Throughout our journey in science and mathematics, we’ve been introduced to the concept of constants—unchanging values like the gravitational constant ( G ), Planck’s constant ( h ), or the mathematical ( \pi ). They’re treated as fixed anchors of the universe, helping us make sense of how things behave. But a deeper look reveals a surprising question: Are these constants actually constant?
Let’s take the Hubble constant ( H_0 ) as an example.
This value represents the rate at which the universe is expanding. One of its
practical uses is to estimate the age of the universe—roughly ( 1/H_0 ) gives a
ballpark figure of about 14 billion years. But here's the catch: if this value
gives 14 billion years today, it would still give 14 billion years a billion
years from now unless we updated the constant. That feels paradoxical—how can
the age of the universe remain the same unless the constant shifts?
This leads to a broader thought. Many constants weren’t so
much “declared” by nature as they were discovered through our calculations.
They often appear when scientists refine theories to match observations as
closely as possible. These constants help align elegant math with messy
reality.
But what happens when we see farther? The observable
universe may only be a fraction of what’s truly out there. If future telescopes
allow us to peer deeper, our calculations may shift, and constants like ( H_0 )
might need to adapt. In that sense, a constant can be less of an immutable
truth and more of a placeholder for what we don’t yet know.
There’s also an intriguing philosophical twist—what if a
completely different form of intelligence tried to describe the universe? Their
perception might lead to entirely different models, equations, and constants.
So maybe constants aren't purely objective truths, but instead observer-dependent
tools shaped by the limits of our instruments, cognition, and perspective.
From this view, constants feel more like finely tuned
bridges between theory and observation, rather than immutable
laws written into the fabric of reality. And maybe that's not a flaw—it’s part
of the beauty of science: forever adapting, questioning, and reaching for a
more complete picture of the cosmos.