, presents no barrier.
7. How many black holes
are known to man that are in the universe?
And out of those know black holes what are the names?
The answer to your first question depends a lot on how strong an evidence you would want to accept something as a black
hole.
Astrophysicists generally agree that when the compact object in an X-ray binary system is shown to be more massive than about 3 times the mass of the Sun, then this compact object is a black hole beyond reasonable doubt. These are called
"dynamically confirmed black holes."
http://mintaka.sdsu.edu/faculty/orosz/web/
If you accept a less strict standard of evidence, then there are many more black holes that (we think) we know of. These
include additional X-ray binaries such as Cygnus X-1, the mysterious object at the center of our Galaxy, and the central objects in many (perhaps even most) luminous galaxies.
For example, the Sloan Digital Sky Survey aims to measure the distances to more than a million galaxies and quasars:
http://www.sdss.org/
A large fraction of these galaxies, and all the quasars, are thought to contain a supermassive black hole. Given such a huge number, there is no plan to individually name these
black holes; astrophysicists use designations based on their positions on the sky