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5.3

Spin 1/2 and the Pauli matrices

The electron carries a built-in angular momentum, but nothing is actually rotating. Three 2×2 matrices hold all of its mathematics.

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After this section you should be able to

  • Explain what is wrong with the picture of "the electron spinning on its axis", and how spin is properly defined
  • Construct the three Pauli matrices starting from the ladder-operator matrix elements
  • Use the Pauli algebra fluently — squares, anticommutation, the product formula
  • Write the general spin state along an arbitrary direction and interpret the meaning of θ/2

The previous section left two loose threads: the algebra allows half-integer angular momentum but wavefunctions on the sphere cannot house it; and in one experiment a beam of silver atoms split into exactly two. This section ties the threads together.

First, the experimental evidence that forced spin into existence. By 1925, spectroscopy had piled up a stack of debts that “orbits + integer ll” could not pay:

  • Spectral lines come in pairs. Under a spectrometer, sodium’s yellow D line is actually two lines, at wavelengths 589.0 nm and 589.6 nm, split by a mere 0.002 eV. Hydrogen’s lines show the same “doublet” fine structure. It was as if something unknown was gently snapping every level in two.
  • The anomalous Zeeman effect. Lines in a magnetic field often split into an even number of components. But we just counted in the previous section: orbital angular momentum gives 2l+12l+1 lines with integer ll, and that number is always odd. An even count means some angular momentum has an even 2j+12j+1 — and jj must be a half-integer.

Goudsmit and Uhlenbeck (both graduate students at the time) proposed that the electron itself carries an angular momentum s=12s=\tfrac12, along with a magnetic moment to match. They named it spin.

First, defuse the name: the electron is not a little top

“Spin” is a historically misleading name. It suggests the electron is a little ball rotating about its own axis. That picture is wrong, and wrong in a way you can demonstrate quantitatively:

Then what is spin? This is exactly where the reversal at the end of section 5.1 earns its keep: angular momentum is defined by the commutation relations, not by r×p\vec r\times\vec p. Spin is three Hermitian operators S^x,S^y,S^z\hat S_x,\hat S_y,\hat S_z satisfying

[S^x,S^y]=iS^z and its cyclic partners(5.3.2)[\hat S_x,\hat S_y]=\ii\hbar\hat S_z\ \text{and its cyclic partners}\tag{5.3.2}

Nothing more. It is attached to no position wavefunction, so the single-valuedness argument of section 5.2 — “one full turn must return the original value” — has no grip on it: the half-integer seats stand open. The electron occupies the smallest non-trivial one: s=12s=\tfrac12, with eigenvalues S^2=12322=342\hat S^2=\tfrac12\cdot\tfrac32\hbar^2=\tfrac34\hbar^2 and S^z=±2\hat S_z=\pm\tfrac\hbar2 — just 2s+1=22s+1=2 states.

Spin is an intrinsic property of the electron, on the same footing as charge and mass: you cannot “slow down” or “speed up” the electron’s spin. s=12s=\tfrac12 is a factory setting; all that can change is how its components along various directions come out.

A two-dimensional space and the Pauli matrices

A system with only two basis vectors is the smallest stage quantum mechanics can offer. Write

=s=12,m=+12=(10),=s=12,m=12=(01)(5.3.3)\ket{\uparrow}=\ket{s=\tfrac12,m=+\tfrac12} =\begin{pmatrix}1\\0\end{pmatrix},\qquad \ket{\downarrow}=\ket{s=\tfrac12,m=-\tfrac12} =\begin{pmatrix}0\\1\end{pmatrix}\tag{5.3.3}

A general state is a two-component complex vector χ=a+b\ket{\chi}=a\ket{\uparrow}+b\ket{\downarrow} with a2+b2=1|a|^2+|b|^2=1. Chapter 3’s abstract language — “states are vectors, observables are matrices” — here becomes for the first time concrete enough to compute by hand: every operator is a 2×22\times2 matrix.

The Pauli algebra is useful enough to memorise outright. Each matrix squares to the identity, any two distinct ones anticommute, and both facts fold into one master product formula:

σiσj=δij1+ikϵijkσk(5.3.9)\sigma_i\sigma_j=\delta_{ij}\,\mathbb{1}+\ii\sum_k\epsilon_{ijk}\,\sigma_k\tag{5.3.9}

(ϵijk\epsilon_{ijk} is the cyclic symbol: +1+1 for the order xyzxyz and its cycles, 1-1 for the reverse, 0 with any repeated index.) An immediate corollary: the spin along any direction n^\hat n, n^σ\hat n\cdot\vec\sigma, satisfies (n^σ)2=1(\hat n\cdot\vec\sigma)^2=\mathbb{1}, so its eigenvalues can only be ±1\pm1, i.e. S^n=±2\hat S_n=\pm\tfrac\hbar2. No matter which direction you measure along, the answer is always just “up” or “down”, always of size /2\hbar/2. The next section will watch this play out in the laboratory again and again.

Spin states along an arbitrary direction

The state “up” along n^=(sinθcosϕ,sinθsinϕ,cosθ)\hat n=(\sin\theta\cos\phi,\sin\theta\sin\phi,\cos\theta) (the eigenstate of n^S^\hat n\cdot\hat{\vec S} with eigenvalue +2+\tfrac\hbar2) works out to be:

+n^=cosθ2+eiϕsinθ2(5.3.10)\ket{+\hat n}=\cos\frac\theta2\,\ket{\uparrow}+\ee^{\ii\phi}\sin\frac\theta2\,\ket{\downarrow}\tag{5.3.10}

What comes next

We now hold all the mathematics of spin: a two-dimensional space, three matrices, and only “up” or “down” as answers along any direction.

But these conclusions sound frankly bizarre — exactly ±/2\pm\hbar/2 from any direction, with not a single value in between? Time to go back to that Frankfurt laboratory in 1922. One magnet, one beam of silver atoms, one glass plate: the apparatus not only demonstrates every claim above directly, it turns chapter 3’s measurement postulate into something you can see. The next section is devoted entirely to this one experiment.

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