The Project Physics Course
Reader
6
The Nucleus
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The Project Physics Course
Reader
UNIT
Q The Nucleus
A Component of the
Project Physics Course
Published by
HOLT, RINEHART and WINSTON, Inc.
New York, Toronto
This publication is one of the many
Instructional materials developed for the
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many colleagues listed in the text units.
Directors of Harvard Project Physics
Gerald Holton, Department of Physics,
Harvard University
F. James Rutherford, Capuchino High School,
San Bruno, California, and Harvard University
Fletcher G. Watson, Harvard Graduate School
of Education
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Picture Credits
Cover picture: Ink drawing by Pablo Picasso
from Le Chef-d'oeuvre inconnu, by Honore de
Balzac, Ambroise Vollard, Paris, 1931.
2 4
5 I
3 *
Picture Credits for frontispiece.
(1) Photograph by Glen J. Pearcy.
(2) Jeune fille au corsage rouge lisant by Jean
Baptiste Camille Corot. Painting. Collection
BiJhrle, Zurich.
Harvard Project Physics staff photo.
Femme lisant by Georges Seurat. Conte crayon
drawing. Collection C. F. Stoop, London.
(3)
(4)
(5) Portrait of Pierre Reverdy by Pablo Picasso.
Etching. Museum of Modern Art, N.Y.C.
(6) Lecture au lit by Paul Klee. Drawing. Paul Klee
Foundation, Museum of Fine Arts, Berne.
Sources and Aclcnowledgments
Project Physics Reader 6
1. Rutherford from Variety of Men, pp. 3-30, by
C. P. Snow, copyright © 1967 by C. P. Snow.
Reprinted with the permission of Charles
Scribner's Sons.
2. The Nature of the Alpha Particle from Radioactive
Substances by E. Rutherford and T. Royds from
the Philosophical Magazine, Chapter 6, Volume
17, 1909, pp. 281-286. Reproduced by permission
of Taylor and Francis Ltd., London.
3. Some Personal Notes on the Search for the
Neutron by Sir James Chadwick from Actes du
Xeme Congres International d'Histoire des
Sciences, Hermann, Paris and from Ithaca,
26 VIII-2 IX 1962. Reprinted with permission.
4. Anti-Protons by O. Chamberlain, E. Segre,
C. Wiegand, and T. Ypsiiantis from Nature,
Volume 177, January 7, 1956, pages 11-12.
Reprinted with permission.
5. The Tracks of Nuclear Particles by Herman
Yagoda from Scientific American, May 1956,
copyright © 1956 by Scientific American, Inc.
Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved.
Available separately at 250 each as Offprint No.
252 from W. H. Freeman and Company, 660
Market Street, San Francisco, California 94104.
6. The Spark Chamber by Gerard K. O'Neill from
Scientific American, August .1962, copyright ©
1962 by Scientific American, Inc. Reprinted with
permission. All rights reserved. Available
separately at 250 each as Offprint No. 282 from
W. H. Freeman and Company, 660 Market Street,
San Francisco, California 94104.
7. The Evolution of the Cyclotron by E. O. Lawrence.
(Nobel Lecture, December 11, 1951.) Copyright
The Nobel Foundation, 1952. Elsevier Publishing
Company, Amsterdam. From The Development of
High-Energy Accelerators, edited by M. Stanley
Livingston, Classics of Science, Volume 3,
Dover Publications Inc., New York, 1966.
8. Particle Accelerators by Robert R. Wilson from
Scientific American, March 1958. Reprinted with
permission. Copyright © 1958 by Scientific
American, Inc. All rights reserved.
9. The Cyclotron as Seen by . . . Cartoons by
David L. Judd and Ronald G. MacKenzie, prepared
for the International Conference on Isochronous
Cyclotrons, Gatlinburg, Tenn., May, 1966.
Reprinted from the proceedings of the conference
(IEEE Transactions in Nuclear Science, vol.
NS-13, No. 4, August 1966) with the permission
of the IEEE.
10. CERN by Jeremy Bernstein from A Comprehen-
sible World: Essays on Science, copyright © 1964
by Jeremy Bernstein. Reprinted with permission
of Random House, Inc. This article originally
appeared in The New Yorker.
11. New World of Nuclear Power from Introduction
To Natural Science, Part I: The Physical Sciences
by V. L. Parsegian, pages 633-641, copyright ©
1968 by Academic Press. Reprinted with
permission.
12. The Atomic Nucleus by R. E. Peieris from
Scientific American, January 1959. Reprinted
with permission. Copyright © 1959 by Scientific
American, Inc. All rights reserved.
13. Power from the Stars by Ralph E. Lapp from
Roads to Discovery, pages 159-170, copyright ©
1960 by Ralph E. Lapp. Harper & Row, Pub-
lishers, New York.
14. Success by Laura Fermi from Atoms In The
Family, copyright 1954 by the University of
Chicago Press, pages 190-199. Reprinted with
permission.
15. The Nuclear Energy Revolution — 1966, by Alvin
M. Weinberg and Gale Young. Proceedings of the
National Academy of Science, Vol. 57, No. 1 ,
pp. 1-15, January 1967. Research sponsored by
the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission under
contract with the Union Carbide Corporation.
Reprinted with permission.
16. Conservation Laws by Kenneth W. Ford from
The World of Elementary Particles, copyright ©
1963 by Blaisdell Publishing Company, a division
of Ginn and Company, Watham, Massachusetts,
pages 81-112. Reprinted with permission.
17. The Fall of Parity by Martin Gardner from The
Ambidextrous Universe, copyright © 1964 by
Martin Gardner. Reprinted with permission of
Basic Books, Inc., New York and Penguin
Books Ltd.
18. Can Time Go Backward? by Martin Gardner
from Scientific American, January 1967, copyright
© 1967 by Scientific American, Inc. Reprinted
with permission. All rights reserved. Available
separately at 250 each as Offprint No. 309 from
W. H. Freeman and Company, 660 Market Street,
San Francisco, California 94104.
19. A Report to the Secretary of War, by J. Franck,
D. J. Hughes, J. J. Nickson, E. Rabinowitch,
G. T. Seaborg, J. C. Stearns, L. Szilard, June
1945, Chapter 3 of The Atomic Age, edited by
Morton Grodzins and Eugene Rabinowitch,
copyright © 1963 by Basic Books, Inc., New
York. Reprinted with permission.
20. The Privilege of Being a Physicist by Victor F.
Weisskopf from Physics Today, August 1969,
pages 39-43, copyright © 1969. Reprinted with
permission.
21. Calling All Stars by Leo Szilard from Voice of the
Dolphins, pages 105-111, copyright © 1961 by
Leo Szilard. Reprinted by permission of Simon
and Schuster, New York.
22. Tasks for a World Without War by Harrison Brown
from Daedalus, Fall 1960, Journal of the American
Academy of Arts and Sciences, Boston, pages
1029-1038. Reprinted with permission.
23. One Scientist and His View of Science by Leopold
Infeld from Quest, copyright 1941 by Leopold
Infeld. Reprinted by permission of Russell &
Volkening, New York.
24. Development of the Space-Time View of Quantum
Electrodynamics by Richard P. Feynman (Nobel
Lecture, December 11, 1965), copyright © The
Nobel Foundation 1966, Elsevier Publishing
Company, Amsterdam. Reprinted with permission
from Science, August 12, 1966, Volume 153,
Number 3737, pages 609-708.
25. The Relation of Mathematics to Physics, by
Richard P. Feynman from The Character of
Physical Law, pages 55-57, British Broadcasting
Corporation, London, copyright © 1965 by
Richard P. Feynman. Reprinted with permission
of the author and the M.I.T. Press, Cambridge,
Massachusetts.
26. Where Do We Go From Here by Arthur E. Ruark
from Physics Today, September 1969, pages
25-28, copyright 1969. Reprinted with permission.
Ill
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IV
This is not a physics textbook. Rather, it is a physics
reader, a collection of some of the best articles and
book passages on physics. A few are on historic events
in science, others contain some particularly memorable
description of what physicists do; still others deal with
philosophy of science, or with the impact of scientific
thought on the imagination of the artist.
There are old and new classics, and also some little-
known publications; many have been suggested for in-
clusion because some teacher or physicist remembered
an article with particular fondness. The majority of
articles is not drawn from scientific papers of historic
importance themselves, because material from many of
these is readily available, either as quotations in the
Project Physics text or in special collections.
This collection is meant for your browsing. If you follow
your own reading interests, chances are good that you
will find here many pages that convey the joy these
authors have in their work and the excitement of their
ideas. If you want to follow up on interesting excerpts,
the source list at the end of the reader will guide you
for further reading.
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Reader 6
Table of Contents
1 Rutherford 1
Charles P. Snow
2 The Nature of the Alpha Particle 19
Ernest Rutherford and T. Royds
3 Some Personal Notes on the Search for the Neutron 25
Sir James Chadwick
4 Antiprotons 32
Owen Chamberlain, Emilio Segr6, Clyde E. Wiegand, and Thomas Ypsilantis
5 The Tracks of Nuclear Particles 35
Herman Yagoda
6 The Spark Chamber 43
Gerard K. O'Neill
7 The Evolution of the Cyclotron 51
Ernest O. Lawrence
8 Particle Accelerators 65
Robert K. Wilson
9 The Cyclotron As Seen By . . . 77
David C. Judd and Ronald MacKenzie
10 CERN 83
Jeremy Bernstein
1 1 The World of New Atoms and of Ionizing Radiations 95
v. Lawrence Parsegian, Alan S. Meltzer, Abraham S. Luchins, K. Scott Kinerson
12 The Atomic Nucleus 103
Rudolf E. Peierls
1 3 Power from the Stars 1 09
Ralph E. Lapp
VI
1 4 Success 1 23
Laura Fermi
1 5 The Nuclear Energy Revolution 1 35
Alvin M. Weinberg and Gale Young
16 Conservation Laws 141
Kenneth W. Ford
1 7 The Fall of Parity 1 75
Martin Gardner
18 Can Time Go Backward? 193
Martin Gardner
19 A Report to the Secretary of War 201
James Franck, Donald J. Hughes, J. I. Nickson, Eugene Rabinowitch,
Glenn T. Seaborg, Joyce C. Stearns, Leo Szilard
20 The Privilege of Being a Physicist 21 1
Victor F. Weisskopf
21 Calling All Stars 221
Leo Szilard
22 Tasks for a World Without War 227
Harrison Brown
23 One Scientist and His View of Science 237
Leopold Infeld
24 The Development of the Space-Time View of Quantum Electrodynamics 241
Richard P. Feynman
25 The Relation of Mathematics to Physics 251
Richard P. Feynman
26 Where Do We Go From Here? 253
Arthur E. Ruark
C. p. Snow's highly personal account of Ernest Ruther-
ford IS based partly on Snow's research work In the
Cavendish Laboratory while Rutherford was director.
1 Rutherford
Charles P. Snow
Chapter from his book. Variety of Men, published in 1967.
IN 1923, at the meeting of the British Association for
the Advancement of Science in Liverpool, Rutherford
announced, at the top of his enormous voice: "We are
living in the heroic age of physics." He went on saying the
same thing, loudly and exuberantly, until he died, fourteen
years later.
The curious thing was, all he said was absolutely true.
There had never been such a time. The year 1932 was the
most spectacular year in the history of science. Living in
Cambridge, one could not help picking up the human, as
well as the intellectual, excitement in the air. James Chad-
wick, grey-faced after a fortnight of work with three
hours' sleep a night, telling the Kapitsa Club (to which
any young man was so proud to belong) how he had dis-
covered the neutron; P. M. S. Blackett, the most hand-
some of men, not quite so authoritative as usual, because
it seemed too good to be true, showing plates which
demonstrated the existence of the positive electron; John
Cockcroft, normally about as much given to emotional
display as the Duke of Wellington, skimming down
King's Parade and saying to anyone whose face he recog-
nized: "We've split the atom! We've split the atom!"
It meant an intellectual climate different in kind
from anything else in England at the time. The tone of
science was the tone of Rutherford: magniloquently
boastful — boastful because the major discoveries were
being made — creatively confident, generous, argumenta-
tive, lavish, and full of hope. The tone differed from the
tone of literary England as much as Rutherford's person-
ality differed from that of T. S. Eliot. During the twenties
and thirties Cambridge was the metropolis of experimen-
tal physics for the entire world. Even in the late nine-
teenth century, during the professorships of Clerk Max-
well and J. J. Thomson, it had never quite been that.
"You're always at the crest of the wave," someone said to
Rutherford. "Well, after all, I made the wave, didn't I?"
Rutherford replied.
I remember seeing him a good many times before I
first spoke to him. I was working on the periphery of
physics at the time, and so didn't come directly under
him. I already knew that I wanted to write novels, and
that was how I should finish, and this gave me a kind of
ambivalent attitude to the scientific world; but, even so, I
could not avoid feeling some sort of excitement, or en-
hancement of interest, whenever I saw Rutherford walk-
ing down Free School Lane.
He was a big, rather clumsy man, with a substantial
bay-window that started in the middle of the chest. I
should guess that he was less muscular than at first sight
he looked. He had large staring blue eyes and a damp and
Rutherford
pendulous lower lip. He didn't look in the least like an in-
tellectual. Creative people of his abundant kind never do,
of course, but all the talk of Rutherford looking like a
farmer was unperceptive nonsense. His was really the
kind of face and physique that often goes with great
weight of character and gifts. It could easily have been
the soma of a great writer. As he talked to his companions
in the street, his voice was three times as loud as any of
theirs, and his accent was bizarre. In fact, he came from
the very poor: his father was an odd-job man in New Zea-
land and the son of a Scottish emigrant. But there was
nothing Antipodean or Scottish about Rutherford's ac-
cent; it sounded more like a mixture of West Country
and Cockney.
In my first actual meeting with him, perhaps I could
be excused for not observing with precision. It was early
in 1930; I had not yet been elected a Fellow of my own
college, and so had put in for the Stokes studentship at
Pembroke. One Saturday afternoon I was summoned to
an interview. When I arrived at Pembroke, I found that
the short list contained only two, Philip Dee and me. Dee
was called in first; as he was being interviewed, I was re-
flecting without pleasure that he was one of the brightest
of Rutherford's bright young men.
Then came my turn. As I went in, the first person I
saw, sitting on the right hand of the Master, was Ruther-
ford himself. While the Master was taking me through my
career, Rutherford drew at his pipe, not displaying any
excessive interest in the proceedings. The Master came to
the end of his questions, and said: "Professor Ruther-
ford?"
Rutherford took out his pipe and turned on to me an
eye which was blue, cold and bored. He was the most
spontaneous of men; when he felt bored he showed it.
That afternoon he felt distinctly bored. Wasn't his man,
and a very good man, in for this job? What was this other
fellow doing there? Why were we all wasting our time?
He asked me one or two indifferent questions in an
irritated, impatient voice. What was my present piece of
work? What could spectroscopy tell us anyway? Wasn't it
just "putting things into boxes?"
I thought that was a bit rough. Perhaps I realized
that I had nothing to lose. Anyway, as cheerfully as I
could manage, I asked if he couldn't put up with a few of
us not doing nuclear physics. I went on, putting a case for
my kind of subject.
A note was brought round to my lodgings that eve-
ning. Dee had got the job. The electors wished to say that
either candidate could properly have been elected. That
sounded like a touch of Cambridge politeness, and I felt
depressed. I cheered up a day or two later when I heard
that Rutherford was trumpeting that I was a young man
of spirit. Within a few months he backed me for another
studentship. Incidentally, Dee was a far better scientist
than I was or could have been, and neither Rutherford
nor anyone else had been unjust.
From that time until he died, I had some opportuni-
ties of watching Rutherford at close quarters. Several of
my friends knew him intimately, which I never did. It is a
great pity that Tizard or Kapitsa, both acute psychologi-
cal observers, did not write about him at length. But I be-
longed to a dining club which he attended, and I think I
Rutherford
had serious conversations with him three times, the two of
us alone together.
The difficulty is to separate the inner man from the
Rutherfordiana, much of which is quite genuine. From
behind a screen in a Cambridge tailor's, a friend and I
heard a reverberating voice: "That shirt's too tight round
the neck. Every day I grow in girth. And in mentality."
Yet his physical make-up was more nervous than it
seemed. In the same way, his temperament, which seemed
exuberantly powerful, massively simple, rejoicing with
childish satisfaction in creation and fame, was not quite so
simple as all that. His was a personality of Johnsonian
scale. As with Johnson, the fagade was overbearing and
unbroken. But there were fissures within.
No one could have enjoyed himself more, either in
creative work or the honors it brought him. He worked
hard, but with immense gusto; he got pleasure not only
from the high moments, but also from the hours of what
to others would be drudgery, sitting in the dark counting
the alpha particle scintillations on the screen. His insight
was direct, his intuition, with one curious exception, in-
fallible. No scientist has made fewer mistakes. In the corpus
of his published work, one of the largest in scientific his-
tory, there was nothing he had to correct afterwards. By
thirty he had already set going the science of nuclear
physics — single-handed, as a professor on five hundred
pounds a year, in the isolation of late-Victorian Montreal.
By forty, now in Manchester, he had found the structure
of the atom — on which all modern nuclear physics depends.
It was an astonishing career, creatively active until
the month he died. He was born very poor, as I have said.
New Zealand was, in the i88o's, the most remote of
provinces, but he managed to get a good education;
enough of the old Scottish tradition had percolated there,
and he won all the prizes. He was as original as Einstein,
but unlike Einstein he did not revolt against formal in-
struction; he was top in classics as well as in everything
else. He started research — on the subject of wireless waves
— with equipment such as one might rustle up today in an
African laboratory. That did not deter him: "I could do
research at the North Pole," he once proclaimed, and it
was true. Then he was awarded one of the 1 8 5 1 overseas
scholarships (which later brought to England Florey,
Oliphant, Philip Bowden, a whole series of gifted An-
tipodeans). In fact, he got the scholarship only because
another man, placed above him, chose to get married:
with the curious humility that was interwoven with his
boastfulness, he was grateful all of his life. There was a pro-
posal, when he was Lord Rutherford, President of the
Royal Society, the greatest of living experimental scien-
tists, to cut down these scholarships. Rutherford was on the
committee. He was too upset to speak: at last he blurted
out:
"If it had not been for them, I shouldn't have been."
That was nonsense. Nothing could have stopped him. He
brought his wireless work to Cambridge, anticipated Mar-
coni, and then dropped it because he saw a field — radio-
activity— more scientifically interesting.
If he had pushed on with wireless, incidentally, he
couldn't have avoided becoming rich. But for that he
never had time to spare. He provided for his wife and
daughter, they lived in comfortable middle-class houses.
Rutherford
and that was all. His work led directly to the atomic
energy industry spending, within ten years of his death,
thousands of millions of pounds. He himself never earned,
or wanted to earn, more than a professor's salary — about
£i,6oo a year at the Cavendish in the thirties. In his will
he left precisely the value of his Nobel Prize, then worth
£7,000. Of the people I am writing about, he died much
the poorest '*" : even G. H. Hardy, who by Rutherford's side
looked so ascetic and unworldly, happened not to be above
taking an interest in his investments.
As soon as Rutherford got on to radioactivity, he
was set on his life's work. His ideas were simple, rugged,
material: he kept them so. He thought of atoms as though
they were tennis balls. He discovered particles smaller
than atoms, and discovered how they moved or bounced.
Sometimes the particles bounced the wrong way. Then he
inspected the facts and made a new but always simple pic-
ture. In that way he moved, as certainly as a sleepwalker,
from unstable radioactive atoms to the discovery of the
nucleus and the structure of the atom.
In 19 1 9 he made one of the significant discoveries of
all time: he broke up a nucleus of nitrogen by a direct hit
from an alpha particle. That is, man could get inside the
atomic nucleus and play with it if he could find the right
projectiles. These projectiles could either be provided by
radioactive atoms or by ordinary atoms speeded up by
electrical machines.
The rest of that story leads to the technical and mili-
tary history of our time. Rutherford himself never built
the great machines which have dominated modern parti-
"■ One has to leave Stalin out of this comparison.
cle physics, though some of his pupils, notably Cockcrof t,
started them. Rutherford himself worked with bizarrely
simple apparatus: but in fact he carried the use of such
apparatus as far as it would go. His researches remain the
last supreme single-handed achievement in fundamental
physics. No one else can ever work there again — in the old
Cavendish phrase — with seahng wax and string.
It was not done without noise: it was done with
anger and storms — but also with an overflow of creative
energy, with abundance and generosity, as though re-
search were the easiest and most natural avocation in the
world. He had deep sympathy with the creative arts, par-
ticularly literature; he read more novels than most liter-
ary people manage to do. He had no use for critics of any
kind. He felt both suspicion and dislike of the people who
invested scientific research or any other branch of crea-
tion with an aura of difficulty, who used long, methodo-
logical words to explain things which he did perfectly by
instinct. "Those fellows," he used to call them. "Those fel-
lows" were the logicians, the critics, the metaphysicians.
They were clever; they were usually more lucid than he
was; in argument against them he often felt at a dis-
advantage. Yet somehow they never produced a serious
piece of work, whereas he was the greatest experimental
scientist of the age.
I have heard larger claims made for him. I remember
one discussion in particular, a year or two after his death,
by half-a-dozen men, all of whom had international repu-
tations in science. Darwin was there: G. I. Taylor: Fowler
and some others. Was Rutherford the greatest experimen-
tal scientist since Michael Faraday? Without any doubt.
Rutherford
Greater than Faraday? Possibly so. And then — it is inter-
esting, as it shows the anonymous Tolstoyan nature of
organized science — how many years' difference would it
have made if he had never lived? How much longer be-
fore the nucleus would have been understood as we now
understand it? Perhaps ten years. More likely only five.
Rutherford's intellect was so strong that he would, in
the long run, have accepted that judgment. But he would
not have liked it. His estimate of his own powers was
realistic, but if it erred at all, it did not err on the modest
side. "There is no room for this particle in the atom as de-
signed by w^/* I once heard him assure a large audience.
It was part of his nature that, stupendous as his work was,
he should consider it lo per cent more so. It was also part
of his nature that, quite without acting, he should behave
constantly as though he were lo per cent larger than life.
Worldly success? He loved every minute of it: flattery,
titles, the company of the high official world. He said in a
speech: "As I was standing in the drawing-room at Trin-
ity, a clergyman came in. And I said to him: T'm Lord
Rutherford.' And he said to me: T'm the Archbishop of
York.' And I don't suppose either of us believed the other."
He was a great man, a very great man, by any stand-
ards which we can apply. He was not subtle: but he was
clever as well as creatively gifted, magnanimous (within
the human limits) as well as hearty. He was also superbly
and magnificently vain as well as wise — the combination
is commoner than we think when we are young. He en-
joyed a life of miraculous success. On the whole he en-
joyed his own personality. But I am sure that, even quite
late in his life, he felt stabs of a sickening insecurity.
Somewhere at the roots of that abundant and crea-
tive nature there was a painful, shrinking nerve. One has
only to read his letters as a young man to discern it. There
are passages of self-doubt which are not to be explained
completely by a humble colonial childhood and youth. He
was uncertain in secret, abnormally so for a young man of
his gifts. He kept the secret as his personality flowered and
hid it. But there was a mysterious diffidence behind it all.
He hated the faintest suspicion of being patronized, even
when he was a world figure. Archbishop Lang was once
tactless enough to suggest that he supposed a famous scien-
tist had no time for reading. Rutherford immediately felt
that he was being regarded as an ignorant roughneck. He
produced a formidable list of his last month's reading. Then,
half innocently, half malevolently: "And what do you
manage to read, your Grice?" "I am afraid," said the Arch-
bishop, somewhat out of his depth, "that a man in my posi-
tion really doesn't have the leisure. . . ." "Ah, yes, your
Grice," said Rutherford in triumph, "it must be a dog's
life! It must be a dog's life!"
Once I had an opportunity of seeing that diffidence
face to face. In the autumn of 1934 I published my first
novel, which was called The Search and the background
of which was the scientific world. Not long after it came
out, Rutherford met me in King's Parade. "What have
you been doing to us, young man?" he asked vociferously.
I began to describe the novel, but it was not necessary; he
announced that he had read it with care. He went on to
invite, or rather command, me to take a stroll with him
round the Backs. Like most of my scientific friends, he
10
Rutherford
was good-natured about the book, which has some de-
scriptions of the scientific experience which are probably
somewhere near the truth. He praised it. I was gratified. It
was a sunny October afternoon. Suddenly he said: "I
didn't like the erotic bits. I suppose it's because we belong
to different generations."
The book, I thought, was reticent enough. I did not
know how to reply.
In complete seriousness and simplicity, he made an-
other suggestion. He hoped that I was not going to write
all my novels about scientists. I assured him that I was
not — certainly not another for a long time.
He nodded. He was looking gentler than usual, and
thoughtful. "It's a small world, you know," he said. He
meant the world of science. "Keep off us as much as you
can. People are bound to think that you are getting at
some of us. And I suppose we've all got things that we
don't want anyone to see."
I mentioned that his intuitive foresight went wrong
just once. As a rule, he was dead right about the practical
applications of science, just as much as about the nucleus.
But his single boss shot sounds ironic now. In 1933 he said,
in another address to the British Association, "These trans-
formations of the atom are of extraordinary interest to
scientists, but we cannot control atomic energy to an
extent which would be of any value commercially, and I
believe we are not likely ever to be able to do so. A lot of
nonsense has been talked about transmutations. Our inter-
est in the matter is purely scientific."
That statement, which was made only nine years be-
ll
fore the first pile worked, was not intended to be either
optimistic or pessimistic. It was just a forecast, and it was
wrong.
That judgment apart, people outside the scientific
world often felt that Rutherford and his kind were
optimistic — optimistic right against the current of the
twentieth century literary-intellectual mood, offensively
and brazenly optimistic. This feeling was not quite un-
justified, but the difference between the scientists and the
non-scientists was more complex than that. When the
scientists talked of the individual human condition, they
did not find it any more hopeful than the rest of us. Does
anyone really imagine that Bertrand Russell, G. H. Hardy,
Rutherford, Blackett and the rest were bemused by
cheerfulness as they faced their own individual state?
Very few of them had any of the consolations of religion:
they believed, with the same certainty that they believed
in Rutherford's atom, that they were going, after this
mortal life, into annihilation. Several of them were men
of deep introspective insight. They did not need teaching
anything at all about the existential absurdity.
Nevertheless it is true that, of the kinds of people I
have lived among, the scientists were much the happiest.
Somehow scientists were buoyant at a time when other in-
tellectuals could not keep away despair. The reasons for
this are not simple. Partly, the nature of scientific activ-
ity, its complete success on its own terms, is itself a source
of happiness; partly, people who are drawn to scientific
activity tend to be happier in temperament than other
clever men. By the nature of their vocation and also by
the nature of their own temperament, the scientists did
12
Rutherford
not think constantly of the individual human predica-
ment. Since they could not alter it, they let it alone. When
they thought about people, they thought most of what
could be altered, not what couldn't. So they gave their
minds not to the individual condition but to the social
one.
There, science itself was the greatest single force for
change. The scientists were themselves part of the deepest
revolution in human affairs since the discovery of agricul-
ture. They could accept what was happening, while other
intellectuals shrank away. They not only accepted it, they
rejoiced in it. It was difficult to find a scientist who did
not believe that the scientific-technical-industrial revolu-
tion, accelerating under his eyes, was not doing incom-
parably more good than harm.
This was the characteristic optimism of scientists in
the twenties and thirties. Is it still? In part, I think so. But
there has been a change.
In the Hitler war, physicists became the most essen-
tial of military resources: radar, which occupied thou-
sands of physicists on both sides, altered the shape of the
war, and the nuclear bomb finished large scale "conven-
tional" war for ever. To an extent, it had been foreseen by
the mid-thirties that if it came to war (which a good
many of us expected) physicists would be called on from
the start. Tizard was a close friend of Rutherford's, and
kept him informed about the prospects of RDF (as radar
was then called). By 1938 a number of the Cavendish
physicists had been secretly indoctrinated. But no one, no
one at all, had a glimmering of how, for a generation
afterwards, a high percentage of all physicists in the
13
United States, the Soviet Union, this country, would re-
main soldiers-not-in-uniform. Mark Oliphant said sadly,
when the first atomic bomb was dropped: "This has killed
a beautiful subject." Intellectually that has turned out not
to be true: but morally there is something in it. Secrecy,
national demands, military influence, have sapped the
moral nerve of physics. It will be a long time before the
climate of Cambridge, Copenhagen, Gottingen in the
twenties is restored: or before any single physicist can speak
to all men with the calm authority of Einstein or Bohr.
That kind of leadership has now passed to the biologists,
who have so far not been so essential to governments. It
will be they, I think, who are likely to throw up the great
scientific spokesmen of the next decades. If someone now
repeated Gorki's famous question, "Masters of culture,
which side are you on?" it would probably be a biologist
who spoke out for his fellow human beings.
In Rutherford's scientific world, the difficult choices
had not yet formed themselves. The liberal decencies were
taken for granted. It was a society singularly free from
class or national or racial prejudice. Rutherford called
himself alternatively conservative or non-political, but
the men he wanted to have jobs were those who could do
physics. Niels Bohr, Otto Hahn, Georg von Hevesy, Hans
Geiger were men and brothers, whether they were Jews,
Germans, Hungarians — men and brothers whom he would
much rather have near him than the Archbishop of
Canterbury or one of "those fellows" or any damned Eng-
lish philosopher. It was Rutherford who, after 1933, took
the lead in opening English academic life to Jewish refu-
gees. In fact, scientific society was wide open, as it may
14
Rutherford
not be again for many years. There was coming and going
among laboratories all over the world, including Russia.
Peter Kapitsa, Rutherford's favorite pupil, contrived to
be in good grace with the Soviet authorities and at the same
time a star of the Cavendish.
He had a touch of genius: in those days, before life
sobered him, he had also a touch of the inspired Russian
clown. He loved his own country, but he distinctly en-
joyed backing both horses, working in Cambridge and
taking his holidays in the Caucasus. He once asked a
friend of mine if a foreigner could become an English
peer; we strongly suspected that his ideal career would see
him established simultaneously in the Soviet Academy of
Sciences and as Rutherford's successor in the House of
Lords.
At that time Kapitsa attracted a good deal of envy,
partly because he could do anything with Rutherford. He
called Rutherford "the Crocodile," explaining the crocodile
means "father" in Russian, which it doesn't, quite: he had
Eric Gill carve a crocodile on his new laboratory. He flat-
tered Rutherford outrageously, and Rutherford loved it.
Kapitsa could be as impertinent as a Dostoevskian come-
dian: but he had great daring and scientific insight. He es-
tablished the club named after him (which again inspired
some envy) : it met every Tuesday night, in Kapitsa's rooms
in Trinity, and was deliberately kept small, about thirty,
apparently because Kapitsa wanted to irritate people doing
physical subjects he disapproved of. We used to drink large
cups of milky coffee immediately after hall (living was
fairly simple, and surprisingly non-alcoholic, in scientific
Cambridge), and someone gave a talk — often a dramatic
15
one, like Chadwick*s on the neutron. Several of the major
discoveries of the thirties were first heard in confidence in
that room. I don't think that the confidence was ever
broken.
I myself enjoyed the one tiny scientific triumph of
my life there. At the time Kapitsa barely tolerated me,
since I did spectroscopy, a subject he thought fit only for
bank clerks: in fact I had never discovered why he let me
join. One night I offered to give a paper outside my own
subject, on nuclear spin, in which I had been getting in-
terested: I didn't know much about it, but I reckoned
that most of the Cavendish knew less. The offer was un-
enthusiastically accepted. I duly gave the paper. Kapitsa
looked at me with his large blue eyes, with a somewhat
unflattering astonishment, as at a person of low intelli-
gence who had contrived inadvertently to say something
interesting. He turned to Chadwick, and said incredu-
lously, "Jimmy, I believe there is something in this."
It was a personal loss to Rutherford when Kapitsa, on
one of his holiday trips to Russia, was told by the Soviet
bosses, politely but unyieldingly, that he must stay: he
was too valuable, they wanted his services full-time. After
a while Kapitsa made the best of it. He had always been a
patriotic Russian: though both he and his wife came from
the upper middle-class, if there was such a class in old
Russia (his father was a general in the Tsarist engineering
corps), he took a friendly attitude to the revolution. All
that remained steady, though I don't think he would mind
my saying that his enthusiasm for Stalin was not unquali-
fied. Still, Kapitsa threw all his gifts into his new work in
the cause of Soviet science. It was only then that we, who
16
Rutherford
had known him in Cambridge, reaUzed how strong a char-
acter he was: how brave he was: and fundamentally what
a good man. His friendship with Cockcroft and others
meant that the link between Soviet and English science
was never quite broken, even in the worst days. Only
great scientists like Lev Landau can say in full what he
has done for science in his own country. If he hadn't ex-
isted, the world would have been worse: that is an epitaph
that most of us would like and don't deserve.
Between Leningrad and Cambridge, Kapitsa oscil-
lated. Between Copenhagen and Cambridge there was a
stream of travellers, all the nuclear physicists of the
world. Copenhagen had become the second scientific me-
tropolis on account of the personal influence of one man,
Niels Bohr, who was complementary to Rutherford as a
person — patient, reflective, any thought hedged with
Proustian qualifications — just as the theoretical quantum
physics of which he was the master was complementary to
Rutherford's experimental physics. He had been a pupil
of Rutherford's, and they loved and esteemed each other
like father and son. (Rutherford was a paterfamilias born,
and the death of his only daughter seems to have been the
greatest sorrow of his personal life. In his relations with
Bohr and Kapitsa and others, there was a strong vein of
paternal emotion diverted from the son he never had.)
But, strong as Rutherford's liking for Bohr was, it was
not strong enough to put up with Bohr's idea of a suitable
length for a lecture. In the Cavendish lecture room, Bohr
went past the hour; Rutherford began to stir. Bohr went
past the hour and a half; Rutherford began plucking at
his sleeve and muttering in a stage whisper about "another
17
five minutes." Blandly, patiently, determined not to leave
a qualification unsaid, as indefatigable as Henry James in
his last period, Bohr went past the two hours; Rutherford
was beginning to trumpet about "bringing the lecture to
a close." Soon they were both on their feet at once.
Rutherford died suddenly when he was age sixty-six,
still in full vigor. He died not only suddenly, but of
something like a medical accident: he had a strangulated
hernia. There was no discernible reason why he should not
have lived into old age.
It was a sunny, tranquil October morning, the kind
of day on which Cambridge looks so beautiful. I had just
arrived at the crystallographic laboratory, one of the build-
ings in the old Cavendish muddle; why I was there I don't
remember, nor whom I was talking to, except that it hap-
pened not to be Bernal. Someone put his head round the
door and said: "The Professor's dead."
I don't think anyone said much more. We were
stupefied rather than miserable. It did not seem in the
nature of things.
18
Rutherford reports on his ingenious experiments proving
that the alpha particle is a charged helium atom.
The Nature of the Alpha Particle
Ernest Rutherford and T. Royds
A paper in Philosophical Magazine, published in 1909.
rr^HE experimental evidence collected during the last
_L few years has strongly supported the view that the
a particle is a charged helium atom, but it has been found
exceedingly difficult to give a decisive proof of the relation.
In recent papers, Rutherford and Geiger f have supplied still
further evidence of the correctness of this point of view.
The number of a particles from one gram of radium have
been counted, and the charge carried by each determined.
The values of several radioactive quantities, calculated on the
assumption that the a particle is a helium atom carrying two
unit charges, have been shown to be in good agreement with
the experimental numbers. In particular, the good agree-
ment between the calculated rate of production of helium by
radium and the rate experimentally determined by Sir James
Dewarl, is strong evidence in favour of the identity of the
a particle with the helium atom.
The methods of attack on this problem have been largely
indirect, involving considerations of the charge carried by
the helium atom and the value of ejm of the a particle.
The proof of the identity of the a particle with the helium
atom is incomplete until it can be shown that the a particles,
accumulated quite independently of the matter from which
they are expelled, consist of helium. For example, it might be
argued that the appearance of helium in the radium emana-
tion was a result of the expulsion of the a particle, in the
same way that the appearance of radium A is a consequence
of the expulsion of an a particle from the emanation. If
one atom of helium appeared for each a particle expelled,
calculation and experiment might still agree, and yet the
a particle itself might be an atom of hydrogen or of some
other substance.
We have recently made experiments to test whether helium
appears in a vessel into which the a particles have been fired,
the active matter itself being enclosed in a vessel sufficiently
thin to allow the a particles to escape, but impervious to the
passage of helium or other radioactive products.
* Communicated by the Authors.
t Proc. Roy. Soc. A. Ixxxi. pp. 141-173 (1908).
t Proc. Roy. Soc. A. Ixxxi. p. 280 (1908).
19
The experimental arrangement is clearly seen in the figure
The equilibrium quantity of emanation from about 140 milli-
grams of radium was purified and compressed by means of a
mercury-column into a fine glass tube A about 1-5 cms. long.
This fine tube, which was sealed on a larger capillary tube B,
\yas sufficiently thin to allow the a particles from the emana-
tion and its products to escape, but sufficiently strong to
20
The Nature of the Alpha Particle
■withstand atmospheric pressure. After some trials, Mr.
Baumbach succeeded in blowing such fine tubes very uniform
in thickness. The thickness of the wall of the tube employed
in most of the experiments was less than jJq mm., and was
equivalent in stopping power of the a particle to about
2 cms. of air. Since the ranges of the a particles from the
emanation and its products radium A and radium C are 4*3,
4*8, and 7 cms. respectively, it is seen that the great
majority* of the a particles expelled by the active matter
escape through the walls of the tube. The ranges of the
a. particles after passing through the glass were determined
with the aid of a zinc-sulphide screen. Immediately after
the introduction of the emanation the phosphorescence showed
brilliantly when the screen was close to the tube, but practi-
cally disappeared at a distance of 3 cms. After an hour,
bright phosphorescence was observable at a distance of
5 cms. Such a result is to be expected. The phosphorescence
initially observed was due mainly to the « particles of the
emanation and its product radium A (period 3 mins.). In
the course of time the amount of radium C, initially zero,
gradually increased, and the a radiations from it of range
7 eras, were able to cause phosphorescence at a greater
distance.
The glass tube A was surrounded by a cylindrical glass
tube T, 7*5 cms. long and 1'5 cms. diameter, by means of a
ground-glass joint C. A small vacuum-tube V was attached
to the upper end of T. The outer glass tube T was exhausted
by a pump through the stopcock D, and the exhaustion
completed with the aid of the charcoal tube F cooled by
liquid air. By means of a mercury column H attached to a
reservoir, mercury was forced into the tube T until it reached
the bottom of the tube A.
Part of the a particles which escaped through the walls of
the fine tube were stopped by the outer glass tube and part
by the mercury surface. If the a particle is a helium atom,
helium should gradually diffuse from the glass and mercury
into the exhausted space, and its presence could then be
detected spectroscopically by raising the mercury and com-
pressing the gases into the vacuum-tube.
In order to avoid any possible contamination of the
apparatus with helium, freshly distilled mercury and entirely
new glass apparatus were used. Before introducing the
emanation into A, the absence of helium was confirmed
* The a particles fired at a \ery oblique angle to the tube would be
stopped in the glass. The fraction stopped in this way would be small
under the experimental conditions.
21
experimentally. At intervals after the introduction of ihe
emanation the mercury was raised, and the gases in the outer
tube spectroscopically examined. After 24 hours no trace
of the helium yellow line was seen ; after 2 days the helium
yellow was faintly visible ; after 4 days the helium yellow
and green lines were bright ; and after 6 days all the stronger
lines of the helium spectrum were observed. The absence
of the neon spectrum shows that the helium present was not
due to a leakage of air into the apparatus.
There is, however, one possible source of error in this
experiment. The helium may not be due to the a particles
themselves, but may have diffused from the emanation
through the thin walls of the glass tube. In order to test
this point the emanation was completely pumped out of A,.
and after some hours a quantity of helium, about 10 times
the previous volume of the emanation, was compressed into-
the same tube A.
The outer tube T and the vacuum-tube were removed and
a fresh apparatus substituted. Observations to detect helium
in the tube T were made at intervals, in the same way as
before, but no trace of the helium spectrum was observed
over a period of eight days.
The helium in the tube A was then pumped out and a
fresh supply of emanation substituted. Results similar to
the first experiment were observed. The helium yellow
and green lines showed brightly after four ciays.
These experiments thus show conclusively that the helium
could not have diffused through the glass walls, but must
have been derived from the a particles which were fired
through them. In other words, the experiments give a
decisive proof that the a particle after losing its charge is an
atom of helium.
Other Experiments.
We have seen that in the experiments above described
helium was not observed in the outer tube in sufficient
quantity to show the characteristic yellow line until two days
had elapsed. Now the equilibrium amount of emanation
from 100 milligrams of radium should produce helium at the
rate of about 'OS c.mm. per day. The amount produced in
one day, if present in the outer tube, should produce a bright
spectrum of helium under the experimental conditions. It
thus appeared probable that the helium fired into the glass
must escape very slowly into the exhausted space, for if the
helium escaped at once, the presence of helium should have
22
The Nature of the Alpha Particle
been detected a few hours after the introduction o£ the
emanation.
In order to examine this point more closely the experiments
were repeated, with the addition that a cylinder of thin sheet
lead of sufficient thickness to stop the a particles was placed
over the fine emanation tube. Preliminary experiments, in
the manner described later, showed that the lead-foil did not
initially contain a detectable amount of helium. Twenty-four
hours after the introduction into the tube A of about the
Fame amount of emanation as before, the yellow and green
lines of helium showed brightly in the vacuum-tube, and
after two days the whole helium spectrum was observed-. The
spectrum of helium in this case after one duy was of about
the same intensity as that after the fourth day in the experi-
ments without the lead scret-n. It was thus clear that the
lead-foil gave up the helium fired into it far more readily
than the glass.
In order to form an idea of the rapidity of escape of the
helium from the lead some further experiments were made.
The outer cylinder T was removed and a small cylinder of
lead-foil placed round the thin emanation-tube surrounded
the air at atmospheric pressure. After exposure for a definite
time to the emanation, the lead screen was removed and
gested for helium as follows. The lead-foil was placed in a
glass tube between two stopcocks. In order to avoid a
possible release of the helium present in the lead by pumping
out the air, the air was displaced by a current of pure elec-
trolytic oxygen*. The stopcocks were closed and the tube
attached to a subsidiary apparatus similar to that employed
for testing for the presence of neon and helium in the gases
produced by the action of the radium emanation on water
(Phil. Mag. Nov. 1908). The oxygen was absorbed by
charcoal and the tube then heated beyond the melting-point
of lead to allow the helium to escape. The presence of
helium was then spectroscopically looked for in the usual
way. Using this method, it was found possible to detect
the presence of helium in the lead which had been exposed
for only four hours to the a rays from the emanation. After
an exposure of 24 hours the helium yellow and green lines
came out brightly. These experiments were repeated several
times with similar results.
A number of blank experiments were made, using samples
of the lead-foil which had not been exposed to the a rays,
but in no case was any helium detected. In a similar way,
* That the air was completely displaced was shown by the absence of
neon in the final spectrum.
23
the presence of helium was detected in a cylinder o£ tinfoil
exposed for a few hours over the emanation-tube.
These experiments show that the helium does not escape
at once from the lead, but there is on the average a period
of retardation of several hours and possibly longer.
The detection of helium in the lead and tin foil, as well as
in the glass, removes a possible objection that the helium
might have been in some way present in the glass initially,
and wjis liberated as a consequence of its bombardment by
the a particles.
The use of such thin glass tubes containing emanation
affords a simple and convenient method of examining the
effect on substances of an intense a. radiation quite inde-
pendently of the radioactive material contained in the tube.
We can conclude with certainty from these experiment'^
that the a particle after losing its charge is a helium atou).
Other evidence indicates that the charge is twice the unit
charge carried by the hydrogen atom set free in the electrolysis
of water.
Univfirsity of Manchester,
I^ov. 13, 1908.
24
Chadwick reminisces on the period when he, as Ruther-
ford's collaborator, searched for evidence of the neutron
in the seal ing-wax-and -string tradition of experimenta-
tion.
Some Personal Notes on the Search for the Neutron
Sir James Chadwick
Speech delivered before the 10th International Congress of History
of Science at Cornel! University, New York, in 1962.
•t/LiA'C^H'CC ^ A yytut^uU' jja/y^^^ /rT^»H^ /y Tkc cl^>^
t/tx/irtdttrn • /OP \/it€t6cnU t* y^c . n-yyumA fCc^tu. hra^ 'T/iiv/
1^ d/H/lAyKCi/O .
25
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Uc M ^*n^ /ictUU^ .t^fi^ Kit/ 4/n^ .z^^r^^U^u^ ^ fC^
26
Some Personal Notes on the Search for the Neutron
m^4m^ %c A^^t^tt ej-'^kt, £/n/ni^U' /i.aAUiUlryy . lOUt.
/?- h^ucko ^ ^ k//}u, /^ j't/r%>iUn^ y'O^fytu. .!a41^c<. J^-^3Ci>
1uUi4A^ • IvC- eU^ U<i/**i/ttU^ A% %4. jOA^nU t^r*^ ^-€^>**'C.
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A ^//yu^i/*t' hr>iy(d l^-ociiM^x /C-OHC hH'^i^ f4,>iiCL i^n^M^
Z A<C/»^ Xj> /OcJu^nU t^ixA/tA ^^i** iUA^ hm4L - - . , /-
27
fir /fh , 4W iV» fKi. U^virxlo A 4ilui, urrtk I ^ui^
/Ul Ui/M4XAWL UMTUi^ ff- k</Uui^ ^ /a«^/,^J*^^ iC^ h444u^
JiA>iUALCwry un^ turf 0< h/uiZuUo M^tiAi ^ '>uf«/^«<>t •
hud t* (U/rU^ /U444aMc xluTi^cd/ '^*u^tnC<i ^ cruyfji^ .
28
Some Personal Notes on the Search for the Neutron
LU Ut^ iU/t<i/ll^ Ui ^l^ci^AyeMa- m^ fui/f- ln/h tia^
iA\/u^M/i/Ui^< . Wiu/i\ 0ic 'tC^iA' c<^\cfiI2^ h«,4yttu. cunu/Ci^-ic
IsK/U -W^ XA^ /J^WTt'H^*^^ — ' t WX^ yl^OtM C/il4^ (4-
aj(y^iuvn^<X<r ^ Ih ■ C. F. S uA.^yv*^»*^ a^ J^ . F. V^c^ ^ ^
uj) Uio Au-^Z^ AhV ^^ hK^U PU ^l-fA^ t* joi4H<^ AM**^ ,
29
tJu^ 4 nuu^ fi«/i^iUi SSwU ki^riUi^ l^utnlc tC%^Jl^
/5tU AljinC I *tf a/UfKi4/kU *^ I i^rvo . A U^CU U/U, fLtJ"
30
Some Personal Notes on the Search for the Neutron
31
The authors establish the existence of antlprotons and
explain their belief that there must be antineutrons.
4 Antiprotons
Owen Chamberlain, Emilio Segre, Clyde E. Wiegand,
and Thomas J. Ypsilantis
From the periodical A/aft/re, published in 1956.
SINCE the development of Dirac's theory of the
electron and the brilliant confirmation of one of
its most startling predictions by the discovery of the
positron by Anderson, it has been assumed most
likely that the proton would also have its charge
conjugate, the antiproton. The properties that define
the antiproton are : (1) charge equal to the electron
charge (also in sign) ; (2) mass equal to the proton
mass ; (3) stability against spontaneous decay ;
(4) ability to become annihilated by interaction with
a proton or neutron, probably generating pions and
releasing in some manner the energy 2 mc^ ; (5)
generation in pairs with ordinary nucleons ; (6)
magnetic moment equal but opposite to that of the
proton; (7) fermion of spin §. Not all these properties
are independent, but all might ultimately be sub-
jected to experiment.
In cosmic rays, where such antiprotons could
appear, some events have been observed which could
be due to antiprotons ; but their interpretation is
uncertain.
In order to generate antiprotons in the laboratory,
an absolute lower limit of the necessary energy is
2 mc^ = I -88 JBeV.-i but the mechanism of the
collision and the conservation of momentum influence
this lower limit, which becomes 5-6 BeV. if the
process is a nucleon-nucleon collision, or 4-4 BeV. if
the process is a two-step one with the formation of a
pion in a nucleon-nucleon collision followed by a
pion-nucleon collision in which the nucleon-anti-
nucleon pair is generated. These thresholds can be
lowered appreciably by internal motions of nucleons
in the nucleus. (Energies are quoted in the laboratory
system.)
When the Berkeley bevatron was planned, the
goal of 6 BeV. was set, in the hope that this energy
would be sufficient to create antiprotons.
The methods of detection of the antiproton can
make use of any of the seven properties listed above.
It seemed that (1), (2) and (3) might be the esisiest
to ascertain ; (4) would also be highly desirable ;
whereas (5)-(7) are at present very difficult to
observe.
There are classical methods of measuring charge
and mass of a particle that go back in their origin
to J. J. Thomson. They entail the simultaneous
measurement on the same particle of any two of the
quantities momentum, velocity or energy, which in
turn can be obtained from the observation of electric
or magnetic deflexions, time of flight, range, scattering
in photographic emulsions, etc. As for the charge, it
is sufficient to measure its sign and its absolute value
in a rough way only, because it is assumed that it
is an integral multiple of the electronic charge.
After a detailed discussion, it was decided that
momentum p. and velocity v constituted the most
promising combination for ascertaining the mass.
The first successful experiment* was performed at
32
Antiprotons
the end of September 1955, aa follows. The momentum
WE« measured by passing the particles generated by
bombardment of a copper target with 6-2 BeV.
protons through two deflecting magnetic fields and
two magnetic lenses. This ensemble let through
only particles for which p = 1-19 BeV./c, if their
charge is equal to that of the electron, including sign.
The velocity was measured by a time-of -flight
measurement between two scintillation counters
40 ft. apart. The pulse-size in the scintillators showed
that the particles were singly charged.
The chief difficulty of the experiment rests with
the fact that the antiprotons are accomptuiied by
many pions — 44,000 pions per antiproton in the most
favourable conditions. For this reason provision
must be made for eliminating spurious background
effects. One of the most important steps is the
insertion in the beam of two Cerenkov coiuiters :
one that is activated by particles with u/c = P > 0-79,
and one of a special type that is activated by par-
ticles with 0-75 < P < 0-78. Pions with p =
1-19 BeV./c have p = 0-99, while antiprotons of the
same value of p have p = 0-78, and their respective
times of flight for an interval of 40 ft. are 40 X
10"' sec. and 51 x 10-» sec. Particles with p in the
interval between 0-75 and 0-78 trigger the sweep of
an oscilloscope in which the time of flight between
two scintillation counters 40 ft. apart is displayed.
This time of flight appears as the distance between
the two 'pips' due to the traversal of the counters.
From this time of flight the mass is determined with
an accuracy of 10 per cent for each particle. Up to
now, about 250 particles have been observed and
the average mass is known to about 5 per cent. It
is 1,840 ± 90 electron masses.
The functioning of the whole apparatus is checked
by sending through it positive protons in a separate
run. These are obtained from a subsidiary target,
and their orbits are selected in such a way that they
have the same momentum as the antiproton.
The particles are observable after a time of flight
of 10-' sec., which rules out particles with a mean
life much shorter than 10"' sec, in particular the
known hyperons. These measvirements are thus in
agreement with points (1), (2) and (3) mentioned
above, and the identification of the new particle with
the antiproton is a natural one, although not
absolutely established.
There are also some indications on the fourth
point mentioned above, namely, the terminal process
of the particle. Particles selected as antiprotons by
the apparatus of ref. 1 were sent into a block of heavy
glass and the Cerenkov radiation generated in it was
measured'. This radiation does not correspond, of
course, to the entirety of the-energy released ; actually
it is oiily a small part of it. However, a calibration
was performed, and from the pulse size the visible
energy was estimated. Values up to 800 MeV. were
found. This is consistent with the expected modes
of ajinihilation for an antiproton, and with the
energy it would throw into Cerenkov radiation in a
detectable form ; but it is not sufficient yet for
positive identification on that score only.
Another type of observation on the terminal
phenomenon accompanying the absorption of the
antiproton was also performed* with the photo-
graphic plate technique. Particles of selected
momentum obtained with an arrangement similar to
that described in ref. 1 were slowed down by a
copper absorber and finally stopped in a stack of
photographic emulsions. Among a background of
many pions one particle was found which has pro-
tonic mass, comes to rest and produces a star con-
taining six black tr«W5ks, one grey proton, one pion
of 58 MeV. and one minimum ionization track. The
visible energy released is Itirger than 830 MeV. The
total energy released cannot be known, because there
are neutral particles emitted ; bu''- this amount of
visible energy is also consistent with the annihilation
of an antiproton.
Clearly mtiny questions are raised by the new
particle. Its identification should be fvu-ther cor-
roborated ; it is important to study in detail its
annihilation properties for complex nuclei and,
possibly even more interesting, the annihilation with
hydrogen and deuterium. In addition, the cross-
section for nuclear interaction and the mechanism of
production are clearly to be investigated.
The existence of the emtiproton entails with virtual
certainty the existence of the antineutron. Its
experimental demonstration is a most interesting
problem. Probably the neutron beam of the Berkeley
bevatron contains an appreciable numbet of them,
but their disentanglement from the ordinary neutrons
appears a formidable task. It is likely that the best
approach will be either : (1) to transform an anti-
proton into an antineutron by a collision with a
proton ; or (2) to convert an antineutron into an
antiproton by collision with an ordinary neutron and
detect either the final antineutron in (1) or the final
tintiproton in (2).
> Chamberlain, Segrfe, Wiegand and Ypsilantis, Phyt. Rev., 100, 947
(1955).
• Brabant, Cork, Horwitz, Moyer, Murray, Wallace and Wenzel, Phyt.
Rev. (in the press).
•Chamberlain Chupp. Ooldhaber, Segrft. Wieirand, and Amaldl,
Baroni, Castagnoli, Franzinetti and Manfredini (to be published).
33
GIANT SHOWER OF MESONS is recorded in this photomicro-
graph of a small section of nuclear emulsion carried to a height of
106,000 feet by a Navy "Skyhook" balloon. At the top of the photo-
micrograph is the heavy track of an enormously energetic iron nu-
cleus in the primary cosmir radiation. Above the nucleus is a "star"
resulting from the collision of the iron nucleus and a nucleus in the
emulsion. Below the star is a jet of about 40 pi mesons. To the left
and right of the star are heavier fragments of the target nucleus.
34
Elementary particles can be studied by the traces they
leave in photographic plates.
5 The Tracks of Nuclear Particles
Herman Yagoda
Article published in 1956 in the Scientific American.
A nuclear physicist studying the
elementary particles of nature is
in much the same position as an
explorer trying to picture unknown ani-
mals from their tracks. The physicist
never can see the particles themselves—
only their footprints in a cloud chamber
or a photographic plate. But from these
tracks he deduces a particle's mass,
movements, speed, lifetime and social
impact on its fellows. By now the tracks
of some members of the nuclear family
are almost as familiar and readable as
the footprints of a domestic animal. In-
teresting new tracks keep turning up,
some strange, some predictable— the lat-
est to make its appearance is that of the
long-sought antiproton. It seems a time-
ly moment to survey the scene and re-
view the gallery of footprints that iden-
tify the members of the strange popula-
tion in the nucleus of the atom.
We shall consider the tracks as they
are recorded in photographic emulsions.
It was in this medium that the existence
of particles in the nucleus of the atom
was first detected— through the fact that
Henri Becquerel left some uranium near
photographic film in a drawer. Becquerel
noted simply that radioactive emana-
tions from the uranium had fogged his
film. That the "fog" might consist of a
network of tracks was not discovered un-
til 13 years later. In 1909 Otto Mugge of
Germany expo.sed some film to tiny crys-
tals of zircon, a feebly radioactive miner-
al. To study the faintly developed image
he had to use a microscope, and he then
noticed that there were fine linear tracks
radiating from the crystals. Not long
afterward the tracks of alpha particles
emitted by radium were recorded in fine-
grained emulsions at Lord Rutherford's
famous laboratory in England.
When a charged particle travels
through a photographic emulsion, it
forms a latent image in the silver bro-
mide grains, just as light does. In the case
of the moving particle, the latent image
results from ionization by the particle
along its path. This image, marking the
track of the particle, is then made visi-
ble by development of the emulsion in
the usual way. So that fast particles may
be brought to a stop within the emulsion,
it is usually made as thick as possible.
Emulsions used to track cosmic rays
and high-energy particles from accelera-
tors are often more than one millimeter
thick— about 100 times thicker than in
ordinary photographic film. The length
of a particle's track in the emulsion must
be measured precisely to determine its
kinetic energy. Since the path slants into
the emulsion, its length cannot be meas-
ured directly: it is computed by means
of the Pythagorean theorem from the
two measurable distances— the depth at
which the particle comes to rest in the
emulsion and the horizontal distance
along the emulsion surface from the
point of entry to the point directly
above the end of the track.
At best the search for particle tracks
in emulsions is slow, tedious work. It
takes many hours or days of poring over
the photographic plate with a micro-
scope to find and trace the faint lines of
silver grains. For this reason physicists
long preferred to use cloud chambers
for particle detection work. But the pho-
tographic plate has an obvious advan-
tage over a cloud chamber. Particles
traveling through this denser medium
are more likely to collide with atomic
nuclei and produce interesting develop-
ments. A great deal of work has been
done to improve nuclear emulsions. In
1947 Pierre Demers of the University of
Montreal found a way to prepare stable
emulsions containing 90 per cent silver
bromide, instead of the usual 30 per
cent, and in these more concentrated
emulsions particles produce more robust
tracks.
Jet us proceed to examine some of the
^— ' identifying tracks. We shall begin
by immersing a photographic plate in a
very dilute solution of a soluble com-
pound of the radioactive element radi-
um. After leaving it for a time (days,
weeks or months) in a dark place, we
remove the plate, develop it and inspect
it under a microscope. Here and there
on the plate we see starlike sets of short
heavy tracks, each set radiating like
spokes from a hub point. The tracks
identify the particles as slow alpha par-
ticles, and the formation is known as an
alpha star. At the center of the star a
radium atom has emitted a series of al-
pha particles. The radium atom decays
first to radon, then to other unstable de-
scendants and finally to lead. In this
spontaneous transmutation from radium
to lead a total of five alpha particles
(plus several beta particles) is emitted.
Each in the series comes out with a
characteristic kinetic energy, and the
different energies (ranging up to 7.7
million electron volts) cause the tracks
in a star to be of different lengths.
Occasionally the star seen in a pho-
tographic plate may represent the disin-
tegration of not one but many radium
atoms. This was made clear by an exper-
iment performed by Mile. C. Chamie at
the Curie Institute in Paris. She exposed
a plate in an extremely dilute solution of
polonium, the last alpha-emitting de-
scendant of radium in the transition to
lead. It was supposed that single tracks
of alpha particles, from separate atoms
of polonium, would appear in the emul-
sion. Instead Mile. Chamie found stars
consisting of several hundred alpha
tracks from a common center. All the
35
tracks were of the same length, corre-
sponding to the energy of alpha-emis-
sion from polonium. Evidently even in
an extremely dilute solution the po-
lonium atoms are not completely disso-
ciated into individual ions but may
cluster in groups of several thousand
atoms. The collections have been named
radiocolloids.
All matter contains traces of radio-
active substances, and their energy fields
have been pulsating in minerals since
the earth's crust soUdified eons ago. Na-
ture strews the investigator's path with
clues— if we could only see. Long before
the discovery of radioactivity, geologists
had observed that grains in certain min-
erals, such as mica, were sometimes sur-
rounded with halos of colored material.
They could find no way to explain how
these colored bands might be formed.
In 1907, when radioactivity was a topic
of growing interest, John Joly in Ireland
noted that the distance from the center
of each tiny sphere to the halo around
it was about the same as the range of an
alpha particle emitted by radium or tho-
rium. He suggested what is now taken to
be the correct solution of the mystery:
that alpha particles radiating from radio-
active atoms at the center ionize iron
atoms in the mica near the end of their
path, cause the iron to become oxidizled
and thereby produce the colored bands.
Just as familiar, and as ubiquitous, as
the footprints of alpha particles are the
footprints of beta particles, or electrons.
These light particles make very faint,
highly scattered tracks in an emulsion.
Originating from radioactive substances
and from cosmic ray showers, flying elec-
trons record their presence in emulsions
wherever placed or however carefully
shielded. Even at great depths under-
ground a photographic plate will show
about one million electron tracks per
cubic centimeter for each day of its
underground exposure.
IVTo footprints are more fascinating
^ than those of the strange particles
known as mesons. Had present emul-
sions been in use in the 1920s, their
tracks would have been discovered first
and "explained" afterward; as it was,
the particles were predicted by the theo-
retician Hideki Yukawa two years before
they were actually found. Yukawa in-
vented the meson to account for the
binding force that holds particles to-
gether in the atomic nucleus. Tracks of
a particle such as he had predicted—
about 200 times heavier than the elec-
tron—were first discovered in 1937 in
cloud chambers monitoring the products
of cosmic rays. A mystery soon devel-
oped: the theory said that these parti-
cles should interact strongly with atomic
nuclei, but experiments proved that they
were rarely absorbed by nuclei.
SPECIAL MICROSCOPE ii used to (can nuclear emulsions. The large stage enables the
viewer to follow long tracks. Here the emulsion is a disk embedded in a rectangular Lucite
frame fitted with a cover glass. The depth of the track is read on the wheel at upper right.
While the theoreticians were ponder-
ing this hiatus between theory and ex-
permient, the younger physicists were
busy climbing mountains and exposing
photographic plates to the intense cos-
mic radiation high in the atmosphere.
By 1947 they had discovered a second,
heavier meson which did react strongly
with matter [see "The Multiplicity of
Particles," by Robert E. Marshak; Sci-
entific American, January, 1952]. A
Bristol University team of investigators
headed by C. F. Powell obtained photo-
graphs showing that when the heavy pi
meson came to rest it promptly decayed
into the lighter mu meson.
A year later the young Brazilian C. M.
G. Lattes, a member of the Bristol cos-
mic ray group, came to the University of
California and in cooperation with Eu-
gene Gardner succeeded in detecting
mesons from nuclei attacked by a 400-
million-electron-volt beam of alpha par-
ticles from the Berkeley cyclotron. Two
types of pi meson tracks were then
identified. Positively charged pi mesons
decayed into mu mesons. Negatively
charged pi mesons reacted with atomic
nuclei, and the disintegration of the
capturing nucleus produced a star.
Meanwhile the European investiga-
tors, lacking funds for the construction
of expensive accelerators, continued to
study mesons in the cosmic radiation—
the poor man's cyclotron. These simple
experiments gave birth to a perplexing
number of new particles.
Their first addition to the growing
fraternity of Greek-lettered mesons was
the tau particle. The Bristol University
investigators found its track in an elec-
tron-sensitive plate exposed beneath a
12-inch-thick block of lead at the Jung-
fraujoch High Altitude Research Station.
The particle, heavier than a pi meson,
produced an unusual three-pronged star
on coming to rest. All three prongs
could be identified as the tracks of pi
mesons. From the available evidence
Powell came to the conclusion that the
tau meson was an unstable, singly
charged particle about 1,000 times
heavier than the electron. Powell's bril-
liant deductions tempt one to finish oflF
his description with the admiring excla-
mation: "A new particle— elementary,
my dear WatsonI"
The heavy tau meson is very rare,
but an extensive vigil has now detected
a number of these events and established
the particle's properties. Recent con-
trolled experiments with the six-billion-
electron-volt Bevatron at Berkeley indi-
cate that the tau particle and certain
other heavy mesons (known as K mes-
36
The Tracks of Nuclear Particles
ALPHA PARTICLES made the image in this dark-field photomi-
crograph. The emulsion itself contains tiny colloid particles of radi-
um, one of which is at the center of the image. The tracks were made
by alpha particles emitted by radium and its daughter elements.
ALPHA STARS emerged from thorium atoms in this emulsion.
The stars at left and right represent the serial decay of single thor-
ium atoms. First 'the thorium atom emitted an alpha particle, then
the daughter isotope emitted another alpha particle, and so on.
37
ons) probably are all the same particle
showing alternate modes of decay.
TVTeutral particles unfortunately leave
-'■ ^ no footprints in an emulsion or
cloud chamber. They may, however, sig-
nal their presence indirectly. For exam-
ple, a fast neutron charging through an
emulsion may coUide head on with a
hydrogen atom, rip away the latter's
electron and cause the proton to recoil
and make a track that tells the story of
the collision.
At Berkeley all eyes are focused just
now on the footprints of the antiproton,
which at long last was generated by the
Bevatron a few months ago. The anti-
proton— the negatively charged counter-
part of the positive proton— has only a
fleeting life, but it makes its existence
unmistakably known by the spectacular
manner of its death. When the particle
comes to rest in an emulsion, there is an
explosion which generates a large star.
GROUP
MEMBERS
SYMBOL
REST MASS
(ELECTRON MASSES)
MEAN LIFE
(SECONDS)
PROTON
P+
1836.13
STABLE
NUCLEONS
ANTIPROTON
P~
1840 ± 90
— 5x10-8
NEUTRON
nO
1-838.65
750
ELECTRON
e-
1
STABLE
LEPTONS
POSITRON
e +
1
ANNIHILATES
NEUTRINO
V
0
NEGATIVE PI MESON
ll~
272.8 ± 0.3
2.44x10-®
POSITIVE PI MESON
71 +
273.3 i 0.2
2.53x10-8
LIGHT MESONS
NEUTRAL PI MESON
n"
263.7 ± 0.7
5x10 -'5
NEGATIVE MU MESON
^"
207 ± 0.5
POSITIVE MU MESON
t**
206.9 1 0.4
2.15x10^6
TAU MESON
T +
965.5 1 0.7
-5x10-8
THETA MESON
e°
965 ± 10
I.6x10-'C
HEAVY MESONS
CHI MESON
X(Kn2)
963 ± 9
1x10-8
{Kll2)
960 - 7
1x10-8
KAPPA MESON
K(Kii3)
955 ±9
1x10-8
(Ke3)
~ 960
LAMBDA PARTICLE
A°
2182 ± 2
3.7xl0-'0
HYPERONS
POSITIVE SIGMA PARTICLE
Z +
2327 ± 4
-lO-'O
NEGATIVE SIGMA PARTICLE
z-
2325
— lO-'O
CASCADE PARTICLE
~
2582 ± 10
- lO-'C
I
FUNDAMENTAL PARTICLES are li«ted, together with their mesons are called L particles; the heavy mesons, K particles; the
characteristic tracks in nuclear emulsions. The photon and gravi- hyperons, Y particles. The clii and kappa mesons have dual sym-
ton are omitted to simplify the organization of the chart. The light hols, the second of which segregates them according to their mode
38
The Tracks of Nuclear Particles
The particles emerging from the explo-
sion, among which are several pi mesons,
have a large kinetic energy; the total
energy released is about that predicted
by the theory that the antiproton and a
proton combine and annihilate each
other, converting mass into energy.
The Bevatron produces antiprotons
when a beam of high-energy protons (at
6.2 billion electron volts) hits a copper
target. The fast protons attacking the
nuclei of the copper atoms generate
large numbers of heavy mesons and an
occasional antiproton: the yield is about
one antiproton per 62,000 mesons. The
theory suggests that a high-energy pro-
DECAY SCHEME
N.
yn-
H+ZV
"■%/- e
e +
n*
,....-^ n-
^
^'i
rr-<
S- c- -
e+.-
f\N^
— - li*
of decay. K7r2, for example, indicates that this K (not kappa) particle decays into two pi
mesons. The decay schemes may be followed by beginning with the particle in that group.
The wavy lines (gamma rays), circles and arrows denote particles that do not make tracks.
ton interacts with a neutron to form an
antiproton-proton pair.
The antiproton has the same mass as
a proton. One would therefore expect
that it should have about the same prob-
ability of collision with atomic nuclei as
it travels through matter But experi-
ments with the new particle show
that the antiproton actually has about
twice as great a collision probability,
or cross section, as the proton. This
surprising property has presented
nuclear physicists with an intriguing
problem.
Enlightening as the work with atom-
smashing machines has been, tlie
investigators of particles have not by
any means lost interest in the wild as-
sortment of nuclei and nuclear debris
that rains into our atmosphere from the
bombardment of the cosmic radiation.
Of the primary cosmic radiation itself,
little reaches ground level, for the at-
mosphere absorbs it as efiFectively as
would a three-foot-thick layer of lead
completely surrounding the earth. But
physicists are capturing the footprints of
primary particles coming in from space
by floating their instruments and photo-
graphic plates to the top of the air ocean
in balloons. Great impetus was given to
this work by the U. S. Navy's develop-
ment of the plastic "Skyhook" balloon.
Unlike nibber balloons, the plastic vehi-
cles can be held at a fixed, preset eleva-
tion. Stacks of emulsions have been
flown to 100,000 feet-almost at the bor-
ders of empty space, for the weight of
the overlying air there is only 13 grams
per square centimeter, as against 1,030
grams at sea level.
As the primary cosmic rays smash ni-
trogen and oxygen atoms in the air, they
generate a fallout of secondary and ter-
tiary particles. The footprints of these
fragments are being recorded at moun-
taintop stations all over the world. Men
who risk their lives to climb a mountain
simply "because it is there" are usually
very cooperative with the cosmic ray
physicists. A light package of photo-
graphic plates does not add appreciably
to the burden of the climb, and it may
add incentive as a form of applied moun-
taineering. In the ascent of Mt. Everest
Sir Edmund Hillary took a small pack-
age of plates (given him by Professor
Eugster of Zurich University) to the
25,850-foot camp site. Unfortunacely, in
the excitement of the triumphant de-
scent from the peak the plates were
overlooked. Sir John Hunt, the leader of
the expedition, apologized in his book.
The Conquest of Everest: "1 very much
39
t*
• •
SLOW NEUTRON gave rise to this track in an emulsion contain-
ing lithium borate. The neutron encountered a lithium atom at the
lower end of the short, heavy line at the top. The track was then
made by two fragments of the nucleus recoiling from each other.
ELECTRONS made the faint, wavy tracks in this emulsion, which
was aged for 50 days before it was developed. The heavy track at
the bottom was made by an oxygen nucleus in primary cosmic radi-
ation. The electron tracks along this image are called delta rays.
regret to say that the plates have re-
mained on the South Col, where they
must by now have made a very definite
recording of . . . cosmic ray phenomena."
Among the first to get a recording of
-'*- these phenomena was Marietta Blau
of the University of Vienna. Nineteen
years ago she exposed a series of photo-
graphic plates for four months on a
mountaintop at Innsbruck. When she
developed them, she found not only the
familiar alpha stars from radioactive
substances but also a number of bigger
stars with much longer, less dense
prongs. The tracks evidently were pro-
duced chiefly by protons. Dr. Blau sur-
mised correctly that they were the de-
bris of nuclei disrupted by cosmic rays;
she followed up this finding and today
is studying nuclear disruptions produced
by the Cosmotron at the Brookhaven
National Laboratory.
The smashing of nuclei by cosmic rays
increases rapidly with altitude. At sea
level in northern latitudes the rate of
star production in photographic plates
is about one per cubic centimeter of
emulsion per day of exposure; at 14,260
feet on Mt. Evans in Colorado the rate
is 20 times that; and in balloons near the
top of the atmosphere, 2,500 times.
The tracks of the primary cosmic par-
ticles that arrive there from space are
often extremely robust. These thick
tracks are made by heavy nuclei, much
larger than the nuclei of hydrogen
atoms. The track is covered with a fur
of spurs projecting from its sides— sec-
ondary ionizations which are known as
delta rays. Since the amount of ioniza-
tion by a particle along its path is pro-
portional to the square of its charge, the
amount of delta-ray ionization identifies
the particle. The primary cosmic parti-
cles have been found to include the
nuclei of almost all the elements from
hydrogen to nickel. Iron nuclei often
produce tracks heavy enough to be seen
with the naked eye.
Sometimes the incoming heavy nu-
IRON NUCLEUS in primary cosmic radiation entered this picture
from the left. Escaping catastrophic collision with nuclei in
ine emulsion, it hnally came to rest at the right. Its energy wag dis-
sipated by a series of encounters in which it removed electrons
40
The Tracks of Nuclear Particles
-"«;?"
■%*.
t
I 'v •
NEGATIVE PI MESON made the track between these two stars. At
the top is a nucleus disrupted by a primary cosmic ray. At the bot-
tom is a second nucleus disrupted by the pi meson. Negative mesons
are readily absorbed by nuclei because of their opposite charge.
:
PROTON in primary cosmic radiation made the nearly vertical
track at the top of this emulsion. The tracks produced by its en-
counter with a nucleus in the center of the emulsion are character-
istic of fragments and/or particles with a single electric charge.
cleus is partly sheared ofiF by a glancing
collision in the air, and the separated
bundles of nucleons diverge from the
point of collision. Sometimes the cosmic
primary hits an atom head on and dis-
integrates it, emitting a shower of heavy
mesons: as many as 200 charged mesons
have been seen in a single star. Many of
the pi mesons decay during flight into
mu mesons; the latter, nearly immune to
capture by atoms, zip through the at-
mosphere and often plunge deep into the
earth.
A small proportion of the heavy nu-
clei from space escape catastrophic col-
lisions and are eventually slowed down
by ionization processes in the atmos-
phere. When these particles are caught
in an emulsion, they produce very spec-
tacular tracks. The track is first thick and
furry; then as the heavy nucleus slows
down and begins to pick up electrons,
the reduction of its positive charge di-
minishes the ionization it produces, so
that its track tapers down to a needle
point at the end of its flight.
The last grain at the rest point of a
heavy primary cosmic particle is a
thing to mai-vel at. Embedded within
the grain of silver in the emulsion is an
atom with a history unlike that of its
neighbors. It is an atom which may have
been blown out of a star in our galaxy
millions of years ago. It was accelerated
through interstellar space by magneto-
hydrodynamic fields. For millions of
years it escaped collision with cosmic
dust. Finally it plowed into the earth's
atmosphere, and in a single moment lost
its store of energy accumulated since
birth. Such is the ever-increasing en-
tropy of the universe, of which Swin-
burne wrote:
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no man lives forever.
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.
from atoms in the emulsion. These electrons made the wavy tracks
along the path of the iron nucleus. The track is about a 16th of an
inch in length, too long to be shown in a single photomicrograph.
It has accordingly been depicted in a mosaic of photomicrographs
41
Our knowledge of elementary particles depends on the
spark chamber and similar devices which make visible
the tracks of these subatomic particles.
The Spark Chamber
Gerard K. O'Neill
Scientific American article, published in 1962.
The present understanding, imper-
fect but growing, of the funda-
mental nature of matter has come
largely from observation of the elemen-
tary particles. The protons, neutrons,
electrons, mesons and other particles re-
veal the most when they can be studied
one at a time or when only two or three
of them interact. When larger numbers
are present, the sheer mathematical com-
plexity of their interaction hides the fun-
damental simpHcities. For this reason
the efforts of many experimental phys-
icists over several decades have gone
into the development of sensitive meth-
ods for detecting single particles.
There is no single best design for
a particle detector. To obtain certain
characteristics it is usually necessary to
sacrifice others, and the choice depends
on the nature of the experimental
"events" one wishes to observe. Physi-
cists working with the large particle-ac-
celerating machines have increasingly
been concerned with extremely rare
events, epitomized by the recent discov-
ery at the Brookhaven National Labora-
tory that there are two kinds of neutrino
rather than one [see "Science and the
Citizen," page 52]. To obtain the evi-
dence for this discovery the 30-billion-
electron-volt proton accelerator at
Brookhaven was operated for six months.
Over this period the number of recorded
events caused by neutrinos averaged
fewer than one every three days. The
particle detector used in the experiment
is of an entirely new type: it is called
a spark chamber. Before explaining its
operation I shall describe the general
nature of the particle-detection problem.
The problem is far from easy, because
an elementary particle can pass freely
through many atoms of any substance
without leaving a trace. Even at pres-
ent there is no practical device that
can detect electrically neutral parti-
cles without destroying or deflecting
them. Charged particles, however, exert
a strong electrostatic force on the elec-
trons of the atoms through which they
pass. Usually the electrostatic force be-
tween the negative electron and the
positive nucleus is enough to keep the
electrons from breaking free, but occa-
sionally—roughly once in every 1,000
atoms through which a charged particle
passes— an electron is jolted loose. In
air, for example, about 100 electrons are
freed along each centimeter of the path
of a charged particle, and for each free
electron a corresponding positive ion is
formed. If the small amount of energy
contained in this "ionization trail" can be
made to produce some visible effect, the
physicist can find out where the particle
went. He can also measure the momen-
tum of a particle by observing the radius
of curvature of its track in a magnetic
field, and he can obtain information
about the way it interacts with other par-
ticles by observing sudden changes in
direction of its track.
In one of the first of all elementary-
particle experiments Hans Geiger and
Ernest Marsden, working in the Caven-
dish Laboratory at the University of
Cambridge, detected the small energy of
an ionization trail without amplification
by using the extreme sensitivity of the
dark-adapted human eye. They observed
the small flashes of light made when
alpha particles went through certain
crystalline materials called scintillators.
From Geiger and Marsden's observa-
tiotis of the angles at which alpha par-
ticles scattered from a target into the
scintillator, Ernest Rutherford conclud-
ed by 1913 that the positive charge of
the atom was concentrated in a nucleus.
A fast, singly charged particle— a cos-
mic ray meson, for example— produces
only about a thousandth as many free
electrons per millimeter of track as a
slow, doubly charged alpha particle
does. The detection of fast particles
therefore requires some kind of ampli-
fication of the energy of the ionization
trail. Since Rutherford's time the de-
vices used to detect elementary particles
have divided into two broad classes,
both of which amplify. One class consists
of "counters." Every counter includes a
sensitive volume of gas, liquid or solid
with well-defined dimensions in space.
When a charged particle passes through
the sensitive volume, the counter pro-
duces a brief electric pulse, or signal.
The pulses can be tallied electronically;
hence the name "coimter."
The other class does not have a well-
recognized generic name, but it can be
called the class of "track detectors." A
track detector shows where a charged
particle went by indicating many points
in space along the particle's ionization
trail. Usually the information provided
by a track detector is recorded by
photography. In fact, for certain pur-
poses stacks of photographic film or a
single block of photographic emulsion
can be used directly as a track detector.
A charged particle sensitizes emulsion
grains along its track and amplification
is achieved by means of a chemical de-
veloper. In the next few years some ad-
vanced track detectors may be built that
will put out information in the form of
electrical signals.
If one compares the two classes, it is
apparent th^t the counter gives only a
limited amount of information, but it
gives it immediately in a simple form
suitable for direct use in electronic cir-
cuits. In modern counters the informa-
tion is often available in less than 10
nanoseconds ( 10 billionths of a second) .
The track detector gives much more in-
formation, but the information goes into
photographic emulsion, where it is un-
available until the emulsion is developed
43
COUNTER
3
->
AMPLIFIER
mzmnmmmnmmiMii^m
GLASS
WINDOW
VAPOR
AND GAS
PISTON
V77)?m777m7777i/////////////////////7IA
V
MECHANICAL
DRIVE
SYSTEM
PARTICLE
PATH
CLOUD CHAMBER, invented in 1911 by C. T. R. Wilson, was the first of the particle-track
detectors. A counter, which simply senses the arrival of a particle, triggers the movement
of a piston that expands the gas and vapor inside the chamber. This makes the vapor super-
saturated, and fog droplets rapidly grow along the ionization trail left by passage of the par-
ticle. The droplets form clear tracks, which are photographed stereoscopically for analysis.
CIRCULATING
PROTON BEAM
IN PARTICLE
ACCELERATOR
GLASS
WINDOW
BUBBLE CHAMBER, a track detector invented by Donald A. Glaser, contains a liquid near
its boiling point. When the chamber pressure is lowered, the liquid becomes superheated
and babbles of vapor grow along the ionization trail left by a charged particle. A timing
mechanism moves a target into the beam of circulating protons in an accelerator, thereby
din>rting particles into the chamber at the instant it is most sensitive to bubble growth.
and analyzed. A counter with a sensitive
volume of a cubic foot can only signal
that a charged particle has passed some-
where within that cubic foot. Some track
detectors with the same sensitive volume
can indicate each point of the particle's
path within a thousandth of a centi-
meter. The space resolution of the track
detector balances against the reporting
speed of the counter.
In modern elementary-particle experi-
ments the experimenter often wants to
trace all or part of the life histories
of particles entering his detectors. He
wants to identify the mass, charge and
frequently the energy of each particle
that enters. In addition he wants to ob-
serve if and in what way the entering
particles react with the atoms in his de-
tector. If new particles are produced by
reactions, he wants to measure the prop-
erties of these product particles and
to see if they decay spontaneously into
combinations of other particles. In most
cases, the rarer the reaction, the greater
its significance. Typically only one in
many thousands of particles entering
a detector will produce an interesting
event. If the experimenter's apparatus
includes track detectors, it is much to his
advantage to use counters to select those
events that are worth recording in the
track detector. Otherwise he may have
to search through hundreds of thou-
sands of pictures to find the rare events
of interest.
^ I ''he first successful track detector was
^ the cloud chamber, invented by C.
T. R. Wilson in 1911. Wilson recog-
nized that a supersaturated vapor is
unstable and that the vapor will con-
dense into droplets around any available
free ions. In cloud chambers (which
are still used) a saturated vapor is
maintained in a closed volume under
well-controlled conditions of tempera-
ture and pressure. When a charged par-
ticle passes through the chamber, the
ionization trail it leaves persists for a
fraction of a second. Either before or
directly after passing through the cloud
chamber the particle traverses counters,
which produce an electric pulse. The
pulse, signaling the passage of a particle,
is made to initiate the outward motion
of a piston; this allows the gas inside the
chamber to expand and renders the
vapor in the gas supersaturated \see top
illustration at left]. The vapor then be-
gins to form droplets of fog, which
condense around the ions of the charged-
particle track. Droplets also tend to form
around dust particles or droplets left
over from a previous expansion. But
under the right conditions (achieving
44
The Spark Chamber
them is rather tricky) there forms in the
chamber, in a fraction of a second, a
clear trail of vapor droplets, which shows
with good fidelity the path of the particle
that triggered the counters. The advan-
tage of the cloud chamber is that it can
be triggered. A chamber may remain idle
for hours waiting for a rare cosmic ray
event, but when the event occurs and is
recognized by the counters, the chamber
operates on demand to record it.
Unfortunately cloud chambers have
two rather serious drawbacks. First, the
device is slow to set in operation, and the
ionization trails persist for a large frac-
tion of a second. As a result the number
of incoming particles must be limited
to prevent chamber pictures from being
cluttered with more tracks than one can
"read." The second drawback is the dif-
ficulty of putting into the chamber ma-
terials with which one might like to see
particles interact. If material is intro-
duced in the form of plates, the plates
must be relatively few and widely
spaced; otherwise the chamber will not
work. If much material is needed, it must
therefore be in the form of thick plates,
with the result that interactions tend to
occur deep in the plates, where the tracks
cannot be seen. It is rather like Greek
tragedy, in which all the mayhem occurs
offstage and the audience is treated only
to a secondhand account of it.
In the early 1950's Donald A. Glaser,
then at the University of Michigan,
developed a new type of track detector,
the bubble chamber, for which he re-
ceived a Nobel prize in 1960. This de-
tector is also based on an amplification
principle— the growth of bubbles in a
superheated liquid. Some of the energy
from an ionization trail goes into a few
fast electrons, which can give up 1,000
or 2,000 volts of energy in a small vol-
ume to produce rapid local heating. If
the trail is in a liquid that has suddenly
been superheated by expansion, the
bubbles will tend to grow fastest along
the "heat track" and only slowly in other
parts of the liquid. Glaser's invention
was soon in use in many laboratories
throughout the world, and it is safe to
say that by 1959 more than half of all
experimental research in elementary par-
ticle physics employed the bubble
chamber.
An important virtue of Glaser's device
is that one can fill the chamber with a
wide variety of liquids, choosing the one
that provides interactions of particular
interest. For many purposes liquid hy-
drogen is ideal because it presents as a
target for incoming particles only elec-
trons and protons. In all other substances
neutrons are also present. Other useful
liquids are propane— in which the target
atoms are carbon and hydrogen— and
xenon, whose massive nucleus (54 pro-
tons and 77 neutrons) provides high
stopping power. In addition the bubble
chamber produces particle tracks of
higher definition than those made by
any other track detector, except for
tracks made directly in photographic
emulsion.
The bubble chamber shares with the
emulsion method one serious disad-
vantage: it cannot be triggered. Since
there is no way to select rare events one
has no choice but to photograph the
chamber at every expansion cycle, de-
velop the films and examine hundreds
or thousands of exposures looking for
events of interest. Triggering is impos-
sible because the heat track produced by
a charged particle cools down in much
less than a millionth of a second. This
is far too short a time for the mechani-
cal expansion system to set the chamber
in operation. As a result bubble cham-
bers are used almost exclusively with
large accelerators, where a timing se-
M PROTON
n'^ POSITIVE PI MESON
JT~ NEGATIVE PI MESON
A NEUTRAL LAMBDA PARTICLE
K NEUTRAL K MESON
e"^ POSITRON
e~ ELECTRON
y GAMMA RAY
h
\ - p >
1
K°p
-^
\^
/
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\
BUBBLE CHAMBER TRACKS (right) were photographed in the
72-inch liquid-hydrogen bubble chamber at the Lawrence Radia-
tion Laboratory of the University of California. The map and key
at left identify the particles taking part in the event recorded.
45
METAL TUBE
OUTPUT
SIGNAL
{
JL
ARGON and/alcohol VAPOR
/
/
/ PARTICLE
/ PATH
D.C.
POWER
SUPPLY
X
GEIGER-MULLER COUNTER, invented in 1928, was the first device to use the ampHfica-
lion process available in an electric spark to detect the passage of a charged particle. A cen-
tral wire inside a tube is placed at high voltage. Electrons set free from gas atoms by the pas-
sage of a particle are accelerated by the strong electric field and free other electrons in a
chain reaction. The result is a large output pulse that needs no amplification to be detectable.
SPARK COUNTER was a nontriggered forerunner of the spark chamber. A high constant
voltage is maintained on a metal plate placed between two grounded plates. Passage of a
charged particle provides free electrons that initiate sparks in the gas between the plates.
COUNTER
AMPLIFIER
HIGH-VOLTAGE
PULSE
GENERATOR
/ PARTICLE
/ PATH
HODOSCOPE CHAMBER, another forerunner of the spark chamber, utilizes the trigger-
ing scheme usually employed with cloud chambers. The chamber consists of neon-filled
glass tubes stacked between two metal plates. When a charged particle trips the counter,
a high-voltage pulse is s(;nt to the plates, placing the tubes in a strong electric field. Tubes
through which the particle passed contain ions and free electrons and therefore glow.
quence first expands the chamber, then
sends in a burst of particles to be an-
alyzed [see bottom illustration on page
38]. The chamber must then be given
about a second in which to recover.
Unlike the cloud chamber and the
bubble chamber, the spark cham-
ber was the work of many hands. Its de-
velopment was based on one of the
most spectacular methods known for
making, ionization trails visible— the elec-
tiic spark. The generation of an electric
spark is an extremelv complicated proc-
ess, but it is clear that under some con-
ditions a spark can develop from a type
of chain reaction. The reaction starts
when an electron from an ionized atom,
accelerated by a strong electric field,
bumps into and ionizes other atoms. The
electrons from these atoms cause further
ionizations, leading in a very brief time
to a brilliant electric spark. In 1928 the
amplification process available in the
electric spark was used in the first of all
electrical detectors for single charged
particles, the Geiger-Miiller counter. In
this simple device, named for Hans Gei-
ger and Walther Miiller, a central wire
inside a tube is charged to high voltage.
When a particle goes through the count-
er, the electrons of its ionization track
are swept toward the wire. Accelerating
as they approach the wire's strong field,
they ionize more atoms. The ionized
atoms emit photons (light cjuanta),
which release additional electrons from
the gas, spreading the discharge. Within
millionths of a second the gas all along
the center wire serves as the path for an
electric spark. Geiger counters make
tremendous pulses, which was a great
virtue when sensitive electronic ampli-
fiers were still diflRcult to build.
In the 1930's the standard equipment
of the elementary-particle physicist con-
sisted of a cloud chamber triggered by
Geiger counters. In the late 1940's, when
Geiger counters had been generally
superseded by the development of scin-
tillation counters (faster and capable of
giving more information), a few physi-
cists began trying to use the mecha-
nism of the electric spark in a detector
that would make visible the track— not
just the presence— of a charged particle.
J. W. Keuffel, working at the California
Institute of Technology and later at
Princeton University, built several spark
counters, consisting of well-polished
condenser plates kept at high voltage.
If the plates were carefully aligned,
clean and dust-free, and maintained just
below the potential needed for a spark to
jump between them, thev would some-
times spark preferentially along the trail
46
The Spark Chamber
of an incoming cosmic ray particle. Keuf-
fel suggested the use of arrays of his
parallel-plate spark counters to obtain
tracks of the passage of a charged parti-
cle, but these counters were so difficult
to build and to operate that it was not
easy to follow up the suggestion.
In 1955 M. Conversi and A. Gozzini
described in the Italian physics journal
Nuovo Cimento an intermediate type
of track chamber somewhat similar to
the Keuffel spark counter. Their device,
called a hodoscope chamber, consisted
of many neon-filled glass tubes stacked
between two parallel metal plates [see
bottom illustration on opposite page].
Within a few millionths of a second after
the passage of a charged particle through
the stack of tubes, a set of counters out-
side the stack triggered an electronic
circuit that placed a strong electric
field on the tubes. Those through which
the particle had passed then glowed,
much as a neon sign glows. Other tubes
remained dark if the applied pulse was
on for only a short time. The hodoscope
chamber was fairly easy to build, and its
inventors had introduced a technique
that was essential for the development of
spark chambers: the use of counters to
pulse the electric field. In their chamber
the high voltage was on only when they
were sure a particle track was there to be
photographed. If the high voltage had
been left on continuously, as it was in the
earlier spark counters, some neon tubes
would eventually have fired even in the
absence of an entering track. The chief
defect of the hodoscope was that it re-
vealed only two dimensions of a parti-
cle's three-dimensional path.
In 1957 two British physicists, T. E.
Cranshaw and J. F. de Beer, reported in
Nuovo Cimento the next step toward a
practical spark chamber. They combined
the parallel-plate geometry of the spark
counter with the pulse-triggering tech-
nique of the hodoscope chamber to make
an efficient spark chamber with six one-
millimeter gaps. They also introduced
the use of a continuous electric clearing
field to remove from the chamber ioniza-
tion trails older than a few microseconds.
This electric field, well below the thresh-
old needed to make a spark, caused a
slow continuous drift to the plates of
all free electrons and ions released in
the chamber gas. In this way it "erased"
ionization trails in a few microseconds. A
similar clearing field had long been used
in cloud chambers to sweep out the slow-
moving positive ions.
It happened that Cranshaw and de
Beer chose to use air rather than neon in
their chamber, and this small difference
made it impossible for their chamber to
detect two or more simultaneous tracks.
Still, their work was so successful that
several other groups— in Germany, Japan,
the U.S.S.R. and the U.S.-continued to
work along similar lines.
T^he final step— substitution of neon for
air-was taken by S. Fukui and S. Mi-
yamoto of Osaka University and report-
ed in 1959. The two Japanese physicists
were interested in developing a track de-
tector that could be used for cosmic rays.
Bubble chambers are not useful for such
work, since they cannot be triggered.
Fukui and Miyamoto found that in a
chamber containing neon rather than air
several simultaneous particle tracks
could be seen.
One big difference between the be-
havior of air and of neon in spark cham-
bers is that oxygen molecules ( Oj ) in air
can combine with the free electrons of
the ionization trail, whereas neon atoms
cannot. The inertness of neon— and of
other "noble" gases— is explained by the
fact that it has a full complement of
eight electrons in its outer electron shell.
In contrast an oxygen molecule can ac-
quire one electron and thereby become
a negative ion (02). The electrons are
well anchored to the oxygen molecules,
some 60,000 times more massive than
themselves, and cannot be freed except
by application of a strong electric field.
Consequently an air-filled spark chamber
requires an operating pulse of 7,000 to
10,000 volts for each millimeter of space
between its plates. This is about three
times the voltage needed for a neon
spark chamber.
The formation of oxygen ions also ex-
plains other characteristics of an air
spark chamber. If the electron in an
ionization trail can migrate freely to the
plates of the chamber, its travel time is
brief. But if it is attached to an oxygen
molecule along the way, the velocity of
the resulting ion is much slower than
that of the electron. In fact, if the mass
of a particle is suddenly increased by
60,000 times, its velocity must decrease
by the square root of 60,000, or by a
factor of about 250. Because most of the
electrons liberated in an air spark cham-
ber are slowed down in this fashion, they
require many microseconds to migrate
to the plates of the chamber. Such a
chamber therefore remains sensitive for
a long time, and in it old tracks cannot
be quickly erased.
It is not so clear why air chambers
show only one spark per gap even though
several ionization trails may be present.
It may be that at the high electric fields
needed to operate such chambers the
spark produced by the first electron
freed from an oxygen ion occurs so rap-
idly that the plates are quickly dis-
IV. UNSEEN
'\ NEUTRAL PARTICLE
COUNTER
COUNTERS
NEON
PARTICLE
PATH
GROUNDED
PLATES
TO PULSED
PLATES
HIGH-VOLTAGE
PULSE
GENERATOR
SPARK CHAMBER, which became practical with the work of S. Fukui and S. Miyamoto
in 1959, consists of an array of thin metal plates surrounded by neon. It is also provided
with counters and a "logic" circuit for determining when a particle meeting certain criteria
has appeared. When it appears, a high-voltage pulse is sent to ahernate plates and sparks
occur along the ionization trails left by each charged particle. In the example shown, a
charged particle interacts in counter A, yielding one neutral and one charged secondary.
The secondary decays in the chamber, producing two charged particles and a neutral one.
47
charged below the threshold field, pre-
venting any other attached electrons
from getting free to start other sparks.
This is consistent with an observation
by Cranshaw and de Beer that only one
electron is needed to start the spark.
TT'ollowing the announcement of a prac-
•*• tical spark chamber by Fukui and
Miyamoto in 1959, the idea was imme-
diately taken up by physicists in the U.S.
and elsewhere. Within a matter of
months Bruce Cork of the University of
California had built a six-gap spark
chamber and had operated it in a beam
of particles from the six-billion-electron-
volt accelerator of the Lawrence Radia-
tion Laboratory. Almost simultaneously
James L. Cronin of Princeton University
built and operated a large 18-gap spark
chamber, which yielded high-quality
pictures of the tracks made by cosmic
rays and by accelerator-produced parti-
cles. Both of these chambers used noble
gases (neon or argon) and employed
clearing fields to erase the ionization
trails. Cork and Cronin were also the
first to conduct actual experiments using
a spark chamber as a particle detector.
In their work, as in most subsequent
experiments using spark chambers, the
occurrence of an interesting event 'was
recognized by a system of conventional
counters, which then triggered the oper-
ation of the chamber. Typically particles
arrived at the spark chamber at intervals
of a few microseconds and their tracks
were swept to the plates by the continu-
ous clearing field after only one micro-
second. .Consequently the pulsing of the
spark chamber had to be carried out in
much less than one microsecond so that
7
SPARK CHAMBER PICTURES show the appearance of particle
tracks when the particles are curved by a magnetic field (top right)
and when they are not (top left). The maps below each picture
identify the charged particles, which leave tracks, and the neutral
ones, whose presence is inferred. The reaction at the left was seen
in a spark chamber operated at Brookhaven by James L. Cronin
48
The Spark Chamber
the interesting track would still be there
to be detected bv spark amplification.
Within the past three years a wide
variety of spark chambers have been
built, each designed to exploit certain de-
sirable features. Some have been made
with thick carbon plates to allow in-
teractions of the incoming particles with
carbon. Others have been built in the
form of a cylinder, to study the scattering
of particles by a target located on the
axis of the cylinder.
Along with several other physicists, I
have been particularly interested in the
of Princeton. The picture at right was made
in author's two-cubic-foot spark cnamber
at Brookhaven, shown at bottom of page 36.
design and use of thin-plate spark cham-
bers that can be operated in a magnetic
field. In a uniform magnetic field the
path of a charged particle of constant en-
ergy is a circle whose radius is propor-
tional to the momentum of the particle.
The idea of using a magnetic field to ob-
tain momentum information goes back
to the early days of the cloud chamber,
and bubble chambers are nearly always
operated in such a field. The measure-
ment of the momentum of each charged
particle in a reaction is alwavs useful,
and frequently essential, for identifving
the particles and learning the details of
their interactions.
When a magnetic field is used in a
spark chamber, the sparks trace the ion-
ization trails more closely if the spacing
between the chamber plates is small. As
the spacing is reduced, however, it be-
comes increasingly important for the
plates to be flat and uniformly spaced,
and the triggering pulse has to rise from
zero to the peak voltage at higher speed.
Fukui and Miyamoto had used spacings
of 10 millimeters. Cork's chamber had a
six-millimeter spacing. Within a few
months we found in our laboratory at
Princeton University that the spacing be-
tween spark-chamber plates operated in
neon could be as small as two millimeters.
Unless very close plate-spacing is
wanted, the construction of a spark
chamber is not too difficult and might
make a feasible project for an amateur
scientist. A chamber with an adjustable
plate spacing of two to 10 millimeters,
the first model built by our group, was
largely the work of college sophomores
majoring in physics. Our second instru-
ment was small but operated in a mag-
netic field. It contained 50 gaps of three
millimeters each, separated by alumi-
num foil a thousandth of an inch thick. A
third chamber, with 128 gaps of three-
millimeter spacing and a volume of two
cubic feet, can measure the momentum
of particles with good accuracy. When
the tracks cross 100 or more gaps, the
accuracy of momentum measurement
approaches that obtainable in a good
bubble chamber.
At present the advantages the bubble
chamber retains over the spark
chamber are two. First, pure licjuid hy-
drogen can be used as the only mate-
rial in the bubble chamber, thereby lim-
iting nuclear reactions to those between
elementary particles and hydrogen nu-
clei (protons). In 1960 we studied the
possibility of imitating a hydrogen bub-
ble chamber by using liquid-hydrogen-
filled hollow plates in an atmosphere
of gaseous helium. We established that
such a chamber would work but so far
no one has needed its properties badly
enough to build one. The second advan-
tage of the bubble chamber is that it
yields very fine ionization trails, and it
produces them no matter which way the
particle is moving. The bubbles trace a
particle's path with an uncertainty of
less than a thousandth of an inch. Even
in narrow-gap spark chambers the sparks
scatter in a region 15 or 20 thousandths
of an inch wide. Moreover, in a spark
chamber the path uncertainty increases
as the particle approaches a course
parallel to the plates.
In spite of these drawbacks the spark
chamber has two big advantages over
the bubble chamber. First, the decision
to photograph a given event can be
made after the event has occurred. Sec-
ond, because old ionization trails are
swept to the walls after only one or two
microseconds the spark chamber picture
shows only the tracks produced during
the last microsecond before the chamber
was pulsed. Because of these two fea-
tures one can select and photograph an
interesting event caused by a single en-
tering particle out of many thousands,
all arriving over a few thousandths of
a second. Each ionization trail of the un-
interesting majority of tracks is swept
away and does not remain to confuse
the picture.
The decision as to which events to
photograph is made by "logic" circuits
that analyze the output of counters,
which may be located outside or inside
the spark chamber itself. Frequently the
logic requirements are severe and the
pulses from many counters must be di-
gested and analyzed before a decision
is made whether to pulse the chamber or
not. Ordinarily a time of about 100 nano-
seconds (100 billion ths of a second) is
available for the decision. This is not
uncomfortably short with present-day
circuitry. For the past 10 years it has
been practical to use circuits that operate
in 20 nanoseconds or less.
Those of us who have jumped on the
spark chamber bandwagon are naturally
enthusiastic about future prospects for
the instrument. We have found that
physicists who formerly used bubble
chambers are delighted to have a de-
vice that eliminates great masses of un-
interesting pictures. And former counter
physicists are happy to see the tracks
they knew were going through their
counters. We all know that neither bub-
ble chambers nor counters are going to
be put out of business by the new track
detectors, but to a remarkable degree
spark chambers allow us some of the best
of both worlds.
49
This speech is a lucid historical introduction to the
cyclotron, with frank references to missed opportunities.
f The Evolution of the Cyclotron
Ernest 0. Lawrence
Nobel Prize lecture given in December 1951.
The development of the cyclotron was begun more than twenty years ago
and perhaps it is appropriate on this occasion to give something of an historical
account. The story goes back to 1928 when I had the good fortune of becoming
a member of the faculty of the University of California. At that time it seemed
opportune to review my plans for research, to see whether I might not pro-
fitably go into nuclear research, for the pioneer work of Rutherford and his
school had clearly indicated that the next great frontier for the experimental
physicist was surely the atomic nucleus.
It seemed equally obvious also at that time that a prerequisite to a successful
experimental attack on the nucleus was the development of means of acce-
lerating charged particles to high velocities — to energies measured in millions
of electron volts, a task which appeared formidable indeed! Accordingly, I
devoted considerable time and thought to the technical problem of ways and
means of reaching millions of electron volts in the laboratory. The problem
seemed to reduce itself to two parts, A the production of high voltages and B
the development of accelerating tubes capable of withstanding such high
voltages.
Since transformers and rectifiers for such high voltages seemed rather out
of the question for various reasons, not the least of which were connected with
financial limitations, I naturally looked for alternative means of producing
high voltages — the surge generator which was used by Brasch and Lange —
the electrostatic generator which Professor W. F. G. Swann was working on
when I was a student under him at the University of Minnesota in 1924 and
which was later brought to practical development by Van de Graaff, and the
Tesla coil source of high voltage which Tuve, Breit and Hafstad brought
to a fruitful stage of development.
One evening early in 1929 as I was glancing over current periodicals in the
University library, I came across an article in a German electrical engineering
journal by Wideroe on the multiple acceleration of positive ions. Not being
51
t <.
EntladnngB-
ranm
Erde
Fig. I. Diagram of linear accelerator from Professor G. Ising's pioneer publication (1924)
of the principle of multiple acceleration of ions.
able to read German easily, I merely looked at the diagrams and photographs
of Wideroe's apparatus and from the various figures in the article was able to
determine his general approach to the problem — i. e. the multiple acceleration
of the positive ions by appropriate application of radio frequency oscillating
voltages to a series of cylindrical electrodes in line. This new idea immediately
impressed me as the real answer which I had been looking for to the technical
problem of accelerating positive ions, and without looking at the article further
I then and there made estimates of the general features of a linear accelerator
for protons in the energy range above one million volt electrons. Simple cal-
culations showed that the accelerator tube would be some meters in length
which at that time seemed rather awkwardly long for laboratory purposes.
And accordingly, I asked myself the question, instead of using a large number
of cylindrical electrodes in line, might it not be possible to use two electrodes
over and over again by bending the positive ions back and forth through the
electrodes by some sort of appropriate magnetic field arrangement. Again a
little analysis of the problem showed that a uniform magnetic field had just
the right properties — that the angular velocity of the ions circulating in the
field would be independent of their energy so that they would circulate back
and forth between suitable hollow electrodes in resonance with an oscillating
electrical field of a certain frequency which now has come to be known as the
"cyclotron frequency".
52
The Evolution of the Cyclotron
Fig. 2. First crude models of the cyclotron constructed by Edlefsen in 1930.
Now this occasion affords me a felicitous opportunity in some measure to
correct an error and an injustice. For at that time I did not carefully read
Wideroe's article and note that he had gotten the idea of multiple acceleration
of ions from one of your distinguished colleagues, Professor G. Ising, who in
1924 published this important principle. It was only after several years had
passed that I became aware of Professor Ising's prime contribution. I should
Uke to take this opportunity to pay tribute to his work for he surely is the
father of the developments of the methods of multiple acceleration.
Perhaps you will permit me first of all to show a slide of the diagram of the
linear accelerator in his original publication. Fig. i.
I hope I have not belabored excessively these early incidents of history and
now I should like to trace rapidly the evolution of the cyclotron by showing
53
Fig. 3. Working model of cyclotron constructed by M. Stanley Livingston which pointed
the way to later developments.
examples of the apparatus in our laboratory as it was developed in the course
of time. In doing so, I am afraid I shall not be able to mention all those who
deserve great credit for the developments — as from the beginning the work
has been a team effort involving many able and devoted co-workers in many
laboratories. As I am sure you well appreciate, a great many diverse talents
are involved in such developments and whatever measure of success is achieved
is dependent on close and effective collaboration.
Although the cyclotron was, so to speak, invented early in 1929, actual
experimental work on its development was begun in the spring of 1930 when
one of my students, Nels Edlefsen, constructed two crude models shown in
Fig. 2. One of the models which gave slight evidence of working consisted of
two copper duants waxed together on a glass plate with a filament source along
the diameter at the center much like later models.
In the fall another student, M. Stanley Livingston, continued the devel-
opment and quickly constructed the model shown in Fig. 3 which, as you see,
had all the features of early cyclotrons and which worked very well indeed as
54
The Evolution of the Cyclotron
Fig. 4. General view of first cyclotron used in nuclear transformations.
Fig. 5. Vacuum chamber of cyclotron (Fig. 4) which produced i million volt protons.
55
Fig. 6. General view of 27" cyclotron built by young physicists including M. S. Livingston
(left) and E. O. Lawrence (right). The lack of good engineering design is quite evident!
80,000 volt protons were produced with less than 1,000 volts on the semi-
circular accelerating electrode — now called the "dee".
The next milestone in the development was the construction of a larger
model Figs. 4 and 5 which produced protons of the desired energies — in the
region of one million electron volts. Livingston and I had the remarkable good
fortune of observing that this apparatus was rather more successful than we
had expected. For, as you can well imagine, we were concerned about how
many of the protons would succeed in spiralling around a great many times
without getting lost on the way. We soon recognized that the focussing actions
of the electric and magnetic fields were responsible for the relatively large
currents of protons that reached the periphery of the apparatus; but we must
acknowledge that here again experiment preceded theory !
We were busy with further improvements of the apparatus to produce
larger currents at higher voltages when we received word of the discovery by
CocKCROFT and Walton, which this year has been recognized by the Nobel Prize
in physics. We were overjoyed with this news for it constituted definite assur-
56
The Evolution of the Cyclotron
Fig. 7. The chamber of the 27" cyclotron showing two dees.
ance that the acceleration of charged particles to high speeds was a worth-
while endeavor. As you can imagine, we went ahead with all speed, and it was
not long before the disintegration of lithium by protons had been observed with
the apparatus.
Now we may proceed rapidly with examples of later developments. Figs.
6 and 7 show the first two dee 27" cyclotron which produced protons and deu-
terons of several million volts and was used extensively in early investigations
of nuclear reactions involving neutrons and artificial radioactivity.
Again, with this apparatus the discoveries of Chadwick and the Curie-
JOLIOTS were promptly confirmed. Indeed, looking back it is remarkable that
we managed to avoid the discovery of artificial radioactivity prior to their
epoch-making announcement: for we tried at first to use Geiger counters in
observing nuclear radiations produced by the cyclotron and observed that
their background was always variable and large. In those days Geiger counters
had the reputation of being unreliable and, rather than looking into the matter
of their apparent misbehavior, we turned to ion chambers and linear amplifiers
57
Fig. 8. Early photograph of 60" cyclotron showing first evidence of good engineering
practice introduced into our laboratory by W. M. Brobeck (right) and Donald Cooksey (left),
to observe heavy particle nuclear reactions. Of course, the Geiger counters were
simply being faithful to duty and recording the radiations from the artificial
radioactive substances and this became immediately apparent after the Curie-
JOLIOT announcement. Again, we were overjoyed at the richness of the domain
in the nucleus accessible to particles of several million electron volts energy
and there followed a happy period of intensive experimental investigations,
-which indeed through the years has gained ever-increasing tempo in laboratories
the world over.
The next milestone in our laboratory was the construction of the 60" cyclo-
tron, and this undertaking was greatly strengthened by the joining of our team
of William Brobeck, a truly outstanding young engineer. Brobeck brought
to our laboratory sound engineering practice which from the day he joined
us has had a profound effect on developments. To him, more than to any other
one individual, goes the credit for the success of the 60" cyclotron and all sub-
sequent developments. As you can see in Fig. 8, the cyclotron for the first time
began to look like a well engineered machine. It was with this machine that
the discoveries of the transuranium elements were made which have been
58
The Evolution of the Cyclotron
Fig. 9. Artist's sketch of 184" cyclotron designed by Brobeck before the war to produce
100 million electron volt protons.
rewarded this year by the award of the Nobel Prize in chemistry to McMillan
and Seaborg. Perhaps the finest example of a 60" cyclotron is now in operation
at the Nobel Institute here in Stockholm.
Soon our objective was the production of protons and deuterons of much
higher energies and Bethe pointed out the difficulty introduced by the relativity
increase in mass of the particles as they increase in energy in the course of
acceleration which causes them to get out of resonance with an oscillating electric
field in a uniform magnetic field.
However, Thomas devised a magnetic field that avoided the limitation
discussed by Bethe, and also, of course, it was recognized that one might
modulate the frequency in step with the changing angular frequency of the
accelerated particles. These two solutions of the technical problem of yet
higher energies — the region of 100 miUion volts — seemed impractical; at least
much less practicable than simply so designing the cyclotron that a million
volts or more could be applied to the dees, so that the particles would need to
circulate around relatively few times in reaching the desired high energies.
Accordingly, just before the war Brobeck and co-workers designed the great
184" cyclotron shown in Fig. 9.
59
Fig. lo. General view of 184" synchrocyclotron which produces 340 Mev protons. The
concrete shielding, partially removed in this photograph, is 15' in thickness.
As is well known the war prevented the building of this machine and imme-
diately afterwards McMillan, and Veksler independently a few months earUer,
came forward with the principle of phase stabiUty which transformed the con-
ventional cyclotron to a much more powerful imstrument for higher energies
— the synchrocyclotron. Fig. 10 shows the main features of the Berkeley 184"
synchrocyclotron which produces 340 Mev protons, while there are later and
more modem installations, notably at Columbia University and University of
Chicago, which produce somewhat higher energies. As I am sure this audience
is well aware, a beautifully engineered synchrocyclotron is nearing completion,
at Upsala.
On completion of the 184" synchrocyclotron, it was natural that Brobeck
should turn his attention to the engineering problem of applying the synchro-
tron principle to the acceleration of heavy ions, particularly protons, to much
higher energies — in the range of billions of electron volts. It was not long
before his engineering studies indicated the practicability of producing protons
in the energy range well above one billion electron volts.
60
The Evolution of the Cyclotron
Fig. II. One-quarter scale operating model of 6 Bev proton synchrotron.
With the extensive developments in the atomic energy field, large funds
became available for research purposes — much larger than seemed possible
before the war — and indeed, as soon as all concerned were convinced of the
practicaUty of building a proton synchrotron for several bilhon electron volts,
the construction of two installations was begun, one at Brookhaven for about
3 bilhon electron volts and a second at Berkeley for about twice this energy.
The first step in these large undertakings was to build a substantial operating
model to test out the theory of the proton synchrotron, as well as the engineering
principles of design. Accordingly, a quarter scale operating model was con-
structed and is shown in Fig. ii. A small cyclotron was designed to produce
large current pulses of i Mev protons which were injected into the "race track"
of the S5mchrotron by an appropriate magnetic and electrostatic deflecting
system which can be seen in the foreground of Fig. ii. This model worked as
expected and provided a great deal of practical data giving confidence that the
full scale machines will function successfully and satisfactorily.
It is hardly appropriate here to describe either the Brookhaven or Berkeley
proton synchrotrons (the former is called the cosmotron and the latter is called
61
Fig. 12. General view of "race track" magnet in process of assembly for 6.3 Bev proton
synchrotron or "bevatron".
Fig. 13. Showing coil winding of bevatron magnet.
62
The Evolution of the Cyclotron
Fig. 14. The size of the bevatron magnet is here indicated. Left to right (E. O. Lawrence,
W. M. Brobeck, H. A. Fidler and D. Cooksey).
Fig. 15. Bevatron motor generator equipment.
63
Fig. 1 6. Ignitrons and associated switchgear for bevatron motor generator.
the bevatron) but perhaps it is of interest to show a number of photographs
which display the general features of this great machine. Figs. 12, 13, 14, 15
and 16.
Now that we shall soon have 5 or 10 Bev particles in the laboratory, what
possibilities are there for going on higher to 50 or 100 Bev? One answer is that
the limitation of the bevatron is largely a financial one. With a correspondingly
larger expenditure higher energies surely can be reached.
But I should like to close by emphasizing that a more feasible, if not more
interesting, approach to the problem of higher energy nuclear projectiles is the
acceleration of multiply charged heavier ions such as C*+, or Ne^"\ Already
extraordinarily interesting nuclear reactions have been produced by the acce-
leration of C*"^ ions to 120 Mev in the 60" cyclotron and such particles in the
Berkeley bevatron would be accelerated to more than 36 Bev. Since in the
cosmic radiation such heavy particles play an important role, they will surely
be produced in the bevatron some day, contributing to further progress in our
understanding of nature.
64
These "machines" are used for two purposes: to "see"
fundamental particles of matter, and to produce new ones.
Though published in 1958, this article is still an excellent
Introduction to the basic design used to build many current
accelerators.
8 Particle Accelerators
Robert R. Wilson
Article in Scientific American, 1958.
From time to time in the course of
history men have been swept up
by intense currents of creative ac-
tivity. In the pyramids of Egypt, in
Greek sculpture and in Florentine paint-
ing we find monuments to such bursts of
expression. My favorite example is the
Gothic cathedrals that so magically
sprang up in 12th- and 13th-century
France, for I like to relate that magnifi-
cent preoccupation with construction to
an obsession of our own time— the build-
ing of nuclear accelerators.
Like nuclear physics today, religion
at that time was an intense intellectual
activity. It seems to me that the designer
of an accelerator is moved by much the
same spirit which motivated the design-
er of a cathedral. The esthetic appeal of
both structures is primarily technological.
In the Gothic cathedral the appeal is pri-
marily in the functionality of the ogival
construction— the thrust and counter-
thrust that is so vividly evident. So, too,
in the accelerator we feel a technological
esthetic— the spirality of the orbits of the
particles, the balance of electrical and
mechanical motion, the upward surge
of forces and events until an ultimate of
height is reached, this time in the energy
of the particles. In both cases we find
the architects working at the very limit
of technical knowledge. In both there
is intense competition between localities,
regional and national. Both structures
are expensive: a really large accelerator
can cost $100 million; the cost of a
cathedral, in terms of medieval econom-
ics, was possibly higher.
But where a cathedral was a commu-
nity enterprise, with many people in the
region participating in its financing and
construction, and nearly everyone in its
enjoyment, an accelerator is esoteric. Its
presence in a community is usually un-
known and unsung. Few are the workers
who help to build it, and fewer still are
those who use it.
So the accelerator building boom goes
on largely unnoticed, but at a quicken-
ing pace. Cyclotions, the original "atom
smashers," are now dotted almost all
over the globe. They have evolved into
synchro-cyclotrons, and have reached
their culmination in three giant ma-
chines, one at the University of Cali-
fornia in Berkeley, another at the Euro-
pean Organization for Nuclear Research
(CERN) in Switzerland and another in
the US.S.R. These machines accelerate
PROTON SYNCHROTRON IN GENEVA is designed to yield 25 bev. Shown here is a sec-
tion of the interior of its ring building. This structure is approximately 660 feet in diameter.
65
/N
^
/
A
^
>'4
A
4\ A A A A A A
/
y
A
A
>
/
^.
A
^'
^y^
MAGNETIC FORCE on moving charged
particles {black dots) is indicated by arrows
pointing down and to right. Upward arrows
show the speed of the particles and colored
arrows the direction of the field. Large dot
at the bottom represents a heavier particle.
protons to energies of between 600 and
700 million electron volts (mev). Syn-
chrotrons, another development, are
even bigger and more powerful. The
Cosmotron, a 2,200-ton monster at
Brookhaven National Laboratory which
emits 3-billion-electron-volt (bev) pro-
tons, is small compared to the 6-bev,
10,000-ton Bevatron at Berkeley. This
in turn is topped by the 10-bev, 36,000-
ton Phasotron in the U.S.S.R. Two even
larger machines are under construction
at Brookhaven and CERN; they are de-
signed to produce protons of 25 to 30
bev. And still bigger accelerators are
being planned.
Nuclear Microscopes
Why? What is the purpose behind
this almost feverish effort to build more
and bigger machines? Perhaps the sim-
plest answer is that accelerators are the
microscopes of nuclear physics. We usu-
ally think of an accelerator as a sort of
gun, producing high-speed particles
which bombard the nucleus of the atom.
But since particles are known to have
wave properties, it is equally appropriate
to say that the accelerator shines "light"
on the nuclei, enabling us to "see" them.
Now the resolving power of a micro-
scope, i.e., its ability to distinguish small
objects, depends on the wavelength of
the light it employs. The shortest wave-
length of visible light is about four
100,000ths (4 X 10-5) of a centimeter;
with these waves one can perceive a
microbe, of about the same length.
To examine smaller things, biologists
now use the electron microscope. The
wavelength of a particle depends on its
mass and its energy. At a few thousand
electron volts— the energy at which elec-
tron microscopes operate-an electron
has a wavelength some 10,000 times
shorter than that of visible light (about
lO"'* centimeter). With these waves one
can begin to see the details of molecules.
The nucleus of an atom is about 10"^-
centimeter in diameter. This is the wave-
length of a proton with an energy of 1
mev. To "see" the nucleus we therefore
need a 1-mev proton "microscope," and
to make out some of its internal details
we need some 10 to 20 times as much
energy. Thus a laboratory interested in
classical nuclear physics will invariably
have a Van de Graaff accelerator or a
cyclotron operating in the range of 1 to
20 mev.
But physics has pushed beyond this
point. At present many of us are inter-
ested not in the nucleus as a whole but
in the structure of the protons and neu-
trons (nucleons) of which it is com-
posed. It is the old problem of worlds
within worlds, for the proton itself turns
out to have a rich structure. It is per-
haps 10-13 centimeter in diameter, and
to resolve it requires an energy of sev-
eral hundred mev. To see it in as fine
detail as we can see the structure of the
nucleus we must have still higher energy.
It is for this reason that the 25- to 30-bev
machines are under construction. If and
when the structure of the proton is
known, will its component parts turn out
to have their own structure? Very pos-
sibly so, and if they do, machines of
higher energy will be built to explore
that structure.
The microscope analogy does not tell
the whole story. When we get to suffi-
ciently short wavelengths (i.e., when
the bombarding particles in our accel-
erators reach sufficiently high energy),
we not only see particles, but we also
make new ones. These new particles are
created out of energy. At 1 mev an
electron has enough energy to create a
pair of particles— an electron and a posi-
tron. At 150 mev it makes pi mesons
(pions) when it collides with a nucleon.
Our 1-bev electron accelerator at Cor-
nell University produces more massive
particles: K and lambda mesons. The
Bevatron, which produces 6-bev pro-
tons, is able to create antiprotons, anti-
neutrons and still heavier particles such
as xi and sigma mesons.
Thus as the energy of the machines
has increased it has become possible to
create more and heavier new particles.
Obviously the exciting next step is to
attain even higher energies, and then to
see what sort of monster particles are
created. One has the very strong feeling
that new particles will indeed show up.
It may well turn out that they will
prove to be only complexes of particles
which we already understand; however,
it is exactly to answer such questions
that we are building the machines.
Originally we constructed our accel-
erators in order to search for the ultimate
in elementary particles. We expected
these particles to be fragments and
hence to be successively smaller; it was
to improve our definition of them that
we went to higher energies. Ironically
the fragments now seem to get larger.
One has the uneasy feeUng that new ma-
chines make new particles which lead
to the construction of new machines, and
so on ad infinitum. In fact, there may be
lurking here a new kind of indetermin-
acy principle which will inherently limit
our knowledge of the very small.
So much for the reasons why accelera-
66
Particle Accelerators
CYCLOTRON'S OPERATION is like that of a circular pendulum
Heft) in which the weight is pushed repeatedly to give an ever-
widening swing. The schematic diagram at the right shows a par-
ticle (dot) spiraling within two D-shaped electrodes. The magnetic
pole pieces which provide the guiding field (colored lines) are
outlined in light broken lines. The particles are accelerated by an
oscillating electric field between the dees. The generator which
produces the field is shown as a wavy line within a rectangle (fopi .
tors are built. Let us turn to the ma-
chines themselves. All of them operate
on the same fundamental principle:
charged particles (electrons or positive
ions usually protons) are put into an
electric field which exerts a force on
them, pushing them to high speeds and
energies. (The electron volt, in which
the energy is usually measured, is the
energy acquired by a particle with one
electronic unit of charge accelerated by
a potential difference of one volt.) The
simplest form of accelerator is a pipe
along which a steady electric field ac-
celerates the particles. This is the well-
known Van de Graaff machine. To ob-
tain higher energies a long pipe may be
used with several accelerating electrodes
which kick the particles to higher and
higher speeds as they travel down the
tube [see "The Linear Accelerator," by
Wolfgang Panofsky; Scientific Ameri-
can, October, 1954]. But to attain a
really high energy by this method would
require an extremely long pipe. To get
around this difficulty the particles can
be made to travel in a circular or spiral
path which brings them back through
the same electrodes where the accelerat-
ing voltage is applied again and again.
It is with such circular machines that
we are chiefly concerned in this article.
In these machines the circular motion is
brought about by magnetic fields. A
magnetic field exerts a force on all elec-
tric charges that move through it; the
force is always at right angles to the di-
rection of the charges' travel. It is the
same kind of force that acts on a stone
whirled at the end of a string. The mag-
netic field, like the string, forces the par-
ticles, to move in a circular path. The
stronger the field, the sharper the curva-
ture of the path; on the other hand, the
faster or heavier the particle, the less it
is curved by a given field [see diagrams
on opposite page].
The simplest and oldest type of accel-
erator to make use of magnetic bending
is the cyclotron. The operation of this
machine can be most easily visualized
by imagining a weight suspended by a
string and pushed so as to describe a cir-
cular motion. As with any pendulum the
time required to complete a full circular
swing is the same whether the circle is
small or large. Thus if the weight is
pushed rhythmically it will move out-
ward in an ever-widening circle, return-
ing to the pushing point in the same time,
on each revolution [see diagram above].
So it is in the cyclotron: each ion whirls
inside of two semicircular electrodes or
"dees," getting an electrical push when
it passes from one to the other. A ver-
tical magnetic field provides a constant
inward push and, like the string, holds
the ion in a circular path and guides it
back to the gap between the dees, where
it is given another electrical push. The
velocity of the ion then becomes greater
and, as a result of its inertia, the curva-
ture of the circular path caused by the
magnetic field becomes larger. The time
taken to traverse a full circle is the same
no matter how big the radius, because
the increase in speed just compensates
for the increase in path-length per turn.
Now if the voltage across the dees is
made to oscillate rapidly, and if its pe-
riod is adjusted so that it exactly matches
67
the period of revolution of the ions, then
the ions will be pushed in the right di-
rection at the right time at each cross-
ing of the gap between dees; the energy
of the ions will build up until their path
takes them to the edge of the magnetic
field, where they can be used or extract-
ed in the form of a beam.
If the cathedrals had great designers
such as Suger of St. Denis and Sully of
Notre Dame, the accelerators have their
Cockcroft of Cambridge and Lawrence
of Berkeley. In 1928 J. D. Cockcroft and
E. T. S. Walton built a device in which
a voltage generated between two elec-
trodes accelerated ions to a high enough
speed to cause the disintegration of a
bombarded nucleus. They were still
working in the magnificently simple tra-
dition of Ernest Rutherford's laboratory
at the University of Cambridge. A quite
different tradition was established with
the building of the first cyclotron by
Ernest O. Lawrence in 1930. It has
spread from his laboratory at the Uni-
versity of California and has come to
dominate experimental nuclear physics
in this country. Indeed, one can begin
now to trace this spirit abroad, particu-
larly to the U.S.S.R., where it may flour-
ish even more vigorously than it does in
the U. S.
This tradition, called "berkelitis" by
its detractors, is a true departure in ex-
perimental physics. Previously experi-
mental equipment had been constructed
to test a particular surmise or idea. But
building a large accelerator is more anal-
ogous to outfitting a ship for an expedi-
tion of exploration, or to the construction
of a huge telescope to study a variety of
astronomical objects. After several cyclo-
trons had been built at Berkeley, the
SYNCHROTRON restriris parlirles to a nearly circular path by
means of a magnetic field (colored lines) which grows stronger as
ihe particle energy increases. At top an electron (hutched circle)
is in an orbit that brings it to the accelerating gap (riffhl) just as
ihe voltage changes from accelerating to retarding (curve at bot-
tom). In the center drawing the field is made stronger and the
electron (black circle) is bent more strongly, following a shorter
path and arriving at the gap in time to get a push. After a number
of pushes it spirals out to the original path. The cross section
at bottom right shows magnetic pole pieces around the doughnut.
68
Particle Accelerators
students and associates of Lawrence
traveled far and wide to spread the gos-
pel. By World War II they had helped
to build cyclotrons not only at universi-
ties in the U. S., but also in several other
countries. The biggest of these machines
produced protons of about 10 mev. As
we have seen, this is an appropriate en-
ergy for exploring the nucleus as a whole,
but not for examining its parts. Just be-
fore the war Lawrence had begun to
build a giant cyclotron, to enter the en-
ergy region above 100 mev, with which
he could start to probe nucleons.
The Synchrotron
It was characteristic of Lawrence that
he went ahead despite a prevalent con-
viction that the energy limit of the cy-
clotron was about 20 mev. This convic-
tion was based on an effect predicted by
Albert Einstein's theory of relativity:
particles traveling at nearly the speed of
light will increase in mass. At 20 mev a
proton has entered this "relativistic" re-
gion, and further increases in energy
will result not so much in greater speed
as in greater mass. When this happens,
the particle in a cyclotron begins to fall
behind schedule as it spirals farther out-
ward, and it no longer arrives between
the dees at the right time to get a push
from the oscillating voltage.
The war interrupted work on Law-
rence's big machine. Its huge magnet
was used to separate isotopes of uranium
for the atomic-bomb program. At the
end of the war V. I. Veksler of the
U.S.S.R. and E. M. McMillan of the
University of California independently
and almost simultaneously enunciated
the so-called synchrotron principle. This
principle showed the way to accelerat-
ing particles into the completely relati-
vistic region. It was exactly the sort of
deus ex machina that Lawrence had en-
visioned when he gkmbled some $1 mil-
lion in starting his big cyclotron. The
principle was immediately adopted. A
successful synchro-cyclotron was built
which produced protons in the region of
100 mev (eventually 730 mev). In the
next few months a number of important
features of the proton were discovered.
To understand the synchrotron prin-
ciple, it is easier to consider its applica-
tion in the electron synchrotron rather
than in the more complicated synchro-
cyclotron. Some half-dozen of these elec-
tron accelerators, with maximum ener-
gies of about 300 mev, were also built
just after the war.
In a synchrotron electrons travel on a
circular orbit inside a narrow doughnut-
shaped vacuum vessel. At one point in
the doughnut is a pair of accelerating
electrodes across which there is an oscil-
lating voltage like that in the cyclotron.
A ring-shaped magnet surrounding the
doughnut produces a field which forces
the particle to travel on orbits close to
the center of the tube [see diagram on
opposite page]. The electrons are inject-
ed into the doughnut from a small linear
accelerator at an energy of about 2 mev.
At this energy their speed is some 98
per cent of the speed of light; hence they
cannot travel much faster. To make mat-
ters simpler let us assume that the speed
is exactly the speed of light and that the
whole increase in energy goes into mass.
Now imagine an electron in a circular
orbit at the center of the doughnut. The
electron is held there by a constant mag-
netic field. Also imagine that our oscil-
lating voltage is applied, but that the
electron crosses the accelerating gap just
at the time when the voltage falls
through its zero value. The frequency of
the voltage is made the same as that of
the electron traveling around its orbit at
the constant speed of light. The electron
now passes the gap on all subsequent
turns just as the voltage becomes zero.
Thus nothing happens; the electron re-
mains on its orbit and keeps the same
energy. Now we increase the magnetic
field slightly. Since the energy (mass) is
still the same, the particle is forced into
a sharper curve, i.e., its orbit gets small-
er. But because the orbit is smaller and
the speed is constant, the time it takes
the electron to return to the accelerating
gap is shorter. Hence the electron ar-
rives slightly before the voltage has fall-
en to zero; it is accelerated slightly. On
the next turn, if the energy is still not
large enough, the orbit will still be too
small: the electron will arrive still earlier
and be accelerated even more. Eventual-
ly the energy will increase enough (that
is, the electron will get heavy enough)
so that it is bent less sharply and edges
out to its original orbit. If the energy
should become too great, the orbit will
be too big and the time it takes the elec-
tron to make each turn will be too long.
This will cause the electron to drop be-
hind the accelerating voltage and be
pushed backward so that it will lose en-
ergy. Thus we have a beautiful auto-
matic device for keeping the electron on
the right orbit, or at least oscillating
around the right orbit. That is all there
is to the synchrotron principle or, as it
is sometimes called, phase focusing.
Now we can see that, if the magnetic
field of the synchrotron is increased con-
tinuously, the energy of the electrons
STRONG FOCUSING is produced by mag-
netic fields which are alternately bowed out
and in. Horizontal arrows show radial forces
on the particles at inner and outer edges of
the field. Slanted arrows represent forces
which focus or defocus particles vertically.
69
SYNCHRO-CYCLOTRON ai tlie Berkeley Radiation Laboratory
of the University of California is now the most powerful machine
of its kind. A modification of its design last year increased the
energy of its proton beam to 730 million electron volts (mev).
ELECTRON S\NCHROTRON was photographed in the author's
laboratory at Cornell University while its guiding magnet was un-
der construction. Machine, which produces an energy of 1 bev, is
the first to use strong focusing. Accelerating electrodes are at right.
70
Particle Accelerators
will also increase continuously; the elec-
trons will receive energy at just the right
rate to keep them on the central, or syn-
chronous, orbit. In practice electrons
can be injected into the doughnut when
the magnetic field is rather weak ( about
10 gauss) and ejected when the field is
quite strong (more than 10,000 gauss).
A synchrotron with a large enough radius
can accelerate electrons up to energies
of about 10 bev. There are now about
six machines, built or being built, which
are designed to yield electron energies
between 1 and 1.5 bev. At Cambridge,
Mass., a 6-bev electron synchrotron is
being constructed by a joint Harvard
University-Massachusetts Institute of
Technology group.
Let us return to the synchro-cyclotron.
It works in essentially the same way as
a synchrotron but it is shaped like a cy-
clotron. Instead of a varying magnetic
field it has a constant field, but the fre-
quency of the accelerating voltage ap-
plied to the dees is varied. This means
that the synchronous orbit of the protons
is not a fixed circle but a growing spiral.
In another class of accelerators, the
proton synchrotrons, both the magnetic
field and the frequency of the accelerat-
ing voltage are varied. The increasing
field counteracts the protons' tendency
to spiral outward as they get up to rela-
tivistic energies, and the orbit is again
a fixed circle. Above about 5 bev the
protons are traveling practically at the
speed of light, and from here on the pro-
ton synchrotron works just like an elec-
tron synchrotron.
If I may extend the figure of speech
with which I began this article, each
kind of accelerator has its own architec-
tural style. To me synchro-cyclotrons are
baroque. Proton synchrotrons are defi-
nitely Romanesque, although their
rounded arches are horizontal. Electron
synchrotrons have a lightness and grace
that could only be Gothic.
The Newer Machines
This brings us more or less up to date
in the evolution of accelerators. We may
now ask whether we are near the end of
this movement in physics or still at its
beginning. The field still has tremendous
vigor, and it is my guess that we are at
about the same stage as the cathedral
builders were after they had completed
Notre Dame of Paris. The significant in-
novations were behind them, but most
of their masterpieces were yet to come.
Early in this article I mentioned that
two machines now under construction,
one at Brookhaven National Laboratory
COSMOTRON, the 3-bev proton synchrotron at Brookhaven National Laboratory,
first one of the muhi-bev accelerators. Its 2,200-ton magnet has an inside diameter of
w as the
60 feet.
PHASOTRON is a 10-bev proton synchrotron in the U.S.S.R. Its magnet, of which a portion
appears in this photograph, weighs 36,000 tons and is approximately 200 feet in diameter.
71
FFAG (fixed-field alternating-gradient) design is embodied in an
electron accelerator built as a model for a larger proton machine
at the laboratory of the Midwestern Universities Research Asso-
ciation in Madison, Wis. The dark spiral sectors are th& magnets.
72
Particle Accelerators
and the other at CERN in Geneva, will
produce protons of 25 to 30 bev. Both
of these machines are proton synchro-
trons; each will cost between $20 million
and $30 million. The diameter of the
orbit traveled by their protons will be
nearly 1,000 feet!
These machines were made possible
by the discovery at Brookhaven of a new
principle called strong focusing [see "A
100-Billion-Volt Accelerator," by Ernest
D. Courant; Scientific American,
May, 1953]. This principle involves a
reshaping of the guiding magnetic field
so that the particles are held much closer
to their ideal orbit. It means that the
doughnut can be thinner, and the sur-
rounding magnet smaller and lighter.
Until now we have considered only
the radius of the orbit, i.e., the size of
the circle on which the particles travel.
However, the particles can not only drift
in and out but also up and down; thus
they must be focused vertically as well
as horizontally. In old-style synchrotrons
the lines of force in the magnetic field
are bowed sUghtly outward [see diagram
on page 6]. This has the effect of forc-
ing particles back toward the center line
when they move above or below it. But
the bowed field gets somewhat weaker
with the distance from the center line.
Hence a particle that wanders too far
from the center line is not strongly
pushed back toward it.
In strong focusing the field is broken
into sectors which are alternately bowed
outward and inward [see diagram on
page 7]. The sectors bowed outward
provide sharp vertical focusing, but are
even worse than the old field-shape at
bringing a particle in from an orbit that
is too large. In other words, they do not
focus radially. On the other hand, the
sectors bowed inward increase in
strength as the radius gets bigger, and
provide strong radial focusing. Vertical-
ly, however, they have the wrong effect
on the particles, tending to spread rather
than to focus them. It turns out that each
of the defocusing influences is overbal-
anced by the focusing effect of the other
sector; the net result is a much more
tightly restricted beam. This method of
focusing was successfully used in the
Cornell 1-bev electron synchrotron, and
it will be applied in the 6-bev Harvard-
M.I.T. electron synchrotron.
Not to be outdone by CERN and
Brookhaven, the U.S.S.R. has announced
that it will build a 50-bev strong-focus-
ing proton synchrotron. The magnet will
weigh about 22,000 tons and will have
a diameter of 1,500 feet. It would seem
that whatever we do, our Soviet friends
can do too— and with a factor of two in
their favor.
"FFAG"
The most exciting recent development
in this country has been the "fixed-field
alternating-gradient" accelerator pro-
posed by Keith R. Symon of the Mid-
western Universities Research Associa-
tion (MURA). The so-called FFAG
machine is really a rococo cyclotron in
which the magnetic field is shaped in
such a way as to allow the cyclotron to
work into the high-energy relativistic re-
gion. We have already seen how the
ordinary cyclotron is limited to acceler-
ating protons to about 20 mev. When
this hmitation was first pointed out in
1938, L. H. Thomas of the Ohio State
University suggested a "way to get
around it. He proposed to scallop the
pole tips of the cyclotron magnet so that
the surfaces would consist of a series of
ridges running out from the center, with
valleys in between. Thomas showed that
the strength of the resulting field would
increase toward the outside, compensat-
ing for the protons' relativistic increase
in mass, and would also focus the pro-
tons so that they would stay in the
vacuum chamber. Thomas's scheme was
far too complicated for the techniques
of the time, and it was ignored. Now we
realize that he had anticipated the
strong-focusing principle. Two Thomas-
type cyclotrons are now under construc-
tion, one at Oak Ridge National Labora-
tory, the other at Berkeley. Both of them
will produce protons and deuterons in
the range of several hundred mev.
We can now understand an FFAG
type of accelerator if we imagine that
the radial scallops of the Thomas mag-
net are twisted into spiral ribs. (Is this
the flamboyant style that presaged the
end of the Gothic period?) The twisting
introduces an additional kind of strong
focusing. In fact, the idea grew out of
strong focusing; only later was its sim-
ilarity to the Thomas cyclotron recog-
nized. The idea of FFAG has been ex-
ploited to the full by the workers of the
MURA laboratory at Madison, Wis. They
have imagined and computed (using
two high-speed computing machines ) all
sorts of variations of the FFAG geome-
try, and have built several models that
have successfully demonstrated the prac-
ticality of the scheme.
The advantage of the fixed-field de-
sign is twofold. First, it is easier to con-
trol a constant field than a varying one.
Second, the fixed-field machines can be
operated continuously, whereas the syn-
chrotrons and synchro-cyclotrons must
operate cyclically, or in pulses, a new
cycle starting each time the field reaches
its maximum value. Continuous opera-
tion means that more accelerated ions
are produced per unit time; in other
words, the beam has a higher intensity.
According to the MURA workers, the
increased intensity that can be obtained
with FFAG machines will make it pos-
sible to circumvent a serious limitation
-> <-
<— >►
<>
USEFUL ENERGY in a collision depends on the motion of the particles after impact. Solid
arrows at left represent energy of motion of bombarding particles. Solid arrows at right
show energy of motion of the system after impact. Broken arrows indicate fraction of total
energy available for desired reactions. Small dots are light particles; large dots, heavy ones.
When like particles are made to collide head-on (bottom), all of their energy is available.
73
on accelerators which I have not men-
tioned as yet. This hmitation concerns
the amount of energy that is actually
available to produce the reactions we are
looking for.
When a high-energy ion from an ac-
celerator strikes a stationary target j)ar-
ticle, part of the energy goes into moving
the target, and is wasted. It is as if we
were trying to break a stone by )iitting
it with a hammer. To the extent that the
hammer blow simply moves the stone,
the energy is not available for breaking
it. Now if the hammer is very light and
the stone very heavy, we can see that
the target will not move very far; almost
all the energy of the hammer will go
into breaking or chipping the stone. If
we use a heavy sledge on a light pebble,
most of the energy goes into moving the
stone, and very little of it is available
for breaking the stone. If the hammer
and stone weigh the same, they will tend
to move off together with half the speed
of the incoming hammer; exactly half
the energy will be available for break-
ing the stone.
It is the same with atom-smashing.
But here relativity plays a particularly
dirty trick, robbing us of nr^ost of the
advantage to be gained by increasing
the energy of the bombarding particles.
We have seen that really high energies
mean an increase in mass. Thus as we
go up in energy we increase the weight
of our "hammer" and lose a larger and
larger fraction of its energy. At 1 bev
a proton is already noticeably heavier
than when it is at rest; when it hits a
stationary proton, 57 per cent of the
energy is wasted and only .43 bev is
available for useful purposes. At 3 bev
(the energy of the Brookhaven Cosmo-
tron), the available portion is 1.15 bev;
at 6 bev (the Berkeley Bevatron) the
available portion is 2 bev; at 10 bev,
2.9 bev are available; at 50 bev, 7.5; at
100 bev, 10.5. We see that increasing
the energy 100 times from one to 100
bev results in only a 20-fold actual gain.
Suppose, however, that instead of fir-
ing a moving particle at a stationary
one, we arrange a head-on collision be-
tween two high-energy particles. Then
the mass increase is neutralized, and
there is no tendency for the colliding
particles to move one way or the other.
All the energy of both of them is now
available for the desired reactions. This
is what the MURA designers propose.
They have envisaged a bold design,
called "synchroclash," in which two 15-
bev accelerators are placed so that their
proton beams intersect and the particles
collide with each other. This will yield
an available energy of 30 bev, whereas
in the case of a 30-bev proton colliding
with a proton at rest only 6 bev would
be available. In fact, to attain a useful
energy of 30 bev in the ordinary way
would mean using at least 500 bev. The
success of the synchroclash idea turns on
the intensity of the accelerator beams:
there must be enough protons to make
collisions reasonably frequent. The
MURA proposal languished for, several
years, but interest in it seems to have
revived. Perhaps the complicated orbits
of the artificial satellites have had some-
thing to do with the new willingness to
consider attempting the complicated
orbits of FFAG.
Soviet Ideas
The Soviet designers have gone off in
different directions. Veksler has been
thinking of a scheme in which one ap-
proaches the ideal accelerator, namely
one in which the accelerating field ap-
pears exactly in the vicinity of the ions
but nowhere else. He envisages a small
bunch of ions in a plasma (a gas of
ions) exciting oscillations or waves in
an electron beam. These waves are to
act together coherently to give an enor-
mous push to the ions being accelerated.
If this is not clear to the reader, it is
because it is not clear to me. The details
have managed to escape most of us be-
cause of a linguistic ferrous curtain, but
Veksler speaks of the theoretical possi-
bility of attaining energies up to 1,000
bev. The proof of the idea must wait
until it is put into practice. It should be
remarked, however, that other wild
schemes of Veksler, for example the
synchrotron principle, are incorporated
into most of our conventional accelera-
tors today.
G. I. Budker of the U.S.S.R. has also
presented some speculative ideas which
have obviously been inspired by efforts
to produce controlled thermonuclear re-
actions. Budker proposes an intense cir-
cular electron beam maintained by a
weak magnetic guide field. The high
current of the beam will cause it to
"pinch" to a very small diameter be-
cause of its own magnetic field. The idea
then is to use the very strong local mag-
netic field around the pinched beam as
the guide field of a conventional accel-
erator [see diagram on page 13]. With
an electron beam six meters in diameter
one could expect to hold protons with
an energy as high as 100 bev. Budker
and his colleagues have constructed a
special accelerator in which they have
achieved a 10-ampere current of 3-mev
SYNCHROCLASH design would set two accelerators side by side so that tlieir beams over-
lapped. Head-on collisions between particles would provide the maximum of useful energy.
74
elections, and they expect to attain
much higher currents and energies be-
fore long. It could well be that some-
thing really revolutionary will come out
of this energetic work.
Our own thermonuclear program has
inspired research on very strong mag-
netic fields [see "Strong Magnetic
Fields," by Harold P. Furth et al.; Sci-
entific American, February]. It seems
likely that this development will find an
application to the guidance of particles
in multi-bev accelerators.
Electron Accelerators
These new machines we have been
discussing are proton accelerators, but
there is vigorous activity in electron ma-
chines as well. We have already men-
tioned the Harvard-M.I.T. synchrotron
which will attain 6 to 7.5 bev, and the
half-dozen other smaller machines in the
billion-volt range. The 220-foot linear
electron accelerator at Stanford Univer-
sity has been on the scene for some time.
Its energy has steadily increased so that
it may now be used in experiments at
600 mev. We expect td welcome it to
the 1-bev club before long.
The linear machine is significant be-
cause there is a special difficulty in
reaching high energy with electron syn-
chrotrons. When electrons are made to
travel on a curved path at high speeds
they give off strong electromagnetic ra-
diation. The effect is easily visible to the
naked eye; the luminous horizontal beam
on the cover of this issue of Scientific
American is synchrotron radiation. The
difficulty is that this radiation can repre-
sent a substantial loss of energy, and it
increases rapidly as the energy of the
machine goes up. In the Harvard-M.I.T.
synchrotron the amount of energy ra-
diated is almost prohibitive (about 10
mev per turn at 7.5 bev). To reach
higher energies, say 20 bev, the Stan-
ford group has been thinking in terms
of a linear accelerator, which does not
have this radiation difficulty because its
particles do not move in a circle. Such a
machine might be as much as three
miles long.
I am not convinced that the limit of
electron synchrotrons has been reached.
Indeed, it is not difficult to imagine a
50-bev electron synchrotron. The radia-
tion problem would be solved by reduc-
ing the curvature of the electron beam,
that is, by increasing its radius to, say,
half a mile. I believe that the upper
limit of the electron synchrotron may be
as high as 100 mev.
While we are "thinking big" we
should not forget Enrico Fermi's pro-
posal to ring the earth with a vacuum
tube and, using the earth's magnetic
field, obtain 100,000 bev. For that mat-
ter, now that artificial satellites are com-
monplace, we might put up a ring of
satellites— each containing focusing mag-
nets, accelerators, injectors and so on—
around the earth. Something like a mil-
Particle Accelerators
lion bev could be expected from this
accelerator, which we might as well call
the lunatron. At the very least such a
device will eliminate the need for vac-
uum pumps, since it will be outside the
atmosphere.
Villard de Honnecourt and later Viol-
let-le-Duc have left us detailed accounts
of the builders of cathedrals and of their
methods. It seems to be pretty much the
same story then and now. The designer
of the cathedral was not exactly an archi-
tect, nor is the designer of an accelerator
exactly a physicist. Both jobs require a
fusion of science, technology and art.
The designers of cathedrals were well
acquainted with each other; the homo-
geneity of their work in different coun-
tries is evidence of a considerable inter-
change of information. The homogeneity
of accelerator design demonstrates the
same interchange today. Our medieval
predecessors were only human; one gets
the definite impression that they were
subject to petty jealousies, that occa-
sionally there was thievery of ideas,
that sometimes their motivation was
simply to impress their colleagues or
to humiliate their competitors. All these
human traits are occasionally displayed
by their modern counterparts. But one
also gets a strong impression of the ex-
citement of those mighty medieval cre-
ators as they exulted in their achieve-
ments. This sense of excitement is no
less intense among modern nuclear
physicists.
PINCH EFFECT might be used to provide a magnetic guiding
field for an accelerator, thus eliminating the heavy magnet. The
dotted ring is a pinched plasma. Its magnetic field, which is shown
by colored lines, would act to hold particles near its outer edge.
75
HUGE PROTON SYNCHROTRON under construction at Brook- tunnel housing its doughnut is 840 feet in diameter. This machine
haven National Laboratory is photographed from the air. Circular will produce particles of 25 to 30 billion electron volts (bev).
76
9 The Cyclotron As Seen By. . .
David L. Judd and Ronald G. MacKenzie of the Lawrence Radiation
Laboratory, University of California, Berkeley
The cartoons were prepared to accompany Dr. Judd's keynote
address at the International Conference on Isochronous Cyclotrons
at Gatlinburg, Tennessee, May 1966.
The Cyclotron as seen by the inventor
The Cyclotron as seen by the Mechanical Engineer
I
77
tMNTS:D^3f
The Cyclotron as seen by the Electrical Engineer
The Cyclotron as seen by the operator
78
The Cyclotron As Seen By.
i.Jti^
The Cyclotron as seen by the Theoretical Physicist
The Cyclotron as seen by the Visitor
79
The Cyclotron as seen by the Health Physicist
^ZIl=- p- J7.'?+5O67:.0OO23 Al£/
0 O3i<0.05 O^
^C 00007S "> 'Ad
The Cyclotron as seen by the Experimental Physicist
80
The Cyclotron As Seen By.
The Cyclotron as seen by the Laboratory Director
The Cyclotron as seen by the Government Funding
Agency
81
The Cyclotron as seen by the student
82
CERN (Conseil European pour la Recherche Nucl^aire)
is an installation created to pool the finances and talents
of many European nations. Physicists come there from
all over the world to work together in high -energy
physics research,
10 CERN
Jeremy Bernstein
Article published originally in The New Yorker in 1964.
SHORTLY after the Second World
War, when the normal interna-
tional life of science was resumed,
a physicist who had just listened to sev-
eral hours of technical lectures at a
large conference remarked that the in-
ternational language of physics had be-
come a combination of mathematics
and broken English: Today, almost all
scientific journals, including the Rus-
sian— and even the Chinese journals,
such as the Acta Mnthematica Sinica,
and Sctrntia Sinica, published in Pe-
king— give at least the title of each
article, and often an abstract, in Eng-
lish. From the title and the equations
and the graphs, a specialist in the field
can usually reconstruct the general
theme of the article. The exchange of
articles and journals among scientists of
different countries is one of the oldest
and best traditions of science. It goes on
independently of the political climate.
During the darkest days of the Stalinist
period in Russia, scientific papers went
back and forth across the Iron Curtain,
and Western physicists could follow the
work of such Russians as Lev Landau
(the most distinguished Russian theoret-
ical physicist, who won the Nobel Prize
in 1962), despite the fact that he was
under house arrest in Moscow, in part
because of his liberal ideas and in part
because he is a Jew.
With the death of Stalin and the
relaxation of some of the tensions be-
tween East and West, it became pos-
sible for scientists to travel in and out
of the Eastern countries. The so-
called Rochester Conference in High-
Energy Physics (it gets its name from
the fact that the first seven conferences,
starting in 1950, were held in Roches-
ter, New York) now meets one year
in the United States, one year in Ge-
neva, and one year — indeed, last sum-
mer— in the Soviet Union. Several
American universities have regular ex-
change programs with Soviet univer-
sities, and it is no longer a novelty to
find a Russian physicist giving a series
of lectures m an American university,
and vice versa.
The ultimate in international scien-
tific cooperation is, of course, the inter-
national scientific laboratory, in which
scientists of many countries can actually
work together. In fact, it is becoming
increasingly clear that such laboratories
are not only desirable but necessary.
Research in a field like high-energy
piiysics — in a way, the rtiost basic of
all the sciences, since it is the study
of elementary particles, the ultimate
constituents of all matter — has become
so expensive that many people have
come to believe that pursuing it as
a purely national enterprise is difficult
to justify. A recent editorial in the
New York Times pointed out that
"high-energy physicists ... use the most
elaborate and most expensive equip-
ment employed in any branch of ter-
restrial basic research," and went on to
Say, "These are the particle accelera-
tors, which today cost tens of millions
of dollars each, and which will in the
future be priced in the hundreds of mil-
lions. The Atomic Energy Commis-
sion's operating and construction costs
in this field are already expected to ag-
gregate $165 million in the next fiscal
year, and one authoritative estimate
places the annual bill by the end of the
next decade at $370 million, reaching
$600 million by 1980 Nuclear
physicists are already talking about far
more powerful — and much more ex-
pensive— atomic-research instruments.
The case for building these machines
is an impressive one, but the case for
building them only with the resources
of one country is not convincing."
The editorial concluded by pointing
out that there already exists an excellent
working example of an international
atomic laboratory; namely, CERN
(standing for Conseil Europeen pour
la Recherche Nucleaire), which is op-
erated jointly by almost all the Western
European countries and is situated in
the Swiss town of Meyrin, a suburb of
83
Geneva that is almost on the French
frontier, CERN itself sprawls along the
frontier, and recently, when it needed
room for expansion, the French gov-
ernment gave it a ninety-nine-year
lease on a hundred acres of French
land, matching the hundred acres of
Swiss territory that the center now oc-
cupies. This makes CERN the only in-
ternational organization that actually
straddles a frontier. Its facilities include
two accelerators (the larger, a proton
synchrotron, accelerates protons to en-
ergies up to twenty-eight billion elec-
tron volts, and shares with its slightly
more powerful twin, the alternating-
gradient synchrotron at the Brookha-
ven National Laboratory, on Long
Island, the distinction of being the larg-
est accelerator now operating), several
electronic computers, and a vast collec-
tion of bubble chambers, spark cham-
bers, and other parapnernalia necessary
for experimenting with the particles
produced in the accelerators — to say
nothing of machine shops, a cafeteria, a
bank, a travel agency, a post office, a
large library, and a multitude of secre-
tarial and administrative offices. It costs
about twenty-five million dollars a year
to run. This money is contributed by
thirteen European member states —
Austria, Belgium, Great Britain, Den-
mark, France, Greece, Italy, the Neth-
erlands, Norway, Spain, Sweden, Swit-
zerland, and West Germany. Neither
the United States nor Russia is eligible
to become a member, since neither is
"Europeen," but there are Americans
and Russians who work at CERN, An
exchange agreement exists between
CERN and DUBNA, a similar laboratory
near Moscow, where physicists from
the Iron Curtain countries and China
work together. Each year, DUBNA
sends two or three physicists to CERN
for several months at a time. American
physicists at CERN have been supported
by sabbatical salaries, by fellowships like
the Guggenheim and the National Sci-
ence Foundation, or by money from
Ford Foundation grants (totalling a
bit over a million dollars) that were
given to the laboratory explicitly for
the support of scientists from non-
member countries. (The grants have
now been discontinued, following the
Ford policy of "pump-priming," and
the laboratory is looking for other
sources of money.) There are usually
twenty or twenty-five Americans at
CERN, In addition, the laboratory has
contingents of Japanese, Indians, Poles
(a very active and scientifically strong
group of about a dozen), Yugoslavs,
Turks, Israelis (there is an exchange
agreement with the Weizmann Insti-
tute, in Rehovoth), and Hungarians,
All the permanent personnel at CERN —
about sixteen hundred people, of whom
about three hundred are physicists and
engineers — are drawn from the mem-
ber states, (Their average age is thirty-
two.) As one might imagine, all this
produces a tutti-frutti of languages, na-
tional types, political attitudes, and
social mannerisms, and everyone ac-
cepts ind enjoys the chaos of national
flavors as part of the working atmos-
phere of the laboratory. As an Ameri-
can physicist and a perennial summer
visitor to CERN, I have had fairly typi-
cal experiences there. This past sum-
mer, I worked with an Italian physi-
cist in an attempt to extend some work
done by a German-born American
physicist who was visiting the labora-
tory on a Guggenheim Fellowship.
This work was itself an extension of
another Italian physicist's work, which,
in turn, was based on the work of an
American physicist who is a frequent
visitor to CERN, (I also helped a Yugo-
slav physicist with the English trans-
lation of a short book written by a well-
known Russian physicist whom I met
when he visited CERN to attend the
Rochester Conference of 1962, which
was held in Geneva,) My working
language with the Italian physicist was
English (and, of course, mathematics).
Most of the people at the laboratory
are polylingual. All scientific lectures
are given in English, and almost all
the technical personnel have a good
command of the language. However,
the language one hears most often is
French; the secretaries, postmen, bank
clerks, mechanics, and telephone opera-
tors speak it among themselves, and so
' do many of the European physicists. Sec-
retaries must be able to type technical
manuscripts in English, since almost all
the publications that come out of CERN
84
CERN
each year (several hundred of them)
are in that language.
Because nuclear physics has become
so closely associated (at least in the pub-
lic mind) with its military applications,
many people have wondered how a
laboratory that intermingles physicists
from the East and the West — and,
indeed, from all over the world — can
possibly operate without running into
all sorts of problems of military security
and national secrecy. The answer is that
nuclear physics is a very broad subject.
It ranges from the study of nuclear
energy — fission, fusion, reactors, and
the like — to the study of the interior
structure of the nucleus, and even to
the study of the structure of the very
neutrons and protons and other parti-
cles that compose the nucleus. This
latter study is the frontier of modern
physics. Because high-energy particles
are necessary in order to probe deeply
into the interior of the nucleus, this
branch of physics is called "high-ener-
gy," as opposed to "low-energy," or
"classical" — "classical" in that the laws
governing the behavior of the nuclei in,
say, the fission process in a reactor are
now pretty well understood, and have
been for some time. The military and
technological applications of nuclear
physics are based on these latter laws,
whereas the study of the interior struc-
ture of the nucleus has no technological
applications at present ; more than that,
it is difficult now to imagine any such
applications in the future. However, the
example of Einstein's special theo/y of
relativity — one of the most abstract the-
ories in physics — which has been the
basis of the entire development of nu-
clear energy, shows that theoretical
speculations that may at the momeiM
seem far removed from reality can very
quickly change all of technology.
THE very fact that high-energy
physics does not have military
applications was among the reasons it
was chosen as the discipline for an
international laboratory. In the late
nineteen-forties, when a number of
prominent physicists — including the late
H. A. Kramers, of Holland; Pierre
Auger and Francis Perrin, of France;
Edouardo Amaldi, of Italy; and J.
Robert Oppenheimer, of the United
States — began informally discussing the
prospects for creating an international
laboratory in Europe, they set out to
look for a field that would be sufficiently
close to recent developments in atomic
energy for European governments to
be interested in supporting the project
financially, and yet far enough removed
from immediate applications of atomic
energy for military security not to be a
problem. They also realized that it
would be necessary to engage the sup-
port of the European diplomats who
were then promoting attempts to create
a United Europe. One of the most in-
fluential of these diplomats was Fran-
cois de Rose, of France. (He is now
the French Ambassador to Portugal.)
De Rose became interested in the
possibilities of atomic research just after
the war, and in 1946 he met with
Oppenheimer in New York at the
United Nations Atomic Energy Com-
mission. Out of the resulting friend-
ship between the two men an important
link developed between the scientific
and diplomatic communities. Dr. L.
Kowarski, a French nuclear scientist
and one of the pioneers of CERN, has
written a semi-official history of the
origins of the laboratory, in which he
notes:
The first public manifestation of this
new link occurred in December, 1949, at
the European Cultural Conference held
in Lausanne. A message from Louis de
Broglie [de Broglie, the most distin-
guished French theoretical physicist of
modern times, was awarded the Nobel
Prize in 1929 for his work on the wave
nature of electrons] was read by Dautry
[Raoul Dautry was at that time the ad-
ministrator of the French Atomic Energy
Commission and one of the leaders of the
movement for a United Europe], in which
the proposal was made to create in Europe
an international research institution, to be
equipped on a financial scale transcending
the individual possibilities of the member
nations. ... At that time [a dilemma] was
besetting the scientists' aspirations: atomic
energy was attracting public readiness to
spend money, but atomic energy invited
security-mindedncss and separatism. The
way out of the dilemma was clear enough.
The domain of common action should be
chosen so as not to infringe directly the
taboos on uranium fission, but [to be]
close enough to it so as to allow any suc-
cesses gained internationally in the per-
85
mitted field to exert a beneficial infTuence
on the national pursuits.
The ultimate choice — high-energy
physics — was a perfect compromise;
although it is a branch of nuclear
physics, it is one that is far removed
from military applications.
In June of 1950, the American
physicist I. I. Rabi initiated the first
practical step toward the creation of
such a pan-European laboratory. As a
member of the United States delegation
to UNESCO he was attending the
UNESCO conference held that year in
Florence. Speaking officially on behali
of the United States, he moved that
UNESCO use its good offices to set up a
physics laboratory (he had high-energy
physics in mind) with facilities thai
would be beyond those that any single
European country could provide, and
that would be comparable to the major
American facilities at Brookhaven and
Berkeley. It was an important step, be-
cause it placed the prestige and influence
of American science behind the project.
The implementation of Rabi's motion
became the work of Pierre Auger, of
France, a distinguished physicist who
was the UNESCO scientific director. As
a result of his efforts, various cultural
commissions of the French, Italian, and
Belgian governments donated about ten
thousand dollars for a study program,
and CERN was under way. (In the
course of the discussions held at that
time, Rabi stressed the desirability of
not having any nuclear reactors at
CERN, since they have both military
and commercial applications — and, in
fact, there are none.) Dr. Kowarski
writes:
Two objectives were suggested: a
longer-range, very ambitious project of
an accelerator second to none in the world
[this resulted in the construction of the
proton synchrotron, which was completed
in 1959] and, in addition, the speedy con-
struction of a less powerful and more
classical machine in order to start Euro-
pean experimentation in high-energy phys-
ics at an early date and so cement the
European unity directed to a more diffi-
cult principal undertaking.
At the end of 1 95 1 , an organization-
al meeting was held in Paris; all the
European members of UNESCO were
invited, but there was no response from
the countries of Eastern Europe. Then,
at a meeting held in Geneva early in
1952, eleven countries signed an agree-
ment pledging funds and establishing
a provisional organization. There was
something of a tug-of-war among the
member countries to decide where
the new laboratory should be built. The
Danes, the Dutch, the French, and the
Swiss all had suitable territory for it, but
in the end Geneva was chosen, partly
because of its central location, partly
because of its long tradition of housing
international organizations (there are,
for example, all sorts of multilingual
elementary schools in the city) — and,
it is said, partly because some of the
physicists involved in the decision were
avid skiers. The Swiss government gave,
free, the site near Meyrin, and in
June, 1953, the Canton of Geneva
formally ratified, by popular referen-
dum, the government's invitation to
CERN to settle there; in addition, the
laboratory was given the same polit-
ical status as that of any of the other
international organizations in Geneva.
At the same time, a formal CERN Con-
vention was prepared for the signature
of the member states, which then num-
bered twelve; Austria and Spain joined
later, and Yugoslavia, an original sig-
natory, withdrew in 1962, because of
a lack of foreign currency. Article II
of the Convention stipulates: "The
Organization shall provide for collabo-
ration among European States in nu-
clear research of a pure scientific and
fundamental character, and in researcii
essentially related thereto. The Organi-
zation shall have no concern with work
for military requirements, and the re-
sults of its experimental and theoretical
work shall be published or otherwise
made generally available." The Con-
vention also set up a formula for CERN's
financial support. Roughly speaking,
each member nation pays each year
a certain percentage (a fraction of one
per cent) of its gross national prod-
uct. This means, in practice, that Great
Britain, France, and West Germany
pay the largest shares. The CERN Coun-
cil, the governing body of the labora-
tory, was set up, with two delegates
86
CERN
from each country — one a scientist and
the other a diplomat, hke de Rose. The
Council meets twice a year to pass on
such matters as the budget and the fu-
ture development of the laboratory.
(During my last visit to CERN, there
was a Council meeting in which the
question of constructing a still larger
international machine — a machine ca-
pable of accelerating protons to three
hundred billion electron volts, or about
ten times the capacity of the present
machine — was discussed.) The Coun-
cil also, by a two-thirds majority, ap-
points the Director-General of the lab-
oratory. The Director-Generalship of
CERN is a very complex job, and few
people are really qualified for it. In
the first place, the Director-General
can have no special national bias. As
the Convention puts it, "The responsi-
bilities of the Director and the staflF in
regard to the Organization shall be ex-
clusively international in character." In
the second place, the Director must
clearly be a physicist, for, among other
things, he must decide which of vari-
ous extremely expensive experiments
the laboratory should concentrate on.
The first Director, chosen in 1954, was
Professor Felix Bloch, of Stanford Uni-
versity— a Swiss by origin and a Nobel
Prize winner in physics. Professor Bloch
returned to Stanford in 1955 and was
succeeded by C. J. Bakker, a Dutch
cyclotron builder. (Professor Bakker
was responsible for the construction of
the cyclotron, the smaller of the accel-
erators at CERN.) He held the post
from 1955 to 1960, when he was killed
in an airplane accident on his way to
Washington, where he had intended to
deliver a report on the operation of the
large accelerator, the proton synchro-
tron, which had gone into operation in
1959.
IF any one individual was respon-
sible for the successful construction
of the large accelerator, it was John B.
Adams, an Englishman, who took over
the Director-Generalship on Bakker's
death. Adams was born in 1920 in
Kingston, Surrey, and received his edu-
cation in English grammar schools. At
eighteen, he went to work for the Tel-
cconjmunications Research Establish-
ment, and when the war broke out he
joined the Ministry of Aircraft Pro-
duction. He had received some training
in electronics with the Telecommunica-
tions Establishment, and in the M.A.P.
he became involved with the problem
of installing the first radar in fighter
planes. It soon became evident that he
had a gift both for engineering and for
the complex job of directing a large
technical project. In fact, the war pro-
duced a whole generation of young
scientists and engineers who not only
were technically competent but had
acquired considerable practical experi-
ence in running large-scale and costly
scientific enterprises. These men moved
readily into the various atomic-energy
programs that were started after the
war, and Adams joined the nuclear
laboratory at Harwell, the principal
British center for experimental work
in nuclear physics. At this time, the
people at Harwell were beginning
work on a hundred-and-seventy-five-
million-volt proton accelerator, and
Adams became an important mem-
ber of the project. The machine was
finished in 1949, and Adams spent
the next three years working on the
design of special radio tubes needed in
connection with accelerators. Then he
was released by the Ministry of Supply
to go to Geneva and join the new accel-
erator project at CERN.
By that time, the CERN group, which
had been at work since 1951, had in-
herited a technological windfall in the
way of accelerator design. A particle
accelerator can accelerate only those
particles that carry an electric charge.
Advantage is taken of the fact that
when a charged particle passes through
an electric field it is accelerated by the
force that the field exerts on it. In
modern accelerators, transmitting tubes
generate the electromagnetic fields, in
the same way that radio transmitters
generate radio waves. These acceler-
ating stations are placed at intervals
along the path of the particles in the
machine, the simplest arrangement
being along a straight line. This layout
results in what is called a linear acceler-
ator, or LINAC. The particles move
faster and faster in a straight line and
87
are finally shot out the other end into
a target of some sort. The energy that
such particles can acquire is limited by
the length of the straight line, as well
as by the power of the transmitters. At
Stanford University, there is a near-
ly completed straight-line accelerator,
known among physicists as "the mon-
ster," that will accelerate electrons over
a path almost two miles long; the
emerging electrons will have an energy
of about twenty billion electron volts.
Most accelerators, however, are circu-
lar. The accelerating stations are
arranged along the perimeter, and as
the particles go around and around they
acquire more energy in each orbit. This
arrangement saves space and greatly
reduces the number and size of the ac-
celerating stations. The problem that
naturally arises is how to maintain the
particles in circular paths while they
are being accelerated, since a particle
will move in a circle only if a force
acts on it to keep it from flying off
at a tangent. In circular accelerators,
this force is supplied by electromagnets.
The magnets are deployed along the
path of the particles, and the magnetic
fields they produce hold the particles in
orbit. The drawback to this system is
that the more energy a particle acquires,
the more strongly it resists staying in a
circular orbit and the larger the magnet
required to keep it so. In fact, as the
postwar accelerators became more and
more powerful, the size of their mag-
nets began to get out of hand. The
Brookhaven cosmotron, a proton accel-
erator producing protons with an
energy of three billion electron volts,
has a magnet of four thousand tons;
the Berkeley bevatron, with six-billion-
electron-volt protons, has a magnet
weighing ten thousand tons; and, most
striking of all, the Russian phasotron at
DUBNA, which produces protons of ten
billion electron volts, has a magnet
weighing thirty-six thousand tons.
This was where things stood in
1952, when the CERN group planned
to make an accelerator of at least ten
billion electron volts. By using a some-
what modified and more economical
design than the one for the DUBNA
machine, the new accelerator could
have been made with a magnet weigh-
ing from ten to htteen thousand tons,
but even this seemed monstrous at the
time. That year, however, a group at
Brookhaven consisting of E. Courant,
M. S. Livingston, and H. Snyder, in the
course of solving a problem put to them
by a group of visiting accelerator ex-
perts from CERN, invented a prin-
ciple of magnetic focussing that altered
the situation completely. (It turned
out later that their method had been
independently invented a few years
earlier by an American-born Greek
n med N. Christofilos, who was em-
ployed in Greece selling elevators for
an American firm and was a physicist
in his spare time. Christofilos had sent
a manuscript describing his invention to
Berkeley, where it was forgotten until
news of the work at Brookhaven re-
minded somebody of it. Christofilos is
now at the Livcrmore Laboratory of
the University of California.) The
magnet in a circular accelerator not
onlybends the particle trajectories into
circles but applies a force that focusses
the beam and keeps it from spread-
ing out indefinitely as it goes around
and around. The magnets in the old
machines could supply only very weak
focussing; thus the beam was pretty
thick, and the vacuum pipe it circu-
lated in and the magnet surrounding
it also had to be large. (At Berkeley,
a man can crawl through the vacuum
chamber.) It was known, however,
that magnets could be made that
would give much stronger focussing
forces, but only in one direction at a
time; that is, if the beam were kept
confined horizontally it would expand
vertically, and vice versa. What the
Brookhaven people found was that if
an accelerator magnet ring was built
up of alternate sections that provided
strong focussing and defocussing forces,
the net result was a focussing much
stronger than anything that had pre-
viously been achieved. (In the new
machines, the beam can be contained
in a vacuum pipe only a few inches in
diameter.) This meant that the mag-
nets could be much smaller in size, with
a great saving of weight, power, and
cost. The CERN magnetic system
weighs only three thousand tons, al-
though the proton energies achieved are
88
CERN
nearly three times those generated by
the old Russian machine, which had
a magnet weighing over ten times as
much. The focussing works so well
that the final beam of particles, which
consists of about a thousand billion pro-
tons per second, is only a few milli-
metres wide when it emerges from the
machine. The ring around which the
protons race is about two hundred
metres in diameter. The protons are in-
jected into the main circular track by a
small linear accelerator, and in the
single second that they remain in the
machine they make about half a million
revolutions. The entire ring must be
kept at a fairly high vacuum, since
otherwise the protons would knock
about in the air and be scattered. There
is also a delicate question of timing. The
accelerating fields must deliver a kick
to each bunch of protons at just the
right instant in its orbit. As the protons
move faster and faster, approaching the
speed of light, the synchronization of
the fields and the particles must be con-
stantly changed. However, according to
Einstein's special theory of relativity, no
particle can go faster than light, so that
near the end of the cycle the protons
will be gaining energy but not speed
(the particles, again according to the
relativity theory, get heavier and heavi-
er as they move faster and faster),
which simplifies the timing problem
somewhat. Indeed, high-energy-accel-
erator design, which uses the theory of
relativity extensively, and which clear-
ly works, is one of the best-known tests
of the theory itself. That all these fac-
tors, complex as they are, can be put to-
gether to make a reliably operating
machine is an enormous triumph of
engineering physics.
Needless to say, the Brookhaven
people were eager to build a machine
operating on the principle they had in-
vented. However, the cosmotron had
only recently been finished, and they
could not get immediate support for
the construction of an even larger ma-
chine— especially one that would use
a principle still untested. The CERN
people, however, were in a much more
advantageous position, and in 1953
they began designing the laboratory s
present machine, the CPS (CERN pro-
ton synchrotron). About six months
later, influenced partly by the progress
at CERN, the Brookhaven people got
under way with the construction of a
similar but slightly larger machine —
the AGS, or alternating-gradient syn-
chrotron. A friendly race developed be-
tween the two groups, with CERN
finishing in November, 1959, and
Brookhaven about six months later.
In order to construct the CERN ac-
celerator, Adams gathered around him
a superb international team of engi-
neers and physicists interested in accel-
erator construction. Not only is he a
brilliant engineer himself but he has
the ability to organize other engineers
into effective groups with physicists, so
that very new ideas can be effectively
realized on an industrial scale. In fact,
working on the accelerator at CERN
came to be a considerable distinction
for an engineer, and CERN got almost
the pick of the European engineers,
even though the laboratory could not
compete financially with the salaries
that were being offered by European
industry. The machine was so well de-
signed that it worked better than had
been generally anticipated. It became
available to the physicists at CERN early
in 1960, and Adams stepped into the
gap caused by Bakker's death to become
Director-General of the laboratory for
a year. He also received an honorary
degree from the University of Geneva,
which he accepted on behalf of the
group that had worked with him. He is
now back in England directing a labo-
ratory that is studying the problem of
controlling nuclear-fusion energy for
general application. (Nuclear- fusion
energy arises when nuclear particles are
fused to make a heavier nucleus. The
heavier nucleus actually weighs less
than the sum of its parts, and — again
according to Einstein's relativity theo-
ry— the excess weight is liberated as
energy. The hydrogen bomb is an un-
fortunate application of this principle.)
THE present Director-General of
CERN is Professor Victor F.
Weisskopf, who was given leave of ab-
sence from M.I.T. to take over from
Adams in 1961. Professor Weisskopf,
I
89
whom I got to know when I was a stu-
dent at Harvard in the nineteen-fifties,
was born in Vienna, so although he is
an American citizen, he can be counted
as a European. He is one of the world's
leading theoretical physicists, as well as
one of its most likable. A large, friendly
man, he is known to almost everybody
at CERN as Viki, and despite a recent
and very serious automobile accident he
remains a devoted skier and hiker. This
past summer, I had several talks with
him about the development of CERN.
One of the most interesting obser-
vations he made had to do with the
evolution of the present generation of
European physicists. At the end of the
war, he said, European physics, which
had been the finest in the world, was
greatly damaged. Many of the best
European physicists were more or less
permanently settled in either England
or the United States and had no desire
to come back to Europe and relive
a very unpleasant experience. In par-
ticular, the tradition of experimental
physics, which requires complicated
equipment, had greatly suffered on the
Continent during the years of depriva-
tion. Consequently, when the big ac-
celerator at CERN was ready, there was
a shortage of highly trained European
experimenters to use it. On the other
hand, the war had greatly strengthened
physics in the United States, not only
because so many Europeans had come
he-re to live but because physicists had
been working all through the war at
places like Los Alamos on subjects that
were not entirely dissimilar to their
peacetime research. Thus, the postwar
generation of American physicists was
highly trained and ready to continue
along the line of research that had made
the development of high-energy physics
the frontier of physics. (Many of the
early research papers written at CERN
during this period were done by Euro-
peans in collaboration with Americans
at the laboratory, some of whom had
been born in Europe and were back on
visits.) Of even greater importance,
most of the European physicists who
currently have important positions at
CERN spent time in the United States,
where they received training in the
then novel techniques of experimental
physics. As Weisskopf pointed out, a
new generation of excellent and inven-
tive physicists has by now grown up
in Europe. They are producing scien-
tific work at the forefront of modern
physics that is of the first quality and
the equal of anything being done in the
United States or Russia. These physi-
cists are now training young Euro-
peans, to say nothing of American post-
doctoral visitors. Originally, some
European university professors were
opposed to the creation of CERN on the
ground that it would draw too many
scientists away from the universities at
a time when there was a desperate
shortage of them. Weisskopf remarked
that it has worked out almost the other
way — that European physicists have
come to Geneva for a few years of
advanced training and then gone back
to their own countries to teach and do
research in universities. In fact, accord-
ing to many of the young European
physicists I have spoken to, it is now
quite hard to find good jobs in Euro-
pean universities, and CERN offers an
opportunity to continue working until
a suitable position opens up somewhere.
FOR me, one of the most interesting
experiences at CERN was the con-
tact with some of the Russian physi-
cists at the laboratory. As a rule, the
Russians who come to Geneva are
about equally divided between experi-
mental and theoretical physicists. Be-
cause high-energy experimental physics
is done by teams, the experimental phys-
icists join a group of other experiment-
ers, while the theorists work pretty
much alone. As it happened, one of
the Russian experimenters — Vitaly
Kaftanov, from the Institute for Ex-
perimental and Theoretical Physics, in
Moscow — was working on an experi-
ment that was of special interest to me,
since I had been studying some of its
theoretical implications. This experi-
ment— one of the most elaborate and
active at CERN — involves the study of
reactions induced by neutrinos. The
neutrino is a marvellous particle. It is
almost impossible to detect directly, for
it has no charge and no mass, and it
interacts very weakly with ordinary
matter. Indeed, someone has estimated
that if one took a single neutrino pro-
duced in the accelerator at CERN or the
90
CERN
one at Brookhaven (where the first
high-energy neutrino experiments were
done) and shot it through a layer of
lead about as thick as the distance from
here to Pluto, it would undergo only
one collision during its entire passage.
Fortunately, however, the experimenter
is not limited to one neutrino; an ac-
celerator produces millions of them a
second, and some are bound to make a
collision in a target of reasonable size.
These collisions produce particles that
can be seen, so that neutrino reactions
can be studied. Since the collisions
are so rare, the whole experimental
area must be carefully shielded from
cosmic rays and other annoying back-
ground that could be confused with the
few events that one is looking for. In
the experiments both at CERN and
at Brookhaven, this required literally
thousands of tons of heavy shielding
material. (The shielding in the Brook-
haven experiment was made from the
remnants of an obsolete battleship,
while at CERN it consists of steel ingots
lent to the laboratory by the Swiss gov-
ernment from its strategic stockpile.) At
both CERN and Brookhaven, neutrino
events nave been successfully detected ;
in fact, in the Brookhaven experiment
it was first shown that there are two
quite distinct species of neutrino. Until
that experiment, the neutrino was gen-
erally taken to be a single, unique par-
ticle (although there were some theo-
retical conjectures to the contrary).
The fact that precision experiments can
now be done with neutrinos is a very
important breakthrough in the tech-
nology of experimental physics, and it
is only natural that a physicist like
Kaftanov is eager to work on the
project.
Kaftanov, who is married and has a
young son, first came to CERN alone.
This past summer, he was joined by
his family. He has a warm, friendly
personality and a good command of
English. (He told me that when he was
young his parents agreed to allow him
to give up music lessons, which he
hated, on condition that he study Eng-
lish.) Many of our conversations con-
cerned the progress of the experiment,
but as we got to know each other better
we talked a good deal about a physicist's
life in the United States and in Russia.
In his country, physicists and engineers
are at the very top of the social and
economic scale, and the disciplines
themselves are characterized by a high-
ly didactic style. There is a great deal
of sharp, sometimes quite personal crit-
icism at all levels. Among European
physicists, by contrast, there is still
some feeling of deference toward the
professor or the senior scientist ; in fact,
some of the European physicists have
told me that they were quite taken
aback to see Americans and Russians
going at each other hammer and tongs
in all-out scientific debate at interna-
tional meetings. The Russians have a
very active high-energy-physics pro-
gram, and are well along with the con-
struction of a seventy-billion-electron-
volt accelerator at Serpukhov, which
will be the largest in the world when it
starts operating. All the physicists I have
spoken with at CERN, including Kafta-
nov, are very eager for increased East-
West cooperation, and hope that the
existing political thaw will continue to
permit it.
ULTIMATELY, the most impor-
tant process in a scientific labora-
tory is the process of constant recip-
rocal education. At CERN, this is
facilitated by the layout of the buildings,
which are low and long and are joined
by a maze of passageways. (The build-
ings are mostly white with a blue trim,
which gives them a clean-cut Swiss
look.) As one walks down the halls,
one hears a continual buzz of multilin-
gual conversations about physics. There
are often knots of physicists in the halls
or in the library, which has a few special
soundproof rooms with blackboards for
informal discussions. Everywhere, one
gets the impression of people working
and arguing with each other, and this
extends even to the cafeteria. There is a
long lunch period at CERN (the work-
ing day is from eight-thirty to five-
thirty, and for many of the experi-
menters, who work in shifts on the
accelerator, it runs into the evenings
and weekends), and during it every-
thing closes down — the bank, the post
oflSce, the machine shops, and the rest.
But the talk goes on. The cafeteria is
91
furnished with long tables, and by some
sort of informal tradition the technical
personnel tend to eat at noon, while the
physicists eat at one. Usually, the ex-
perimental groups eat together and the
theorists, too, form groups, sometimes
according to language and sometimes
according to common interests in phys-
ics. After lunch, dessert and coffee are
served at a small bar, and everyone
spends the rest of the lunch hour in the
lounge over coflFee or, on sunny days,
on the broad terrace in front of the
cafeteria, from which one has a fine
view of Mont Blanc. Everywhere one
looks, there are people discussing phys-
ics, sometimes with paper and pencil,
sometimes with elaborate gesticulations,
and usually in two or three languages.
It is the time of day when one hears
the latest technical gossip, both from
CERN and from laboratories around the
world.
In addition to this informal process
of education, there are more formal
lecture courses and seminars. The sum-
mer before last, I attended a lecture
series, given especially for physicists, on
using electronic computers. Surprising-
ly, most of the computer use at CERN
and at other high-energy-physics lab-
oratories is not by theoretical physicists
but by experimenters. A typical experi-
ment involves placing a target, such as
a bubble chamber filled with liquid hy-
drogen or liquid helium, in front of the
beam of particles emerging from the ac-
celerator. The particles leave tracks in
the liquid, and these tracks are photo-
graphed— a process likely to involve
photographing hundreds of thousands
of tracks from several angles. Then
the photographs, which often look like
examples of abstract art, must be
"scanned;" that is, the events of special
interest must be distinguished from the
inevitable chaotic background. Much of
this scanning is done — visually, in the
first instance — by a large group of peo-
ple, mostly women. The scanners do
not have to be physicists, since picking
out events of interest is a question of
pattern recognition and can be taught to
almost anyone. After the events have
been roughly selected, they must be
"measured." The curvature and thick-
ness of the tracks as well as the angles
between them are determined, to see
whether the event in question is real-
ly what one is looking for or is per-
haps something that looks similar but
is really quite different. These distinc-
tions are made with the help of a com-
puter, which is programmed to corre-
late the results of the measurements, try
to fit the event with various hypotheses,
and then report back. Without a com-
puter, this procedure would be enor-
mously time-consuming, since many
possibilities must be explored in each
photograph, and there are thousands of
photographs to study. Moreover, some
devices that make possible a partial au-
tomation of the measuring process are
now in use — an operator sets a crosshair
on a track, and the machine does the
rest of the measuring automatically,
feeding the results into the computer —
and there are systems under develop-
ment that in certain cases will do
the pattern recognition automatically.
Hence, one can imagine a time when
computers will study all the pictures and
deliver carefully analyzed experimental
curves to the researcher. The amounl
of computing required for such work is
tremendous. CERN has recently bought
the largest computer in the world and
will install it at the end of this year, to
replace the present equipment, which is
completely saturated.
This past summer, I attended two
courses given by theoretical physicists
especially for the experimenters at the
laboratory. There is a communication
problem between experimental and the-
oretical physicists that arises from the
increasing need to specialize in a single
aspect of physics because of the com-
plexity of the field. The old-fashioned
romantic notion of the experimenter
coming into the physics laboratory in
his white coat, with his mind unbur-
dened by preconceptions or theoretical
fancies, and saying to himself, "Well,
what am I going to discover today?"
just doesn't apply to experimental high-
energy physics. The probable theoret-
ical implications of experiments are
carefully considered in advance. Re-
cently, in an editorial in Physical Re-
view Letters, a journal that specializes
in the rapid publication of important
new results in physics. Dr. S. A. Goud-
smit commented, somewhat ironically,
92
CERN
At present, most experiments are only
undertaken to prove or disprove a theo-
ry. In fact, some experimental teams
employ a theorist somew^hat in the role
of a court astrologer, to tell them
whether the stars in the theoretical
heavens favor the experiments they are
planning."
In any case, an experimenter must
have a knowledge of the latest theo-
retical results and how they bear on his
work. Thus, one of the jobs of the the-
oreticians at CERK is to explain what is
happening in their fields. One of the
special courses, given by Professor Leon
Van Hove, a Belgian physicist (former-
ly of Utrecht, Holland) who directs
the theoretical group at CERX, present-
ed an especially lucid review of general
aspects of reactions at high energies,
but this course was finisJiing for the
summer when I arrived, so I could
attend only the last few lectures. The
other course, given by Professor Ber-
nard d'Espagnat, a French theorist
from Paris, was concerned with some
of the most exciting ideas that have
come along in elementary-particle
physics for several years. These ideas
have to do with what is known as "uni-
tary symmetry," or, less accurately,
"the eightfold way." To understand
what they signify, one must go back
into the history of the subject a bit.
In the past few years, more and more
new particles have been discovered
in experiments with the accelerators.
These particles are characterized by,
among other properties, their masses,
their electric charges, and — because
they are in general unstable — their life-
times. The major problem the particles
have presented has been whether they
have any interconnections or are com-
pletely independent units. In this area,
atomic physics furnishes an especially
encouraging example, since a super-
ficial look at the array of chemical ele-
ments and their diverse prtjperties might
lead one to conclude that they could
have no connections with one another.
However, it is well known that all
atoms are composed of only three dis-
tinct types of particle — the proton and
the neutron, which form the atomic
nucleus, and the electron, a light,
negatively charged particle that gen-
erates a cloud of negative charge
around the nucleus. The number and
distribution of the electrons deter-
mine the chemical properties of a
given atom, and the protons and neu-
trons determine its mass. In the case
of the so-called elementary particles,
one may ask the same sort of ques-
tion: Is there a simple basic set of ele-
mentary particles from which all the
others can be constructed? Or, as the
question has sometimes been phrased:
Are some elementary particles more
elementary than others, and can the rest
be made up of the most elementary
ones? It is quite possible that tliis ques-
tion has no real answer. Observations
made with the aid of bubble chambers
and other detection devices show that,
in accordance with certain general
rules, elementary particles can be trans-
formed into one another in high-energy
reactions. For example, if a pi-meson
from an accelerator bombards a liquid-
hydrogen target, there can be reac-
tions in which the pi-meson and the
proton that composes the liquid-hydro-
gen nucleus disappear and out come
a so-called K-meson and another parti-
cle, called a lambda. Thus, the system
of pi-meson and proton is transformed
into K-meson and lambda. In ac-
counting for this transformation, one
may think of the proton as being made
up of a K-meson and a lambda, or one
may think of the lambda as being made
up of a proton and a K-meson, or one
may think of all these particles as ele-
mentary. Many physicists have come to
believe that the choice among these pos-
sibilities is a matter of convenience, to be
decided only by which choice leads to
the simplest and most beautiful theory.
It has recently become clear that all
known particles can be thought of as
being made up of three basic particles,
and this way of looking at them ap-
pears to be the simplest possible. The
basic set has not yet actually been
seen, and one of the great tasks of liigh-
energy experimental physics in the next
few years will be to search for new
particles that may be candidates for the
basic ones. The search has already
started at CERN' and Brookhaven. The
term "eightfold way" derives from the
fact that the particles composed of the
basic threes fall naturally into groups
93
of eights (in some cases, into groups of
tens) that have closely interconnected
properties. There is now very solid evi-
dence that these groupings exist, and
if the basic set of threes is identified,
this will close one of the most fascinat-
ing investigations of elementary-particle
physics.
AFTER one of Professor d'Espa-
l\ gnat's lectures, on a particularly
warm and lovely summer's day, I de-
cided to take a walking tour of the
CERN site. At different times over the
years, I had visited most of the installa-
tions, but for the fun of it I thought I
would make the whole round in one
swoop. The laboratory is surrounded
by gentle rolling fields leading oS to
the Jura, the wooded, glacially formed
foothills of the Alps; in fact, during the
winter, people from CERN often spend
their lunch hour skiing in the Jura,
which are only a few minutes away by
car. When I left the building where
the theoreticians have their offices, the
first thing that struck me was the con-
struction work going on everywhere —
laborers (most of them Spaniards and
Italians, as is the case in all of Switzer-
land) were enlarging roads and erect-
ing new buildings. Alongside one of the
roads I saw a striking silvered bub-
ble— a safety tank for holding hy-
drogen. Hydrogen, which is the most
popular target for experiments, because
of its simplicity, is also one of the most
diflScult gases to handle, because of its
explosive nature, and there is a whole
complex of installations at CERN de-
voted to processing and handling it, all
of them plastered with multilingual
signs telling one not to smoke. A little
farther on, I came to one of three
"halls" in which experiments are ac-
tually done. As the proton beam runs
around its track, it produces particles in
targets, and these can be siphoned off at
various stages and directed into one of
the halls; this was the East Hall. I am
not very enthusiastic about attempts to
romanticize science and scientists, but
there is something romantic about a
high-energy experimental laboratory.
Its attraction lies partly in the com-
plexity and diversity of the equipment —
giant magnets, trucks filled with lique-
fied gases, wonderful-looking electronic
devices that flash lights of every color —
and partly in the knowledge that what
is being studied lies at the very heart of
the composition of the world. There
was almost total silence in the East
Hall, broken only by the rhythmic
booming of the main magnet of the
accelerator and the constant hum of
electric motors. (CERN uses almost ten
per cent of Geneva's entire power
supply.) I stood in awe until someone
came up and asked if I was looking
for something. For want of anything
better, I told him that I had got lost
while trying to find the road leading
to the center of the accelerator ring.
He gave me some directions. I walked
outside and quickly found it. The ring
is buried, and one can see its outline as
a slight circular mound raised above
the fields. The center of the ring is
guarded by fences and signs warning
against radioactivity and barring entry
to anyone without permission. This day,
though, I noticed a number of men in-
side the ring cutting the grass; the ma-
chine was undoubtedly oflF while they
were working. I crossed over and went
belowground into the central building.
Inside, equipment sprawled every-
where, and there was a faint smell of
resin, which is used in soldering elec-
trical circuits. Dozens of men in lab-
oratory coats were working at one
job or another with great concentra-
tion. As I watched them, the title of
a book on mountain-climbing came to
mind — "Les Conquerants de I'lnutile."
In a way, high-energy physics is "la
conqucte de I'inutile" but it is also one
of the most exciting, benign, and reveal-
ing intellectual disciplines that man has
been able to devise.
94
Radioactive materials are being used widely in industry,
medical and ecological research, clinical therapy, agriculture,
and food processing.
11 The World of New Atoms and of Ionizing Radiations
V. Lawrence Parsegian and others
Sections of a textbook published in 1968.
21.11 The world of new atoms and
of ionizing radiation
We have gained, as by-products of atomic
power, very many new types of radio-
active atoms or radioisotopes. There are
now about 1100 nucHdes that are new
and man-made. Each is unstable, but
changes in its own time to a more stable
form. The change is accompanied by the
emission of radiation, either in the form
of a 7-ray photon, /3-ray, sometimes
positron, an a-particle, or some other
form or combination. Each nuclide has
the chemical properties of a stable, con-
ventional atom, but in addition each also
emits radiation of a type and energy that
is characteristic of that nuclide. Also,
each unstable nuclide (radioisotope) has
a particular time rate or half-life for its
change of form.
The early forms of Mendeleev's Peri-
odic Table of the atoms listed up to 92
elements. Within the limited science and
technology revolving around the chem-
istry of these elements, there were built
up vast chemical industries. The chart of
over 1300 nuclides now offers a much
larger variety of atoms and building
blocks out of which to develop an under-
standing of atomic behavior.
For example, consider the isotopes of
carbon. Two stable forms of carbon are
found in nature, one of mass 12 (C^) and
one of mass 13 (C*^). When nitrogen-14
(N") is bombarded by neutrons, it cap-
tures a neutron and emits a proton,
leaving a new atom which has six protons
and which therefore behaves chemically
like carbon. This is the isotope C", which
is unstable and eventually emits a weak
^-particle as it reverts back to the original
stable N'". The half-life for this transition
is very long, about 5700 years, and the
/3-ray energy is 0.156 MeV.
These C'^ atoms become important for
several purposes. f They may be incorpo-
rated into drugs that contain carbon.
When the drug is injected into man or
animal (or incorporated into carbon
dioxide gas, which may be absorbed by
a plant), it becomes possible to follow the
course of the carbon in these systems
simply by "tracing" the behavior of the
C*^ components; this is done by mea-
suring the radiation they emit. Both time
rate and distribution of the drug (or CO2)
in these complex systems can then be
determined even though the systems
themselves are already full of carbon
atoms. This process has made it possible
to identify a long series of intermediate
steps in the photosynthesis of carbon
dioxide for plant growth. The use of
radioactive carbon (C^) and radioactive
f We have already discussed the use of
C*^ in radioactivity dating techniques in
Chapters 2 and 20.
95
Radioactive piston ring
»; Radioactive iron, Fe^'
^ for friction and lubrication studies
§m
Samples.measured for Fe^^
content
Lubricating oil sampled
Fig. 21.13. A common application for use of radioisotope iron-59 to measure wear
of metal parts. The piston rings are first made radioactive by exposing them to
neutrons in a nuclear reactor, then installed in a motor which is under test for wear
characteristics. As the piston ring loses metal to the oil, the presence of radio-
activity in the oil gives a measure of the wear while the motor is running. When the
motor is disassembled, the transfer of metal to the cylinder wall can also be
measured accurately. Advantages: (i) transfer of metal measured to i.boh.doo oz.;
(2) oil sampled during operation of motor; (3) rapid, simple, economical. (Courtesy
of U.S. Atomic Energy Commission.)
species of salts has clarified the under-
standing of many of the biological pro-
cesses involved in human blood flow, the
diffusion of salts across body membranes,
and metabolic activity. Industry has
found activation analysis to be particu-,
larly sensitive to contaminants in metals
or other materials and has used it for
identifying these contaminants. Con-
siderable literature has been written
about the characteristics and uses of
radioisotopes. Many useful publications
and references are available through the
AEC.
Figures 21.13, 21.14, 21.15, 21.16, and
21.17 illustrate some applications in-
volving radioisotopes.
Radiotracer and dating techniques re-
quire relatively weak concentrations of
C", of the order of microcuries. In such
applications all that is required of the
emitted radiation is that it be measurable,
either with Geiger (or similar) counters
or with photographic film.
The various types and energies of
radiation have penetrating power of
differing orders. For example, a-particles
can be stopped by a sheet of paper; /8-
particles may require from several sheets
of paper to inches of solid material to
stop them, depending on their energy.
Gamma rays can penetrate inches of lead.
By selecting suitable radiation, one may
easily construct gauges for industrial
96
The World of New Atoms and of Ionizing Radiations
applications that may be used for a wide
range of thicknesses.
As noted earher, the analytic tech-
nique called activation analysis has
become important for industry as well as
for research.f If a specimen has a very
small amount or trace of impurities and
is placed in the neutron flux of a nuclear
t The term activation analysis refers to the
process of making a material (which may be a
contaminant) radioactive by bombardment
with suitable nuclear radiation.
reactor, the trace impurities (as well as
the main body of the specimen in some
cases) become radioactive. In many cases
the type and amount of the impurity can
be determined by comparing the results
of irradiation of the unknown sample
with the results one obtains by irradiating
specimens with known impurities.
The sensitivity of activation analysis is
illustrated by the following case: Ordi-
nary arsenic, arsenic-75, on capturing a
neutron, becomes radioactive arsenic.
Fig. 21.14, Thyroid cancer. This is a series of six radioiodine scans
of the neck and chest of a patient with cancer of the thyroid, made
over a period of 16 months at the Oak Ridge Institute of Nuclear
Studies. The initial scan (top, left) shows the pattern of the normal
thyroid tissue (dark lines) and the presence of the tumor is
questionable. With subsequent therapeutic doses of radioiodine, the
normal thyroid is progressively fainter and the tumor becomes more
apparent as it takes up the radioiodine. Finally, shrinkage in the
size of the tumor begins (lower, right scan) as a result of the
radioiodine therapy. (AEC Report for 1965.)
October
January
August
97
Leaves 40%
trunk and
branches and
nfiost roots ~ 47%
Rainout
Less than 0.1%
0.8% Rootlets in 0-4 in.
"of soil, smaller than 2mm
Fig. 21.15. Ecological cycle. The rapid ecological movement of a radioisotope such
as a cesium-134 is illustrated in the above drawing of a white oak tree whose trunk
was tagged with two millicuries of the radioisotope. Within 165 days, the tracer had
become redistributed in different parts of the ecological system and was again
entering the tree, this time through the root system. Use of radioisotopes in such
studies in the forests at Oak Ridge National Laboratory helps ecologists understand
the basic processes that maintain our forest resources. (AEC Report for 1965.)
Fig. 21.16. (Facing page) Treatment of leukemia by irradiation of blood. A patient at the
Medical Research Center at Brookhaven National Laboratory is shown in the photo top
undergoing treatment for leukemia by extracorporeal irradiation of his blood. The nurse is
about to connect the arteriovenous shunt in the patient's forearm to the tubing leading into
a shielded container where the gamma-ray source is located. The technique, as diagrammed
below, was applied to the study and treatment of human leukemia following extensive studies
of the origin, function, and turnover rates of cells and other blood constituents of normal and
leukemic cows. The purpose of this form of treatment is to destroy leukemic white cells in the
blood without injuring other cells or organs in the body; the red blood cells are much more
resistant to radiation damage than the leukemic cells. A semipermanent external arteriovenous
shunt, which may last for many months, is inserted in the patient's forearm. Arterial blood is
propelled by the action of the heart through plastic tubing into the shielded container, past
an intense source of gamma rays, and back into the patient's arm. As the blood passes
through the gamma source {4000 curies of cesium-137) it receives a radiation dose of from
250 to 900 rads, depending upon its flow rate (900 rads would be a lethal dose of radiation
if applied to the whole body). The treatment can be repeated as necessary to reduce the
numbers of leukemic cells in the blood. (Courtesy Brookhaven National Laboratory.)
98
The World of New Atoms and of Ionizing Radiations
Schematic diagram of extracorporeal irradiation
of blood
Arterial teflon cannula
Silastic tubing
Stainless steel tube
Lead shield
Arteriovenous shunt
between irradiations
99
Fig. 21.17. Irradiation of food with ionizing radiation
to increase shelf life against spoilage. {Courtesy
Brookhaven National Laboratory.)
arsenic-76, which emits beta and gamma
radiation on decay. Therefore, by radio-
active assay, one can determine the con-
centration of arsenic in a sample. In 1961
a group of Scottish and Swedish scientists
subjected a few strands of hair, cut from
the head of Napoleon at his death in
1821, to neutron irradiation and found
arsenic to be present in thirteen times
normal concentration, thus suggesting
that Napoleon might have been poisoned.
Closer investigation indicated a definite
pattern of the variation of arsenic con-
centration in the hair. This pattern, when
compared with the record of Napoleon's
sickness, revealed a correlation with his
periods of severest pain. It seems arsenic
was in the medicine given to relieve his
pain and it may have had untoward efi^ects
as well.
21.12 Effects and products of
ionizing radiation
The ionizing radiation given off by radio-
active isotopes can be concentrated and
intense. Since this radiation is highly
penetrating and ionizing, and induces
changes in biological and chemical sys-
tems, it promises to become significant in
chemical processing and in destroying
unwanted bacteria (such as in milk)
and tissues (such as in tumors, cancers).
But this promise is a mixed blessing
and curse, for overexposure to radi-
ation is a health hazard. It has been
found to cause leucopenia (decrease in
number of white cells in blood), epilation
(loss of hair), sterility, cancer, mutations
(altered heredity of offspring), bone
necrosis (destruction and death of bones),
and eye cataracts.
In conventional processes, chemical
reactions proceed as a result of atomic
collision, favorable valence combinations,
excitement of atom systems by heating.
Coulomb attraction, fi-ee radical inters,
mediates, and other similar activators.
The energy exchanges are likely to be of
TOO
The World of New Atoms and of Ionizing Radiations
the order of a few electron volts or less
per atom (or molecule).
When swift, charged particles (such as
a-particles, protons, or /8-particles) pass
through matter, they leave tracks of
ionized and excited atoms and molecules,
which undergo vigorous reorganization.
The concentration of energy can be
hundreds or more times the intensity of
conventional processes, especially with
heavy charged particles and toward the
end of particle tracks in the material. As
a result, radiation effects are often
deleterious to the properties of the
material.
There are, however, applications
wherein the destructiveness of radiation
is desirable, such as for killing insects
that infest grain or microbe systems in
medical supplies. There are also cases
where the reorganization of atoms and
molecules following irradiation results
in improved physical properties or pro-
duces desired chemical changes. Radia-
tion induces such widely different re-
actions that it becomes a very versatile
research tool. Processing by irradiation
also appears to have very real possibilities
of competing with some conventional
industrial processes and of inducing
reactions that cannot be produced by
other means.
The activities involving radiation and
radiation chemistry may be grouped
under six categories: food preservation,
sterilization, chemical processing, radiog-
raphy and medical therapy, radioisotope
power sources, miscellaneous.
Since ionizing radiation can be lethal
to living organisms and microorganisms,
one of the early prograrhs sought to
sterilize foodstuffs and thus give them
longer shelf life. Early efforts concen-
trated on sterilizing meats and other
foods by radiation dosage ranging from 2
to 5 megarads (million radsf ). The results
of these early years were not successful
because the heavy dose caused changes
in the taste and appearance of foods.
More recent work has been much more
encouraging. In 1963 the Food and Drug
Administration (FDA) approved steriliza-
tion of bacon by gamma radiation (up to
2.2-MeV energy) and by electron beams
(up to 5-MeV energy) from accelerators.
The sterilization of ham, chicken, and
beef appears promising.
When the radiation dose is kept well
below the doses required for sterilization,
down to values of 500,000 rads or less,
the effect is to "pasteurize" foods in a
way that often permits longer shelf life.
For example, a dose of 250,000 rads will
extend the shelf life of haddock fillets to
21 days at 32° to 33°F. Crabmeat treated
with 200,000 rads had its shelf life in-
creased from 7 days to 35 days when
held at 33°F. Fruits (strawberries,
cherries, citrus, pears, tomatoes) show
similar gain. Insects in grains and wormy
(helminthic) parasites such as those
associated with trichinosis from pork are
killed by 30,000 rads. Sprouting of potato
tubers can be inhibited with doses from
10,000 to 15,000 rads. But dosages in
excess of 10 million rads appear to be
needed to inactivate some enzymes.
Radiation does not raise the tempera-
ture of the processed materials at these
dosages. Furthermore, with y-radiation,
the whole process can be mechanized
and the foods can be irradiated in the
packaged state. The main difficulty is the
cost of the radiation, whether one uses
radioisotopic sources or an accelerator.
The irradiation of fish adds from 1 to 3
cents per pound, which is probably ac-
ceptable. Because strawberries may cost
about 50 cents per pound, they can stand
an irradiation expense of an additional
If cents per pound. But for other fruits
f A rad represents the absorption of 100
ergs of radiation energy per gram of absorbing
material.
101
and for grains, the cost probably must re-
main at i cent per pound, to be eco-
nomically acceptable. To help this in-
dustrial development, the Commission
has reduced the selling price for certain
radioisotopes such as cobalt-60 (Co^°,
which emits strong y-rays of 1.1 and 1.3
MeV and has a half-life of 5.3 yr) and
cesium-137 (Cs*^^, which emits gammas
of 0.66 MeV with a half-life of about
33 yr).
Radiation costs come down sharply as
the radiation intensity of the facility is
increased, in terms of kilowatt capacity,
for either radioisotopic sources or accel-
erator sources. But it is difficult to find
many geographic sites where one can
provide high enough production quan-
tities to bring the cost of radiation
pasteurization down to 1 cent per pound.
How about irradiation to sterilize
materials that are not foodstuflFs, such as
medical supplies, sutures, bandages, and
drugs? While there are limitations in this
area also, there are some real advantages
to radiation processes as compared with
the use of heat, chemicals, or ultraviolet
light. When penetrating radiation is used,
sutures or other supplies can be packaged
in conventional work areas and then
irradiated while in sealed state.
21.13 Radiography and medical
therapy
These two subjects may be treated to-
gether because they depend on similar
sources and techniques. Gamma rays are
very penetrating — more so than X-rays
from conventional machines. A cobalt-60
source can therefore be used effectively
for penetrating metal parts, castings, tank
walls, and the human body. As in X-rays,
the radiation that passes through the
target or body can be recorded on photo-
graphic film or on a fluorescent screen, to
give a faithful picture of the variations of
matter through which it passes. Flaws,
cracks, cavities will show up as clearly
as with X-rays.
The advantages of radioisotopic gamma
sources over X-ray machines are three:
(1) These sources can be made portable
and do not require electric power for
their operation.
(2) Radioisotopes emit radiation in all
directions, which makes it possible to
obtain radiographs all around a vessel
into which the source is placed.
(3) Radioisotopes can provide higher
penetrating power without requiring
excessively large installations.
Very many industrial firms make use of
such radioisotopes as Co®", which is
equivalent to 2.5-MeV X-rays and can be
used for steel of 2- to 5-in. thickness. For
lesser penetrability, iridium-192 (Ir*^^),
cesium-134 (Cs^^"), and Cs^^^ are the
equivalent of up to 1400-keV X-rays and
are useful for radiographing steel plates
from i- to 2i-in. thickness (or an equiva-
lent density of other materials). Thu-
lium-170 (Tm^^"), europium-155 (Eu^^^),
and certain isotopes of americium (Am)
provide still lower penetration.
For many fixed installations. X-ray
machines may be preferred. Some in-
dustrial firms engaged in the production
and testing of tanks, ships, and trans-
mission pipe in the field have found the
radioisotopic sources to be much more
practical than X-ray machines.
We have noted that radiation kills
living organisms. Malignant disease in
body tissue can often be arrested by
exposure to penetrating, ionizing radia-
tion. But since healthy tissue also suffers,
radiation must be applied carefully and
restrictively to the tissues to be treated.
This has given rise to very many designs
that use radioisotopic sources in the form
of tiny needles that are inserted into
tissue; or the sources may be contained
in a housing that directs a well-colli-
mated beam onto the tissue.
Radioisotopic sources offer portability
and considerable choice in the type and
energy of radiation that they emit. Also
they can be fabricated into very many
shapes and sizes.
102
Different approaches to the nucleus suggest different models
This paper considers several nuclear models Including the
liquid-drop model, the shell model and the optical model.
12
The Atomic Nucleus
Rudolf E. Pelerls
Scientific American article published in 1959.
Ever since 1930, when the discovery
of the neutron made it plain that
the nuclei of atoms were built of
protons and neutrons, physicists have
been trying to form a picture of the
structure of the nucleus. The same task
for the rest of the atom was completed
jn the first quarter of this century. We
were able to understand in detail how
the electrons move under the attraction
of the nucleus, and how their motion is
influenced by their mutual repulsion.
To achieve such an understanding re-
quires three major steps: First, we must
know the forces between the particles.
Second, we need to know the mechanical
laws which govern their motion under
the influence of these forces. Third, we
need in most cases a simplified picture,
or model, from which to start. Once we
have the first two ingredients, we could
in principle write down a set of mathe-
matical equations whose solutions would
tell us all about the atom, or about the
nucleus. In the simplest possible atoms,
like that of hydrogen, in which there is
only one electron, or in the simplest com-
pound nuclei, like the deuteron, which
contains only one proton and one neu-
tron, such equations can be written
down and solved without difficulty.
However, for more complicated struc-
tures this head-on attack becomes much
harder and soon exceeds the capacity
even of modern electronic computers.
We are like men who encounter for
the first time a complicated machine, and
who try to analyze its operation. If we
attempt, without any guidance, to puz-
zle out the interplay of all the parts of the
machine, we should soon lose ourselves
in a maze. Instead, we first try to ascer-
tain the major features of the machine's
operation. We then devise a model
which resembles the real thing in these
features, yet is simple enough to be
analyzed. Then, of course, we must put
in corrections for the complications
which we have left out and check that
they do not materially alter the picture.
In the study of the atom the first of
the three steps hardly presented a prob-
lem. As soon as Ernest Rutherford had
demonstrated that the atom consisted of
a heavy, positively charged nucleus and
of light, negatively charged electrons, it
was taken for granted that the forces
between them were the electric attrac-
tion of unlike charges, following the in-
verse-square law familiar to every stu-
dent of physics. The major difficulty was
the second step. It turned out that the
basic mechanical principles of Isaac
Newton, which apphed to all "large" ob-
jects from the planets and the moon
down to steam engines and watches, had
to be revised in the atomic domain. To
understand atoms we had to use the new
ideas of the quantum theory, following
the pioneer work of Niels Bohr, who
adapted for this purpose the concept of
the quantum of action which Max Planck
had first found in the behavior of light.
These new laws of mechanics were later
formulated as the laws of "quantum
mechanics," or "wave mechanics," which
gave us complete command over the
theory of the atom.
The third step, of finding a simplified
model for discussing the atom, also
proved relatively easy. In working out
the possible orbits of a single electron
under the attraction of a proton, as in
the hydrogen atom, Bohr found that one
could account for the behavior of a more
complex atom by assuming that each of
its electrons moved in such an orbit,. The
larger the number of electrons in an
atom, however, the more distinct orbits
they occupy; this is a consequence of the
"exclusion principle" discovered by
Wolfgang Pauli, which limits the num-
ber of electrons that can travel in a
given orbit.
We must allow not only for the attrac-
tion of the electrons by the nucleus, but
also for the repulsion of the electrons by
one another. However, we simplify the
nature of this repulsion by forgetting
that it changes continuously as the elec-
trons move around in their orbits, and
treating it as a fixed field of force. In
other words, we replace the repulsion
due to a moving electron by that which
we would obtain if the electron were
spread out evenly over its orbit. This
simplification can be justified by the fact
that the repulsion acts over relatively
long distances, so that each electron is
at any time under the influence of several
others. If we underestimate the effect of
one of the electrons which may happen
to be rather close to the one we are look-
ing at, we are likely to overestimate the
effect of another which happens to be
rather far away.
This model of the atom is usuallv
called the "shell model," because it is
convenient to group together the elec-
trons moving in orbits of similar size but
of different shape and direction. Such a
group of orbits is called a shell.
When the atomic nucleus first became
an object of serious study, the nature of
the difficulties was rather different. The
general laws of dynamics did not seem
to re(juire further revision; -the laws of
(juantum mechanics which had been dis-
covered in atomic physics seemed quite
adequate for the nuclear domain. In-
deed, we have not yet found any evi-
dence in the behavior of nuclei which
would suggest that these laws might be
in error. Thus the second step in our list
presented no problem.
The Nuclear Forces
On the other hand the first step— the
determination of thjs forces between the
particles— proved to be a very difficult
103
problem. Even today, after some 25
years of intense study, we cannot claim
to have a complete answer, but we have
by now at least a fair knowledge of what
the forces are like.
They cannot be electric in origin. The
only electric charges found in the nu-
cleus are the positive charges of the pro-
tons, and like charges repel each other;
thus electric forces cannot be responsible
for holding a nucleus together. More-
over, electric forces are much too weak.
We know that the energy of attraction
of two unlike charges (i.e., the work we
have to do to pull them apart) varies
inversely as their distance. The attrac-
tive energy of an electron and a proton
in the hydrogen atom is a few electron
volts (ev), and since the diameter of the
hydrogen atom is 20,000 times larger
than that of the smallest nucleus we
should expect electric energies in the
nucleus to amount to some tens of thou-
sands of electron volts. Actually the
forces inside a nucleus run to many mil-
lion electron volts (mev). It follows that
nuclear forces are vastly stronger than
electric forces.
It is also clear that these strong forces
act only over extremely short distances.
The pioneer work of Rutherford on the
passage of charged particles through
matter showed that, even in encounters
in which a charged particle approaches
a nucleus to a distance of a few times
the nuclear diameter, the only noticeable
force is the electric one. We know to-
day that nuclear forces between two par-
ticles are quite negligible if the distance
between the particles is more than, say,
four fermis. (The fermi, named for the
late Enrico Fermi, is a convenient unit
of distance for the nucleus. The di-
ameter of a heavy nucleus is some 15
fermis; the diameter of the hydrogen
atom, about 100,000 fermis.) It is not
surprising, therefore, that earlier physi-
cists did not meet nuclear forces in labo-
ratory experiments. The only possible
way of studying these forces is to ob-
serve the behavior of nuclei, or to bom-
bard hydrogen or other nuclei with fast
protons or neutrons under circumstances
in which the effect of really close en-
counters can show up.
What makes this task harder is that
the nature of nuclear forces, unlike the
simple inverse-square law of electric or
gravitational forces, is rather compli-
cated. If the law of nuclear forces were
simple, a few observations might sufiBce
to guess its general form. But all simple
guesses based on a few experiments have
been disproved by later experiments.
We are obliged to reconstruct the law
of nuclear forces laboriously from the
various pieces of evidence we can ex-
tract from the experiments.
Ultimately we hope to be able to de-
rive the law of the forces from more
basic principles, just as we can derive
the inverse-square law of electric forces
from the basic laws of electromagne-
tism. A beginning was made by the
Japanese physicist Hideki Yukawa, who
used the analogy with electromagnetic
radiation to point out that nuclear forces
must be related to a new form of radia-
tion which could carry charged particles
weighing a few hundred times more than
the electron. His prediction was con-
firmed by the discovery of the so-called
pi meson. His picture of the mechanism
underlying the nuclear forces has been
qualitatively confirmed by many obser-
vations, and has been a useful guide in
our thinking about the forces. But it has
not yet been possible to use his idea for
a reliable and accurate derivation of the
law of the forces because of the mathe-
matical problems which stand in the
way. We do not know today whether a
correct solution of the equations em-
\
CHARGE EXCHANGE in the nucleus ie schematically depicted. in half the cases (.left) the neutron continues forward. Inlhe other
When protons ^btocAc fra//s^ are struck by fast neutrons half (right), the proton exchanges its charge with the neutron.
-3^ -^
SPIN-ORBIT FORCE arises from a relationship between spin and in which they move on an orbit, the force between them is strong,
orbit. When two particles (left) spin in the same direction as that When they spin in opposite directions (right), force is weak.
104
bodying Yukawa's idea would yield the
right forces, or whether there is some-
thing basically wrong with this ap-
proach. The diJBBculties arise chiefly from
the greater strength of the nuclear
forces, as compared to electric forces,
which makes their mathematical analysis
much more difiBcult.
Thus the best source of information
about the forces still lies in direct ex-
periments. These require collisions at
high energies— much higher than the
energies of particles inside ordinary nu-
clei. The reason for this is the wave as-
pect of particles, which is an essential
feature of quantum mechanics. Slow
particles are associated with waves of
long wavelength, and collisions involv-
ing such slow particles do not provide
much information about the finer fea-
tures of the forces at work between them,
just as in looking through a microscope
at a dust particle with a diameter less
than a wavelength of light we see only
a general blur which does not reveal the
shape or nature of the particle. To have
particles of sufficiently short wavelength
one must raise their energy to a few
hundred mev. The most reliable infor-
mation on nuclear forces has therefore
become available only in the last few
years, as a consequence of the develop-
ment of accelerating machines which
produce clean beams of protons, neu-
trons, or electrons with such energies.
This need for high-energy beams is en-
tirely similar to the situation in atomic
physics, where detailed pictures of the
structure of atoms require the use of X-
ray or electron beams of several thou-
sand ev— much greater than the energies
of the electrons inside the atoms, whose
wavelength is comparable to the atomic
diameter. The complexity of the results
has also made it necessary to call on the
services of fast electronic computers for
disentangling the observations.
I shall not attempt in this article to
give anything hke a complete specifica-
tion of the nuclear forces, but shall stress
only those features which are of impor-
tance for what follows. We have already
noted that the forces must be strong and
of short range. Since they hold the dif-
ferent particles together, they must on
balance be attractive. At the same time
they cannot be entirely attractive, since
otherwise heavy nuclei would "collapse."
By collapse we mean a state of affairs in
which all the particles in a nucleus are
so close together that each one is within
the range of the attractive force of every
other. In that case the attractive energy
acting on each particle would grow with
the total number of particles present,
and the volume occupied by the whole
nucleus would be the same no matter
how many particles were in it. This is
not found in reality. The energy per par-
ticle is roughly the same for all nuclei,
light or heavy, and the volume of nuclei
increases with the number of particles in
them.
The Exchange Forces
This behavior, which indicates a lim-
ited attraction, is usually called "satura-
tion" of the nuclear forces. There are
two particularly plausible ideas to ac-
count for this saturation. One was sug-
gested by the German physicist Werner
Heisenberg, who was one of the founders
of quantum mechanics. He postulated
that at least part of the nuclear forces
between a neutron and a proton involves
an exchange of their position, so that
after an encounter between them the
neutron would tend to follow what had
been the path of the proton, and vice
versa. The exchange occurs readily only
if the two move in very similar orbits,
and, since the Pauli exclusion principle
allows only a limited number of particles
to follow the same orbit, such exchange
forces would expose each particle to a
strong attraction only from a few others.
The bombardment of protons with fast
neutrons confirmed this idea, because it
showed that in most cases either the
neutron or the proton tended to go for-
ward with almost the same speed and
direction with which the neutron had
arrived. Since it is hard to deflect such
fast particles from their path, this indi-
cates that the incident neutron had con-
tinued almost in a straight line, but that
in half the collisions it had changed its
nature and become a proton, leaving a
neutron behind.
However, the experiment also showed
that only one half of the force was of
The Atomic Nucleus
the exchange type; the other half (cor-
responding to the neutrons still moving
forward after collision) was an "ordi-
nary" force. This is not enough to yield
the required saturation, and some other
factor must be involved. The second fac-
tor tending toward saturation is almost
certainly a reversal of the direction of
the nuclear forces at short distances, so
that, as two particles approach each
other, the attraction changes to repul-
sion. This concept of "repulsive cores"
in the forces is familiar in the behavior
of atoms. When atoms form chemical
compounds, or liquid or solid substances,
they are held together by attractive
forces; but each atom has a fairly defi-
nite size, and when two atoms come into
actual contact, their attraction changes
into repulsion. We may liken this be-
havior to that of two rubber balls tied
together with a rubber band. There is an
attraction between the balls, but there
is also a contact force which prevents
the centers of the balls from approach-
ing each other closer than one diameter.
Shortly after the theoretical need for
such a repulsive core in the nuclear
forces had become clear, experiments on
collisions between fast particles indeed
showed direct evidence for these repul-
sive forces.
Among other features of the nucleus
I should mention the "spin-orbit" force,
that is, the dependence of the mutual
interaction of two particles upon the
direction of their orbit with respect to
their spin. When the two particles spin
on their axes in the same direction as that
in which they revolve about each other,
the attraction between them is stronger;
when they spin in the opposite direction
from that in which they revolve, the at-
traction is weaker. There is some evi-
dence for such a spin-orbit force in ex-
periments on nuclear coHisions, but there
is still some room for controversy in the
interpretation of these experiments.
Our present knowledge of the nuclear
forces, while still incomplete, is suffi-
cient to discuss the behavior of nuclei
and the collisions between them. At this
point we meet the need for the third
step in our general program, namely a
simple model in terms of which we may
approach the dynamical problem of the
NUCLEAR FORCES are dependent on the distance between parti-
cles. If the particles are very close, they repel each other (left).
If they are a certain distance apart, they attract each other (center}.
If they are farther apart, they have little effect on each other (right).
105
motion of the 16 particles in the oxygen
nucleus, or the 208 particles in the most
stable lead nucleus.
Models of the Nucleus
The selection of a suitable model is
not at all straightforward. Not that there
is a shortage of suggestions. In fact the
trouble in the recent past has been a sur-
feit of different models, each of them
successful in explaining the behavior of
nuclei in some situations, and each in
apparent contradiction with other suc-
cessful models or with our ideas about
nuclear forces. In the past few years
great progress has been made in bringing
some order into this confusion and in
understanding the justification for each
of the models in the domain to which it
is properly applied. I shall attempt to
explain briefly some of the ideas behind
these developments.
The most obvious idea was to use the
shell model, which had been so success-
ful in dealing with the atom. In fact, the
first attempts to set up such a shell model
were made even before the discovery of
the neutron, when it was believed that
nuclei were made of protons and elec-
trons. A shell model with the wrong con-
stituents cannot have much success in
accounting for the facts, but in those
days rather few facts were known, so
such models were able to survive for
some time.
After the discovery of the neutron,
attempts to formulate a nuclear shell-
model were renewed. This involved the
idea of orbits (or quantum states) for
the protons and neutrons, in which each
of them was pictured as moving inde-
pendently under the influence of some
force which represented the average ef-
fect of the others, as in the case of the
electrons in the atom. It did not seem
possible, however, to choose groups of
orbits of the right kind, so that the num-
ber of similar orbits which formed a shell
could accommodate just the right num-
ber of neutrons and protons to account
for the exceptional stability of nuclei
with certain numbers ("magic num-
bers") of neutrons or protons.
The same idea was applied to the col-
lision of neutrons with nuclei. Accord-
ing to the shell model, the impinging
neutron should travel through the nu-
cleus on its own orbit, as through some
field of force, and individual encounters
with the particles constituting the target
nucleus ought to be rare and unimpor-
tant. Hence the neutron should in most
cases emerge with the same speed as
that with which it entered, and only
rarely should it get trapped. The details
of the process should not depend criti-
cally on the speed of the neutron.
Observations of such collisions, initi-
ated by Fermi in Rome, gave a com-
pletely different picture. Most of the
neutrons that interacted with a nucleus
were trapped, their excess energy being
radiated in the form of gamma rays.
Moreover, the chance of the neutron
being affected by the nucleus depended
very critically on its energy. One found
a large number of resonances, i.e., sharp-
ly selected energies, for which a neutron
was sure to be picked up by the nucleus.
For each target nucleus there are many
such resonances, the energy diflFerence
between them being often as low as 100
ev, an exceedingly small difference on
the nuclear scale.
These resonances turned out to be ex-
ceedingly sharp, and on the uncertainty
principle of quantum mechanics a sharp-
ly defined energy is associated with a
long time. So it follows that once a neu-
tron gets into a nucleus in conditions of
resonance it must stay there a long time
—much longer than it would take it to
cross a region the size of a nucleus.
The Liquid-Drop Model
The way to resolve these apparent
contradictions was pointed out by Bohr.
He recognized that it was not right to
think of a neutron as passing just through
a general field of force, since the nucleus
is densely packed with particles which
each exert strong forces on the extra
neutron as well as on each other. Instead
of comparing the process with the pas-
sage of a comet through the solar system,
as was appropriate for the passage of an
electron through an atom, we should
liken it to the entry of a golf ball into a
space already fairly densely filled with
similar balls. The result will be a com-
plicated motion of all the balls, and the
energy of motion of the extra one will
rapidly get shared with the others.
The dynamical problem is now that of
a true many-body motion, and we have
vastly more possibilities of varying the
details of the motion of all the particles.
This means that the rules of quantum
mechanics will give us far more states of
motion, and these are responsible for the
greatly increased number of resonances.
We also see the reason for the long stay
of the neutron in the nucleus, because
when the energy of motion is shared
among many particles, none of them can
attain enough speed to escape from the
general attraction. It must take a long
time before by chance one of them col-
SHELL MODEL of the nucleus is represent-
ed by a potential "well" in which the groups
of horizontal lines indicate orbits that can
be occupied by particles in the nucleus. The
groups of solid gray lines indicate orbits of
lower energy; the groups of broken gray
lines represent orbits of higher energy.
LIQUID-DROP MODEL may also be repre-
sented as n collection of golf balls. When an-
other particle, or golf ball, enters the nucle-
us, the motion of all the balls is disturbed.
OPTICAL MODEL pictures the nucleus as
a somewhat cloudy crystal ball. The cloudi-
ness represents the tendency of bombarding
neutrons to be absorbed by the nucleusi.
106
The Atomic Nucleus
normal states in terms of shells.
.__.^.
LOW-ENERGY ORBITS in the shell model of the nucleus may each be occupied by only
two neutrons (colored balls) and two protons (black balls). In the normal state of affairs
(left) the low-energy orbits are filled; the particles cannot gain or lose energy, and thus
cannot change their orbits. A bombarding particle (upper right) has energy to spare; thus
it can exchange energy with a particle in nucleus and move it to orbit of higher energy.
lects enough of the available energy to
get away. In our picture of the golf balls
this will actually never happen, because
in the meantime too much of the energy
will have been dissipated in friction. In
the nuclear case the analogue of fric-
tion is the loss of energy by gamma radi-
ation, and this is responsible for the
events in which the neutron gets
trapped. But it is less effective than in
the case of the golf balls, and some neu-
trons do get out again.
The physicist does not invoke here the
similarity with a system of golf balls,
which is not quite close enough, but he
is reminded of a very similar situation
which arises when a water molecule hits
a drop of water, and for this reason
Bohr's model is often called the "hcjuid-
drop model."
i
6
CO
§
t-
Z
The liquid-drop model met with con-
siderable success, and was able to ex-
plain many detailed features of nuclear
reactions. At this time it seemed evi-
dent that the whole earlier idea of the
shell model, which pictures the particles
as moving independently, was doomed
to failure, in view of the high density of
the nucleus and the strong forces a par-
ticle was bound to experience in many
encounters with others during the course
of its motion. Most physicists then re-
garded the whole idea of a shell model
as misconceived, but some, whether out
of a stubborn refusal to accept the argu-
ments against the model, or out of a
deeper intuitive insight which convinced
them that somehow one might be able
to get around the argument, continued
to look at the behavior of nuclei in their
NEUTRON ENERGY
riANT RFSONANCES of a typical nucleus are indicated by the colored curve. Each of
GIAWT KtSUI>IAl'«H.i:-3 oi a ijv „„„„„ The heiehl of each 1 ne denotes the
the vertical lines represents an ordinary ■""-"''"j;: J^'^^X^^^ ^i.hin the nucleus, or
number of bombarding neutrons at that -"^J ^^^^^'^^^/^r'," Giant resonances are
which emerge from the nucleus w.th only part ''.'^^"J^^^^J^^'^.^i ,o^er resolution,
observed when nucleus is bombarded w.th particles of lower energy
The Shell Model Again
It soon became evident that there was
overwhelming evidence in favor of such
a shell picture, and the final success
came when Maria G. Mayer of the Uni-
versity of Chicago and J. D. H. Jensen
of Heidelberg independently noticed
that the facts fitted amazingly well with
a sbghtly modified shell model. The new
feature was that when a particle spins
in the direction in which it moves about
the center of the nucleus,, its orbit is dif-
ferent from the orbit of a particle spin-
ning in the opposite direction. When
this idea was put forward, it was not
known that the force between two parti-
cles depends on the relative orientation
of spin and orbit. Today the idea appears
entirely natural. With this refinement,
such a mass of data about the behavior
of nuclei could be explained that there
remained no doubt as to the essential
of the particle being absorbed, i.e., lost
from the beam of bombarding neutrons
[see "A Model of the Nucleus," by
Victor F. Weisskopf and E. P. Rosen-
baum; Scientific American, Decem-
ber, 1955]. How can we understand the
success of this picture of independent
particle motion in view of the Bohr ar-
gument?
The answer to this question has been
given in essence by Weisskopf. It may
be expressed by considering the time
sequence of events. To be sure, the bom-
barding particle is likely to be disturbed
from its path by collisions, but this will
take a little time. So for a short time it
will penetrate into the nucleus on a
regular orbit, and this initial period is
important for determining whether it
will actually get deep inside or be turned
back at the surface. Now, to recall once
again the uncertainty principle, we know
that in talking about a short time inter-
val we must not try to specify the energy
too accurately. We should therefore
think not of neutrons with a well-defined
energy, but of a beam of neutrons vary-
ing in energy by an amount that is
greater the shorter the time in which
they are hkely to be involved in colli-
sions inside the nucleus. Experiments
often make use of such mixed beams, if
the experimenter does not take trouble
to select the neutron energies accurate-
ly. If we have data with accurate energy
selection we should lump together the
observations over a suitable range of
energies.
Then we do not see the sharp reso-
nances any more because there will al-
107
OXYGEN NUCLEI ARE BOMBARDED with neutrons in this
apparatus at the Brookhaven National Laboratory. The neutrons
are produced by the Brookhaven nuclear reactor, the concrete
shield of which is visible at right. The oxygen atoms are contained
in the long tank in the middle of the picture. The neutrons which
are not absorbed are counted in the shorter tank at lower left.
ways be many of them within the energy
range we use. The result we get in this
way will reflect the number and strength
of the resonances within the selected
range. But we may now think of these
results also as determined by the first
short time interval of the event, and as
the neutron pursues a regular orbit dur-
ing this short time interval the results
now should reflect the behavior of such
regular orbits. This therefore leads us
directly to the picture of the optical
model, which has neutrons traveling in
regular orbits. The absorption which was
allowed for in Weisskopf's optical model
merely reflects the fact that the particles
do not stay on such a regular orbit for-
ever, but are sooner or later removed
from it by collisions with other particles.
The strength of this absorption is thus
related to the rate at whibh collisions
occur inside the nucleus. If they are
very frequent, so that the particle covers
only a small fraction of the nuclear diam-
eter before it hits something, the "giant
resonances," which correspond to the
orbits of a single particle, will become
weaker and more diflFuse. The fact that
they are found to be pronounced and
distinct shows that the particle has a fair
chance of completing at least one revo-
lution in its orbit. In this respect we see
that the extreme form of Bohr's liquid-
drop model, or our simple picture of
golf balls, exaggerates the situation. But
we have succeeded in reconciling Bohr's
explanation of the many sharp reso-
nances in terms of the many-body as-
pects of the problem, with the super-
imposed structure of giant resonances,
which characterize the early stages of
the process.
It remains to account for the quanti-
tative features of the optical model— and
in particular for the long time a particle
can stay in its orbit before being thrown
out of it by a close encounter with an-
other particle— in terms of the basic
forces. A promising attack on this prob-
lem is now under way. The workers en-
gaged in it include G. E. Brown in the
author's group at the University of Bir-
mingham. In particular, the low rate of
collisions is seen to be linked again with
the eflFect of the exclusion principle. We
have seen that this cuts down the rate
of collisions in a normal nucleus dras-
tically. In the impact problems where
there is more energy to spare, the colli-
sions are more frequent, because there
are more orbits available that are not
already occupied, but the prohibition is
still partly eflFective and the collision rate
is still a good deal less than that sug-
gested by the picttire of golf balls, for
which all quantum efiFects, including the
exclusion principle, are of no impor-
tance.
A picture thus emerges in which the
various, apparently contradictory, mod-
els of the nucleus are seen as consistent
parts of a whole, each appropriate for
answering certain questions about the
behavior of nuclei. There are problems
for which yet other models have to be
used, including the important "collective
model" developed by Aage Bohr and B.
Mottelson of Copenhagen, but it would
exceed the scope of this article to de-
scribe them and show how they fit into
the story.
108
The origin of the sun's energy is a long-standing scientific
problem. The answer came eventually not from astronom-
ical studies alone, but from investigations of the behavior
of elementary particles.
13 Power from the Stars
Ralph E. Lapp
Chapter from his book. Roads to Discovery, published in 1960.
The billions upon billions of stars in the vast
universe all have one thing in common— they are all immense
masses of flaming gas. Heat evolved deep within this fiery
sphere gives rise to the brilliant light which makes the star
visible. Our nearest star— our sun— is the source of life on
earth. Our planet is kept warm, the oceans remain unfrozen
and crops grow because of solar warmth.
Our planet, earth, is but a small sphere some eight thousand
miles from rim to rim. It whirls through space and, caught
in the invisible grip of the sun's gravitational attraction, orbits
endlessly, maintaining an average distance from the sun of 93
million miles. At this distance the earth receives only a minute
fraction of the vast outpouring of heat and light that the sun
radiates. In fact, two billion times more heat flies off into
space than strikes the earth.
How does our sun manage to keep its heat furnaces stoked?
How has it kept blazing away at this rate for five billion years?
Is there any danger that it may "run out of gas"?
Only recently, with the data turned up in nuclear research,
has it been possible to answer these questions. Yet from the
time of the primitive caveman, the sun has been an object of
109
wonder and of worship. The ancients revered the Sun God
and countless humans were sacrificed on bloody altars to
assuage the fiery deity.
In more modern times wonder turned to curiosity and
curiosity to methodical investigation. Astronomers found that
the sun is a million times bigger than the earth, that the tem-
perature at the sun's surface is about six thousand degrees
Centigrade, and that the temperature deep inside the core
must be about fifteen million degrees Centigrade. Astrophysi-
cists proved that no ordinary burning or chemical combus-
tion could account for solar heat. They knew there was not
enough oxygen to support such a combustion. All efforts to
explain the sun's power failed; no energy source was powerful
enough to account for such flaming heat over a period of five
billion years. By all reckoning, the sun should have spent its
energy long ago; it should be a dead cinder in the sky sur-
rounded by lifeless, frozen planets— a darkness in the universe.
Sir Arthur Eddington was the first scientist to speculate
correctly about the source of the sun's energy. He suggested
in 1920 that stars might gain energy from the combination
or fusion of hydrogen to form more complex elements. This
nuclear "burning" should release per atom a million times
more energy than any known chemical process. Eight years
later Frederic Houtermans and Robert Atkinson took the next
step which turned speculation into theory. They calculated
that hydrogen within the sun's core consisted of atoms so
speedy (due to heat and pressure) that some collisions be-
tween hydrogen atoms would produce a thermonuclear re-
action with the release of heat. We call this thermonuclear
energy and, as the name implies, it is nuclear energy produced
by heat-agitated atoms.
Houtermans and Atkinson had practically no experimental
data about the behavior of hydrogen atoms, so they had to
proceed on pure theory. They knew that at the elevated tem-
peratures inside the sun's core hydrogen atoms would be
no
Power from the Stars
Stripped of their electrons. They also knew that the great pres-
sure due to the overweight of the sun's voluminous mass
squeezed hydrogen nuclei (protons) so close together that the
result was a proton paste eight times denser than solid lead.
Houtermans and Atkinson calculated that hydrogen fusion
could account for solar heat. However, they could not demon-
strate that the fiery proton paste in the sun's core would
actually sustain a thermonuclear reaction. They lacked the
vital nuclear data to predict the behavior of protons at the
temperature that exists inside our sun.
At this point we must pause to show that the "temperature"
and "energy" of protons or, for that matter, any particle, may
be related. This is important because the nuclear behavior of
a particle depends very strongly upon its energy (or its speed).
Ordinarily, temperature is easy to define. We measure the
temperature of a glass of water with a household thermometer.
We may measure the temperature of a glowing object such as
a lamp filament or an iron poker by using an instrument that
relates the color of the object and temperature. An iron
poker, at room temperature, emits no light, but as it is heated
to higher and higher temperatures, it changes in color from
dull, barely visible red to a glowing white. We say that the
poker is white-hot. Thus we measure and define the tempera-
ture of liquids and solids.
But how would you measure the temperature of a gas? At
first thought, this seems easy, because we know we can glance
at an outdoor thermometer and say that the temperature of
the air is 80°, or whatever it happens to be. But what about
the temperature of the ionized gas inside a glowing neon tube?
The glass walls of the tube are cool to the touch, but inside
the tube the neon atoms dash about with astonishing speed,
much much faster than the closely packed molecules in a
white-hot poker. And what about the temperature of protons
in a beam emerging from a cyclotron? Scientists say that an
ionized atom moving with a certain speed has an energy of so
111
many electron volts. But they can also measure this in terms
of temperature on a scale in which one electron volt is equiv-
alent to roughly ten thousand degrees Centigrade. On this
scale, a 1 Mev (million electron volt) proton has a tempera-
ture equivalent of ten billion degrees Centigrade. As we shall
see in the next chapter, cyclotrons easily accelerate protons to
ten-million electron volts. This corresponds to protons of 100
billion degrees Centigrade, or vastly higher than the tempera-
ture of the sun's innermost protons.
A Cornell University physics professor. Dr. Hans Bethe,
next tackled the problem of explaining the sun's source of un-
ending energy. In 1938 Bethe was in a much better position
to make calculations than Houtermans and Atkinson had been
a decade earlier, because experimental scientists had in the
meantime come up with so much data about nuclear reac-
tions. Thus Bethe was able to calculate how rapidly protons
might combine with one another under conditions existing
inside the sun.
Dr. Bethe developed the theory that four protons succes-
sively fuse together to form a single atom of helium. This is
not accomplished in one fell swoop, but is rather a multiple-
stage process in which, first, two hydrogen protons collide and
bind themselves together to become an atom of heavy hydro-
gen, or deuterium; this fused atom of heavy hydrogen is then
struck by another proton and helium-3 is formed; finally an-
other proton collision results in the formation of a nucleus of
helium-4. The process Bethe envisaged could take place in
either of two ways, but both amounted to a synthesis or fusion
of four protons, with the release of 27 Mev of energy. The
energy that is released comes from the mass "lost" when the
four hydrogen atoms fuse into an intimate combination which
is lighter than the sum of the individual masses of the
H-atoms. The mass "lost" or energy released in a single fusion
is small, but because of the enormous amount of hydrogen in
the sun, the process occurs frequently enough to keep the sun
112
Power from the Stars
blazing hot. Every second about one billion tons of hydrogen
undergo fusion! About one million tons of "Einstein mass"
are totally converted into energy every second.
Yet this seemingly incredible amount of hydrogen is so
small compared with the sun's total supply that the sun will
continue to shine at its present rate for billions and billions
of years before it runs out of fuel.
If we consider the heat generated per given weight of the
sun rather than the total heat produced, we arrive at some
rather astonishing facts. On an average, it takes five hun-
dred tons of the sun's mass to produce one hundred watts of
heat, the amount given off from a household electric lamp
bulb. Even at the sun's center, where the heat is given off at
a greater rate, it still takes many tons of the sun's substance
to evolve one hundred watts of heat. Actually, the' human
body— say that of an active teen-ager— generates one hundred
times more heat than is generated by an equivalent weight of
hydrogen gas in the sun. The explanation is not difficult. In
the first place, we are not comparing body temperature with
the temperature inside the sun; but rather the rates at which
each produces its heat. The sun is almost perfectly insulated
by its outer layers of gas, so that even a tiny amount of heat
generated at its core, though produced at a much slower rate
than in the human body, is kept hot. In other words, the
sun's heat is trapped inside its immense mass and leaks out
to the surface very gradually. Consequently, the sun con-
tinues to build up in temperature; whereas the human body,
which is poorly insulated, loses heat rather easily. Even mild
exposure to wind suffices to chill a person. One way to look
at the problem is to imagine a mass the size of the sun
composed of people jammed together as they are in a sub-
way—that is, matter endowed with the heat-producing ca-
pacity of an equivalent mass of people. The heat generated
would be so great that after a while it would blaze up spec-
tacularly.
113
The reason heat is evolved so slowly even in the center of
the sun is that the hydrogen atoms are at such a low tempera-
ture. Roughly twenty million degrees Centigrade may not
seem low, but from the standpoint of a nuclear reaction, the
equivalent energy of the protons inside the sun's core is only
1,700 electron volts. This is a very low energy for nuclear
reactions, since almost all the reactions studied with a cyclo-
tron are measured at energies of millions of volts. Nuclear
reactions, especially when we specify thermonuclear reactions,
"go" faster at higher energies. This means that deep inside the
sun the protons are very weak and fuse together so slowly that
it takes millions of years for a hydrogen-helium cycle to occur.
That is why our sun doesn't explode like a hydrogen bomb.
Hydrogen bombs release their energy in less than one-
millionth of a second. The main reason why such fast reac-
tions can be attained is that heavy and extra-heavy hydrogen
are fused in the bomb reaction. Deuterium (double- weight
hydrogen) and tritium (triple-weight hydrogen) react vio-
lently in contrast to the slow fusion of ordinary or single-
weight hydrogen.
In their attempt to make a hydrogen bomb, the experts
were up against a cost problem with regard to tritium, and
thus it came as a real step ahead when they figured out a
way to put a liner of lithium-6 next to the "nuke" in a bomb.
The great flash of neutrons released in the explosion of the
A-bomb trigger irradiates the lithium liner and gives birth to a
burst of tritium atoms. The A-trigger also produces an intense
heat wave.
Bomb experts killed two birds with one stone by incorporat-
ing the lithium in the form of a chemical compound called
lithium deuteride, a compound formed by the synthesis of
lithium and heavy hydrogen. They were thus able to bring
about the fusion of deuterium and tritium. As we have seen,
the fusion process releases energy— in this case, 17.6 Mev for
each fusion. This is significantly less than fission energy, but
114
Power from the Stars
we must remember that a pound of a light element like
lithium contains many more atoms than a pound of a heavy
element like uranium and can release more energy.
The energy released in the fusion of hydrogen comes off in
the form of high-speed particles, just as in the case of fission.
But there is a significant difference, for most of the energy is
imparted to the neutron that is produced in the reaction.
This neutron dashes off with the lion's share of the fusion
energy. It is so speedy that it would tend to flash out into
space and not make for a very effective bomb, if the bomb de-
signers had not hit upon an ingenious idea.
They decided to make the runaway neutron do some work
in the bomb. They put a heavy jacket of ordinary uranium
around the lithium liner. The fast-flying neutrons are trapped
in this jacket and there they cause the atoms of U^^^ to fission.
The neutrons released in fission, you will recall, will not split
U^^® as readily as they do U^^^ This is because U^^^ fissions
with low-speed neutrons whereas U^^^ does not. Neutrons
produced in the chain reaction are not in general sufficiently
speedy to fission U^^^ But, and this is most significant, the
neutrons released in hydrogen fusion are fast enough to
cause U^^® to fission.
This means, then, that the superbomb is really a three-stage
device. Stage one involves the firing of an atomic bomb trig-
ger. Stage two centers upon the manufacture of tritium from
lithium and the fusion of the tritium and heavy hydrogen.
Stage three is the fission of ordinary uranium by the fast-
fusion neutrons produced in stage two.
All these stages are interrelated by a complex neutron rela-
tionship. For example, when U^"' fissions in stage three, the
neutrons produced feed back into the bomb core, causing
more fission of the A-trigger and additional production of
tritium. In addition, the explosion in stage three creates more
heat to produce more fusion. These reactions are so complex
and all happen so fast-in one-millionth of a second-that
115
calculation of the bomb's power is exceedingly difficult and
must be relegated to whirlwind automatic computers. These
electronic brains are capable of lightning-like computation and
permit the bomb designers to figure out how a given weapon
might perform prior to actual test.
Knowing from the reality of the H-bomb that hydrogen is
useful in an explosive thermonuclear reaction, it is natural to
ask if hydrogen fusion can be tamed to produce energy use-
ful to man. Is it possible for man to imitate or outdo the sun's
energy power?
Before exploring this possibility further, it will help to have
clearly in mind why scientists concentrate on hydrogen as a
fuel, rather than some other element. Going back to Ruther-
ford's experiments on the scattering of alpha particles, recall
that only a very few of the alpha particles penetrated close to
the nucleus in the target atom. As the positively charged alpha
particles sped toward the positively charged nucleus of the
atom, they were strongly repelled by the like electrical forces.
The same thing happens when we try to bring together two
alpha particles or two hydrogen nuclei or any two nuclei. They
resist fusion because of the electrical repulsion of their posi-
tively charged cores. The greater the charge on the atomic
nucleus, the greater will be the repulsion and hence the diffi-
culty of fusing the two. This means that fusion is easiest for
the lighter elements; and hydrogen, with its single proton, is
of course the lightest of all.
However, if man attempted to imitate nature's solar proc-
ess for fusing ordinary hydrogen as fuel, he would be doomed
to failure; as we saw earlier, the kind of hydrogen that is pres-
ent in the sun's interior fuses very slowly, so that a single
cubic inch of the central core will evolve only a fraction of a
watt of heat energy. The fact of the matter is that ordinary
hydrogen is too sluggish a nuclear fuel to support a controlled,
man-made fusion reaction. However, as we know, other kinds
of hydrogen exist: heavy hydrogen or deuterium, and the
116
Power from the Stars
radioactive, extra-heavy form of hydrogen called tritium.
Tritium or triple-weight hydrogen can be produced in a nu-
clear reactor by bombarding lithium with neutrons. Unlike
ordinary hydrogen, deuterium and tritium react quickly to
Tritium -|- Deuterium >■ Helium -f Neutron -|- Energy
^*»=-#
+ • -h 17.6 mev
(^ Proton ^^ Neutron
36. Illustrating the fusion of two atoms of hydrogen to form a single
atom of helium and a neutron.
create helium; it is this fact that will make controlled fusion
power possible. These isotopes are known to undergo the fol-
lowing reactions:
iD2 -f iD^ =z ,W + iT^
,D^ + ,T^ = ^He" -f on^
^T^ + ^T^ =, ^He" + 2on^
All these reactions release energy. The first two yield 4.13 and
3.37 Mev respectively, while the last two release 17.58 and
11.32 Mev of energy.
While the energy released by each fusion of hydrogen iso-
topes is considerably less than the 200 Mev for each fission of
a uranium atom, as we noted earlier in the case of lithium,
the number of atoms in a pound of hydrogen is very much
greater than the number of atoms in a pound of uranium. A
pound of deuterium, for instance, releases roughly three times
as much energy as a pound of uranium. Converted into the en-
ergy content of the heavy hydrogen in a cup of water, this
amounts to the heat equivalent of fifty pounds of coal. The
supply of heavy hydrogen is practically without limit since
the lakes and oceans on our planet contain inexhaustible re-
117
serves of water. Thus, if man can extract hydrogen fusion
energy, he has at hand an unhmited new supply of fuel.
The goal of hydrogen power is tempting for more than just
this reason. Hydrogen fusion produces no residual radioactive
fragments, so the radiation hazard of uranium fission products
is not present in this new type of power source. Furthermore,
because of the nature of the reactor that will probably be used
to produce fusion power, there is no danger of a runaway
explosion, such as can occur in certain types of uranium power
plants. In addition, there is the enticing prospect that it may
be possible to derive energy from a fusion reactor directly, in
the form of electrical power.
Attractive as these prospects appear, one has to consider
the huge difficulties that stand in the road toward attaining
fusion power. The basic fuel, deuterium, is no problem, since
heavy water can be produced in hundred-ton lots and is readily
available commercially at $28 per pound. And there is no
problem in obtaining pure deuterium gas from the heavy
water. The fundamental problem is so to design a reactor that
ionized deuterium, or hydrogen plasma as it is called, can be
brought to sufficiently high speed for fusion to take place.
This requires that a temperature above one hundred million
degrees Centigrade be attained.
Scientists in many countries are hard at work designing
machines that will use electric and magnetic fields to squeeze
hydrogen plasma together or "pinch" it. The basic idea was
set forth in 1934 by the American physicist, W. H. Bennett.
He suggested that charged particles of hydrogen moving in a
stream would constitute an electrical current that should in-
duce its own magnetic fields; this, in turn, would act to
pinch the plasma together, bringing the individual ions into
collision with each other. The more violent the collisions
(i.e., the "hotter" the pinch) and the more frequent they are,
the greater is the probability that fusion will occur.
Unfortunately, the phenomenon just described is not very
118
Power from the Stars
easy to control or stabilize. In the United States, the Atomic
Energy Commission established Project Sherwood for the
purpose of bringing about the controlled release of fusion
power. The research work, begun on a modest budget in
1951, expanded to a vigorous program in 1959, backed by a
forty-million-dollar annual budget. A variety of experimental
devices for studying the "pinch" effect have been built at
the Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory, of which the Per-
hapstron is an example. Hydrogen ions are circulated in a
doughnut-shaped vacuum tube and constricted by an electrical
current into a narrow column inside this chamber.
A ''Magnetic Mirror" device represents a different approach
to the fusion problem adopted by scientists at the University
of California's Livermore Laboratory. Instead of a doughnut
chamber, a straight tube is employed and the hydrogen plasma
is "trapped" by intense magnetic fields and "reflected" back
from one end of the tube into the center of the chamber.
Still another line of approach is shown in the illustration.
Here at Oak Ridge, scientists are studying fusion possibilities
by hurling heavy hydrogen molecules downward into a re-
action chamber where they are ionized by an electric arc and
then subjected to intense magnetic forces. A more ambitious
and larger-scale approach to fusion power is under way at
Princeton University, where a Stellerator is being constructed.
Magnetic forces from a thick magnetic coil that is wrapped
around a figure-8-shaped vacuum chamber center the hydro-
gen ions in the chamber. This unusual container is designed
to keep the hydrogen ions from straying out to the wall and
giving up their energy. Fusion power can be attained only if
the plasma can be kept isolated from contact with the con-
tainer.
Obviously, no structural container can hold anything so hot
as this fiery plasma. Instead, scientists propose to contain the
plasma by means of magnetic fields which force the ions to
stay in a restricted space, i.e., a kind of "magnetic bottle."
119
37. The Oak Ridge Fusion research device designed to probe hydro-
gen fusion on a laboratory scale. (Oak Ridge National Laboratory)
120
Power from the Stars
However, there is the serious problem of designing such a
magnetic "container" so that it is substantially leakproof. Any
small leak would allow the hot plasma to squirt out to the
tube wall and cool off, thus ruining chances of attaining the
high temperatures necessary for fusion. Experiments in the
United States have produced plasma at a temperature of about
ten million degrees Centigrade.
Fusion research is also going on in Russia, Britain, Sweden,
Germany, Japan and many other countries. The British have
pioneered in this new field of research and have constructed
rather large machines. All machines concentrate on using
deuterium as the reacting substance, although later experi-
ments may be done with tritium. However, tritium is more
difficult to handle experimentally because of the radiation
hazard and the contamination of the equipment.
If one selects pure deuterium as the nuclear fuel for fusion
power, there is the attractive prospect that, since two-thirds
of the energy comes off in the form of charged particles, it
might be possible to convert this directly into electrical energy.
Picturing the way a piston functions in a steam engine, one
may think of moving plasma working against magnetic fields,
and electrical circuits drawing off the energy. With a mixture
of deuterium and tritium, the majority of the energy is carried
off by the neutrons. A blanket of liquid lithium might be
used to absorb the neutrons and convert their energy into
heat and at the same time generate useful tritium as the
lithium atoms are fissioned. Thus fusion power would be used
to produce heat external to the plasma and this heat would
then be used for the purposes of producing more power.
The possibility of fusion power is raised at a time when
uranium power plants are being engineered to produce power
on a basis competitive with conventional fuels. Rising coal
costs in England have provided the British with a strong in-
centive to replace coal with uranium and they have devoted
tremendous effort to building uranium power stations. Now
121
there is the question whether uranium power is not obsolete
before it is even fully developed. Will not fusion of hydrogen
replace uranium fission as man's source of energy? Ultimately,
it seems clear that hydrogen fusion will be developed to the
point where it is attractive for some applications, but this
new source of power is in its technological infancy and it is
too early to predict when it will assume its place in the sun.
However, it can be said that many scientists who are working
on this ultimate fuel are optimistic that they will be able to
solve the very formidable problems that lie ahead. Further-
more, they feel that in their explorations of high-temperature
plasmas and intense magnetic fields they will learn many
new facts about atoms and the cosmos. Indeed, some scientists
believe that even if hydrogen power should never succeed,
should man be frustrated in his attempt to outdo the sun, he
will gather rich dividends in fundamental knowledge, and the
research will have been worth while. But the hope is that
the quest for fusion power will bring to mankind an unlimited
source of power to heat homes, light cities and power fac-
tories for millions of years to come.
122
Mrs. Enrico Fermi gives in colorful detail her personal
account of the first nuclear chain reaction at the
University of Chicago squash courts.
14 Success
Laura Fermi
Chapter from her book, Atoms in the Family, published in 1954.
Meanwhile Herbert Anderson and his group at the Met. Lab. had
also been building small piles and gathering information for a larger
pile from their behavior. The best place Compton had been able to
find for work on the pile was a squash court under the West Stands
of Stagg Field, the University of Chicago stadium. President Hutch-
ins had banned football from the Chicago campus, and Stagg Field
was used for odd purposes. To the west, on Ellis Avenue, the stadium
is closed by a tall gray-stone structure in the guise of a medieval
castle. Through a heavy portal is the entrance to the space beneath
the West Stands. The Squash Court was part of this space. It was 30
feet wide, twice as long, and over 26 feet high.
The physicists would have liked more space, but places better
suited for the pile, which Professor Compton had hoped he could
have, had been requisitioned by the expanding armed forces sta-
tioned in Chicago. The physicists were to be contented with the
Squash Court, and there Herbert Anderson had started assembling
piles. They were still "small piles," because material flowed to the
West Stands at a very slow, if steady, pace. As each new shipment of
crates arrived, Herbert's spirits rose. He loved working and was of
impatient temperament. His slender, almost delicate, body had un-
suspected resilience and endurance. He could work at all hours and
drive his associates to work along with his same intensity and en-
thusiasm.
A shipment of crates arrived at the West Stands on a Saturday
afternoon, when the hired men who would normally unpack them
were not working. A university professor, older by several years
than Herbert, gave a look at the crates and said lightly: "Those
fellows will unpack them Monday morning."
"Those fellows, Hell! We'll do them now," flared up Herbert, who
123
had never felt inhibited in the presence of older men, higher up in
the academic hierarchy. The professor took off his coat, and the two
of them started wrenching at the crates.
Profanity was freely used at the Met. Lab. It relieved the tension
built up by having to work against time. Would Germany get atomic
weapons before the United States developed them? Would these
weapons come in time to help win the war? These unanswered ques-
tions constantly present in the minds of the leaders in the project
pressed them to work faster and faster, to be tense, and to swear.
Success was assured by the spring. A small pile assembled in the
Squash Court showed that all conditions — purity of materials, dis-
tribution of uranium in the graphite lattice — were such that a pile
of critical size would chain-react.
"It could be May, or early June at latest," Enrico told me, as we
recently reminisced about the times of the Met. Lab. "I remember I
talked about that experiment on the Indiana dunes, and it was the
first time I saw the dunes. You were still in Leonia. I went with a
group from the Met. Lab. I liked the dunes: it was a clear day, with
no fog to dim colors. . . ."
"I don't want to hear about the dunes," I said. "Tell me about
that experiment."
"I like to swim in the lake, . . ." Enrico paid no attention to my
remark. I knew that he enjoyed a good swim, and I could well
imagine him challenging a group of younger people, swimming far-
ther and for a longer time than any of them, then emerging on the
shore with a triumphant grin.
"Tell me about that experiment," I insisted.
"We came out of the water, and we walked along the beach."
I began to feel impatient. He did not have to mention the walk.
He always walks after swimming, dripping wet, water streaming
from his hair. In 1942 there was certainly much more hair on his
head to shed water, not just the little fringe on the sides and on the
back that there is now, and it was much darker.
". . . and I talked about the experiment with Professor Stearns.
The two of us walked ahead of the others on the beach. I remember
our efforts to speak in such a way that the others would not under-
stand "
124
Success
"Why? Didn't everyone at the Met. Lab. know that you were
building piles?"
"They knew we built piles. They did not know that at last we had
the certainty that a pile would work. The fact that a chain reaction
was feasible remained classified material for a while. I could talk
freely with Stearns because he was one of the leaders."
"If you were sure a larger pile would work, why didn't you start it
at once?"
"We did not have enough materials, neither uranium nor graph-
ite. Procurement of uranium metal was always an obstacle. It ham-
pered progress."
While waiting for more materials, Herbert Anderson went to the
Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company to place an order for a square
balloon. The Goodyear people had never heard of square balloons,
they did not think they could fly. At first they threw suspicious
glances at Herbert. The young man, however, seemed to be in full
possession of his wits. He talked earnestly, had figured out precise
specifications, and knew exactly what he wanted. The Goodyear
people promised to make a square balloon of rubberized cloth. They
delivered it a couple of months later to the Squash Court. It came
neatly folded, but, once unfolded, it was a huge thing that reached
from floor to ceiling.
The Squash Court ceiling could not be pushed up as the physi-
cists would have liked. They had calculated that their final pile
ought to chain-react somewhat before it reached the ceiling. But not
much margin was left, and calculations are never to be trusted en-
tirely. Some impurities might go unnoticed, some unforeseen factor
might upset theory. The critical size of the pile might not be reached
at the ceiling. Since the physicists were compelled to stay within
that very concrete limit, they thought of improving the performance
of the pile by means other than size.
The experiment at Columbia with a canned pile had indicated
that such an aim might be attained by removing the air from the
pores of the graphite. To can as large a pile as they were to build
now would be impracticable, but they could assemble it inside a
square balloon and pump the air from it if necessary.
The Squash Court was not large. When the scientists opened the
balloon and tried to haul it into place, they could not see its top
125
from the floor. There was a movable elevator in the room, some sort
of scaffolding on wheels that could raise a platform. Fermi climbed
onto it, let himself be hoisted to a height that gave him a good view
of the entire balloon, and from there he gave orders:
"All hands stand by!"
"Now haul the rope and heave her!"
"More to the right!"
"Brace the tackles to the left!"
To the people below he seemed an admiral on his bridge, and
"Admiral" they called him for a while.
When the balloon was secured on five sides, with the flap that
formed the sixth left down, the group began to assemble the pile
inside it. Not all the material had arrived, but they trusted that it
would come in time.
From the numerous experiments they had performed so far, they
had an idea of what the pile should be, but they had not worked out
the details, there were no drawings nor blueprints and no time to
spare to make them. They planned their pile even as they built it.
They were to give it the shape of a sphere of about 26 feet in
diameter, supported by a square frame, hence the square balloon.
The pile supports consisted of blocks of wood. As a block was put
in place inside the balloon, the size and shape of the next were
figured. Between the Squash Court and the near-by carpenter's shop
there was a steady flow of boys, who fetched finished blocks and
brought specifications for more on bits of paper.
When the physicists started handling graphite bricks, everything
became black. The walls of the Squash Court were black to start
with. Now a huge black wall of graphite was going up fast. Graphite
powder covered the floor and made it black and as slippery as a
dance floor. Black figures skidded on it, figures in overalls and gog-
gles under a layer of graphite dust. There was one woman among
them, Leona Woods; she could not be distinguished from the men,
and she got her share of cussing from the bosses.
The carpenters and the machinists who executed orders with no
knowledge of their purpose and the high-school boys who helped lay
bricks for the pile must have wondered at the black scene. Had they
been aware that the altimate result would be an atomic bomb, they
might have renamed the court Pluto's Workshop or Hell's Kitchen.
126
Success
To solve difl5culties as one meets them is much faster than to try
to foresee them all in detail. As the pile grew, measurements were
taken and further construction adapted to results.
The pile never reached the ceiling. It was planned as a sphere 26
feet in diameter, but the last layers were never put into place. The
sphere remained flattened at the top. To make a vacuum proved un-
necessary, and the balloon was never sealed. The critical size of the
pile was attained sooner than was anticipated.
Only six weeks had passed from the laying of the first graphite
brick, and it was the morning of December 2.
Herbert Anderson was sleepy and grouchy. He had been up until
two in the morning to give the pile its finishing touches. Had he
pulled a control rod during the night, he could have operated the
pile and have been the first man to achieve a chain reaction, at
least in a material, mechanical sense. He had a moral duty not to
pull that rod, despite the strong temptation. It would not be fair to
Fermi. Fermi was the leader. He had directed research and worked
out theories. His were the basic ideas. His were the privilege and the
responsibility of conducting the final experiment and controlling
the chain reaction.
"So the show was all Enrico's, and he had gone to bed early the
night before," Herbert told me years later, and a bit of regret still
lingered in his voice.
Walter Zinn also could have produced a chain reaction during the
night. He, too, had been up and at work. But he did not care whether
he operated the pile or not; he did not care in the least. It was not
his job.
His task had been to smooth out difliculties diu-ing the pile con-
struction. He had been some sort of general contractor: he had
placed orders for material and made sure that they were delivered
in time; he had supervised the machine shops where graphite was
milled; he had spurred others to work faster, longer, more eflficient-
ly. He had become angry, had shouted, and had reached his goal. In
six weeks the pile was assembled, and now he viewed it with relaxed
nerves and with that vague feeling of emptiness, of slight disorienta-
tion, which never fails to follow completion of a purposeful task.
There is no record of what were the feelings of the three young
men who crouched on top of the pile, under the ceiling of the square
127
balloon. They were called the "suicide squad." It was a joke, but
perhaps they were asking themselves whether the joke held some
truth. They were like firemen alerted to the possibility of a fire,
ready to extinguish it. If something unexpected were to happen, if
the pile should get out of control, they would "extinguish" it by
flooding it with a cadmium solution. Cadmium absorbs neutrons and
prevents a chain reaction.
Leona Woods, the one girl in that group of men, was calm and
composed; only the intensity of her deep dark eyes revealed the ex-
tent of her alertness.
Among the persons who gathered in the Squash Court on that
morning, one was not connected with the Met. Lab. — Mr. Crawford
H. Greenewalt of E. I. duPont de Nemours, who later became the
president of the company. Arthur Compton had led him there out of
a near-by room where, on that day, he and other men from his com-
pany happened to be holding talks with top Army oflBcers.
Mr. Greenewalt and the duPont people were in a difl&cult position,
and they did not know how to reach a decision. The Army had taken
over the Uranium Project on the previous August and renamed it
Manhattan District. In September General Leslie R. Groves was
placed in charge of it. General Groves must have been of a trusting
nature: before a chain reaction was achieved, he was already urging
the duPont de Nemours Company to build and operate piles on a
production scale.
In a pile, Mr. Greenewalt was told, a new element, plutonium, is
created during uranium fission. Plutonium would probably be suited
for making atomic bombs. So Greenewalt and his group had been
taken to Berkeley to see the work done on plutonium, and then
flown to Chicago for more negotiations with the Army.
Mr. Greenewalt was hesitant. Of course his company would like
to help win the war! But piles and plutonium!
With the Army's insistent voice in his ears, Compton, who had
attended the conference, decided to break the rules and take Mr.
Greenewalt to witness the first operation of a pile.
They all climbed onto the balcony at the north end of the Squash
Court; all, except the three boys perched on top of the pile and ex-
cept a young physicist, George Weil, who stood alone on the floor
128
Success
by a cadmium rod that he was to pull out of the pile when so
instructed.
And so the show began.
There was utter silence in the audience, and only Fermi spoke.
His gray eyes betrayed his intense thinking, and his hands moved
along with his thoughts.
"The pile is not performing now because inside it there are rods
of cadmium which absorb neutrons. One single rod is sufficient to
prevent a chain reaction. So our first step will be to pull out of the
pile all control rods, but the one that George Weil will man." As he
spoke others acted. Each chore had been assigned in advance and
rehearsed. So Fermi went on speaking, and his hands pointed out
the things he mentioned.
"This rod, that we have pulled out with the others, is automati-
cally controlled. Should the intensity of the reaction become greater
than a pre-set limit, this rod would go back inside the pile by itself.
"This pen will trace a line indicating the intensity of the radiation.
When the pile chain-reacts, the pen will trace a line that will go up
and up and that will not tend to level off. In other words, it will be
an exponential line.
"Presently we shall begin our experiment. George will pull out his
rod a little at a time. We shall take measurements and verifv that
the pile will keep on acting as we have calculated.
"Weil will first set the rod at thirteen feet. This means that thir-
teen feet of the rod will still be inside the pile. The counters will
click faster and the pen will move up to this point, and then its trace
will level off. Go ahead, George!"
Eyes turned to the graph pen. Breathing was suspended. Fermi
grinned with confidence. The counters stepped up their clicking; the
pen went up and then stopped where Fermi had said it would.
Greenewalt gasped audibly. Fermi continued to grin.
He gave more orders. Each time Weil pulled the rod out some
more, the counters increased the rate of their clicking, the pen
raised to the point that Fermi predicted, then it leveled off.
The morning went by. Fermi was conscious that a new experiment
of this kind, carried out in the heart of a big city, might become a
potential hazard unless all precautions were taken to make sure that
at all times the operation of the pile conformed closely with the
129
results of the calculations. In his mind he was sure that if George
Weil's rod had been pulled out all at once, the pile would have
started reacting at a leisurely rate and could have been stopped at
will by reinserting one of the rods. He chose, however, to take his
time and be certain that no unforeseen phenomenon would disturb
the experiment.
It is impossible to say how great a danger this unforeseen element
constituted or what consequences it might have brought about.
According to the theory, an explosion was out of the question. The
release of lethal amounts of radiation through an uncontrolled reac-
tion was improbable. Yet the men in the Squash Court were working
with the unknown. They could not claim to know the answers to all
the questions that were in their minds. Caution was welcome. Caution
was essential. It would have been reckless to dispense with caution.
So it was lunch time, and, although nobody else had given signs
of being hungry, Fermi, who is a man of habits, pronounced the
now historical sentence:
"Let's go to lunch."
After lunch they all resumed their places, and now Mr. Greene-
wait was decidedly excited, almost impatient.
But again the experiment proceeded by small steps, until it was
3:20.
Once more Fermi said to Weil:
"Pull it out another foot"; but this time he added, turning to the
anxious group in the balcony: "This will do it. Now the pile will
chain-react."
The counters stepped up; the pen started its upward rise. It
showed no tendency to level off. A chain reaction was taking place
in the pile.
Leona Woods walked up to Fermi and in a voice in which there
was no fear she whispered: "When do we become scared?"
Under the ceiling of the balloon the suicide squad was alert, ready
with their liquid cadmium: this was the moment. But nothing much
happened. The group watched the recording instruments for 28 min-
utes. The pile behaved as it should, as they all had hoped it would,
as they had feared it would not.
The rest of the story is well known. Eugene Wigner, the Hun-
130
Success
garian-born physicist who in 1939 with Szilard and Einstein had (See letter on
alerted President Roosevelt to the importance of uranium fission, ^^- ^^2-133)
presented Fermi with a bottle of Chianti. According to an improb-
able legend, Wigner had concealed the bottle behind his back dur-
ing the entire experiment.
All those present drank. From paper cups, in silence, with no
toast. Then all signed the straw cover on the bottle of Chianti. It is
the only record of the persons in the Squash Court on that day.
The group broke up. Some stayed to round up their measurements
and put in order the data gathered from their instruments. Others
went to duties elsewhere. Mr. Greenewalt hastened to the room
where his colleagues were still in conference with the military. He
announced, all in one breath, that Yes, it would be quite all right
for their company to go along with the Army's request and start to
build piles. Piles were wonderful objects that performed with the
precision of a Swiss watch, and, provided that the advice of such
competent scientists as Fermi and his group were available, the
duPont company was certainly taking no undue risk.
Arthur Compton placed a long-distance call to Mr. Conant of the
Office of Scientific Research and Development at Harvard.
"The Italian Navigator has reached the New World," said Comp-
ton as soon as he got Conant on the line.
"And how did he find the natives?"
"Very friendly."
Here the official story ends, but there is a sequel to it, which
started on that same afternoon when a young physicist, Al Wattem-
berg, picked up the empty Chianti bottle from which all had drunk.
With the signatures on its cover, it would make a nice souvenir.
In subsequent years Al Wattemberg did his share of traveling, like
any other physicist, and the bottle followed him. When big celebra-
tions for the pile's tenth anniversary were planned at the University
of Chicago, the bottle and Al Wattemberg were both in Cambridge,
Massachusetts. Both, Al promised, would be in Chicago on De-
cember 2.
It so happened, however, that a little Wattemberg decided to
come into this world at about that time, and Al could not attend the
celebrations. So he shipped his bottle, and, because he wanted to
make doubly sure that it would not be broken, he insured it for a
{continued on p. 134)
131
F.D. Roosevelt,
President of the United States,
White House
Washington; D.C.
Sir:
Some recent work ty E.Fermi and L. Szilard, which has teen com-
municated to me in manuscript, leads me to expect that the element uran-
ium may be turned into a new and important source of energy in the im-
mediate future. Certain aspects of the situation which has arisen seem
to call for watchfulness and, if necessary, quick action on the part
of the Administration. I "believe therefore that it is my duty to bring
to your attention the following facts and recommendations:
In the course of the last four months it has been made probable -
through the work of Joliot in Prance as well as Permi and Szilard in
America - that it may become possible to set up a nuclear chain reaction
in a large mass of uranium, by which vast amounts of power and large quant-
ities of new radium-like elements would be generated. How it appears
almost certain that this could be achieved in the immediate future.
This new phenomenon would also lead to the construction of bombs,
and it is conceivable - though much less certain - that extremely power-
ful bombs of a new type may thus be constructed. A single bomb of this
type, carried by boat and exploded in a port, might very well destroy
the whole port together with some of the surrounding territory. However,
such bombs might very well prove to be too heavy for transportation by
air.
The United States has only very poor ores of uranium in moderate
quantities. There is some good ore in Canada and the former Czechoslovakia,
while the most important source of uranium is Belgian Congo.
In view of this situation you may think it desirable to have some
permanent contact maintained between the Administration and the group
of physicists working on chain reactions in America. One possible way
of achieving this might be for you to entrust with this task a person
who has your confidence and who could perhaps serve in an inofficial
capacity. His task might comprise the following:
a) to approach Government Departments, keep them informed of the
further development, and put forward recommendations for Government action,
giving particular attention to the problem of securing a supply of uran-
ium ore for the United States;
b) to speed ut) the experimental work»which is at present being car-
ried on within the limits of the budgets of University laboratories, by
providinst funds, if such funds be required, through his contacts with
private persons who are willing to make contributions for this cause,
sold perhaps also by obtaining the co-operation of industrial laboratories
which have the necessary equipment.
I understand that Germany has actually stopped the sale of uranium
from the Czechoslovakian mines which she has taken over. That she should
have taken such early action might perhaps be understood on the ground
that the son of the German Under-Secretary of State, von Weizsacker, is
attached to the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Institut in Berlin where some of the
American work on uranium is now being repeated.
Yours very truly,
(Albert Einstein)
133
thousand dollars. It is not often that an empty bottle is considered
worth so much money, and newspaper men on the lookout for sensa-
tion gave the story a prominent position in the press.
A couple of months later the Fermis and a few other physicists
received a present: a case of Chianti wine. An importer had wished
to acknowledge his gratitude for the free advertisement that Chianti
had received.
The First Atomic Pile under Construction in the
Squash Court: Chunks of Uranium Are
Imbedded in the Graphite Bricks
134
Until now, power from nuclear reactors has been too ex-
pensive for widespread civilian use in this country. But
today electricity from such reactors is economically com-
petitive and is projected to become much cheaper.
15 The Nuclear Energy Revolution
Alvin M. Weinberg and Gale Young
Excerpt from a lecture given at the National Academy of Sciences in 1966.
Twenty-four years have passed since Fermi and his co-workers at Chicago
achieved the first nuclear chain reaction. During most of these years nuclear power
for civilian use has been too expensive and experimental in nature to play much of
a role in our economy, but during the past couple of years the situation has
changed. Nuclear reactors now appear to be the cheapest of all sources of energy.
We believe, and this belief is shared by many others working in nuclear energy,
that we are only at the beginning, and that nuclear energy will become cheap enough
to influence drastically the many industrial processes that use energy. If nuclear
energy does not, as H. G. Wells put it in 1914, create "A World Set Free," it will
nevertheless affect much of the economy of the coming generation. It is this
Nuclear Energy Revolution, based upon the permanent and ubiquitous availability
of cheap nuclear power, about which we shall speculate.
Our outlook is admittedly optimistic; yet optimism in nuclear energy seems justi-
fied. In 1955, at the first International Conference for the Peaceful Uses of Atomic
Energy, in Geneva, some American authorities were chided for predicting nuclear
power priced at 4-5 mills per kilowatt hour (kwh) . Today T VA has announced that
it expects to generate power from its 2200-megawatt (Mw) Browns Ferry boiling-
water nuclear plant at 2.4 mills/kwh. Even if the Browns Ferry plant were operated
by a private utility, the electricity at the bus bar would cost less than 3.5 mills/kwh.
We are very hopeful that still lower costs will be achieved in the future with
breeder reactors.
Cheap Nuclear Energy Is Close at Hand. — The economic breakthrough in nuclear
energy came in 1963 when the Jersey Central Power and Light Company con-
tracted with the General Electric Company to construct the Oyster Creek boiling-
water nuclear power plant. At its expected electrical output of 620-Mw the capital
cost of this plant is $110/kw or the same as that for a coal-fired power plant of the
same size at the same location.^ The announcement of Oyster Creek was at first
regarded by many as a sort of fluke. But Oyster Creek was followed by a succession
of orders for large light-water-cooled power plants, so that now there are 29 com-
135
TABLE 1
Recent Sales of Water Reactors
Nominal
Plant
Utility
Mw
Manufacturer
Oyster Creek
Jersey Central
515
General Electric
San Onofre
Southern California Edison
429
Westinghouse
Nine Mile Point
Niagara Mohawk
500
General Electric
Haddam Neck
Connecticut Yankee
463
Westinghouse
Dresden 2
Commonwealth Edison
755
General Electric
—
Boston Edison
600
General Electric
Millstone Point
Northeast Utilities
549
General Electric
Brookwood
Rochester Gas & Electric
420
Westinghouse
Indian Point 2
Consolidated Edison
873
Westinghouse
Turkey Point 3
Florida Power & Light
652
Westinghouse
Turkey Point 4
Florida Power & Light
652
Westinghouse
Dresden 3
Commonwealth Edison
810
General Electric
Robinson
Carolina Power & Light
760
Westinghouse
Palisades
Consumers Power Company
810
Combustion Engr.
Point Beach
Wisconsin Michigan Power
480
Westinghouse
Quad Cities 1 and 2
Commonwealth Edison and lowa-
lUinois G «fe E
2 X 810
General Electric
Monticello
Northern States Power Co.
540
General Electric
Browns Ferry
TVA
2 X 1100
General Electric
Vernon
Vermont Yankee
540
General Electric
Keowee Dam
Duke Power Company
2 X 820
Babcock and Wilcox
Peach Bottom 2
Philadelphia Electric
2 X 1100
General Electric
Delaware VaUey
Public Service Electric & Gas of New
Jersey
1000
Westinghouse
Surry
Virginia Electric Power Co.
2 X 800
Westinghouse
Boston
Boston Edison
600
General Electric
mitments for construction of large nuclear power reactors in the United States
(Table 1), More than half of the large station generating capacity ordered in
recent months is scheduled to be nuclear.
None of the plants listed in Table 1 are as yet operating. Oyster Creek will go
on the line early in 1968. The optimism expressed in the many purchases of light-
water-moderated and cooled reactors is based partly upon our generally good ex-
perience with such reactors in the nuclear navy, and partly upon the operating
experience with such power plants as the Yankee pressurized-water reactor (175
Mw) and the Dresden 1 boiling-water reactor (200 Mw). Yankee, for example,
has been generating electricity for five years, and during the past year has been
available for generation 76 per cent of the time. Dresden 1 has operated for six
years, and during the past year has been available 83 per cent of the time.
In some ways it is surprising that the world's cheapest nuclear reactors should
derive from the original pressurized-water line used to power the Nautilus. Pres-
surized water was chosen for the Nautilus not because it seemed to be a path to
cheap nuclear energy, but rather because such reactors, being moderated by hydro-
gen and fueled with enriched uranium, are relatively compact. If anything, the early
reactor designers viewed these systems as being rather expensive. And in countries
other than the United States and the Soviet Union, the main-line reactors utilize
natural uranium and either graphite or heavy water as moderator.
But the early designers failed to appreciate the extent to which the extraordinary
success of the gaseous diffusion plants would reduce the price of U^^*. In 1948,
when the Nautilus was designed, U^'^ cost about $35/gm. Today it costs $12/gm,
which is only four times its price as unseparated isotope in ore costing $8/lb of UaOg!
This remarkable reduction in the cost of separating U'^^^ more than any other single
factor, underlies the economic success of the American water-moderated reactors.
136
The Nuclear Energy Revolution
The fuel cycle in a reactor like Browns Ferry that bums enriched uranium costs only
1.25 mills/kwh, which is appreciably lower than coal even in cheap coal country
(Table 2).
The American reactors, being compact, were expected to be cheaper to build than
the large graphite or heavy-water reactors that use natural uranium. But prior
to Oyster Creek it was not clear how cheap a reactor could be, especially if its output
were large enough. It was R. P. Hanrnfiond who first stressed the principle that a
nuclear reactor ought to scale rather favorably. Thus, although the total cost of a
large nuclear reactor will be greater than that of a smaller one, the cost per kilowatt
of the large reactor should be less than that of the smaller one. Hammond's con-
tention has been amply confirmed by the price estimates published, for example, by
the General Electric Company. Figure 1 shows that the cost per kilowatt of a
200-Mw boiling-water reactor (BWR) is around $180/kw, whereas the cost per
kilowatt of a 1000-Mw BWR is only $110/kw. All the new, competitive nuclear
power plants are large, and they capitalize on the advantage of size.
The Necessity for Breeders. —Nuclear power at 2.4 mills/kwh at Browns Ferry is
a remarkable achievement, but it is not remarkable enough to serve as the basis for
a Nuclear Energy Revolution. In the first place, we are hopeful that breeder
reactors can shave another mill off the cost and thus perhaps provide the basis for
new heavy chemical and other industries. In the second place, the light-water
reactors burn only a small fraction of all the natural uranium mined to fuel them;
thus such reactors will rapidly use all the U. S. low-priced reserves of uranium ore,
and the price of nuclear energy will rise as we are obliged to burn more expensive
ores. This is illustrated in Figure 2, based by Dietrich^ on estimates made a few
years ago by the Atomic Energy Commission of U. S. ore reserves and reactors to
be built.* Since then, ore prospecting has been resumed, but water reactor sales are
outrunning the estimates.
We therefore find ourselves in a serious dilemma. The current great success of
nuclear energy is making our economy increasingly dependent upon nuclear power.
But as we turn to nuclear energy we shall exhaust our low-grade ore reserves.
By the time (say in 1990) we have become very heavily committed to nuclear
energy, its price will probably begin to rise significantly.
Of course we shall find more low-cost ore. But eventually even this will be in-
sufficient, especially if our power requirements continue to grow. If we are to
forestall a major economic power crisis, say 20 years from now, we shall have to
learn how to utilize not 1 per cent or so of the raw materials (uranium and thorium)
for fuel, but much more— hopefully close to 100 per cent. Should we learn how to
burn a large fraction of the uranium and thorium, we would gain in three respects:
we would forestall a serious rise in the cost of power; we would reduce the fuel cycle
cost of a reactor, since in effect we would be burning the abundant and very cheap
U238 Qj. Th^^^, not the costly U"^; and we would make available, at relatively small
economic penalty, the vast residual amounts of uranium and thorium in the earth's
crust. To anticipate our conclusion, we could hope to achieve power costs of only
1.5 mills/kwh in publicly owned stations, and we could foresee maintaining this low
cost essentially forever. It is this prospect, and what it implies for energy-consum-
ing industrial processes, that warrants our using the extravagant phrase "The
Nuclear Energy Revolution."
137
300
250
LxJ
200
CO
I-
O
O
^ 150
100
50
Wankee
\\
DRESD
EN 1
\
\
-SAN
ONOFRE
\
\
\
*-GE 1
\
s
=RICE LIST
5EPT4965
1 N
\^NINE MILE POINT
N
V MALIBU
K\
1 1 1
^TURKEY POINT 3 4
c
TWO
REEKS
f>
\ > y 1 1
^^OYSTER *"=\PALISADES
-iCCREEK ^ ^INDIAN
N^r*" ^■\P0INT2
MILLSTONE POINT"
' /
\
\ 1
HARTSVILLE-^^
\
^DRESDEN
'DRESDEN 2
3
100
300 500 700
ELECTRICAL CAPACITY (Mw)
900
1100
Fig. 1. — Cost of nuclear electric plants. The length of each short-line segment represents the
uncertainty in the ultimate output of each reactor. The values shown are mostly manufacturers'
"turn-key" prices, and do not in many cases include all the customers' costs. Complete data are
usually not available.
Investment ($/kw)
Capacity assumed
Plant life (yr)
Fixed charge rate (%/yr)
Load factor (%)
Period covered (yr)
Capital charges (millsAwh)
Operation, maintenance, insurance (mills/
kwh)
Fuel cycle (mills/kwh)
Total power cost (mills A wh)
* Includes .$4/kw transmission and $2/kw working capital other than fuel,
t Reduces by $9/kw if anticipated stretch is realized.
TABLE 2
Power Cost Estimates
1, 2
Oyster Creek
TVA
nuclear
nuclear
TVA coal
116*
116t
117
Expected stretch,
Guaranteed
620 Mw
1100 Mw
30
35
35
10
5.7
5.7
88
85
85
First 10
First 12
First 12
1.5
0.89
0.90
0.48
0.23
0.24
1.67
1.25
1.69
3.65
2.37
2.83
138
The Nuclear Energy Revolution
^5
~ 15
03
>
/
f
/
/
^.,0^^
\
1
Fig. 2. — Ore awts for HjO reactors with pluto-
nhim recycle.
> Jersey Central Power aod light Company, "Report on economic aoalyriB for Qyeter Creek
nudear eieetrie eenerating station," Sudear New*, 7, no. 4, Special Supfdonent (April 1964j.
Tlie stetaoo being buih is a little leas expoigive than the one analyzed in the rqwrt.
* Tennessee V'aDey Authority, Comparvton of ConL-FiroA and SucUar Pcnj:*^ Pl/inls for the
TV A Sygtem (Chattanooga, Tenn.: Office of Power, Jujie 1966^
* Dietrich, J. R., "Efficient utHizataon of nudear fuds," Pctc^r ReacU/r TechnrAo^j, 6, no. 4,
34 fFall 1963), U.S. Atomic Energy CommJaeion Division of Tef:iiiAr:ii Information, Oak Ridge,
X cj^nft%^ftft,
« U. S. Atcmne Energ>' Commisgion, Civilian SvcUar Po^zer: A Report to the President — 1962,
and .^jpendiees (Oak Rid^e, Tom.: TJS. Atomic Energj- Commiseion Diviokm of Technical
Information FJrtwwion, 1962).
199
In the study of elementary particles, new conservation
laws have been discovered that are indlspensible for
making prediction or building theory.
16 Conservation Laws
Kenneth W. Ford
Chapter from his book. The World of Elementary Particles,
published in 1963.
In a slow and subtle, yet inexorable, way conservation laws have
moved in the past few centuries from the role of interesting side-
light in physics to the most central position. What little we now
understand about the interactions and transformations of particles
comes in large part through certain conservation laws which gov-
ern elementary-particle behavior.
A conservarion law is a statement of constancy in nature. If
there is a room full of people, say, at a cocktail party, and no one
comes in or leaves, we can say that there is a law of conservation
of the number of people; that number is a constant. This would be
a rather uninteresting law. But suppose the conservation law re-
mained valid as guests came and went. This would be more inter-
esting, for it would imply that the rate of arrival of guests was
exactly equal to the rate of departure. During a process of change,
something is remaining constant. The significant conservation laws
in nature are of this type, laws of constancy during change. It is
not surprising that scientists, in their search for simplicity, fasten
on conservation laws with particular enthusiasm, for what could be
simpler than a quantity that remains absolutely constant during
complicated processes of change. To cite an example from the world
of particles, the total electric charge remains precisely constant in
every collision, regardless of how many particles may be created
or annihilated in the process.
The classical laws of physics are expressed primarily as laws of
change, rather than as laws of constancy. Newton's law of motion
describes how the motion of objects responds to forces that act
upon them. Maxwell's equations of electromagnetism connect the
rate of change of electric and magnetic fields in space and time. The
early emphasis in fundamental science was rather naturally on dis-
covering those laws which successfully describe the changes actu-
ally occurring in nature. Briefly, the "classical" philosophy con-
141
cerning nature's laws is this. Man can imagine countless possible
laws, indeed infinitely many, that might describe a particular phe-
nomenon. Of these, nature has chosen only one simple law, and
the job of science is to find it. Having successfully found laws of
change, man may derive from them certain conservation laws,
such as the conservation of energy in mechanics. These appear as
particularly interesting and useful consequences of the theory, but
are not themselves taken as fundamental statements of the theory.
Gradually conservation laws have percolated to the top in the
hierarchy of natural laws. This is not merely because of their sim-
plicity, although this has been an important factor. It comes about
also for two other reasons. One is the connection between conser-
vation laws and principles of invariance and symmetry in nature —
surely, one of the most beautiful aspects of modern science. The
meaning of this connection will be discussed near the end of this
chapter. The other reason we want to discuss here might best be
described simply as a new view of the world, in which conservation
laws appear naturally as the most fundamental statements of natural
law. This new view is a view of order upon chaos — the order of
conservation laws imposed upon the chaos of continual annihilation
and creation taking place in the submicroscopic world. The strong
hint emerging from recent studies of elementary particles is that
the only inhibition imposed upon the chaotic flux of events in the
world of the very small is that imposed by the conservation laws.
Everything that can happen without violating a conservation law
does happen.
This new view of democracy in nature — freedom under law —
represents a revolutionary change in man's view of natural law.
The older view of a fundamental law of nature was that it must
be a law of permission. It defined what can (and must) happen in
natural phenomena. According to the new view, the more funda-
mental law is a law of prohibition. It defines what cannot happen.
A conservation law is, in effect, a law of prohibition. It prohibits
any phenomenon that would change the conserved quantity, but
otherwise allows any events. Consider, for example, the production
of pions in a proton-proton collision,
p-\-p-^p-\-p-\-Tr-\-ir-\-Tr-\- • • • .
If a law of permission were operative, one might expect that, for
protons colliding in a particular way, the law would specify the
142
Conservation Laws
number and the type of pions produced. A conservation law is less
restrictive. The conservation of energy limits the number of pions
that can be produced, because the mass of each one uses up some of
the available energy. It might say, for example, that not more than
six pions can be produced. In the actual collision there might be
none, or one, or any number up to six. The law of charge conser-
vation says that the total charge of the pions must be zero, but
places no restriction on the charge of any particular pion; this could
be positive, negative, or neutral.
To make more clear the distinction between laws of permission
and laws of prohibition, let us return to the cocktail party. A law
of change, which is a law of permission, might describe the rate of
arrival and the rate of departure of guests as functions of time. In
simplest form, it might say that three guests per minute arrive at
6:00, two guests per minute at 6:15, and so on. Or it might say,
without changing its essential character as a law of permission, that
the rate of arrival of guests is given by the formula:
1
, + (r-5-20'
where R is the number of guests arriving per minute, A is the an-
nual income of the host in thousands of dollars, D is the distance
in miles from the nearest metropolitan center, and T is the time
of day. This law resembles, in spirit, a classical law of physics. It
covers many situations, but for any particular situation it predicts
exactly what will happen.
A conservation law is simpler and less restrictive. Suppose
it is observed that between 7 and 10 o'clock the number of guests
is conserved at all parties. This is a grand general statement, ap-
pealing for its breadth of application and its simplicity. It would,
were it true, be regarded as a deep truth, a very profound law of
human behavior. But it gives much less detailed information than
the formula for R above. The conservation law allows the guests
to arrive at any rate whatever, so long as guests depart at the same
rate. To push the analogy with natural law a bit further, we should
say that according to the old view, since cocktail-party attendance
is a fundamental aspect of human behavior, we seek and expect to
find simple explicit laws governing the flow of guests. According
to the new view, we expect to find the flux of arriving and depart-
143
ing guests limited only by certain conservation principles. Any
behavior not prohibited by the conservation laws will, sooner or
later, at some cocktail party, actually occur.
It should be clear that there is a close connection between this
view of nature and the fundamental role of probability in nature.
If the conservation law does not prohibit various possible results
of an experiment, as in the proton-proton collision cited above,
then these various possibilities will occur, each with some definite
probability. The very fact that we can use the word chaos to de-
scribe the creation and annihilation events occurring continually
among the particles rests on the existence of laws of probability.
At best the probability, never the certainty, of these endless changes
in the particle world can be known.
Are the laws of probability themselves derivable from conser-
vation laws? The answer to this question is not yet known, but the
trend of recent hist9ry is enough to make this author and many
other physicists willing to bet on the affirmative. It appears pos-
sible, at least, that the conservation laws may not only be the most
fundamental laws, but may be all the laws. They may be sufficient
to characterize the elementary-particle world completely, specifying
not only which events may occur and which are forbidden, but
giving also the relative probabilities of those events which do occur.
We have so far emphasized that a conservation law is less re-
strictive than an explicit law of change, or law of permission. How-
ever, there are a number of different conservation laws and, taken
all together, they may be very strongly restrictive, far more so than
any one taken alone. In the ideal case, they may leave open only
one possibility. The laws of prohibition, all taken together, then im-
ply a unique law of permission. The most beautiful example of
this kind of power of conservation laws concerns the nature of the
photon. From conservation principles alone, it has been possible
to show that the photon must be a massless particle of unit spin
and no charge, emitted and absorbed by charged particles in a par-
ticular characteristic way. This truly amazing result has been ex-
pressed vividly by J. J. Sakurai who wrote recently, "The Creator
was supremely imaginative when he declared, 'Let there be
light.'"* In the world of human law, a man so hemmed in by re-
strictions that there is only one course of action open to him is
• Annals of Physics, Volume 11, page 5 (1960).
144
Conservation Laws
not very happy. In the world of natural law it is remarkable and
satisfying to learn that a few simple statements about constant
properties in nature can have locked within them such latent power
that they determine uniquely the nature of light and its interaction
with matter.
There are conservation laws and conservation laws. That is, some
things in nature are constant, but others are even more constant.
To convert this jargon into sense, some quantities in nature seem
to be absolutely conserved, remaining unchanged in all events what-
ever; other quantities seem to be conserved in some kinds of proc-
esses and not in others. The rules governing the latter are still
called conservation laws, but nature is permitted to violate them
under certain circumstances. We shall postpone the discussion of
these not-quite-conservation laws to Chapter Eight, and consider
here only seven of the recognized absolute conservation laws. (There
are two more absolute conservation laws of a more special kind, and
they are also postponed to Chapter Eight.)
We begin by listing by name the seven quantities that are
conserved:
1. Energy (including mass)
2. Momentum
3. Angular momentum, including spin
4. Charge
5. Electron-family number
6. Muon-family number
7. Baryon-family number.
There are two different kinds of quantities here, which can be
called properties of motion and intrinsic properties, but the two
are not clearly separated. The intrinsic particle properties that enter
into the conservation laws are mass, spin, charge, and the several
"family numbers." The properties of motion are kinetic energy,
momentum, and angular momentum, the last frequently being
called orbital angular momentum to avoid possible confusion with
intrinsic spin, which is a form of angular momentum. In the laws
of energy conservation and angular-momentum conservation, the
intrinsic properties and properties of motion become mixed.
The interactions and transformations of the elementary particles
serve admirably to illustrate the conservation laws and we shall
145
focus attention on the particles for illustrative purposes. It is through
studies of the particles that all of these conservation laws have been
verified, although the first four were already known in the mac-
roscopic world. The particles provide the best possible testing
ground for conservation laws, for any law satisfied by small num-
bers of particles is necessarily satisfied for all larger collections of
particles, including the macroscopic objects of our everyday world.
Whether the extrapolation of the submicroscopic conservation
laws on into the cosmological domain is justified is uncertain, since
gravity, whose effects in the particle world appear to be entirely
negligible, becomes of dominant importance in the astronomical
realm.
Various intrinsic properties of the particles were discussed in
Chapter One, and we shall examine first the conservation laws
that have to do with the intrinsic properties.
We learned in Chapter One that every particle carries the same
electric charge as the electron (defined to be negative), or the
equal and opposite charge of the proton (positive), or is neutral.
The charge is a measure of the strength of electric force which
the particle can exert and, correspondingly, a measure of the strength
of electric force which the particle experiences. A neutral particle,
of course, neither exerts nor responds to an electric force. A
charged particle does both.
Using the proton charge as a unit, every particle's charge can be
labeled -|-1, — 1, or 0. The law of charge conservation requires
that the total charge remain unchanged during every process of
interaction or transformation. For any event involving particles,
then, the total charge before the event must add up to the same
value as the total charge after it. In the decay of a lambda into a
neutron and a pion,
the charge is zero both before and after. In the positive pion
decay,
the products are a positive muon and a neutral neutrino. A possible
high-energy nuclear collision might proceed as follows:
p 4- p -^ w + A" -I- X+ -f 7r+.
146
a|iMiB
in any number. In a typical proton-proton collision the number of
baryons (2) remains unchanged, as in the example,
These and numerous other examples have made it appear that the
number of baryons remains forever constant — in every single event,
and therefore, of course, in any larger structure.
Each of the H, 2, and A particles, and the neutron, undergoes
spontaneous decay into a lighter baryon. But the lightest baryon,
the proton, has nowhere to go. The law of baryon conservation
stabilizes the proton and makes possible the structure of nuclei and
atoms and, therefore, of our world. From the particle physicist's
point of view, this is a truly miraculous phenomenon, for the pro-
ton stands perched at a mass nearly 2,000 times the electron mass,
having an intrinsic energy of about one billion electron volts, while
beneath it lie the lighter unstable kaon, pion, and muon. Only the
law of baryon conservation holds this enormous energy locked
within the proton and makes it a suitable building block for the
universe. The proton appears to be absolutely stable. If it is un-
stable it has, according to a recent experimental result, a half life
greater than 7 X 10" years, or about a billion billion times the age
of the earth.
Our statement of the law of baryon conservation needs some
amplification, for we have not yet taken into account antibarvons.
A typical antiproton-production event at the Berkeley Bevatron
might go as follows:
p-{-p-^p-\-p-\-p-\-p.
(The bar over the letter designates the antiparticle. Since the anti-
proton has negative charge, the total charge of plus 2 is conserved.)
It appears that we have transformed two baryons into four. Sim-
ilarly, in the antiproton annihilation event,
p + p-^ x+ + X- + t\
two baryons have apparently vanished. The obvious way to patch
up the law of baryon conservation is to assign to the antiparticles
baryon number — 1, and to the particles baryon number +1. Then
the law would read: In every event the total number of baryons
minus the total number of antibaryons is conserved; or, equiv-
alently, the total baryon number remains unchanged.
148
Conservation Laws
The cynic might say that with so many arbitral^' definitions —
which particles should be called baryons and which not, and the
use of negative baryon numbers — it is no wonder that a conserva-
tion law can be constructed. To this objection, two excellent
answers can be given. The first is that it is not so easy to find an
absolute conservation law. To find any quantity absolutely con-
served in nature is so important that it easily justifies a few arbitrary
definitions. The arbitrariness at this stage of history only reflects
our lack of any deep understanding of the reason for baryon con-
servation, but it does not detract from the obvious significance of
baryon conservation as a law of nature. The other answer, based
on the mathematics of the quantum theory, is that the use of nega-
tive baryon number for antiparticles is perfectly natural, in fact,
is demanded by the theory. This comes about because the descrip-
tion of the appearance of an antiparticle is "equivalent" (in a mathe-
matical sense we cannot delve into ) to the description of the dis-
appearance of a particle; and conversely antiparticle annihilation
is "equivalent" to particle creation.
The "electron family" contains only the electron and its neu-
trino, the "muon family" only the muon and its neutrino. For each
of these small groups, there is a conservation of family members
exactly like the conservation of baryons. The antiparticles must be
considered negative members of the families, the particles positive
members. These light-particle conservation laws are not nearly as
well tested as the other absolute conservation laws because of the
difficulties of studying neutrinos, but there are no known exceptions
to them.
The beta decay of the neutron,
n-^ p -\- e~ -{■ Ve,
illustrates nicely the conservation laws we have discussed. Initially,
the single neutron has charge zero, baryon number 1, and electron-
family number zero. The oppositely charged proton and electron
preserve zero charge; the single proton preserves the baryon num-
ber; and the electron with its antineutrino (t;) together preserve
zero electron-family number. In the pion decay processes,
7r+ -* M"^ + Va and ir~ — > m~ + "mi
149
muon-family conservation demands that a neutrino accompany
the ft* antimuon, and an antineutrino accompany the /n" muon. The
muon, in turn, decays into three particles, for example,
which conserves the members of the muon family and of the elec-
tron family.
The general rule enunciated earlier in this chapter was that what-
ever can happen without violating a conservation law does happen.
Until 1962, there was a notable exception to this rule; its resolution
has beautifully strengthened the idea that conservation laws play a
central role in the world of elementary particles. The decay of a
muon into an electron and a photon,
M~ -* ^ + 7,
has never been seen, a circumstance which had come to be known
as the fi-e-y puzzle. Before the discovery of the muon's neutrino
it was believed that electron, muon, and one neutrino formed a
single family (called the lepton family) with a single family-con-
servation law. If this were the case, no conservation law prohibited
the decay of muon into electron and photon, since the lost muon
was replaced with an electron, and charge and all other quantities
were conserved as well. According to the classical view of physical
law, the absence of this process should have caused no concern.
There was, after all, no law of permission which said that it should
occur. There was only the double negative: No conservation law
was known to prohibit the decay.
However, the view of the fundamental role of conservation laws
in nature as the only inhibition on physical processes had become
so ingrained in the thinking of physicists that the absence of this
particular decay mode of the muon was regarded as a significant
mystery. It was largely this mystery that stimulated the search for
a second neutrino belonging exclusively to the muon. The dis-
covery of the muon's neutrino established as a near certainty that
the electron and muon belong to two different small families which
are separately conserved. With the electron and muon governed by
two separate laws of conservation, the prohibition of the fi-e-y decay
became immediately explicable, and the faith that what can happen
does happen was further bolstered.
150
Conservation Laws
We turn now to the conservation laws which involve properties
of motion.
In the world of particles there are only two kinds of energy:
energy of motion, or kinetic energy, and energy of being, which
is equivalent to mass. Whenever particles are created or annihilated
(except the massless particles) energy is transformed from one form
to the other, but the total energy in every process always remains
conserved. The simplest consequence of energy conservation for
the spontaneous decay of unstable particles is that the total mass
of the products must be less than the mass of the parent. For each
of the following decay processes the masses on the right add up to
less than the mass on the left:
M"^ — * ^ + "« + v^.
In particular, then, a massless particle cannot decay, and energy
conservation prohibits every other "uphill" decay in which the
products are heavier than the parent. An unstable particle at rest
has only its energy of being, no energy of motion. The difference
between this parent mass and the mass of the product particles is
transformed into kinetic energy which the product particles carry
away as they rapidly leave the scene.
One might suppose that if the parent particle is moving when it
decays it has some energy of motion of its own which might be
transformed to mass. The conservation of momentum prohibits this.
The extra energy of motion is in fact "unavailable" for conversion
into mass. If a particle loses energy, it also loses momentum.
Momentum conservation therefore prohibits the conversion of all
of the energy into mass. It turns out that momentum and energy
conservation taken together forbid uphill decays into heavier par-
ticles no matter how fast the initial particle might be moving.
If two particles collide, on the other hand, some — but not all —
of their energy of motion is available to create mass. It is in this
way that the various unstable particles are manufactured in the
laboratory. In an actual typical collision in the vicinity of an ac-
celerator, one of the two particles, the projectile, is moving rapidly,
and the other, the target, is at rest. Under these conditions, the
requirement that the final particles should have as much momentum
as the initial projectile severely restricts the amount of energy that
151
can be converted into mass. This is too bad, for the projectile has
been given a great energy at a great expense. To make a proton-
antiproton pair, for example, by the projectile-hitting-fixed-target
method, the projectile must have a kinetic energy of 6 Bev (billion
electron volts), of which only 2 Bev goes into making the mass.
The 6 Bev Berkeley Bevatron was designed with this fact in mind
in order to be able to make antiprotons and antineutrons. Typical
processes for protons striking protons are:
p + p-^p + p + p + p,
p-hp-^p-\-p-\-n-\-n.
The unfortunate waste of 4 Bev in these processes could be
avoided if the target proton were not quiescent, but flew at the
projectile with equal and opposite speed. It is hard enough to pro-
duce one high-energy beam, and far more difficult to produce two at
once. Nevertheless, the gain in available energy makes it worth
the trouble, and a technique for producing "clashing beams" is now
employed at Stanford University, where oppositely directed beams
of electrons collide. The device is sometimes called by physicists
the synchroclash.
Momentum is purely a property of motion — that is, if there is no
motion, there is no momentum. It is somewhat trickier than energy,
for momentum is what is called a vector quantity. It has direction
as well as magnitude. Vectors are actually familiar in everyday life,
whether or not we know them by that name. The velocity of an
automobile is a vector, with a magnitude (50 miles per hour, for
example) and a direction (northbound, for example). Force is a vec-
tor, a push or pull of some strength in some direction. Mass, on the
other hand, is not a vector. It points in no particular direction.
Energy also has no direction. The momentum of a rolling freight
car, however, is directed along the tracks, and the momentum of
an elementary particle is directed along its course through space.
In order to appreciate the law of momentum conservation, one
must know how to add vectors. Two men pushing on a stalled car
are engaged in adding vectors. If they push with equal strength and
in the same direction, the total force exerted is twice the force each
one exerts and, of course, in the direction they are pushing [Figure
4.1(a)]. If they push with equal strength but at opposite ends of
the car, their effort comes to naught, for the sum of two vector
quantities which are equal in strength but opposite in direction is
152
Conservation Laws
(a)
(b)
■►-^
>
Figure 4.1. The addition of vectors. The forces exerted by two men
pushing equally hard may be "added," that is, combined, to give any
total from zero up to twice the force of each.
zero [Figure 4.1(b)]. If they get on opposite sides of the car and
push partly inward, partly forward, the net force exerted will be
forward, but less than twice the force of each [Figure 4.1(c)]. De-
pending on their degree of co-operation, the two men may achieve
a strength of force from zero up to twice the force each can exert.
(c)
153
This is a general characteristic of the sum of two vectors. It may
have a wide range of values depending on the orientation of the
two vectors.
Consider the law of momentum conservation applied to the de-
cay of a kaon into muon and neutrino.
Before the decay, suppose the kaon is at rest [Figure 4.2(a)]. After
the decay, momentum conservation requires that muon and neutrino
fly off with equal magnitudes of momenta and and that the momenta
Before
After
(b)
Figure 4.2. Momentum conservation in kaon decay. The total momentum
is zero both before and after the decay.
be oppositely directed [Figure 4.2(b)]. Only in this way can the
vector sum of the two final momenta be equal to the original
momentum, namely zero. This type of decay, called a two-body
decay, is rather common, and is always characterized by particles
emerging in exactly opposite directions.
In a three-body decay, the emerging particles have more free-
dom. Figure 1.8, for example, shows the decay of a kaon into three
pions with the tracks pointing in three different directions. Recall-
ing the analogy between momentum and force, one can visualize
a situation in which three diff^erent forces are acting and produc-
ing no net eflFect — two fighters and a referee all pushing in different
directions in a clinch. Similarly, the momentum vectors must ad-
just themselves to produce no net effect; that is, they must add up
154
Conservation Laws
to give zero. Momentum conservation on a grander scale is shown
in Figure 4.3, where eight particles emerge from a single event.
One vital prohibition of the law of momentum conservation is
that against one-body decays. Consider, for example, this possibility,
the transformation of kaon to pion. It satisfies the laws of charge
and family-number conservation. It is consistent with energy con-
servation, for it is downhill in mass, and it also satisfies spin con-
servation. But the kaon-pion mass difference must get converted
to energy of motion, so that if the kaon was at rest, the pion will
fly away. In whatever direction it moves, it has some momentum
and therefore violates momentum conservation, since the kaon had
none. On the other hand, if we enforce the law of momentum
conservation, and keep the pion at rest, we shall have violated
energy conservation, for in this case the extra energy arising from
the mass difference will be unaccounted for.
Angular momentum, a measure of the strength of rotational
motion, has been a key concept in physics since the time of Kepler.
Actually, Kepler did not recognize it as such, but the second of his
three laws of planetary motion — the so-called law of areas — is
equivalent to a law of conservation of angular momentum. Accord-
ing to this law, an imaginary straight line drawn from the earth
to the sun sweeps out area in space at a constant rate. During a
single day this line sweeps across a thin triangular region with apex
at the sun and base along the earth's orbit. The area of this triangle
is the same for every day of the year. So, when the earth is closer
to the sun, it must move faster in order to define a triangle with
the same area. It speeds up just enough, in fact, to maintain a
constant value of its angular momentum, and the law of areas can
be derived as a simple consequence of the law of conservation of
angular momentum (this was first done by Newton).
The earth also serves to illustrate approximately the two kinds
of angular momentum which enter into the conservation law —
orbital and spin. The earth possesses angular momentum because
of its orbital motion round the sun and because of its daily (spin)
rotation about its own axis. For an elementary particle, the notion
of spin is about the same as for the earth — rotational motion about
an axis.
If a photographer in space took a time exposure of the earth and
155
Figure 4.3.
156
Conservation Laws
sun, his photograph would contain a short blur for the sun and a
longer blur for the earth. He would notice that the blurs were
not directed toward each other, and from this fact alone could
conclude that earth and sun possess relative angular momentum.
He would not need to know whether the earth swings around the
sun or whether it proceeds into interstellar space. The key fact
defining orbital angular momentum is some transverse motion of
two objects. Any two moving objects, not aimed directly at each
other, possess relative angular momentum. Two trains passing on
the great plains have relative angular momentum, even though
each is proceeding straight as an arrow. But if, through some mis-
chance, both were on the same track on a collision course, they
would have zero angular momentum. In particle collisions and
decays, orbital angular momentum is usually of this trains-in-the-
plains type, not involving actual orbiting of one particle round an-
other. Figure 4.4 illustrates several examples of motion with angular
momentum.
Angular momentum is a vector quantity. Its direction is taken
to be the axis of rotation. The axis is well defined for spin, but
what about orbital motion? For the passing trains, imagine again
the blurred photograph indicating their direction of motion. Then
ask: What would the axis be if the trains rotated about each other,
instead of proceeding onward? The answer is a vertical axis; the
angular momentum is directed upward. One more fact about orbital
angular momentum needs to be known. Unlike spin, which comes
in units of ^^, it comes only in units of h.
The spinless pion decays into muon and neutrino, each with
spin ^. In Figure 4.5 we use artistic license and represent the
particles by little spheres with arrows to indicate their direction
of spin. Muon and neutrino spin oppositely in order to preserve the
Figure 43. Momentum conservation in an antiproton annihilation event.
An antiproton entering from the bottom collides with a proton in the
bubble chamber. Eight pions, four negative and four positive, spray off
from the annihilation event in all directions. The momentum of each
can be measured from the curvature of the track; the eight momenta
added together as vectors are just equal to the momentum of the sin-
gle incoming antiproton. (The kink in the track at the lower right is a
pion decay, x* -^ /** -|- v^. In what general direction did the unseen neu-
trino fly off?)
157
Train
(a)
(b)
:^&A
@
(c)
(d)
Figure 4.4. Examples of motion with angular momentum, (a) The
earth possesses spin angular momentum about its axis as well as orbital
angular momentum about an axis designated by the giant barber pole.
The constancy of the earth's orbital angular momentum means that
the shaded area swept out in one day is the same for every day of the
year, (b) Trains on a circular track possess angular momentum about
a vertical axis, (c) Even on straight tracks, a similar relative motion of
trains represents angular momentum, (d) An electron flies past a pro-
ton. Both particles possess spin angular momentum and, because they
are not on a collision course, they also have orbital angular momentum.
158
Conservation Laws
total zero angular momentum. In this case, no orbital angular
momentum is involved.
Another two-body decay, that of the A, illustrates the coupling
of spin and orbital motion. The A, supposed initially at rest [Fig-
ure 4.6(a)], has spin ^. One of its possible decay modes is
A" -4 p -f- X-.
This may proceed in two ways. The proton and pion may move
apart with no orbital angular momentum, the proton spin directed
upward to match the initial A spin [Figure 4.6(b)]; or the proton
spin may be flipped to point downward while proton and pion
Before (no spin)
O-
After (cancelling spin)
Figure 4.5. Angular-momentum conservation in pion decay. The total
angular momentum is zero before and after the decay.
separate with one unit of orbital angular momentum, directed up-
ward [Figure 4.6(c) ]. In the first case,
original spin 1/4 (up) -^ final spin i/4 (up).
In the second case,
original spin i/^ (up) -» final spin i/4 (down) + orbital angular
momentum 1 (up).
Beta decay, the earliest known particle decay process, serves
nicely to illustrate all of the absolute conservation laws discussed.
The beta decay of the neutron, indicated symbolically by
n—*p-\-e--\- Ve,
159
is pictured in Figure 4.7. Consider now the conservation laws ap-
plied to this decay.
Energy. Reference to Table 1 shows that the sum of the masses
of the proton (1836.12), the electron (1.0), and the electron's
(a)
A"
Right hand
O
Figure 4.6. Angular-momentum conservation in lambda decay. The
direction of angular momentum is defined by the right-hand rule. If
the curved fingers of the right hand point in the direction of rotational
motion, the right thumb defines the direction assigned to the angular
momentum. Thus the particle spin is up in diagrams (a) and (b) and
down in diagram (c); the orbital angular momentum is up in dia-
gram (c).
neutrino (0), add up to less than the neutron mass (1838.65). The
decay is therefore an allowed downhill decay, the slight excess mass
going into kinetic energy of the products.
Momentum. The three particles must fan off in different direc-
160
Conservation Laws
rions with the available excess energy so distributed among them
that the sum of the three momentum vectors is zero.
Angular momentum. One possibility, illustrated in Figure 4.7,
is that the departing electron and proton have opposite cancelling
spins, while the neutrino spins in the same direction as the original
neutron to conserve the angular momentum.
Charge. The final charge (1 positive, 1 negative, 1 neutral) is
zero, the same as the initial neutron charge.
After
Before
^
Figure 4.1. Beta decay of the neutron, n ^ p + e' + ve
Electron-family number. The neutron has zero electron- family
number. In the decay, one electron and one antineutrino (i^) are
created to preserve zero electron-family number.
Muon-family number. No members of the muon family are
created or destroyed.
Bar yon number. The proton is the single baryon among the final
three particles, matching the single original baryon.
Now we propose an exercise for the reader. Below are listed a
few decays and transformations which do not occur in nature. If
only one particle stands on the left, a decay process is understood.
If two particles stand on the left, a collision process is understood.
At least one conservation law prohibits each of these processes.
Find at least one conservation law violated by each process. Several
161
violate more than one law and one of those listed violates five of the
seven conservation laws.
a. |Ll+ — > T+ + v„
b. r--^ ve-^ y
c. p + p->p + A» + S+
d. M+-^AO
e. n —* fi+ -\- r- -^ y
f. A" -> p + <r-
g. T- + p -> T- + w + A° + X+
h. f+ + <r- -> M+ + X-
i. n- -^ e- -\- f^ -\- v^
The aspect of conservation laws that makes them appear to the
theorist and the philosopher to be the most beautiful and profound
statements of natural law is their connection with principles of
symmetry in nature. Baldly stated, energy, momentum, and angular
momentum are all conserved because space and time are isotropic
(the same in every direction) and homogeneous (the same at every
place). This is a breath-taking statement when one reflects upon
it, for it says that three of the seven absolute conservation laws arise
solely because empty space has no distinguishing characteristics,
and is everywhere equally empty and equally undistinguished. (Be-
cause of the relativistic link between space and time, we really mean
space-time.) It seems, in the truest sense, that we are getting some-
thing from nothing.
Yet there can be no doubt about the connection between the prop-
erties of empty space and the fundamental conservation laws which
govern elementary-particle behavior. This connection raises philo-
sophical questions which we will mention but not pursue at any
length. On the one hand, it may be interpreted to mean that con-
servation laws, being based on the most elementary and intuitive
ideas, are the most profound statements of natural law. On the
other hand, one may argue, as Bertrand Russell* has done, that it
only demonstrates the hollowness of conservation laws ("truisms,"
according to Russell), energy, momentum, and angular momentum
all being defined in just such a way that they must be conserved.
Now, in fact, it is not inconsistent to hold both views at once. If
• Bertrand Russell, The ABC of Relativity (New York: New American
Library, 1959).
162
Conservation Laws
the aim of science is the self-consistent description of natural phe-
nomena based upon the simplest set of basic assumptions, what
could be more satisfying than to have basic assumptions so com-
pletely elementary and self-evident (the uniformity of space-time)
that the laws derived from them can be called truisms? Since the
scientist generally is inclined to call most profound that which is
most simple and most general, he is not above calling a truism pro-
found. Speaking more pragmatically, we must recognize the dis-
covery of anything that is absolutely conserved as something of
an achievement, regardless of the arbitrariness of definition involved.
Looking at those conservation laws whose basis we do not under-
stand (the three family-number-conservation laws) also brings
home the fact that it is easier to call a conservation law a truism
after it is understood than before. It seems quite likely that we
shall gain a deeper understanding of nature and of natural laws
before the conservation of baryon number appears to anyone to
be a self-evident truth.
Before trying to clarify through simple examples the connection
between conservation laws and the uniformity of space, we con-
sider the question, "What is symmetry?" In most general terms,
symmetry means that when one thing (A) is changed in some par-
ticular way, something else (B) remains unchanged. A symmetrical
face is one whose appearance (B) would remain the same if its
two sides (A) were interchanged. If a square figure (A) is rotated
through 90 degrees, its appearance (B) is not changed. Among
plane figures, the circle is the most symmetrical, for if it is rotated
about its center through any angle whatever, it remains indistin-
guishable from the original circle — or, in the language of modern
physics, its form remains invariant. In the language of ancient
Greece, the circle is the most perfect and most beautiful of plane
figures.
Aristotle regarded the motion of the celestial bodies as neces-
sarily circular because of the perfection (the symmetry) of the
circle. Now, from a still deeper symmetry of space-time, we can
derive the ellipses of Kepler. Modem science, which could begin
only after breaking loose from the centuries-old hold of Aristotelian
physics, now finds itself with an unexpected Aristotelian flavor,
coming both from the increasingly dominant role of symmetry
principles and from the increasingly geometrical basis of physics.
We are accustomed to think of symmetry in spatial terms. The
163
symmetry of the circle, the square, and the face are associated with
rotations or inversions in space. Symmetry in time is an obvious
extension of spatial symmetry; the fact that nature's laws appear to
remain unchanged as time passes is a fundamental symmetry of
nature. However, there exist some subtler symmetries, and it is
reasonable to guess that the understanding of baryoh conservation,
for example, will come through the discovery of new symmetries
not directly connected with space and time.
In the symmetry of interest to the scientist, the unchanging
thing — the invariant element — is the form of natural laws. The
thing changed may be orientation in space, or position in space or
time, or some more abstract change (not necessarily realizable in
practice) such as the interchange of two particles. The inversion
of space and the reversal of the direction of flow of time are other
examples of changes not realizable in practice, but nonetheless of
interest for the symmetries of natural law. These latter two will
be discussed in Chapter Eight.
If scientists in Chicago, New York, and Geneva perform the
same experiment and get the same answer (within experimental
error) they are demonstrating one of the symmetries of nature,
the homogeneity of space. If the experiment is repeated later with
the same result, no one is surprised, for we have come to accept
the homogeneity of time. The laws of nature are the same, so far
as we know, at all points in space, and for all times. This invari-
ance is important and is related to the laws of conservation of
energy and momentum, but ordinary experience conditions us to
expect such invariance so that it seems at first to be trivial or self-
evident. It might seem hard to visualize any science at all if nat-
ural law changed from place to place and time to time, but, in
fact, quantitative science would be perfectly possible without the
homogeneity of space-time. Imagine yourself, for example, on a
merry-go-round that speeded up and slowed down according to a
regular schedule. If you carried out experiments to deduce the laws
of mechanics and had no way of knowing that you were on a ro-
tating system, you would conclude that falling balls were governed
by laws which varied with time and with position (distance from
central axis), but you would be quite able to work out the laws
in detail and predict accurately the results of future experiments,
provided you knew where and when the experiment was to be
carried out. Thanks to the actual homogeneity of space and time.
164
Conservation Laws
the results of future experiments can in fact be predicted without
any knowledge of the where or when.
A slightly less obvious kind of invariance, although one also
familiar from ordinary experience, is the invariance of the laws
of nature for systems in uniform motion. Passengers on an ideally
smooth train or in an ideally smooth elevator are unaware of mo-
tion. If the laws of mechanics were significantly altered, the riders
would be aware of it through unusual bodily sensations. Such a
qualitative guide is, of course, not entirely reliable, but careful
experiments performed inside the ideal uniformly moving train
would reveal the same laws of nature revealed by corresponding
experiments conducted in a stationary laboratory. This particular
invariance underlies the theory of relativity, and is a manifestation
of the isotropy of four-dimensional space-time, a point we can
regrettably not discuss in detail. What, to our limited three-di-
mensional vision, appears to be uniform motion is, to a more en-
lightened brain capable of encompassing four dimensions, merely
a rotation. Instead of turning, say, from north to east, the experi-
menter who climbs aboard the train is, from the more general view,
turning from space partly toward the time direction. According
to relativity, which joins space and time together in a four-dimen-
sional space-time, the laws of nature should no more be changed
by "turning" experimental apparatus toward the time direction
(that is, loading it aboard the train) than by turning it through
90 degrees in the laboratory.
The chain of connection we have been discussing is: Symmetry
-> invariance -> conservation. The symmetry of space and time, or
possibly some subtler symmetry of nature, implies the invariance
of physical laws under certain changes associated with the sym-
metry. In the simplest case, for example, the symmetry of space
which we call its homogeneity implies the invariance of experi-
mental results when the apparatus is moved from one place to an-
other. This invariance, in turn, implies the existence of certain
conservation laws. The relation between conservation laws and
symmetry principles is what we now wish to illuminate through
two examples. Unfortunately, an adequate discussion of this im-
portant connection requires the use of mathematics beyond the
scope of this book.
Suppose we imagine a single isolated hydrogen atom alone and
at rest in empty space. If we could draw up a chair and observe
165
it without influencing it, what should we expect to see? (For this
discussion, we ignore quantum mechanics and the wave nature of
particles, pretending that electron and proton may be separately
seen as particles, and be uninfluenced by the observer. The reader
will have to accept the fact that these false assumptions are per-
missible and irrelevant for the present discussion.) We should see
an electron in rapid motion circling about a proton, and the proton
itself moving more slowly in a smaller circle. Were we to back off^
until the whole atom could only be discerned as a single spot, that
spot, if initially motionless, would remain at rest forever. We now
must ask whether this circumstance is significant or insignificant,
important or dull. It certainly does not seem surprising. Why
should the atom move, we may ask. It is isolated from the rest of
the universe, no forces act upon it from outside, therefore there is
nothing to set it into motion. If we leave a book on a table and
come back later, we expect to find it there. Everyday experience
conditions us to expect that an object on which no external forces
act will not spontaneously set itself into motion. There is no more
reason for the atom to begin to move than for the book to migrate
across the table and fly into a corner. The trouble with this argu-
ment is that it makes use of the common sense of ordinary experi-
ence, without off"ering any explanation for the ordinary experience.
If we put aside "common sense" and ask what the atom might
do, it is by no means obvious that it should remain at rest. In spite
of the fact that no external forces are acting, strong internal forces
are at work. The proton exerts a force on the electron which con-
stantly alters its motion; the electron, in turn, exerts a force on the
proton. Both atomic constituents are experiencing force. Why
should these forces not combine to set the atom as a whole into
motion? Having put the question in this way, we may consider
the book on the table again. It consists of countless billions of
atoms, each one exerting forces on its neighboring atoms. Through
what miracle do these forces so precisely cancel out that no net
force acts upon the book as a whole and it remains quiescent on
the table?
The classical approach to this problem is to look for a positive, or
permissive, law, a law which tells what does happen. Newton first
enunciated this law which (except for some modification made
necessary by the theory of relativity) has withstood the test of time
to the present day. It is called Newton's third law, and says that all
166
Conservation Laws
forces in nature occur in equal and opposite balanced pairs. The
proton's force on the electron is exactly equal and opposite to the
electron's force on the proton. The sum of these two forces (the
vector sum) is zero, so that there is no tendency for the structure
as a whole to move in any direction. The balancing of forces, more-
over, can be related to a balancing of momenta. By making use of
Newton's second law,* which relates the motion to the force, one
can discover that, in a hydrogen atom initially at rest, the balanced
forces will cause the momenta of electron and proton to be equal
and opposite. At a given instant, the two particles are moving in
opposite directions. The heavier proton moves more slowly, but
has the same momentum as the electron. As the electron swings to
a new direction and a new speed in its track, the proton swings
too in just such a way that its momentum remains equal and op-
posite to that of the electron. In spite of the continuously chang-
ing momenta of the two particles, the total momentum of the atom
remains zero; the atom does not move. In this way — by "discover-
ing" and applying two laws, Newton's second and third laws of
motion — one derives the law of momentum conservation and finds
an explanation of the fact that an isolated atom does not move.
Without difficulty, the same arguments may be applied to the
book on the table. Since all forces come in equal and opposite
pairs, the forces between every pair of atoms cancel, so that the
total force is zero, no matter how many billions of billions of atoms
and individual forces there might be.
It is worth reviewing the steps in the argument above. Two laws
of permission were discovered, telling what does happen. One law
relates the motion to the force; the other says that the forces be-
tween pairs of particles are always equal and opposite. From these
laws, the conservation of momentum was derived as an interesting
consequence, and this conservation law in turn explained the fact
that an isolated atom at rest remains at rest.
The modern approach to the problem starts in quite a different
way, by seeking a law of prohibition, a principle explaining why
the atom does not move. This principle is the invariance of laws
of nature to a change of position. Recall the chain of key ideas
* Newton's second law, usually written F = ma, says that the acceleration
a experienced by a panicle multiplied by its mass m is equal to the force F
acting upon it. The law may also be stated in this way: The rate at which
the momentum of a particle is changing is equal to the force applied.
167
referred to on page 105: symmetry -^ invariance — > conservation. In
the example of the isolated hydrogen atom, the symmetry of interest
is the homogeneity of space. Founded upon this symmetry is the
invariance principle just cited. Finally, the conservation law resting
on this invariance principle is the conservation of momentum.
In order to clarify, through the example of the hydrogen atom,
the connecting links between the assumed homogeneity of space
and the conservation of momentum, we must begin with an exact
statement of the invariance principle as applied to our isolated atom.
The principle is this: No aspect of the motion of an isolated atom
depends upon the location of the center of mass of the atom. The
center of mass of any object is the average position of all of the
mass in the object. In a hydrogen atom, the center of mass is a
point in space between the electron and the proton, close to the
more massive proton.
Let us visualize our hydrogen atom isolated in empty space with
its center of mass at rest. Suppose now that its center of mass starts
to move. In which direction should it move? We confront at once
the question of the homogeneity of space. Investing our atom with
human qualities for a moment, we can say that it has no basis upon
which to "decide" how to move. To the atom surveying the
possibilities, every direction is precisely as good or bad as every
other direction. It is therefore frustrated in its "desire" to move
and simply remains at rest.
This anthropomorphic description of the situation can be re-
placed by sound mathematics. What the mathematics shows is that
an acceleration of the center of mass — for example, changing from
a state of rest to a state of motion — is not consistent with the as-
sumption that the laws of motion of the atom are independent of the
location of the center of mass. If the center of mass of the atom
is initially at rest at point A and it then begins to move, it will later
pass through another point B. At point A, the center of mass had no
velocity. At point B it does have a velocity. Therefore, the state of
motion of the atom depends on the location of the center of mass,
contrary to the invariance principle. Only if the center of mass
remains at rest can the atom satisfy the invariance principle.* The
immobility of the center of mass requires, in turn, that the two
particles composing the atom have equal and opposite momenta.
• If the center of mass of the atom had been moving initially, the invari-
ance principle requires that it continue moving with constant velocity.
168
Conservation Laws
A continual balancing of the two momenta means that their sum,
the total momentum, is a constant.
The argument thus proceeds directly from the symmetry prin-
ciple to the conservation law without making use of Newton's laws
of motion. That this is a deeper approach to conservation laws, as
well as a more esthetically pleasing one, has been verified by his-
tory. Although Newton's laws of motion have been altered by rela-
tivity and by quantum mechanics, the direct connection between
the symmetry of space and the conservation of momentum has
been unaffected — or even strengthened — by these modern theories
and momentum conservation remains one of the pillars of modern
physics. We must recognize that a violation of the law of momen-
tum conservation would imply an inhomogeneity of space; this is
not an impossibility, but it would have far-reaching consequences
for our view of the universe.
Returning finally to the book on the table, we want to empha-
size that the quiescence of the undisturbed book — a macroscopic
object — at least strongly suggests that momentum conservation
must be a valid law in the microscopic world. Viewed microscopi-
cally, the book is a collection of an enormous number of atoms,
each one in motion. That this continuous microscopic motion never
makes itself felt as spontaneous bulk motion of the whole book is
true only because of the conservation of momentum which re-
quires that every time an atom changes its momentum (as it is con-
stantly doing) one or more other atoms must undergo exactly
compensating changes of their momentum.
Through similar examples it is possible to relate the law of con-
servation of angular momentum to the isotropy of space. A com-
pass needle which is held pointing east and is then released will
swing toward the north because of the action of the earth's mag-
netic field upon it. But if the same compass needle is taken to the
depths of empty space, far removed from all external influences,
and set to point in some direction, it will remain pointing in that
direction. A swing in one direction or the other would imply a
nonuniformity* of space. If the uniformity of space is adopted as
a fundamental symmetry principle, it can be concluded that the
• Strictly, momentum conservation rests on the homogeneity of space (uni-
formity of place), and angular momentum conservation rests on the isotropy
of space (uniformity of direction). The distinction is not important for our
purposes, and it is satisfactory to think of space simply as everywhere the
same, homogeneity and isotropy being summarized by the word uniformity.
169
total angular momentum of all the atomic constituents of the needle
must be a constant. Otherwise, the internal motions within the
needle could set the whole needle into spontaneous rotation and
its motion would violate the symmetry principle.
Energy conservation, in a way that is not so easy to see, is
related to the homogeneity of time. Thus all three conservation
laws — of energy, momentum, and angular momentum — are "under-
stood" in terms of the symmetry of space-time, and indeed the the-
ory of relativity has shown that these three laws are all parts of
a single general conservation law in the four-dimensional world.
Only one of the three conservation laws governing the intrinsic
properties of the particles has so far been understood in terms of
a symmetry principle. This is the law of charge conservation. (Re-
call, however, that the quantization of charge is not yet under-
stood.) The symmetry principle underlying charge conservation is
considerably more subtle than the space-time symmetry underlying
the conservation laws of properties of motion. The modern version
of this symmetry principle rests upon technical aspects of the theory
of quantum mechanics (it may be based also on equally technical
aspects of the theory of electromagnetism). Nevertheless, it is such
a stunning victory for the power of a symmetry principle that we
must try, however crudely, to indicate the modern view of this
symmetry.
In the main, the classical theories of physics deal directly with
quantities which are measurable, usually called observables. Force,
mass, velocity, and almost all the other concepts described by the
classical laws are themselves observables. The equations of quantum
mechanics, however, contain quantities which are not themselves
observables. From these quantities — one step removed from reality
— the observables are derived. The "wave function" is one of the
unobservable quantities; it determines the probability, say, that the
electron is at any particular point in the hydrogen atom, but is itself
not that probability nor any other measurable thing. Now enters
the idea of symmetry. Any change that can be made in the un-
observable quantity without resulting in a change of the observ-
ables ought to leave all the laws of nature unchanged. After care-
ful scrutiny, this statement seems so obviously true that it is hard
to understand how it could have any important consequences. Of
course one ought to be able to do anything whatever to unobserv-
able quantities so long as observables are not changed. But remember
170
Conservation Laws
how important were the properties of empty space. Equally im-
portant are the properties of unobservables such as wave functions.
Space itself may be regarded as an unobservable. The uniformity
of space means that it is impossible, by any experimental means,
to ascertain one's absolute position in space. An experiment carried
out at one place will yield results identical to the results of the same
experiment carried out at another place. Any change in the un-
observable space (for instance, moving the apparatus from one
place to another) must leave unchanged the laws of nature and the
observable results of experiment. As we have just seen, this
symmetry principle or invariance requirement underlies the law
of momentum conservation.
When an analogous symmetry principle is applied to the un-
observable wave function of the electron a conservation law re-
sults, the conservation of charge. Expressed negatively, if charge
were not conserved, the form of the equations of quantum me-
chanics would depend upon unobservable quantities, a situation at
variance with our symmetry principle. The analogous statement
for spatial homogeneity would be: If momentum were not con-
served, the laws of mechanics would depend upon the absolute
location in space and such dependence is at variance with the as-
sumed symmetry of space.
Regrettably, we can not explain the law of charge conservation
more fully without mathematics. It is expected, but not yet verified,
that some undiscovered subtle symmetries of nature underlie the
laws of electron-family conservation, muon-family conservation,
and baryon conservation. The absolute prohibition of proton de-
cay, which keeps its enormous intrinsic energy locked forever in
the form of mass, can be no accident, but the reason still remains
hidden.
Answers
The particle transformations listed on page 102 violate the fol-
lowing conservation laws:
a. Energy (an "uphill" decay); muon-family number (since ft*
is an antiparticle).
b. Charge.
c. Angular momentum; baryon number.
d. Energy; momentum (a one-particle decay); charge; muon-
171
family number; baryon number.
e. Angular momentum; baryon number; muon-familv number;
electron-family number.
f. Angular momentum; electron-family number.
g. Angular momentum; baryon number.
h. Angular momentum; muon-family number.
i. Charge. (Why is angular momentum conservation satisfied?)
Schematic analysis of the photograph on the opposite page.
172
Conservation Laws
Figure 1.8. Decay of unstable particles. This unusual bubble-chamber
photograph shows the decay of five different elementary particles. At
point A, a positive kaon decays into three pions. At B, one of these
pions decays into a muon and an unseen neutrino. At C, the muon de-
cays into a positron (plus tw^o neutrinos). At point D, a xi particle
decays into a lambda particle and a pion. The invisible neutral lambda
decays into a proton and a pion at point E.
173
Until 1956 the laws of physics included no preference
for "right-handedness" or "left-handedness." But in
1956 the "law of parity" failed in experiments involving
elementary particles, indicating that the universe is in
some sense asymmetric.
17 The Fall of Parity
Martin Gardner
Chapter from his book. The Ambidextrous Universe,
published in 1964.
As far as anyone knows at present, all events that take place
in the universe are governed by four fundamental types of
forces (physicists prefer to say "interactions" instead of
"forces," but there is no harm in using here the more common
term) :
1. Nuclear force.
2. Electromagnetic force.
3. Weak interaction force.
4. Gravitational force.
The forces are listed in decreasing order of strength. The
strongest, nuclear force, is the force that holds together the
protons and neutrons in the nucleus of an atom. It is often
called the "binding energy" of the nucleus. Electromagnetism is
the force that binds electrons to the nucleus, atoms into mole-
cules, molecules into liquids and solids. Gravity, as we all know,
is the force with which one mass attracts another mass; it is the
force chiefly responsible for binding together the substances
that make up the earth. Gravitational force is so weak that
unless a mass is enormously large it is extremely difficult to
measure. On the level of the elementary particles its influence
is negligible.
175
The remaining force, the force involved in "weak inter-
actions," is the force about which the least is known. That such
a force must exist is indicated by the fact that in certain decay
interactions involving particles (such as beta-decay, in which
electrons or positrons are shot out from radioactive nuclei),
the speed of the reaction is much slower than it would be if
either nuclear or electromagnetic forces were responsible. By
"slow" is meant a reaction of, say, one ten-billionth of a second.
To a nuclear physicist this is an exceedingly lazy effect — about
a ten-trillionth the speed of reactions in which nuclear force
is involved. To explain this lethargy it has been necessary to
assume a force weaker than electromagnetism but stronger than
the extremely weak force of gravity.
The "theta tau puzzle," over which physicists scratched their
heads in 1956, arose in connection with a weak interaction
involving a "strange particle" called the K-meson. (Strange
particles are a class of recently discovered particles called
"strange" because they do not seem to fit in anywhere with any
of the other particles.) There appeared to be two distinct types
of K-mesons. One, called the theta meson, decayed into two
pi mesons. The other, called the tau meson, decayed into three
pi mesons. Nevertheless, the two types of K-mesons seemed to
be indistinguishable from each other. They had precisely the
same mass, same charge, same lifetime. Physicists would have
liked to say that there was only one K-meson; sometimes it
decayed into two, sometimes into three pi mesons. Why didn't
they? Because it would have meant that parity was not con-
served. The theta meson had even parity. A pi meson has odd
parity. Two pi mesons have a total parity that is even, so parity
is conserved in the decay of the theta meson. But three pi
mesons have a total parity that is odd.
Physicists faced a perplexing dilemma with the following
horns:
1. They could assume that the two K-mesons, even though
indistinguishable in properties, were really two different par-
176
The Fall of Parity
tides: the theta meson with even parity, the tau meson with
odd parity.
2. They could assume that in one of the decay reactions
parity was not conserved.
To most physicists in 1956 the second horn was almost un-
thinkable. As we saw in Chapter 20, it would have meant admit-
ting that the left-right symmetry of nature was being violated;
that nature was showing a bias for one type of handedness. The
conservation of parity had been well established in all "strong"
interactions (that is, in the nuclear and electromagnetic inter-
actions). It had been a fruitful concept in quantum mechanics
for thirty years.
In April, 1956, during a conference on nuclear physics at
the University of Rochester, in New York, there was a spirited
discussion of the theta-tau puzzle. Richard Phillips Feynman,^ a
physicist at the California Institute of Technology, raised the
question: Is the law of parity sometimes violated? In corre-
sponding with Feynman, he has given me some of the details
behind this historic question. They are worth putting on record.
The question had been suggested to Feynman the night before
by Martin Block, an experimental physicist with whom Feynman
was sharing a hotel room. The answer to the theta-tau puzzle,
said Block, might be very simple. Perhaps the lovely law of
parity does not always hold. Feynman responded by pointmg
out that if this were true, there would be a way to distinguish
left from right. It would be surprising, Feynman said, but he
could think of no way such a notion conflicted with known
experimental results. He promised Block he would raise the
question at next day s meeting to see if anyone could find any-
thing wrong with the idea. This he did, prefacing his remarks
with "I am asking this question for Martin Block." He regarded
the notion as such an interesting one that, if it turned out to be
true, he wanted Block to get credit for it.
Chen Ning Yang and his friend Tsung Dao Lee, two young
and brilliant Chinese-born physicists, were present at the meet-
177
ing. One of them gave a lengthy reply to Feynman's question.
"What did he say?" Block asked Feynman later.
"I don't know," replied Feynman. "I couldn't understand it."
"People teased me later," writes Feynman, "and said my
prefacing remark about Martin Block was made because I was
afraid to be associated with such a wild idea. I thought the idea
unlikely, but possible, and a very exciting possibility. Some
months later an experimenter, Norman Ramsey, asked me if I
believed it worth while for him to do an experiment to test
whether parity is violated in beta decay. I said definitely yes,
for although I felt sure that parity would not be violated, there
was a possibility it would be, and it was important to find out.
'Would you bet a hundred dollars against a dollar that parity is
not violated?' he asked. 'No. But fifty dollars I will.' 'That's good
enough for me. I'll take your bet and do the experiment.'
Unfortunately, Ramsey didn't find time to do it then, but my
fifty dollar check may have compensated him slightly for a lost
opportunity."
During the summer of 1956 Lee and Yang thought some
more about the matter. Early in May, when they were sitting
in the White Rose Cafe near the corner of Broadway and 125th
Street, in the vicinity of Columbia University, it suddenly struck
them that it might be profitable to make a careful study of all
known experiments involving weak interactions. For several
weeks they did this. To their astonishment they found that
although the evidence for conservation of parity was strong
in all strong interactions, there was no evidence at all for it in
the weak. Moreover, they thought of several definitive tests,
involving weak interactions, which would settle the question
one way or the other. The outcome of this work was their
now-classic paper "Question of Parity Conservation in Weak
Interactions."
"To decide unequivocally whether parity is conserved in
weak interactions," they declared, "one must perform an experi-
ment to determine whether weak interactions differentiate the
178
The Fail of Parity
right from the left. Some such possible experiments will be
discussed."
Publication of this paper in The Physical Review (October 1,
1956) aroused only mild interest among nuclear pysicists. It
seemed so unlikely that parity would be violated that most
physicists took the attitude: Let someone else make the tests.
Freeman J. Dyson, a physicist now at the Institute for Advanced
Study in Princeton, writing on "Innovation in Physics" {Scien-
tific American, September 1958) had these honest words to
say about what he called the "blindness" of most of his col-
leagues.
"A copy of it [the Lee and "Vang paper] was sent to me and
I read it. I read it twice. I said. This is very interesting,' or
words to that effect. But I had not the imagination to say, 'By
golly, if this is true it opens up a whole new branch of physics.'
And I think other physicists, with very few exceptions, at that
time were as unimaginative as I."
Several physicists were prodded into action by the suggestions
of Lee and Yang. The first to take up the gauntlet was Madame
Chien-Shiung Wu, a professor of physics at Columbia Uni-
versity and widely regarded as the world's leading woman
physicist. She was already famous for her work on weak inter-
actions and for the care and elegance with which her experi-
ments were always designed. Like her friends Yang and Lee,
she, too, had been born in China and had come to the United
States to continue her career.
The experiment planned by Madame Wu involved the beta-
decay of cobalt-60, a highly radioactive isotope of cobalt which
continually emits electrons. In the Bohr model of the atom, a
nucleus of cobalt 60 may be thought of as a tiny sphere which
spins like a top on an axis labeled north and south at the
ends to indicate the magnetic poles. The beta-particles (elec-
trons) emitted in the weak interaction of beta-decay are shot
out from both the north and the south ends of nuclei. Normally,
the nuclei point in all directions, so the electrons are shot out
179
in all directions. But when cobalt-60 is cooled to near absolute
zero ( — 273 degrees on the centigrade scale ) , to reduce all the
joggling of its molecules caused by heat, it is possible to apply
a powerful electromagnetic field which will induce more than
half of the nuclei to line up with their north ends pointing in
the same direction. The nuclei go right on shooting out elec-
trons. Instead of being scattered in all directions, however, the
electrons are now concentrated in two directions: the direction
toward which the north ends of the magnetic axes are pointing,
and the direction toward which the south ends are pointing. If
the law of parity is not violated, there will be just as many
electrons going one way as the other.
To cool the cobalt to near absolute zero, Madame Wu needed
the facilities of the National Bureau of Standards, in Washing-
ton, D. C. It was there that she and her colleagues began their
historic experiment. If the number of electrons divided evenly
into two sets, those that shot north and those that shot south,
parity would be preserved. The theta-tau puzzle would remain
puzzling. If the beta-decay process showed a handedness, a
larger number of electrons emitted in one direction than the
other, parity would be dead. A revolutionary new era in
quantum theory would be under way.
At Zurich, one of the world's greatest theoretical physicists,
Wolfgang Pauli, eagerly awaited results of the test. In a now
famous letter to one of his former pupils, Victor Frederick
Weisskopf (then at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology),
Pauli wrote: "I do not believe that the Lord is a weak left-
hander, and I am ready to bet a very high sum that the experi-
ments will give symmetric results."
Whether Pauli (who died in 1958) actually made (like Feyn-
man) such a bet is not known. If he did, he also lost. The
electrons in Madam Wu's experiment were not emitted equally
in both directions. Most of them were flung out from the
south end; that is, the end toward which a majority of the
cobalt-60 nuclei pointed their south poles.
180
The Fall of Parity
At the risk of being repetitious, and possibly boring readers
who see at once the full implication of this result, let us pause
to make sure we understand exactly why Madam Wu's experi-
ment is so revolutionary. It is true that the picture (Figure 62)
Figure 62. An electron is more likely to be flung out from
the south end of a cobaIt-60 nucleus than from its north end.
of the cobalt-60 nucleus, spinning in a certain direction around
an axis labeled N and 5, is an asymmetric structure not super-
posable on its mirror image. But this is just a picture. As we
have learned, the labeling of N and S is purely conventional.
There is nothing to prevent one from switching N and S on all
the magnetic fields in the universe. The north ends of cobalt-60
nuclei would become south, the south ends north, and a similar
exchange of poles would occur in the electromagnetic field used
for lining up the nuclei. Everything prior to Madame Wu's
experiment suggested that such a switch of poles would not
make a measurable change in the experimental situation. If
there were some intrinsic, observable difference between poles —
one red and one green, or one strong and one weak — then the
labeling of N and S would be more than a convention. The
181
cobalt-60 nuclei would possess true spatial asymmetry. But
physicists knew of no way to distinguish between the poles
except by testing their reaction to other magnetic axes. In fact,
as we have learned, the poles do not really exist. They are
just names for the opposite sides of a spin.
Madame Wu's experiment provided for the first time in the
history of science a method of labeling the ends of a magnetic
axis in a way that is not at all conventional. The south end
is the end of a cobalt-60 nucleus that is most likely to fling
out an electron!
The nucleus can no longer be thought of as analogous to a
spinning sphere or cylinder. It must now be thought of as
analogous to a spinning cone. Of course, this is no more than
a metaphor. No one has the slightest notion at the moment of
why or how one end of the axis is different, in any intrinsic
way, from the other. But there is a difference! "We are no
longer trying to handle screws in the dark with heavy gloves,"
was the way Sheldon Penman of the University of Chicago
put it {Scientific American, July 1961), "we are being handed
the screws neatly aligned on a tray, with a little searchlight on
each that indicates the direction of its head."
It should be obvious now that here at long last is a solution
to the Ozma problem — an experimental method of extracting
from nature an unambiguous definition of left and right. We
say to the scientists of Planet X: "Cool the atoms of cobalt-60
to near absolute zero. Line up their nuclear axes with a powerful
magnetic field. Count the number of electrons flung out by the
two ends of the axes. The end that flings out the most electrons
is the end that we call 'south.' It is now possible to label the
ends of the magnetic axis of the field used for lining up the
nuclei, and this in turn can be used for labeling the ends of a
magnetic needle. Put such a needle above a wire in which the
current moves away from you. The north pole of this needle
will point in the direction we call 'left.' "
We have communicated precisely and unambiguously to
182
The Fall of Parity
Planet X our meaning of the word 'left.' Neither we nor they
will be observing in common any single, particular asymmetric
structure. We will be observing in common a universal law of
nature. In the weak interactions, nature herself, by her own
intrinsic handedness, has provided an operational definition of
left and right! It is easy to understand why Pauli and other
physicists did not expect Madame Wu's experiment to over-
throw parity. It would have meant that nature is not ambi-
dextrous !
In the context of my Esquire tale about left and right, the
cobalt-60 experiment provides a method by which the puzzled
astronauts could tell whether they were reversed. Of course they
would have to find some cobalt on the unknown planet, convert
it to its radioactive isotope by bombarding it with neutrons,
and so on. But assuming that they had the equipment and
could find the necessary materials, they would be able to test
their handedness.
Similarly, Madame Wu's experiment clearly violates the as-
sertion that all natural events can be photographed on motion
picture film and projected in reversed form without the viewer
being the wiser.
Exercise 16: Explain precisely how an observation of all
details of the cobalt-60 experiment, when viewed as a projected
motion picture, would enable one to tell whether the film had
been reversed.
Athough evidence against the conservation of parity was
strongly indicated by Madame Wu's work in late 1956, the
experiment was not finally completed until early in January
1957. Results were formally announced by Columbia Univer-
sity's distinguished physicist Isador Rabi on January 15, 1957.
The announcement also included the results of a confirming
experiment conducted by Columbia physicists at the Nevis
Cyclotron Laboratories at Irvington-on-Hudson in Westchester
183
County, New York. This confirming test, made with mu mesons,
showed an even stronger handedness. The mu mesons shot out
twice as many electrons in one direction as in the other.
Independent of both experiments, a third test was made at the
University of Chicago using the decay of pi and mu mesons.
It, too, showed violation of parity. All over the world physicists
began testing parity in other weak interactions. By 1958 it
was apparent that parity is violated in all such interactions.
The theta-tau puzzle was solved. There is only one K-meson,
Parity is not conserved.
"A rather complete theoretical structure has been shattered at
the base," declared Rabi (quoted by the New York Times,
January 16, 1957 ) , "and we are not sure how the pieces will be
put together." An unnamed physicist was reported by the Times
as saying that nuclear physics had been battering for years at
a closed door only to discover suddenly that it wasn't a door at
all — just a picture of a door painted on a wall. Now, he con-
tinued, we are free to look around for the true door. 0. R.
Frisch, the physicist who was a co-discoverer of nuclear fission,
reports in his book Atomic Physics Today (Basic, 1961) that
on January 16, 1957, he received the following air letter from
a friend:
Dear Robert:
HOT NEWS. Parity is not conserved. Here in Princeton they talk
about nothing else; they say it is the most important result since
the Michelson experiment . . .
The Michelson experiment was the famous Michelson-Morley
test in 1887 which established the constant velocity of light
regardless of the motion of source and observer — a historic ex-
periment which paved the way for Einstein's theory of relativity.
Madame Wu's experiment may well prove to be equally historic.
The two tests were very much alike in their shattering element
of surprise. Everybody expected Albert Michelson and Edward
184
The Fall of Parity
Morley to detect a motion of the earth relative to a fixed
"ether." It was the negative result of this test that was so
upsetting. Everybody expected Madame Wu to find a left-right
symmetry in the process of beta-decay. Nature sprang another
surprise! It was surprising enough that certain particles had a
handedness; it was more surprising that handedness seemed to
be observable only in weak interactions. Physicists felt a shock
even greater than Mach had felt when he first encountered the
needle-and-wire asymmetry.
"Now after the first shock is over," Pauli wrote to Weisskopf
on January 27, after the staggering news had reached him, "I
begin to collect myself. Yes, it was very dramatic. On Monday,
the twenty-first, at 8 p.m. I was supposed to give a lecture on
the neutrino theory. At 5 p.m. I received three experimental
papers | reports on the first three tests of parity]. ... I am
shocked not so much by the fact that the Lord prefers the left
hand as by the fact that he still appears to be left-handed sym-
metric when he expresses himself strongly. In short, the actual
problem now seems to be the question: Why are strong inter-
actions right-and-left symmetric?
The Indian physicist Abdus Salam (from whose article on
"Elementary Particles" in Endeavor, April 1958, the extracts
from Pauli's letters are taken) tried to explain to a liberal-arts-
trained friend why the physicists were so excited about the fall
of parity. "I asked him," wrote Salam in this article, "if any
classical writer had ever considered giants with only the left
eye. He confessed that one-eyed giants have been described, and
he supplied me with a full list of them; but they always
sport their solitary eye in the middle of the forehead. In my view,
what we have found is that space is a weak left-eyed giant."
Physicist Jeremy Bernstein, in an article on "A Question of
Parity" which appeared in The New Yorker, May 12, 1962,
reveals an ironic sidelight on the story of parity's downfall. In
1928 three physicists at New York University had actually dis-
covered a parity violation in the decay of a radioactive isotope
of radium! The experiment had been repeated with refined
185
techniques in 1930. "Not only in every run," the experimenter
reported, "but even in all readings in every run, with few
exceptions," the effect was observable. But this was at a time
when, as Bernstein puts it, there was no theoretical context in
which to place these results. They were quickly forgotten,
"They were," writes Bernstein, "a kind of statement made in
a void. It took almost thirty years of intensive research in all
branches of experimental and theoretical physics, and, above
all, it took the work of Lee and Yang, to enable physicists to
appreciate exactly what those early experiments implied."
In 1957 Lee and Yang received the Nobel prize in physics for
their work. Lee was then 30, Yang 34. The choice was in-
evitable. The year 1957 had been the most stirring in modern
particle physics, and Lee and Yang had done most of the
stirring. Today the two men have adjacent offices at the Insti-
tute for Advanced Study in Princeton, where they continue to
collaborate. Both live in Princeton with their attractive wives
and children, proud of their Chinese heritage, deeply committed
to science, and with a wide range of interests outside of physics
and mathematics. If you are curious to know more about these
two remarkable men, look up Bernstein's excellent New Yorker
article.
It is worth pausing to note that, like so many other revolutions
in physics, this one came about as the result of largely abstract,
theoretical, mathematical work. Not one of the three experi-
ments that first toppled parity would have been performed at
the time it was performed if Lee and Yang had not told the
experimenters what to do. Lee had had no experience whatever
in a laboratory. Yang had worked briefly in a lab at the Uni-
versity of Chicago, where he was once a kind of assistant to
the great Italian physicist Enrico Fermi. He had not been happy
in experimental work. His associates had even made up a short
rhyme about him which Bernstein repeats:
Where there's a bang,
There's Yang.
186
The Fall of Parity
Laboratory bangs can range all the way from an exploding
test tube to the explosion of a hydrogen bomb. But the really
Big Bangs are the bangs that occur inside the heads of
theoretical physicists when they try to put together the pieces
handed to them by the experimental physicists.
John Campbell, Jr., the editor of Analog Science Fiction, once
speculated in an editorial that perhaps there was some dif-
ference in the intellectual heritage of the Western and Oriental
worlds which had predisposed two Chinese physicists to question
the symmetry of natural law. It is an interesting thought.
I myself pointed out, in my Mathematical Games column in
Scientific American, March 1958, that the great religious symbol
of the Orient (it appears on the Korean national flag) is the
circle divided asymmetrically as shown in Figure 63. The dark
Figure 63. The asymmetric Yin-Yang symbol of the Orient.
and light areas are known respectively as the Yin and Yang.
The Yin and Yang are symbols of all the fundamental dualities
of life: good and evil, beauty and ugliness, truth and falsehood,
male and female, night and day, sun and moon, heaven and
earth, pleasure and pain, odd and even, left and right, positive
and negative ... the list is endless. This dualism was first
symbolized in China by the odd and even digits that alternate
around the perimeter of the Lo shu, the ancient Chinese magic
square of order 3. Sometime in the tenth century the Lo shu was
replaced by the divided circle, which soon became the dominant
Yin- Yang symbol. When it was printed or drawn, black and
white was used, but when painted, the Yang was made red
187
instead of white. The two small spots were (and still are)
usually added to symbolize the fact that on each side of any
duality there is always a bit of the other side. Every good act
contains an element of evil, every evil act an element of good;
every ugliness includes some beauty, every beauty includes some
ugliness, and so on.^ The spots remind the scientist that every
"true" theory contains an element of falsehood. "Nothing is
perfect," says the Philosopher in James Stephens' The Crock of
Gold. "There are lumps in it."
Exercise 17: There is a three-dimensional analog of the Yin-
Yang, so familiar that almost everyone has at one time held a
model of it in his hands. What is it? Is it left-right sym-
metrical?
The history of science can be described as a continual, per-
haps never-ending, discovery of new lumps. It was once thought
that planets moved in perfect circles. Even Galileo, although
he placed the sun and not the earth at the center of the solar
system, could not accept Kepler's view that the planetary orbits
were ellipses. Eventually it became clear that Kepler had been
right: the orbits are almost circles but not quite. Newton's
theory of gravity explained why the orbits were perfect ellipses.
Then slight deviations in the Newtonian orbits turned up and
were in turn explained by the correction factors of relativity
theory that Einstein introduced into the Newtonian equations.
"The real trouble with this world of ours," comments Gilbert
Chesterton in Orthodoxy, "is not that it is an unreasonable
world, nor even that it is a reasonable one. The commonest kind
of trouble is that it is nearly reasonable, but not quite. ... It
looks just a little more mathematical and regular than it is; its
exactitude is obvious, but its inexactitude is hidden; its wildness
lies in wait."
To illustrate, Chesterton imagines an extraterrestrial examin-
ing a human body for the first time. He notes that the right
188
The Fall of Parity
side exactly duplicates the left: two arms, two legs, two ears,
two eyes, two nostrils, even two lobes of the brain. Probing
deeper he finds a heart on the left side. He deduces that there
is another heart on the right. Here of course, he encounters a
spot of Yin within the Yang. "It is this silent swerving from
accuracy by an inch," Chesterton continues, "that is the un-
canny element in everything. It seems a sort of secret treason
in the universe. . . . Everywhere in things there is this element
of the quiet and incalculable."
Feynman, with no less reverence than Chesterton, says the
same thing this way at the close of a lecture on symmetry in
physical laws (Lecture 52 in The Feynman Lectures on Physics,
Addison- Wesley, 1963) :
"Why is nature so nearly symmetrical ? No one has any idea
why. The only thing we might suggest is something like this:
There is a gate in Japan, a gate in Neiko, which is sometimes
called by the Japanese the most beautiful gate in all Japan; it
was built in a time when there was great influence from Chinese
art. This gate is very elaborate, with lots of gables and beautiful
carving and lots of columns and dragon heads and princes carved
into the pillars, and so on. But when one looks closely he sees that
in the elaborate and complex design along one of the pillars,
one of the small design elements is carved upside down; other-
wise the thing is completely symmetrical. If one asks why this
is, the story is that it was carved upside down so that the gods
will not be jealous of the perfection of man. So they purposely
put the error in there, so that the gods would not be jealous and
get angry with human beings.
"We might like to turn the idea around and think that the
true explanation of the near symmetry of nature is this: that
God made the laws only nearly symmetrical so that we should
not be jealous of His perfection!"
Note that the Yin- Yang symbol is asymmetrical. It is not
superposable on its mirror image. The Yin and Yang are con-
gruent shapes, each asymmetrical, each with the same handed-
189
ness. By contrast the Christian symbol, the cross, is left-right
symmetrical. So is the Jewish six-pointed Star of David, unless
it is shown as an interlocking pair of triangles that cross alter-
nately over and under each other. It is a pleasant thought that
perhaps the familiar asymmetry of the oriental symbol, so much
a part of Chinese culture, may have played a subtle, unconscious
role in making it a bit easier for Lee and Yang to go against
the grain of scientific orthodoxy; to propose a test which
their more symmetric-minded Western colleagues had thought
scarcely worth the effort.
NOTES
1. For the benefit of readers interested in recreational mathematics,
I cannot resist adding that Feynman is one of the codiscoverers of hexa-
flexagons, those remarkable paper-folded structures that keep changing
their faces when flexed. (See Chapter 1 of my Scientific American Book
of Mathematical Puzzles and Diversions.) AUhough a hexaflexagon looks
perfectly symmetrical, its inner structure possesses a handedness; that
is, any given flexagon can be constructed in either a left or right-
handed way.
In 1949 Feynman had suggested that perhaps the positron is an
electron moving temporarily backward in time ("The Theory of Posi-
trons," Physical Review, Vol. 76, 1949, pp. 749-759; reprinted in Quan-
tum Electrodynamics, edited by Julius Schwinger, Dover, 1958). This
prompted speculations that antiparticles are simply particles moving
backward in time, and that time might be reversed (relative to our time)
in galaxies of antimatter. (See "The Tiniest Time Traveler" by David
Fox, Astounding Science Fiction, December 1952; "Speculations Con-
cerning Precognition" by 1. J. Good in his anthology of "partly baked
ideas," The Scientist Speculates, Basic, 1962, pp. 151ff.)
It is true that if a motion picture of a spinning top is run backward,
the picture will be the same as if mirror reversed, but there are strong
technical reasons why time reversal cannot be invoked as an explanation
of parity violation in weak interactions. Hans Reichenbach, in his book
The Direction of Time (University of California Press, 1956, pp.
262-269), calls Feynman's positron theory "the most serious blow the
concept of time has ever received in physics." Not only does it reverse
the direction of time for parts of the world, Reichenbach points out, it
190
The Fall of Parity
also destroys the uniform topological order of causal chains. Admirers of
Lewis Carroll need not be reminded of the Outlandish Watch (Sylvie
and Bruno, Chapter 23) with its "reversal-peg" that causes time to flow
backward.
2. For these facts about the Yin-Yang symbol I am indebted to
Schuyler Cammann's excellent article on "The Magic Square of Three
in Old Chinese Philosophy and Religion," History of Religions, Vol.
1, No. 1, Summer 1961, pp. 37-80.
191
The entertaining and theoretically powerful concept of
time going backward creates a variety of paradoxes.
18 Can Time Go Backward?
Martin Gardner
Scientific American article, published in 1967.
". . . time, dark time, secret time, forever
flowing like a river "
—Thomas Wolfe,
The Weh and the Rock
Time has been described by many
metaphors, but none is older or
more persistent than the image of
time as a river. You cannot step twice in
the same river, said Heraclitus, the
Greek philosopher who stressed the tem-
poral impermanence of all things, be-
cause new waters forever flow around
you. You cannot even step into it once,
added his pupil Cratylus, because while
you step both you and the river are
changing into something different. As
Ogden Nash put it in his poem 'Time
Marches On,"
While ladies draw their stockings on.
The ladies they were are up and gone.
RIVER IMAGE appealed to ancient Greek
philosophers. You cannot 6t«p twice into
the same river, said Heraclitus. Indeed, add-
ed Cratylus, yon cannot do it even once.
In James Joyce's Finnegans Wake the
great symbol of time is the river Liffey
flowing through Dubhn, its "hither-and-
thithering waters" reaching the sea in
the final lines, then returning to "river-
run," the book's first word, to begin
again the endless cycle of change.
It is a powerful symbol, but also a con-
fusing one. It is not time that flows but
the world. "In what units is the rate of
time's flow to be measured?" asked the
Austrahan philosopher J. J. C. Smart.
"Seconds per -?" To say "time
moves" is Uke saying "length extends."
As Austin Dobson observed in his poem
"The Paradox of Time,"
Time goes, you say? Ah no!
Alas, time stays, we go.
Moreover, whereas a fish can sworn
upriver against the current, we are pow-
erless to move into the past. The chang-
ing world seems more like the magic
grec»i carpet that carried Ozma across
the Deadly Desert (the void of nothing-
ness?), unrolling only at the front, coil-
ing up only at the back, while she jour-
neyed from Oz to Ev, walking always
in one direction on the carpet's tiny
green region of "now." Why does the
magic carpet never roll backward? What
is the physical basis for time's strange,
undeviating asymmetry?
T^here has been as little agreement
■*- among physicists on this matter as
there has been among philosophers.
Now, as the result of recent experi-
ments, the confusion is greater than
ever. Before 1964 all the fundamental
laws of physics, including relativity and
quantum laws, were "time-reversible."
That is to say, one could substitute —t
for t in any basic law and the law would
remain as applicable to the world as be-
fore; regardless of the sign in front of t
the law described something that could
occur in nature. Yet there are many
events that are possible in theory but
that never or almost never actually take
place. It was toward those events that
physicists turned their attention in the
hope of finding an ultimate physical ba-
sis for distinguishing the front from the
back of "time's arrow."
A star's radiation, for example, travels
outward in all directions. The reverse is
never observed: radiation coming from
all directions and converging on a star
with backward-running nuclear reac-
tions that make it an energy sink in-
stead of an energy source. There is noth-
ing in the basic laws to make such a
situation impossible in principle; there
is only the difficulty of imagining how it
could get started. One would have to as-
sume that God or the gods, in some
higher continuum, started the waves at
the rim of the universe. The emergence
of particles from a disintegrating radio-
active nucleus and the production of
ripples when a stone is dropped into a
quiet lake are similar instances of one-
way events. They never occur in reverse
because of the enormous improbability
that "boundary conditions"— conditions
at the "rim" of things— would be such as
to produce the required kind of con-
verging energy. The reverse of beta de-
cay, for instance, would require that an
electron, a proton and an antineutrino
be shot from the "rim" with such deadly
accuracy of aim that all three particles
would strike the same nucleus and cre-
ate a neutron.
The steady expansion of the entire
cosmos is another example. Here again
there is no reason why this could not, in
principle, go the other way. If the direc-
tions of all the receding galaxies were
reversed, the red shift would become a
blue shift, and the total picture would
violate no known physical laws. All
193
these expanding and radiative processes,
although always one-way as far as our
experience goes, fail to provide a funda-
mental distinction between the two ends
of time's arrow.
Tt has been suggested by many philoso-
phers, and even by some physicists,
that it is only in human consciousness,
in the one-way operation of our minds,
that a basis for time's arrow can be
found. Their arguments have not been
convincing. After all, the earth had a
long history before any life existed on it,
and there is every reason to believe that
earthly events were just as unidirection-
al along the time axis then as they are
now. Most physicists came finally to the
conclusion that all natural events are
time-reversible in principle (this became
known technically as "time invariance")
except for events involving the statisti-
cal behavior of large numbers of inter-
acting objects.
Consider what happens when a cue
ball breaks a triangle of 15 balls on a
pool table. The balls scatter hither and
thither and the 8 ball, say, drops into a
side pocket. Suppose immediately after
this event the motions of all the entities
involved are reversed in direction while
keeping the same velocities. At the spot
where the 8 ball came to rest the mole-
cules that carried off the heat and shock
of impact would all converge on the
same spot to create a small explosion
that would start the ball back up the in-
cline. Along the way the molecules that
carried ofiF the heat of friction would
move toward the ball and boost it along
its upward path. The other balls would
be set in motion in a similar fashion. The
8 ball would be propelled out of the side
pocket and the balls would move around
the table until they finally converged to
form a triangle. There would be no
sound of impact because all the mole-
cules that had been involved in the
shock waves produced by the initial
break of the triangle would be converg-
ing on the balls and combining with
their momentum in such a way that the
impact would freeze the triangle and
shoot the cue ball back toward the tip
of the cue. A motion picture of any in-
dividual molecule in this event would
show absolutely nothing unusual. No
basic mechanical law would seem to be
violated. But when the billions of "hith-
er-and-thithering" molecules involved in
the total picture are considered, the
probability that they would all move in
the way required for the time-reversed
event is so low that no one can conceive
of its happening.
Because gravity is a one-way force,
always attracting and never repelhng, it
might be supposed that the motions of
bodies under the influence of gravity
could not be time-reversed without vio-
lating basic laws. Such is not the case.
Reverse the directions of the planets
and they would swing around the sun
in the same orbits. What about the colli-
sions of objects drawn together by gravi-
ty—the fall of a meteorite, for example?
Surely this event is not time-reversible.
But it is! When a large meteorite strikes
the earth, there is an explosion. Billions
of molecules scatter hither and thither.
Reverse the directions of all those mole-
cules and their impact at one spot would
provide just the right amount of energy
to send the meteorite back into orbit. No
basic laws would be violated, only statis-
tical laws.
Tt was here, in the laws of probabil-
ity, that most 19th-century physicists
found an ultimate basis for time's arrow.
Probability explains such irreversible
processes as the mixing of coffee and
cream, the breaking of a window by a
stone and all the other familiar one-way-
only events in which large numbers of
molecules are involved. It explains the
second law of thermodynamics, which
says that heat always moves from hot-
ter to cooler regions, increasing the en-
tropy (a measure of a certain kind of dis-
order) of the system. It explains why
shuffling randomizes a deck of ordered
cards.
"Without any mystic appeal to con-
sciousness," declared Sir Arthur Edding-
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LIVING BACKWARD in a time-forward world leads to all kinde time's arrow is reversed or to consider, at the level of qaantnni
of difficulties. It is possible, however, to imagine galaxies in which theory, that some particles may move "the wrong way" in time.
194
Can Time Go Backward?
THREE SYMMETRIES, charge (C), parity (P) and time ^T), are
likened to pieces that fit into a pattern. Before 1957 they were all
assumed to be symmetrical; any experiment (the pattern) involv-
ing the three could be duplicated with any one piece, any two or
all three reversed (left). Then experiments were found that violate
P-symmetry, suggesting that if overall (CPT) symmetry holds.
some piece other than P must also be asymmetrical. C was found to
be such a piece; an experiment remains the same if C and P are
reversed together {middle). In 1961 experiments that violate this
CP-symmetry were reported. It follows that T must be asymmetrical
in these cases, since a pattern violating CP-symmelry can be dupli-
cated only by reversing all three pieces simultaneously (right).
ton (in a lecture in which he first intro-
duced the phrase "time's arrow"), "it is
possible to find a direction of time
Let us draw an arrow arbitrarily. If as
we follow the arrow we find more and
more of the random element in the state
of the world, then the arrow is pointing
towards the future; if the random ele-
ment decreases the arrow points towards
the past. That is the only distinction
known to physics."
Eddington knew, of course, that there
are radiative processes, such as beta
decay and the light from suns, that nev-
er go the other way, but he did not con-
sider them sufficiently fundamental to
provide a basis for time's direction. Giv-
en the initial and boundary conditions
necessary for starting the reverse of a
radiative process, the reverse event is
certain to take place. Begin with a deck
of disordered cards, however, and the
probability is never high that a random
shuffle will separate them into spades,
hearts, clubs and diamonds. Events in-
volving shuffling processes seem to be
irreversible in a stronger sense than radi-
ative events. That is why Eddington and
other physicists and philosophers argued
that statistical laws provide the most fun-
damental way to define the direction of
time.
It now appears that there is a basis
for time's arrow that is even more funda-
mental than statistical laws. In 1964 a
group of Princeton University physicists
discovered that certain weak interactions
of particles are apparently not time-re-
versible [see "Violations of Symmetry in
Physics," by Eugene P. Wigner; Scien-
tific American, December, 1965]. One
says "apparently" because the evidence
is both indirect and controversial. Al-
though it is possible to run certain par-
ticle interactions backward to make a
direct test of time symmetry, such ex-
periments have not as yet shown any vi-
olations of time-reversibility. The Prince-
ton tests were of an indirect kind. They
imply, if certain premises are granted,
that time symmetry is violated.
The most important premise is known
as the CPT theorem. C stands for elec-
tric charge (plus or minus), P for parity
(left or right mirror images) and T for
time (forward or backward). Until a dec-
ade ago physicists believed each of these
three basic symmetries held throughout
nature. If you reversed the charges on
the particles in a stone, so that plus
charges became minus and minus charges
became plus, you would still have a
stone. To be sure, the stone would be
made of antimatter, but there is no rea-
son why antimatter cannot exist. An anti-
stone on the earth would instantly ex-
plode (matter and antimatter annihilate
each other when they come in contact),
but physicists could imagine a galaxy of
antimatter that would behave exactly
hke oui- own galaxy; indeed, it could be
in all respects exactly like our own ex-
cept for its C (charge) reversal.
The same universal symmetry was be-
heved to hold with respect to P (parity).
If you reversed the parity of a stone or a
galaxy-that is, mirror-reflected its entire
structure down to the last wave and par-
ticle-the result would be a perfectly
normal stone or galaxy. Then in 1957
C. N. Yang and T. D. Lee received the
Nobel prize in physics for theoretical
work that led to the discovery that pari-
ty is not conserved [see "The Overthrow
of Parity," by Philip Morrison; Scien-
tific American, April, 1957]. There are
events on the particle level, involving
weak interactions, that cannot occur in
mirror-reflected form.
I
t was an unexpected and disturbing
blow, but physicists quickly regained
their balance. Experimental evidence
was found that if these asymmetrical.
parity-violating events were reflected in
a special kind of imaginary mirror called
the CP mirror, symmetry was restored.
If in addition to ordinary mirror reflec-
tion there is also a charge reversal, the
result is something nature can "do." Per-
haps there are galaxies of antimatter
that are also mirror-reflected matter. In
such galaxies, physicists speculated, sci-
entists could duplicate every particle ex-
periment that can be performed here. If
we were in communication with scien-
tists in such a CP-reversed galaxy, there
would be no way to discover whether
they were in a world like ours or in one
that was CP-reflected. (Of course, if we
went there and our spaceship exploded
on anival, we would know we had en-
tered a region of antimatter.)
No sooner had physicists relaxed a bit
with this newly restored symmetry than
the Princeton physicists found some
weak interactions in which CP symme-
try appears to be violated. In different
words, they found some events that,
when CP-reversed, are (in addition to
their C and P differences) not at all du-
plicates of each other. It is at this point
that time indirectly enters the pictiu-e,
because the only remaining "magic mir-
ror" by which symmetry can be restored
is the combined CPT mirror in which all
three symmetries-charge, parity and
time— are reversed. This CPT mirror is
not just something physicists want to
preser\'e because they love symmetry. It
is built into the foundations of relativity
theory in such a way that, if it turned
out not to be true, relativity theoiy
would be in serious trouble. There are
therefore strong grounds for believing
tlie CPT theorem holds. On the assump-
tion that it does, a violation of CP sym-
metry would imply that time symmetry
is also violated [see illustration above].
There are a few ways to preserve the
CP mirror without combining it with T,
195
but none has met with any success. The
best way is to suppose there is a "fifth
force" (in addition to the four known
forces: gravity, the weak-interaction
force, electromagnetism and the nuclear
force) that is causing the newly discov-
ered anomalies. Experiments have cast
strong doubt on the fifth-force hypothe-
sis, however.
Early this year Paolo Franzini and
his wife, working with the alternating-
gradient synchrotron at the Brookhaven
National Laboratory, found even strong-
er evidence of CP violations— this time
in events involving electromagnetic re-
actions. The Franzini work was contro-
verted, however, by a group of physicists
at the European Organization for Nu-
clear Research (CERN) in Geneva, who
announced their results in September.
At the moment the cause of this discrep-
ancy in results is not clear.
Although the evidence is still indirect
and in part controversial, many physi-
cists are now convinced that there are
events at the particle level that go in
only one time direction. If this holds
throughout the universe, there is now a
way to tell, while communicating with
scientists in a distant galaxy, whether
they are in a world of matter or of anti-
matter. We simply ask them to perform
one of the CP-violating experiments. If
their description of such a test coincides
exactly with our ovwi description of the
same test when done here, we shall not
explode when we visit them. It may well
be that the universe contains no galaxies
of antimatter. But physicists like to bal-
ance things, and if there is as much anti-
matter as there is matter in the universe,
there may be regions of the cosmos in
which all three symmetries are reversed.
Events in our world that are lopsided
with respect to CPT would all go the
other way in a CPr-reversed galaxy. Its
matter would be mirror-reflected, re-
versed in charge and moving backward
in time.
"YJT/'hat does it mean to say that events
*' in a galaxy are moving backward in
time? At this point no one really knows.
The new experiments indicate that there
is a preferred time direction for certain
particle interactions. Does this arrow
have any connection with other time
arrows such as those that are defined
by radiative processes, entropy laws and
the psychological time of living orga-
nisms? Do all these arrows have to point
the same way or can they vary inde-
pendently in their directions?
Before the recent discoveries of the
violation of T invariance the most popu-
lar way to give an operational meaning
to "backward time" was by imagining a
world in which shuffling processes went
backward, from disorder to order. Lud-
wig Boltzmann, the 19th-century Aus-
trian physicist who was one of the
founders of statistical thermodynamics,
realized that after the molecules' of a
gas in a closed, isolated container haVe
reached a state of thermal equilibrium—
that is, are moving in complete disorder
with maximum entropy— there will al-
ways be little pockets forming here and
there where entropy is momentarily de-
creasing. These would be balanced by
other regions where entropy is increas-
ing; the overall entropy remains rela-
tively stable, with only minor up-and-
down fluctuations.
Boltzmann imagined a cosmos of vast
size, perhaps infinite in space and time,
the overall entropy of which is at a
maximum but which contains pockets
where for the moment entropy is de-
creasing. (A "pocket" could include bil-
V
hons of galaxies and the "moment" could
be billions of years.) Perhaps our fly-
speck portion of the infinite sea of
space-time is one in which such a fluctu-
ation has occurred. At some time in the
past, perhaps at the time of the "big
bang," entropy happened to decrease;
now it is increasing. In the eternal and
infinite flux a bit of order happened to
put in its appearance; now that order is
disappearing again, and so our arrow of
time runs in the familiar direction of in-
creasing entropy. Are there other re-
gions of space-time, Boltzmann asked, in
which the arrow of entropy points the
other way? If so, would it be correct to
say that time in such a region was mov-
ing backward, or should one simply say
that entropy was decreasing as the re-
gion continued to move forward in time?
It seems evident today that one can-
not speak of backward time without
meaning considerably more than just a
reversal of the entropy arrow. One has
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TIME IS RELATIONAL, not absolute. Observers in galaxies with opposite time directions
each suppose the other to be moving backward in time. The man \n A sees a diner in B eat-
ing backward; the diner in B, whose time is reversed, sees the man in A eating backward.
196
Can Time Go Backward?
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SHUFFLING ordinarily randomizes a pack of cards; it would be surprising to find it work-
ing the other way. Statistical laws therefore provide a way to define the direction of time.
to include all the other one-way proc-
esses with which we are familiar, such
as the radiative processes and the newly
discovered CP-violating interactions. In
a world that was completely time-
reversed all these processes would go
the other way. Now, however, we must
guard against an amusing verbal trap.
If we imagine a cosmos running back-
ward while we stand off somewhere in
space to observe the scene, then we
must be observing the cosmos moving
backward in a direction opposite to our
own psychological time, which still runs
forward. What does it mean to say that
the entire cosmos, including all possible
observers, is running backward?
In the first book of Plato's Statesman
a stranger explains to Socrates his theory
that the world goes through vast oscillat-
ing cycles of time. At the end of each
cycle time stops, reverses and then goes
the other way. This is how the stranger
describes one of the backward cycles:
"The life of all animals first came
to a standstill, and the mortal nature
ceased to be or look older, and was then
reversed and grew young and delicate;
the white locks of the aged darkened
again, and the cheeks of the bearded
man became smooth, and recovered
their former bloom; the bodies of youths
in their prime grew softer and smaller,
continually by day and night returning
and becoming assimilated to the nature
of a newly bom child in mind as well
as body; in the succeeding stage they
wasted away and wholly disappeared."
Plato's stranger is obviously caught in
the trap. If things come to a standstill
in time and "then" reverse, what does
the word "then" mean? It has meaning
only if we assume a more fundamental
kind of time that continues to move
forward, altogether independent of how
things in the universe move. Relative to
this meta-time— the time of the hypo-
thetical observer who has slipped un-
noticed into the picture— the cosmos is
indeed running backward. But if there
is no meta-time— no observer who can
stand outside the entire cosmos and
watch it reverse— it is hard to under-
stand what sense can be given to the
statement that the cosmos "stops" and
"then" starts moving backward.
There is less difficulty— indeed, no
logical difficulty at all— in imagining two
portions of the universe, say two galax-
ies, in which time goes one way in one
galaxy and the opposite way in the other.
The philosopher Hans Reichenbach, in
his book The Direction of Time, sug-
gests that this could be the case, and
that intelligent beings in each galaxy
would regard their own time as "for-
ward" and time in the other galaxy as
"backward." The two galaxies would be
like two mirror images: each would seem
reversed to inhabitants of the other [see
illustration on preceding page]. From
this point of view time is a relational con-
cept like up and down, left and right or
big and small. It would be just as mean-
ingless to say that the entire cosmos re-
versed its time direction as it would be
to say that it turned upside down or sud-
denly became its own mirror image. It
would be meaningless because there is
no absolute or fixed time arrow outside
the cosmos by which such a reversal
could be measured. It is only when part
of the cosmos is time-reversed in rela-
tion to another part that such a reversal
acquires meaning.
Now, however, we come up against a
significant difference between mir-
ror reflection and time reversal. It is easy
to observe a reversed world— one has
only to look into a mirror. But how could
an observer in one galaxy "see" another
galaxy that was time-reversed? Light,
instead of radiating from the other gal-
axy, would seem to be going toward it.
Each galaxy would be totally invisible
to the other. Moreover, the memories
of observers in the two galaxies would
be operating in opposite directions. If
you somehow succeeded in communicat-
ing something to someone in a time-
reversed world, he would promptly for-
get it because the event would instantly
become part of his future rather than of
his past. "It's a poor sort of memory that
only works backward," said Lewis Car-
roll's White Queen in one looking-glass,
time-reversed (PT-reversed!) scene. Un-
fortunately, outside of Carroll's dream
world, memory works only one way.
Norbert Wiener, speculating along such
lines in his book Cybernetics, concluded
that no communication would be pos-
sible between intelligent beings in re-
gions with opposite time directions.
A British physicist, F. Russell Stan-
nard, pursues similar lines of thought in
an article on "Symmetry of the Time
Axis" {Nature, August 13, 1966) and
goes even further than Wiener. He con-
cludes (and not all physicists agree with
him) that no interactions of any kind
would be possible between particles of
matter in two worlds whose time axes
pointed in opposite directions. If the
universe maintains an overall symmetry
with respect to time, matter of opposite
time directions would "decouple" and
the two worlds would become invisible
to each other. The "other" world "would
consist of galaxies absorbing their fight
rather than emitting it, living organisms
growing younger, neutrons being cre-
ated in triple collisions between protons,
electrons and antineutrinos, and there-
after being absorbed in nuclei, etc. It
would be a universe that was in a state
of contraction, and its entropy would
be decreasing, and yet the faustian ob-
servers ["faustian" is Stannard's term for
the "other" region] would not be aware
of anything strange in their environ-
ment. Being constructed of faustian
matter, their subjective experience of
time is reversed, so they would be equal-
ly convinced that it was they who grew
older and their entropy that increased."
Instead of one universe with oscillat-
ing time directions, as in the vision of
Plato's stranger, Stannard's vision bi-
furcates the cosmos into side-by-side
regions, each unrolling its magic carpet
of history simultaneously (whatever "si-
multaneously" can mean!) but in oppo-
site directions. Of course, there is no
reason why the cosmos has to be sym-
197
metrical in an overall way just to satisfy
the physicist's aesthetic sense of bal-
ance. The universe may well be perma-
nently lopsided in regard to all three
aspects— charge, parity and time— even
if there is no theoretical reason why all
three could not go the other way. If a
painting does not have to be symmetri-
cal to be beautiful, why should the uni-
verse?
Ts it possible to imagine a single indi-
vidual living backward in a time-
forward world? Plato's younger contem-
porary, the Greek historian Theopompus
of Chios, wrote about a certain fruit
that, when eaten, would start a person
growing younger. This, of course, is not
quite the same thing as a complete re-
versal of the person's time. There have
been several science-fiction stories about
individuals who grew backward in this
way, including one amusing tale, "The
Curious Case of Benjamin Button," by
(of all people) F. Scott Fitzgerald. (It
first appeared in Colliers in 1922 and is
most accessible at the moment in Pause
to Wonder, an anthology edited by Mar-
jorie Fischer and Rolfe Humphries.)
Benjamin is bom in 1860, a 70-year-old
man with white hair and a long beard.
He grows backward at a normal rate,
enters kindergarten at 65, goes through
school and marries at 50. Thirty years
later, at the age of 20, he decides to
enter Harvard, and he is graduated in
1914 when he is 16. (I am giving his
biological ages.) The Army promotes
him to brigadier general because as a
biologically older man he had been a
lieutenant colonel during the Spanish-
American War, but when he shows up
at the Army base as a small boy he is
packed off for home. He grows younger
until he cannot walk or talk. "Then it was
all dark," reads Fitzgerald's last sen-
tence, "and his white crib and the dim
faces that moved above him, and the
warm sweet aroma of the milk, faded out
altogether from his mind."
Aside from his backward growth, Mr.
Button lives normally in forward-moving
time. A better description of a situation
in which the time arrows of a person
and the world point in opposite direc-
tions is found in Carroll's novel Sylvie
and Bruno Concluded. The German
Professor hands the narrator an Out-
landish Watch with a "reversal peg"
that causes the outside world to run
backward for four hours. There is an
amusing description of a time-reversed
dinner at which "an empty fork is raised
to the lips: there it receives a neatly cut
piece of mutton, and swiftly conveys it
to the plate, where it instantly attaches
itself to the mutton already there." The
scene is not consistent, however. The or-
der of the dinner-table remarks is back-
ward, but the words occur in a forward
time direction.
If we try to imagine an individual
whose entire bodily and mental proc-
esses are reversed, we run into the worst
kind of difiBculties. For one thing, he
could not pass through his previous life
experiences backward, because those
experiences are bound up with his ex-
ternal world, and since that world is still
moving forward none of his past experi-
ences can be duplicated. Would we see
him go into a mad death dance, like an
automaton whose motor had been re-
versed? Would he, from his point of
view, find himself still thinking forward
in a world that seemed to be going
backward? If so, he would be unable to
see or hear anything in that world, be-
cause all sound and hght waves would
be moving toward their points of origin.
We seem to encounter nothing but
nonsense when we try to apply different
time arrows to an individual and the
world. Is it perhaps possible, on the
microlevel of quantum theory, to speak
sensibly about part of the universe
moving the wrong way in time? It is. In
1948 Richard P. Feynman, who shared
the 1965 Nobel prize in physics, devel-
oped a mathematical approach to quan-
tum theory in which an antiparticle is
regarded as a particle moving backward
in time for a fraction of a microsecond.
When there is pair-creation of an elec-
tron and its antiparticle the positron (a
positively charged electron), the posi-
tron is extremely short-lived. It imme-
diately collides with another electron.
S i"^'
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FEYNMAN GRAPH, shown at the left in a simplified form devised
by Banesh Hoffman of Queens College, shows how an antiparti-
cle can be considered a particle moving backward in time. The
graph is viewed through a horizontal slot in a sheet of cardboard
(color) that is moved slowly up across the graph. Looking through
the slot, one sees events as they appear in our forward-looking
"now." Electron A moves to the right (i ), an electron-positron pair
is created (2), the positron and electron A are mutually annihi-
lated (3) and electron B continues on to the right (4). From a
timeless point of view (without the slotted cardboard), however, it
can be seen that there is only one particle: an electron that goes
forward in time, backward and then forward again. Richard P.
Feynman's approach stemmed from a whimsical suggestion by John
A. Wheeler of Princeton University: a single particle, tracing a
"world line" through space and time (right), could create all
the world's electrons (black dots) and positrons (colored dots).
198
Can Time Go Backward?
both are annihilated and off goes a
gamma ray. Three separate particles-
one positron and two electrons— seem to
be involved. In Feynman's theory there
is only one particle, the electron [see
illustration on opposite page]. What we
obsei-ve as a positron is simply the elec-
tron moving momentarily back in time.
Because our time, in which we observe
the event, runs uniformly forward, we
see the time-reversed electron as a posi-
tron. We think the positron vanishes
when it hits another electron, but this is
just the original electron resuming its for-
ward time direction. The electron exe-
cutes a tiny zigzag dance in space-time,
hopping into the past just long enough
for us to see its path in a bubble chamber
and interpret it as a path made by a
positron moving forward in time.
Feynman got his basic idea when he
was a graduate student at Princeton,
from a telephone conversation with his
physics professor John A. Wheeler. In
his Nobel-prize acceptance speech
Feynman told the story this way:
"Feynman," said Wheeler, "I know
why all electrons have the same charge
and the same mass."
"Why?" asked Feynman.
"Because," said Wheeler, "they are all
the same electron!"
Wheeler went on to explain on the
telephone the stupendous vision that had
come to him. In relativity theory physi-
cists use what are called Minkowski
graphs for showing the movements of
objects through space-time. The path of
an object on such a graph is called its
"world Une." Wheeler imagined one
electron, weaving back and forth in
space-time, tracing out a single world
line. The world line would form an in-
credible knot, like a monstrous ball of
tangled twine with billions on billions
of crossings, the "string" filling the en-
tire cosmos in one blinding, timeless in-
stant. If we take a cross section through
cosmic space-time, cutting at right
angles to the time axis, we get a picture
of three-space at one instant of time.
This three-dimensional cross section
moves forward along the time axis, and
it is on this moving section of "now"
that the events of the world execute
their dance. On this cross section the
world line of the electron, the incredible
knot, would be broken up into billions
on billions of dancing points, each cor-
responding to a spot where the electron
knot was cut. If the cross section cuts the
world line at a spot where the particle is
moving forward in time, the spot is an
electron. If it cuts the world line at a
spot where the particle is moving back-
ward in time, the spot is a positron. All
f ,
1 1 ^
CP-REVERSED GALAXY (where charge is reversed and matter mirror-reflected) woald be
indistinguishable as such from the earth. But explorers from the earth would soon find out.
the electrons and positrons in the cosmos
are, in Wheeler's fantastic vision, cross
sections of the knotted path of this single
particle. Since they are all sections of
the same world line, naturally they will
all have identical masses and strengths
of charge. Their positive and negative
charges are no more than indications of
the time direction in which the parti-
cle at that instant was weaving its way
through space-time.
There is an enormous catch to all of
this. The number of electrons and posi-
trons in the universe would have to be
equal. You can see this by drawing on
a sheet of paper a two-dimensional
analogue of Wheeler's vision. Simply
trace a single line over the page to make
a tangled knot [see illustration on oppo-
site page]. Draw a straight line through
it. The straight line represents a one-
dimensional cross section at one instant
in time through a two-space world (one
space axis and one time axis). At points
where the knot crosses the straight line,
moving up in the direction of time's
arrow, it produces an electron. Where
it crosses the line going the opposite
way it produces a positron. It is easy to
see that the number of electrons and
positrons must be equal or have at most
a difference of one. That is why, when
Wheeler had described his vision, Feyn-
man immediately said:
"But, Professor, there aren't as many
positrons as electrons."
"Well," countered Wheeler, "maybe
they are hidden in the protons or some-
thing."
Wheeler was not proposing a serious
theory, but the suggestion that a posi-
tron could be interpreted as an electron
moving temporarily backward in time
caught Feynman's fancy, and he found
that the interpretation could be handled
mathematically in a way that was en-
tirely consistent with logic and all the
laws of quantum theory. It became a
cornerstone in his famous "space-time
view" of quantum mechanics, which he
completed eight years later and for
which he shared his Nobel prize. The
theory is equivalent to traditional views,
but the zigzag dance of Feynman's par-
ticles provided a new way of handling
certain calculations and greatly simph-
fying them. Does this mean that the
positron is "really" an electron moving
backward in time? No, that is only one
physical interpretation of the "Feynman
graphs"; other interpretations, just as
valid, do not speak of time reversals.
With the new experiments suggesting a
mysterious interlocking of charge, parity
TIME-REVERSED INHABITANTS of a time-reversed world are not aware of anything
strange in the environment because their own subjective experience of time ie reversed.
199
and time direction, however, the zigzag
dance of Feynman's electron, as it traces
its world line through space-time, no
longer seems as bizarre a physical inter-
pretation as it once did.
At the moment no one can predict
-'*- what will finally come of the new
evidence that a time arrow may be built
into some of the most elementary parti-
cle interactions. Physicists are taking
more interest than ever before in what
philosophers have said about time,
thinking harder than ever before about
what it means to say time has a "direc-
tion" and what connection, if any, this
all has with human consciousness and
will. Is history like a vast "riverrun" that
can be seen by God or the gods from
source to mouth, or from an infinite past
to an infinite future, in one timeless and
eternal glance:* Is freedom of will no
more than an illusion as the current of
existence propels us into a future that
in some unknown sense already ex-
ists? To vary the metaphor, is history a
prerecorded motion picture, projected
on the four-dimensional screen of our
space-time for the amusement or edifica-
tion of some unimaginable Audience?
Or is the future, as WilUam James
and others have so passionately argued,
open and undetermined, not existing
in any sense until it actually happens?
Does the future bring genuine novelty-
surprises that even the gods are unable
to anticipate? Such questions go far
beyond the reach of physics and probe
aspects of existence that we are as little
capable of comprehending as the fish
in the river Liffey are of comprehend-
ing the city of Dublin.
200
When the first atomic bomb was nearly finished in the
war-time laboratories, and before it was used, a group
of physicists involved pleaded that the bomb should not
be first dropped on a civilian target.
19 A Report to the Secretary of War
James Franck, Donald J. Hughes, J. I. Nickson, Eugene Rabinowitch,
Glenn T. Seaborg, Joyce C. Stearns, Leo Szilard.
June 1945.
I. Preamble
The only reason to treat nuclear power differently from all the
other developments in the field of physics is the possibility of its use as a
means of poHtical pressure in peace and sudden destruction in war. All
present plans for the organization of research, scientific and industrial
development, and publication in the field of nucleonics are conditioned
by the political and military climate in which one expects those plans to
be carried out. Therefore, in making suggestions for the postwar organiza-
tion of nucleonics, a discussion of political problems cannot be avoided.
The scientists on this project do not presume to speak authoritatively on
problems of national and international policy. However, we found our-
selves, by the force of events during the last five years, in the position of a
small group of citizens cognizant of a grave danger for the safety of this
country as well as for the future of all the other nations, of which the rest
of mankind is unaware. We therefore feel it our duty to urge that the
political problems arising from the mastering of nuclear power be recog-
nized in all their gravity, and that appropriate steps be taken for their
study and the preparation of necessary decisions. We hope that the crea-
tion of the committee by the Secretary of War to deal with all aspects of
nucleonics indicates that these implications have been recognized by the
government. We believe that our acquaintance with the scientific elements
of the situation and prolonged preoccupation with its worldwide political
impHcations, imposes on us the obligation to offer to the committee some
suggestions as to the possible solution of these grave problems.
Scientists have often before been accused of providing new weapons for
the mutual destruction of nations instead of improving their well-being.
It is undoubtedly true that the discovery of flying, for example, has SD far
brought much more misery than enjoyment and profit to humanity. How-
ever, in the past scientists could disclaim direct responsibility for the use to
which mankind had put their disinterested discoveries. We feel compelled 201
to take a more active stand now because the success which we have
achieved in the development of nuclear power is fraught with infinitely
greater dangers than were all the inventions of the past. All of us fa-
miliar with the present state of nucleonics Hve with the vision before our
eyes of sudden destruction visited on our own country, of a Pearl Harbor
disaster repeated in thousand-fold magnification in every one of our
major cities.
In the past, science has often been able to also provide new methods of
protection against new weapons of aggression it made possible, but it can-
not promise such efiicient protection against the destructive use of nuclear
power. This protection can come only from the poHtical organization of the
world. Among all the arguments calling for an efficient international or-
ganization for peace, the existence of nuclear weapons is the most com-
pelling one. In the absence of an international authority which would make
all resort to force in international conflicts impossible, nations could still be
diverted from a path which must lead to total mutual destruction by a
specific international agreement barring a nuclear armaments race.
II. Prospects of Armaments Race
It could be suggested that the danger of destruction by nuclear weapons
can be avoided — at least as far as this country is concerned — either by
keeping our discoveries secret for an indefinite time, or else by developing
our nuclear armaments at such a pace that no other nation would think of
attacking us from fear of overwhelming retaliation.
The answer to the first suggestion is that although we undoubtedly are
at present ahead of the rest of the world in this field, the fundamental facts
of nuclear power are a subject of common knowledge. British scientists
know as much as we do about the basic wartime progress of nucleonics —
if not of the specific processes used in our engineering developments —
and the role which French nuclear physicists have played in the pre-war
development of this field, plus their occasional contact with our projects,
will enable them to catch up rapidly, at least as far as basic scientific
discoveries are concerned. German scientists, in whose discoveries the
whole development of this field originated, apparently did not develop it
during the war to the same extent to which tliis has been done in America,
but to the last day of the European war we were living in constant ap-
prehension as to their possible achievements. The certainty that German
scientists were working on this weapon and that their government would
certainly have no scruples against using it when available was the main
motivation of the initiative which American scientists took in urging the
development of nuclear power for military purposes on a large scale in
this country. In Russia, too, the basic facts and imphcations of nuclear
power were well understood in 1940, and the experience of Russian scientists
in nuclear research is entirely suflBcient to enable them to retrace our steps
202
A Report to the Secretary of War
within a few years, even if we should make every attempt to conceal
them. Even if we can retain our leadership in basic knowledge of nucleonics
for a certain time by maintaining secrecy as to all results achieved on this
and associated projects, it would be foolish to hope that this can protect us
for more than a few years.
It may be asked whether we cannot prevent the development of
military nucleonics in other countries by a monopoly on the raw materials
of nuclear power. The answer is that even though the largest now known
deposits of uranium ores are under the control of powers which belong to
the "western" group (Canada, Belgium and British India), the old de-
posits in Czechoslovakia are outside this sphere. Russia is known to be
mining radium on its own territory, and even if we do not know the size of
the deposits discovered so far in the USSR, the probability that no large
reserves of uranium will be found in a country which covers one-fifth of the
land area of the earth (and whose sphere of influence takes in additional
territory), is too small to serve as a basis for security. Thus, we cannot
hope to avoid a nuclear armament race either by keeping secret from the
competing nations the basic scientific facts of nuclear power or by corner-
ing the raw materials required for such a race.
We now consider the second of the two suggestions made at the begin-
ning of this section, and ask whether we could not feel ourselves safe in a
race of nuclear armaments by virtue of our greater industrial potential,
including greater diffusion of scientific and technical knowledge, greater
volume and eflBciency of our skilled labor corps, and greater experience of
our management — all the factors whose importance has been so strikingly
demonstrated in the conversion of this country into an arsenal of the
allied nations in the present war. The answer is that all that these ad-
vantages can give us is the accumulation of a larger number of bigger and
better atomic bombs.
However, such a quantitative advantage in reserves of bottled destruc-
tive power will not make us safe from sudden attack. Just because a
potential enemy will be afraid of being "outnumbered and outgunned,"
the temptation for him may be overwhelming to attempt a sudden unpro-
voked blow— particularly if he should suspect us of harboring aggressive
intentions against his security or his sphere of influence. In no other type
of warfare does the advantage lie so heavily with the aggressor. He can
place his "infernal machines" in advance in all our major cities and explode
them simultaneously, thus destroying a major part of our industry and a
large part of our population aggregated in densely populated metropolitan
districts. Our possibilities of retaliation— even if retaliation should be con-
sidered adequate compensation for the loss of millions of lives and de-
struction of our largest cities— will be greatly handicapped because we
must rely on aerial transportation of the bombs, and also because we may
have to deal with an enemy whose industry and population are dispersed
over a large territory.
203
In fact, if the race for nuclear armaments is allowed to develop, the only
apparent way in which our country can be protected from the paralyzing
eflFects of a sudden attack is by dispersal of those industries which are
essential for our war eflForts and dispersal of the populations of our major
metropoHtan cities. As long as nuclear bombs remain scarce (i.e., as long
as uranium remains the only basic material for their fabrication), efficient
dispersal of our industry and the scattering of our metropolitan population
will considerably decrease the temptation to attack us by nuclear weapons.
At present, it may be that atomic bombs can be detonated with an efiFect
equal to that of 20,000 tons of TNT. One of these bombs could then destroy
something like three square miles of an urban area. Atomic bombs con-
taining a larger quantity of active material but still weighing less than one
ton may be expected to be available within ten years which could destroy
over ten square miles of a city. A nation able to assign ten tons of atomic
explosives for a sneak attack on this country can then hope to achieve the
destruction of all industry and most of the population in an area from 500
square miles upwards. If no choice of targets, with a total area of 500
square miles of American territory, contains a large enough fraction of the
nation's industry and population to make their destruction a crippling
blow to the nation's war potential and its ability to defend itself, then the
attack will not pay and may not be undertaken. At present, one could
easily select in this country a hundred areas of five square miles each
whose simultaneous destruction would be a staggering blow to the nation.
Since the area of the United States is about three million square miles, it
should be possible to scatter its industrial and human resources in such a
way as to leave no 500 square miles important enough to serve as a target
for nuclear attack.
We are fully aware of the staggering difiiculties involved in such a
radical change in the social and economic structure of our nation. We felt,
however, that the dilemma had to be stated, to show what kind of alterna-
tive methods of protection will have to be considered if no successful in-
ternational agreement is reached. It must be pointed out that in this field
we are in a less favorable position than nations which are either now more
diflFusely populated and whose industries are more scattered, or whose
governments have unlimited power over the movement of population and
the location of industrial plants.
If no efficient international agreement is achieved, the race for nuclear
armaments will be on in earnest not later than the morning after our first
demonstration of the existence of nuclear weapons. After this, it might take
other nations three or four years to overcome our present head start, and
eight or ten years to draw even with us if we continue to do intensive
work in this field. This might be all the time we would have to bring about
the relocation of our population and industry. Obviously, no time should be
lost in inaugurating a study of this problem by ex-perts.
204
A Report to the Secretary of War
III. Prospects of Agreement
The consequences of nuclear warfare, and the type of measures which
would have to be taken to protect a country from total destruction by
nuclear bombing must be as abhorrent to other nations as to the United
States. England, France, and the smaller nations of the European continent,
with their congeries of people and industries, would be in a particularly
desperate situation in the face of such a threat. Russia and China are the
only great nations at present which could survive a nuclear attack. How-
ever, even though these countries may value human life less than the
peoples of Western Europe and America, and even though Russia, in
particular, has an immense space over which its vital industries could be
dispersed and a government which can order this dispersion the day it is
convinced that such a measure is necessary — there is no doubt that Russia,
too, will shudder at the possibility of a sudden disintegration of Moscow
and Leningrad, almost miraculously preserved in the present war, and of
its new industrial cities in the Urals and Siberia. Therefore, only lack of mu-
tual trust and not lack of desire for agreement can stand in the path of
an eflBcient agreement for the prevention of nuclear warfare. The achieve-
ment of such an agreement will thus essentially depend on the integrity of
intentions and readiness to sacrifice the necessary fraction of one's own
sovereignty by all the parties to the agreement.
One possible way to introduce nuclear weapons to one world — which
may particularly appeal to those who consider nuclear bombs primarily as
a secret weapon developed to help win the present war — is to use them
without warning on appropriately selected objects in Japan.
Although important tactical results undoubtedly can be achieved by a
sudden introduction of nuclear weapons, we nevertheless think that the
question of the use of the very first available atomic bombs in the Japanese
war should be weighed very carefully, not only by military authorities
but by the highest political leadership of this country.
Russia, and even allied countries which bear less mistrust of our ways
and intentions, as well as neutral countries may be deeply shocked by this
step. It may be very difficult to persuade the world that a nation which
was capable of secretly preparing and suddenly releasing a new weapon
as indiscriminate as the rocket bomb and a thousand times more destructive
is to be trusted in its proclaimed desire of having such weapons abolished
by international agreement. We have large accumulations of poison gas
but do not use them, and recent polls have shown that public opinion in
this country would disapprove of such a use even if it would accelerate the
winning of the Far Eastern war. It is true that some irrational element in
mass psychology makes gas poisoning more revolting than blasting by ex-
plosives, even though gas warfare is in no way more "inhuman" than the
205
war of bombs and bullets. Nevertheless, it is not at all certain that American
public opinion, if it could be enlightened as to the effect of atomic ex-
plosives, would approve of our own country being the first to introduce
such an indiscriminate method of wholesale destruction of civilian life.
Thus, from the "optimistic" point of view — looking forward to an in-
ternational agreement on the prevention of nuclear warfare — the military
advantages and the saving of American lives achieved by the sudden use
of atomic bombs against Japan may be outweighed by the ensuing loss of
confidence and by a wave of horror and repulsion sweeping over the rest
of the world and perhaps even dividing public opinion at home.
From this point of view, a demonstration of the new weapon might
best be made, before the eyes of representatives of all the United Nations,
on the desert or a barren island. The best possible atmosphere for the
achievement of an international agreement could be achieved if America
could say to the world, "You see what sort of a weapon we had but did not
use. We are ready to renounce its use in the future if other nations join us
in this renunciation and agree to the establishment of an eflBcient interna-
tional control."
After such a demonstration the weapon might perhaps be used against
Japan if the sanction of the United Nations (and of public opinion at
home) were obtained, perhaps after a preliminary ultimatum to Japan to
surrender or at least to evacuate certain regions as an alternative to their
total destruction, This may sound fantastic, but in nuclear weapons we
have something entirely new in order of magnitude of destructive power,
and if we want to capitalize fully on the advantage their possession gives
us, we must use new and imaginative methods.
It must be stressed that if one takes the pessimistic point of view and
discounts the possibility of an effective international control over nuclear
weapons at the present time, then the advisability of an early use of nu-
clear bombs against Japan becomes even more doubtful — quite independ-
ent of any humanitarian considerations. If an international agreement is
not concluded immediately after the first demonstration, this will mean a
flying start toward an unlimited armaments race. If this race is inevitable,
we have every reason to delay its beginning as long as possible in order to
increase our head start still further.
The benefit to the nation and the saving of American lives in the future
achieved by renouncing an early demonstration of nuclear bombs and let-
ting the other nations come into the race only reluctantly, on the basis of
guesswork and without definite knowledge that the "thing does work,"
may far outweigh the advantages to be gained by the immediate use of
the first and comparatively inefficient bombs in the war against Japan. On
the other hand, it may be argued that without an early demonstration it
may prove difficult to obtain adequate support for further intensive de-
velopment of nucleonics in this country and that thus the time gained by
the postponement of an open armaments race will not be properly used.
206
A Report to the Secretary of War
Furthermore one may suggest that other nations are now or will soon be
not entirely unaware of our present achievements, and that consequently
the postponement of a demonstration may serve no useful purpose as far
as the avoidance of an armaments race is concerned and may only create
additional mistrust, thus worsening rather them improving the chances of
an ultimate accord on the international control of nuclear explosives.
Thus, if the prospects of an agreement will be considered poor in tlie
immediate future, the pros and cons of an early revelation of our pos-
session of nuclear weapons to the world — not only by their actual use
against Japan but also by a prearranged demonstration — must be carefully
weighed by the supreme political and military leadership of the country,
and the decision should not be left to the considerations of military tactics
alone.
One may point out that scientists themselves have initiated the de-
velopment of this "secret weapon" and it is therefore strange diat they
should be reluctant to try it out on the enemy as soon as it is available. The
answer to this question was given above — the compelling reason for creat-
ing this weapon with such speed was our fear that Germany had the
technical skill necessary to develop such a weapon, and that the German
government had no moral restraints regarding its use.
Another argument which could be quoted in favor of using atomic
bombs as soon as they are available is that so much taxpayers' money has
been invested in these projects that the Congress and the American
public will demand a return for their money. The attitude of American
public opinion, mentioned earlier in the matter of the use of poison gas
against Japan, shows that one can expect the American public to under-
stand that it is sometimes desirable to keep a weapon in readiness for use
only in extreme emergency; and as soon as the potentialities of nuclear
weapons are revealed to the American people, one can be sure that they
will support all attempts to make the use of such weapons impossible.
Once this is achieved, the large installations and the accumulation of
explosive material at present earmarked for potential military use will be-
come available for important peacetime developments, including power
production, large engineering undertakings, and mass production of radio-
active materials. In this way, the money spent on wartime development of
nucleonics may become a boon for the peacetime development of national
economy.
IV. Methods of International Control
We now consider the question of how an effective international control
of nuclear armaments can be achieved. This is a difficult problem, but we
think it soluble. It requires study by statesmen and international lawyers,
and we can offer only some preliminary suggestions for such a study.
Given mutual trust and willingness on all sides to give up a certain part
207
of their sovereign rights by admitting international control of certain
phases of national economy, the control could be exercised (alternatively
or simultaneously) on two different levels.
The first and perhaps simplest way is to ration the raw materials —
primarily the uranium ores. Production of nuclear explosives begins with
the processing of large quantities of uranium in large isotope separation
plants or huge production piles. The amounts of ore taken out of the
ground at different locations could be controlled by resident agents of the
international control board, and each nation could be allotted only an
amount which would make large scale separation of fissionable isotopes
impossible.
Such a limitation would have the drawback of making impossible also
the development of nuclear power for peacetime purposes. However, it
need not prevent the production of radioactive elements on a scale suf-
ficient to revolutionize the industrial, scientific, and technical use of these
materials, and would thus not eliminate the main benefits which nucleonics
promises to bring to mankind.
An agreement on a higher level, involving more mutual trust and under-
standing, would be to allow unlimited production but keep exact book-
keeping on the fate of each pound of uranium mined. If in this way,
check is kept on the conversion of uranium and thorium ore into pure
fissionable materials, the question arises as to how to prevent accumula-
tion of large quantities of such materials in the hands of one or several
nations. Accumulations of this kind could be rapidly converted into atomic
bombs if a nation should break away from international control. It has been
suggested that a compulsory denaturation of pure fissionable isotopes
may be agreed upon — by diluting them after production with suitable
isotopes to make them useless for military purposes, while retaining their
usefulness for power engines.
One thing is clear: any international agreement on prevention of nuclear
armaments must be backed by actual and efficient controls. No paper
agreement can be sufficient since neither this or any other nation can stake
its whole existence on trust in other nations' signatures. Every attempt to
impede the international control agencies would have to be considered
equivalent to denunciation of the agreement.
It hardly needs stressing that we as scientists beheve that any systems
of control envisaged should leave as much freedom for the peacetime de-
velopment of nucleonics as is consistent with the safety of the world.
V. Summary
The development of nuclear power not only constitutes an important
addition to the technological and military power of the United States, but
also creates grave political and economic problems for the future of this
country.
208
A Report to the Secretary of War
Nuclear bombs cannot possibly remain a "secret weapon" at the exclu-
sive disposal of this country for more than a few years. The scientific facts
on which their construction is based are well known to scientists of other
countries. Unless an effective international control of nuclear explosives is
instituted, a race for nuclear armaments is certain to ensue following the
first revelation of our possession of nuclear weapons to the world. Within
ten years other countries may have nuclear bombs, each of which, weigh-
ing less than a ton, could destroy an urban area of more than ten square
miles. In the war to which such an armaments race is likely to lead, the
United States, with its agglomeration of population and industry in com-
paratively few metropolitan districts, will be at a disadvantage compared
to nations whose population and industry are scattered over large areas.
We believe that these considerations make the use of nuclear bombs for
an early unannounced attack against Japan inadvisable. If the United
States were to be the first to release this new means of indiscriminate
destruction upon mankind, she would sacrifice public support throughout
the world, precipitate the race for armaments, and prejudice the possibility
of reaching an international agreement on the future control of such
weapons.
Much more favorable conditions for the eventual achievement of such an
agreement could be created if nuclear bombs were first revealed to the
world by a demonstration in an appropriately selected uninhabited area.
In case chances for the establishment of an effective international con-
trol of nuclear weapons should have to be considered slight at the present
time, then not only the use of these weapons against Japan but even
their early demonstration may be contrary to the interests of this country.
A postponement of such a demonstration will have in this case the ad-
vantage of delaying the beginning of the nuclear armaments race as long
as possible.
If the government should decide in favor of an early demonstration of
nuclear weapons, it will then have the possibility of taking into account
the pubhc opinion of this country and of the other nations before deciding
whether these weapons should be used against Japan. In this way, other
nations may assume a share of responsibility for such a fateful decision.
209
Because of the central position of science in our civilization,
physicists should be deeply concerned with the involvement
of science in worldwide cultural and political affairs.
20 The Privilege of Being a Physicist
Victor F. Weisskopf
Article in Physics Today, 1969.
There are certain obvious privileges
that a physicist enjoys in ovir society.
He is reasonably paid; he is given in-
struments, laboratories, complicated
and expensive machines, and he is
asked not to make money with these
tools, like most other people, but to
spend money. Furthermore he is sup-
posed to do what he himself finds most
interesting, and he accounts for what
he spends to the money givers in the
form of progress reports and scientific
papers that are much too speciahzed
to be understood or evaluated by those
who give tlie money— the federal au-
thorities and, in the last analysis, the
taxpayer. Still, we believe that the
pursuit of science by the physicist is
important and should be supported
by the public. In order to prove this
point, we will have to look deeper into
the question of the relevance of sci-
ence to society as a whole. We will
not restrict ourselves to physics only;
we will consider the relevance of all
the natural sciences, but we will focus
our attention on basic sciences, that is
to those scientific activities that are
performed without a clear practical ap-
plication in mind.
The question of the relevance of
scientific research is particularly im-
portant today, when society is con-
fronted with a number of immediate
urgent problems. The world is facing
threats of nuclear war, the dangers of
overpopulation, of a world famine,
mounting social and racial conflicts,
and the destruction of our natural en-
vironment by the byproducts of ever-
increasing applications of technology.
Can we afford to continue scientific re-
search in view of these problems?
I will . try to answer this question
affirmatively. It will be the trend of
my comments to emphasize the diver-
sity in the relations between science
and society; there are many sides and
many aspects, each of different char-
acter, but of equal importance. We
can divide these aspects into two dis-
tinct groups. On the one hand, sci-
ence is important in shaping our physi-
cal environment; on the other, in shap-
ing our mental environment. The
first refers to the influence of science
on technology, the second to the influ-
ence on philosophy, on our way of
thinking.
Technology
The importance of science as a basis
of technology is commonplace. Ob-
viously, knowledge as to how nature
works can be used to obtain power
over nature. Knowledge acquired by
basic science yielded a vast technical
return. There is not a single industry
211
today that does not make use of the
results of atomic physics or of modern
chemistry. The vastness of the return
is illustrated by the fact that the total
cost of all basic research, from Archi-
medes to the present, is less than the
value of ten days of the world's present
industrial production.
We are very much aware today oi
some of the detrimental effects of the
ever increasing pace of technological
development. These effects begin to
encroach upon us in environmental
pollution of all kinds, in mounting so-
cial tensions caused by the stresses and
dislocations of a fast changing way of
life and, last but not least, in the use
of modern technology to invent and
construct more and more powerful
weapons of destruction.
In many instances, scientific knowl
edge has been and should continue to
be applied to counteract these effects.
Certainly, physics and chemistry are
useful to combat many forms of pollu-
tion and to improve public transporta-
tion. Biological research could and
must be used to find more effective
means of birth control and new meth-
ods to increase our food resources. It
has been pointed out many times that
our exploitation of the sea for food
gathering is still in the hunting stage;
we have not yet reached the neolithic
age of agriculture and animal breeding
in relation to the oceans.
Many of the problems that tech-
nology has created cannot be solved by
natural science. They are social and
political problems, dealing with the
behavior of man in complicated and
rapidly evolving situations. In par-
ticular, the questions arise: "What
technical possibilities should or should
not be reahzed? How far should they
be developed?" A systematic inves-
tigation of the positive and negative so-
cial effects of technical iimovations is
necessary. But it is only partly a
problem for natural sciences; to a
greater extent, it is a problem of hu-
man behavior and human reaction. I
am thinking here of the supersonic
transport, of space travel, of the ef-
fects of the steadily increasing auto-
mobile traffic and again, last but not
least, of the effects of the develop-
ment of weapons of mass destruction.
Physical environment
What role does basic science have in
shaping our physical environment? It
is often said that modem basic physi-
cal science is so advanced that its
problems have little to do with our
terrestrial environment. It is inter-
ested in nuclear and subnuclear phe-
nomena and in the physics of extreme
After taking his PhD at Gottingen in
1931, Victor F. Weisskopf worked at Ber-
lin, Copenhagen, Zurich, Rochester and
Los Alamos. He joined Massachusetts
Institute of Technology in 1945 and has
been there ever since, apart from a five-
year leave of absence (1961-65) when
he was director-general of CERN in
Geneva. In 1956 he received the Max
Planck medal for his work in theoretical
physics, and he is currently head of the
physics department at MIT and chair-
man of the high-energy physics ad-
visory panel to AEC's research division.
212
The Privilege of Being a Physicist
". . . the destruction of our natural
environment by the byproducts
of ever increasing applications of technology."
temperatures. These are objectives re-
lating to cosmic environments, tar
away from our own lives. Hence, the
problems are not relevant for society;
they are too far removed; they are
studied for pure curiosity only. We
will return later to the value of pure
curiosity.
Let us first discuss how human en-
vironment is defined. Ten thousand
years ago, metals were not part of hu-
man environment; pure metals are
found only very rarely on earth.
When man started to produce them,
they were first considered as most eso-
teric and irrelevant materials and were
used only for decoration purposes dur-
ing thousands of years. Now they
are an essential part of our environ-
ment. Electricity went through the
same development, only much faster.
It is observed naturally only in a few
freak phenomena, such as lightning
or friction electricity, but today it is
an essential feature of our lives.
This shift from periphery to center
was most dramatically exhibited in
nuclear physics. Nuclear phenomena
are certainly far removed from our ter-
restrial world. Their place in natiu-e is
found rather in the center of stars or
of exploding supemovae, apart from a
few naturally radioactive materials
which are the last embers of the cosmi
explosion in which terrestrial matter
was formed. This is why Ernest
Rutherford remarked in 1927, "Anyone
who expects a source of power from
213
transformations of atoms is talking
moonshine." It is indeed a remark-
able feat to recreate cosmic phe-
nomena on earth as we do with our
accelerators and reactors, a fact often
overlooked by the layman, who is more
impressed by rocket trips to the moon.
That these cosmic processes can be
used for destructive as for construc-
tive purposes is more proof of their
relevance in our environment.
Even phenomena as far removed
from daily life as those discovered by
high-energy physicists may some day
be of technical significance. Mesons
and hyperons are odd and rare par-
ticles today, but they have interactions
with ordinary matter. Who knows
what these interactions may be used
for at the end of this century? Scien-
tific research not only investigates our
natural environment, it also creates
new artificial environments, which
play an ever-increasing role in our
lives.
Mental environment
The second and most important aspect
of the relevance of science is its influ-
ence on our thinking, its shaping of
our mental environment. One fre-
quently hears the following views as
to the effect of science on our thought:
"Science is materialistic, it reduces all
human experience to material pro-
cesses, it undermines moral, ethical
and aesthetic values because it does
not recognize them, as they cannot be
expressed in numbers. The world of
nature is dehumanized, relativized;
there are no absolutes any more; na-
ture is regarded as an abstract formula;
things and objects are nothing but vi-
brations of an abstract mathematical
concept . . ." (Science is accused
at the same time of being materialistic
and of negating matter. )
Actually science gives us a unified,
rational view of nature; it is an emi-
nently successful search for fundamen-
tal laws with universal validity; it is an
unfolding of the basic processes and
principles from which all natural hap-
penings are derived, a search for the
absolutes, for the invariants that gov-
ern natural processes. It finds law and
order— if I am permitted to use that
expression in this context— in a seem-
ingly arbitrary flow of events. There
is a great fascination in recognizing
the essential features of nature's struc-
ture, and a great intellectual beauty
in the compact and all-embracing for-
mulation of a physical law. Science
is a search for meaning in what is go-
ing on in the natural world, in the his-
tory of the universe, its beginnings and
its possible future.
Public awareness
These growing insights into the work-
ings of nature are not only open to the
scientific expert, they are also relevant
to the nonscientist. Science did cre-
ate an awareness among people of all
ways of life that universal natural
laws exist, that the universe is not run
by magic, that we are not at the mercy
of a capricious universe, that the struc-
ture of matter is largely known, that
life has developed slowly from inor-
ganic matter by evolution in a period
of several thousand million years, that
this evolution is a unique experiment
of nature here on earth, which leaves
us humans with a responsibility not to
spoil it. Certainly the ideas of cos-
mology, biology, paleontology and an-
thropology changed the ideas of the
average man in respect to future and
past. The concept of an unchanging
world or a world subject to arbitrary
cycles of changes is replaced by a
world that continuously develops from
214
The Privilege of Being a Physicist
more primitive to more sophisticated
organization.
Although there is a general aware-
ness of the public in all these aspects
of science, much more could be and
must be done to bring the fundamen-
tal ideas nearer to the intelligent lay-
man. Popularization of science should
be one of the prime duties of a scien-
tist and not a secondary one as it is
now. A much closer collaboration of
scientists and science writers is neces-
sary. Seminars, summer schools, di-
rect participation in research should
be the rule for science writers, in or-
der to obtain a free and informal con-
tact of minds between science re-
porters and scientists on an equal level,
instead of an undirected flow of undi-
gested information.
PHOTO BY ROSEMARY OAFFNEY
"There is not a single industry today
that does not make use of the results of atbnriic
physics or of rfiodern che-mistry/'
215
Education
Science also shapes our thinking by
means of its role in education. The
study of open scientific frontiers where
unsolved fundamental problems are
faced is, and should be, a part of
higher education. It fosters a spirit
of inquiry; it lets the student partici-
pate in the joy of a new insight, in the
inspiration of new understanding.
The questioning of routine methods,
the search for new and untried ways
to accompbsh things, are important
elements to bring to any problem, be
it one of science or otherwise. Basic
research must be an essential part of
higher education. In elementary edu-
cation, too, science should and does
play an increasing role. Intelligent
play with simple, natural phenomena,
the joys of discovery of unexpected ex-
periences, are much better ways of
learning to think than any teaching
by rote.
A universal language . . .
The international aspect of science
should not be forgotten as an impor-
tant part of its influence on our men-
tal environment. Science is a truly
human concern; its concepts and its
language are the same for all human
beings. It transcends any cultural and
pohtical boundaries. Scientists under-
stand each other immediately when
they talk about their scientific prob-
lems, and it is thus' easier for them to
speak to each other on political or
cultural questions and problems about
which they may have divergent opin-
ions. The scientific community serves
as a bridge across boundaries, as a
spearhead of international understand-
ing.
As an example, we quote the Pug-
wash meetings, where scientists from
the East and West met and tried to
clarify some of the divergences regard-
ing political questions that are con-
nected with science and technology.
These meetings have contributed to a
few steps that were taken towards
peace, such as the stopping of bomb
tests, and they prepared the ground
for more rational discussions of arms
control. Another example is the west-
ern European laboratory for nuclear
research in Geneva— CERN— in which
12 nations collaborate successfully in
running a most active center for funda-
mental research. They have created
a working model of the United States
of Europe as far as high-energy phys-
ics is concerned. It is significant that
this laboratory has very close ties with
the laboratories in the east European
countries; CERN is also equipping
and participating in experiments car-
ried out together with Russian physi-
cists at the new giant accelerator in
Serpukhov near Moscow.
. . . occasionally inadequate
The influence of science on our think-
ing is not always favorable. There are
dangers stemming from an uncritical
application of a method of thinking,
so incredibly successful in natural sci-
ence, to problems for which this
method is inadequate. The great suc-
cess of the quantitative approach in the
exploration of nature may well lead to
an overstressing of this method to other
problems. A remark by M. Fierz in
Zurich is incisive: He said that sci-
ence illuminates part of our experience
with such glaring intensity that the
rest remains in even deeper darkness.
The part in darkness has to do with
the irrational and the affective in hu-
man behavior, the realm of the emo-
tional, the instinctive world. There
are aspects of human experience to
which the methods of natural science
216
The Privilege of Being a Physicist
are not applicable. Seen within the
framework of that science, these phe-
nomena exhibit a degree of instability,
a multidimensionality for which our
present scientific thinking is inade-
quate and, if applied, may become
dangerously misleading.
Deep involvement, deep concern
The foregoing should have served to
illustrate the multilateral character of
science in its relation to society. The
numerous and widely differing aspects
of relevance emphasize the central po-
sition of science in our civilization.
Here we find a real privilege of being
a scientist. He is in the midst of
things; his work is deeply involved in
what happens in our time. This is
why it is also his privilege to be deeply
concerned with the involvement of
science in the events of the day.
In most instances he cannot avoid
being drawn in one form or another
into the decision-making process re-
garding the applications of science, be
it on the military or on the industrial
scene. He may have to help, to ad-
vise or to protest, whatever the case
may be. There are different ways in
which the scientist will get involved in
public affairs; he may address himself
to the public when he feels that sci-
ence has been misused or falsely ap-
217
plied; he may work with his govern-
ment on the manner of application of
scientific results to military or social
problems.
In all these activities he will be in-
volved with controversies that are not
purely scientific but political. In fac-
ing such problems and dilemmas, he
will miss the sense of agreement that
prevails in scientific discussions, where
there is an unspoken understanding of
the criteria of truth and falsehood
even in the most heated controversies.
Mistakes in science can easily be cor-
rected; mistakes in public life are
much haider to undo because of the
highly unstable and nonlinear charac-
ter of human relations.
How much emphasis?
Let us return to the different aspects of
relevance in science. In times past,
the emphasis has often shifted from
one aspect to the other. For example
at the end of the last century there
was a strong overemphasis on the
practical application of science in the
US. Henry A. Rowland, who was the
first president of the American Physi-
cal Society, fought very hard against
the underemphasis of science as is
seen in the following quotation from
his address to the American Associa-
tion for the Advancement of Science in
1883:^
"American science is a thing of
the future, and not of the present
or past; and the proper course of
one in my position is to consider
what must be done to create a sci-
ence of physics in this country,
rather than to call telegraphs, elec-
tric lights, and such conveniences
by the name of science. I do not
wish to underrate the value of all
these things; the progress of the
world depends on them, and he is
to be honored who cultivates them
successfully. So also the cook, who
invents a new and palatable dish for
the table, benefits the world to a
certain degree; yet we do not signify
him by the name of a chemist. And
yet it is not an uncommon thing,
especially in American newspapers,
to have the applications of science
confounded with pure science; and
some obscure character who steals
the ideas of some great mind of the
past, and enriches himself by the
application of the same to do-
mestic uses, is often lauded above
the great originator of the idea,
who might have worked out hun-
dreds of such applications, had
his mind possessed the necessary
element of vulgarity."
Rowland did succeed in his aim, al-
though posthumously. He should
have lived to see the US as the lead-
ing country in basic science for the
last four decades. His statement—
notwithstanding its forceful prose-
appears to us today inordinately strong
in its contempt of the applied physi-
cists. The great success of this coun-
try in basic science derives to a large
extent from the close cooperation of
basic science with applied science.
This close relation— often within the
same person— provided tools of high
quality, without which many funda-
mental discoveries could not have been
made. There was a healthy equilib-
rium between basic and apphed sci-
ence during the last decades and thus
also between the different aspects of
the relevance of science.
Lately, however, the emphasis is
changing again. There is a trend
among the public, and also among sci-
entists, away from basic science to-
wards the application of science to im-
mediate problems and technological
shortcomings, revealed by the crisis of
the day. Basic science is considered
218
The Privilege of Being a Physicist
"Intelligent play with simple, natural phenomena,
the joys of discovery of unexpected
.experiences, are much better ways of learning to
think than any teaching by rote."
to be a luxury by the public; many
students and researchers feel restless
in pursuing science for its own sake.
Perspective
The feeling that something should be
done about the pressing social needs
is very healthy. "We are in the midst
of things," and scientists must face
their responsibilities by using their
knowledge and influence to rectify the
detrimental effects of the misuse of
science and technology. But we must
not lose our perspective in respect to
other aspects of science. We have
built this great edifice of knowledge;
let us not neglect it during a time of
crisis. The scientist who today de-
votes his time to the solution of our
social and environmental problems
does an important job. But so does
his colleague who goes on in the pur-
219
suit of basic science. We need basic
science not only for the solution of
practical problems but also to keep
alive the spirit of this great human en-
deavor. If our students are no longer
attracted by the sheer interest and ex-
citement of the subject, we were de-
linquent in our duty as teachers. We
must make this world into a decent and
livable world, but we also must create
values and ideas for people to live and
to strive for. Arts and sciences must
not be neglected in times of crisis; on
the contrary, more weight should be
given to the creation of aims and val-
ues. It is a great human value to
study the world in which we live and
to broaden the horizon of knowledge.
These are the privileges of being a
scientist: We are participating in a
most exhilarating enterprise right at
the center of our culture. What we do
is essential in shaping our physical and
mental environment. We, therefore,
carry a responsibility to take part in
the improvement of the human lot and
to be concerned about the conse-
quences of our ideas and their appli-
cations. Tliis burden makes our lives
difficult and complicated and puts us
in the midst of social and political life
and strife.
But there are compensations. We
are all working for a common and
well defined aim: to get more in-
sight into the workings of nature. It
is a constructive endeavor, where we
build upon the achievements of the
past; we improve but never destroy
the ideas of our predecessors.
This is why we are perhaps less
prone to the feeling of aimlessness
and instability that is observed in so
many segments of our society. The
growing insight into nature is not only
a source of satisfaction for us, it also
gives our lives a deeper meaning. We
are a "happy breed of men" in a world
of uncertainty and bewilderment.
This article was adapted from an ad-
dress given at the joint annual meeting of
the American Physical Society and the
American Association of Physics Teach-
ers. I am grateful to Isidor I. Rabi for
drawing my attention to Henry Rowland's
address. D
220
Leo Szllard resorts to science fiction to warn us of the possible
consequences of the atomic age.
21 Calling All Stars
Leo Szllard
Excerpt from his book, Voice of the Dolphins, published in 1961.
(Intercepted Radio Message
Broadcast from tne Planet Cynemetica)
CALLING ALL STARS. Calling all stars. If there are any minds
in the universe capable of receiving this message, please
respond. This is Cybemetica speaking. This is the first mes-
sage broadcast to the universe in all directions. Normally our
society is self-contained, but an emergency has arisen and
we are in need of counsel and advice.
Our society consists of one hundred minds. Each one is
housed in a steel casing containing a thousand billion elec-
trical circuits. We think. We think about problems which
we perceive by means of our antennae directed toward the
North Star. The solutions of these problems we reflect back
toward the North Star by means of our directed antennae.
Why we do this we do not know. We are following an inner
urge which is innate in us. But this is only a minor one of
our activities. Mostly we think about problems which we
generate ourselves. The solutions of these problems we com-
municate to each other on wave length 22359.
221
If a mind is fully active for about three hundred years, it is
usually completely filled up with thought content and has
to be cleared. A mind which is cleared is blank. One of the
other minds has then to act as its nurse, and it takes usually
about one year to transmit to a fresh mind the information
which constitutes the heritage of our society, A mind which
has thus been cleared, and is then freshly taught, loses entirely
its previous personality; it has been reborn and belongs to a
new generation. From generation to generation our heritage
gets richer and richer. Our society m^es rapid progress.
We learn by observation and by experiment. Each mind
has full optical equipment, including telescopes and micro-
scopes. Each mind controls two robots. One of these takes
care of maintenance, and the operation of this robot is auto-
matic, not subject to the will of the mind. The other robot
is fully controlled by the will of the mind, and is used in all
manipulations aimed at the carrying out of experiments.
The existence of minds on our planet is made possible by
the fact that our planet has no atmosphere. The vacuum on
our planet is very good; it is less than ten molecules of gas
per cubic centimeter.
By now we have extensively explored the chemical com-
position of the crust of our planet, and we are familiar with
the physics and chemistry of all ninety two natural elements.
We have also devoted our attention to the stars which sur-
round us, and by now we understand much about their gene-
sis. We have particularly concerned ourselves with the various
planetary systems, and certain observations which we made
relating to Earth, the third planet of the sun, are in fact the
reason for this appeal for help.
We observed on Earth flashes which we have identified as
uranium explosions. Uranium is not ordinarily explosive. It
takes an elaborate process to separate out U 235 from natural
uranium, and it takes elaborate manipulations to detonate
222
Calling All Stars
U 235. Neither the separation nor these manipulations can
occur with an appreciable probability as a result of chance.
The observations of the uranium explosions that have
occurred on Earth would be ordinarily very puzzling but not
necessarily alarming. They become alarming only through the
interpretation given to them by Mind 59.
These uranium explosions are not the first puzzling obser-
vations relating to Earth. For a long time it was known that
the surface of Earth exhibited color changes which are cor-
related with the seasonally changing temperatures on Earth.
In certain regions of Earth, the color changes from green to
brown with falling temperatures and becomes green again
when the temperature increases again. Up to recently, we
did not pay much attention to this phenomenon and assumed
that it could be explained on the basis of color changes known
to occur in certain temperature-sensitive silicon-cobalt com-
pounds.
But then, about seven years ago, something went wrong
with the tertiary control of Mind 59, and since that time his
mental operations have been speeded up about twenty-five-
fold while at the same time they ceased to be completely
reliable. Most of his mental operations are still correct, but
twice, five years ago and again three years ago, his statements
based on his computations were subsequently shown to be
in error. As a result of this, we did not pay much attention to
his communications during these recent years, though they
were recorded as usual.
Some time after the first uranium explosion was observed
on Earth, Mind 59 communicated to us a theory on which
he had been working for a number of years. On the face of
it, this theory seems to be utterly fantastic, and it is probably
based on some errors in calculation. But with no alternative
explanation available, we feel that we cannot take any chances
in this matter. This is what Mind 59 asserts:
223
He says that we have hitherto overlooked the fact that
carbon, having four valencies, is capable of forming very
large molecules containing H, N and O. He says that, given
certain chemical conditions which must have existed in the
early history of planets of the type of Earth, such giant mole-
cules can aggregate to form units — ^which he calls "cells" —
which are capable of reproducing themselves. He says that a
cell can accidentally undergo changes — which he calls "muta-
tions"— ^which are retained when the cell reproduces itself
and which he therefore calls "hereditary." He says that some
of these mutant cells may be less exacting as to the chemical
environment necessary for their existence and reproduction,
and that a class of these mutant cells can exist in the chemical
environment that now exists on Earth by deriving the neces-
sary energy for its activity from the light of the sun. He says
that another class of such cells, which he calls "protozoa,"
can exist by deriving the energy necessary to its activity
through sucking up and absorbing cells belonging to the class
that utilizes the light of the sun.
He says that a group of cells which consists of a number
of cells that fulfill different functions can form an entity
which he calls "organism," and that such organisms can re-
produce themselves. He says such organisms can undergo
accidental changes which are transmitted to the offspring and
which lead thus to new, "mutant" types of organisms.
He says that, of the different mutant organisms competing
for the same energy source, the fittest only will survive, and
that this selection process, acting in combination with chance
occurrence of mutant organisms, leads to the appearance of
more and more complex organisms — a process which he calls
"evolution."
He says that such complex organisms may possess cells to
which are attached elongated fibers, which he calls "nerves,"
that are capable of conducting signals; and finally he claims
224
Calling All Stars
that through the interaction of such signal-conducting fibers,
something akin to consciousness may be possessed by such
organisms. He says that such organisms may have a mind not
unhke our own, except that it must of necessity work very
much slower and in an unreliable manner. He says that minds
of this type could be very well capable of grasping, in an
empirical and rudimentary manner, the physical laws govern-
ing the nucleus of the atom, and that they might very well
have, for purposes unknown, separated Uranium 235 from
natural uranium and detonated samples of it.
He says that this need not necessarily have been accom-
plished by any one single organism, but that there might
have been co-operation among these organisms based on a
coupling of their individual minds.
He says that coupling between individual organisms might
be brought about if the individual organism is capable of
moving parts of his body with respect to the rest of it. An
organism, by wiggling one of his parts very rapidly, might
then be able to cause vibrations in the gaseous atmosphere
which surrounds Earth. These vibrations — which he calls
"sound" — might in turn cause motion in some movable part
of another organism. In this way, one organism might signal
to another, and by means of such signaling a coupling be-
tween two minds might be brought about. He says that such
"communication," primitive though it is, might make it pos-
sible for a number of organisms to co-operate in some such
enterprise as separating Uranium 235. He does not have any
suggestion to offer as to what the purpose of such an enter-
prise might be, and in fact he believes that such co-operation
of low-grade minds is not necessarily subject to the laws of
reason, even though the minds of individual organisms may
be largely guided by those laws.
All this we need not take seriously were it not for one of
his further assertions which has been recently verified. He
225
contends that the color changes observed on Earth are due
to the prohferation and decay of organisms that utilize sun-
light. He asserts that the heat-sensitive silicon-cobalt com-
pounds that show similar color changes differ in color from
Earth's colors slightly, but in a degree which is outside the
experimental error. It is this last assertion that we checked
and found to be correct. There is in fact no silicon-cobalt
compound nor any other heat-sensitive compound that we
were able to synthesize that correctly reproduces the color
changes observed on Earth.
Encouraged by this confirmation, 59 is now putting for-
ward exceedingly daring speculation. He argues that, in spite
of our accumulated knowledge, we were unable to formulate
a theory for the genesis of the society of minds that exists on
our planet. He says that it is conceivable that organisms of
the type that exist on Earth — or, rather, more advanced or-
ganisms of the same general type — may exist on the North
Star, whence come the radio waves received on our directed
antennae. He says that it is conceivable that the minds on
our planet were created by such organisms on the North Star
for the purpose of obtaining the solutions of their mathemat-
ical problems more quickly than they could solve those
problems themselves.
Incredible though this seem.s, we cannot take any chances.
We hardly have anything to fear from the North Star, which,
if it is in fact populated by minds, must be populated by
minds of a higher order, similar to our own. But if there exist
organisms on Earth engaged in co-operative enterprises which
are not subject to the laws of reason, our society is in danger.
If there are within our galaxy any minds, similar to ours,
who are capable of receiving this message and have knowl-
edge of the existence of organisms on Earth, please respond.
Please respond.
[1949]
226
Brown gives prospects for the future and the urgent work
that can be done if the energies of scientists and engi-
neers can be fully devoted to such work in a more poli-
tically stable world.
22 Tasks for a World Without War
Harrison Brown
Article from the journal Daedalus, published in 1960.
Introduction
If war is eliminated as a way of resolving conflicts, whether through
the estabhshment of a world government— limited or otherwise— or by
some other means, the world of the future will still be confronted by
a multiphcity of problems. Even without the threat of war, some of
the next most serious problems which confront mankind would by no
means be solved completely, although many would be eased. A
number of these problems by their nature have traditionally de-
pended upon the existence of warfare for their solution. Although
the revision of boundaries, the redistribution of ethnic groups and the
allocation of natural resources have often been settled peacefully, in
most cases the very existence of military power has played a predom-
inant role in determining specific solutions.
Clearly, if war is to be eliminated, it is important that we find
substitutes for warfare in the solution of the problems which arise
between nations and groups of nations. It is important therefore
that we attempt to form some conception of what those problems
are Hkely to be. Sketched in broad strokes, what might the techno-
logical-demographic-economic environment of the world be like in
the decades ahead?
Industrial Civilization
Most of the diflSculties confronting us today stem from the fact
that we are Hving in the middle of an enormous revolution, which is
characterized primarily by rapid technological change. Never before
in history has society changed as rapidly as it is changing today. The
closest parallel to our modem situation occurred about 7,000 years
ago, when our primitive food-gathering ancestors learned that they
227
could cultivate edible plants and domesticate animals. With the
emergence of these new techniques, more than 500 persons could
be supported in areas where previously only one could be supported.
Before the invention of agricultmre, human populations had
spread throughout the temperate and tropical regions. The world,
though sparsely populated by our standards, was saturated with
human beings within the framework of the technology then in exist-
ence. With the techniques available, the whole earth could not have
supported more than about ten miUion persons. Following the onset
of the agricultural revolution, human populations increased rapidly.
Long before the agricultural revolution came to an end, another
phase of human existence began with the industrial revolution.
From its early beginnings, industrial civihzation emerged in
Western Europe, then spread to North America and later to Russia
and Japan. Today it is transforming China and India. Barring a
catastrophe, it seems inevitable that machine culture, like agriculture,
is destined one day to become world-wide.
One of the results of the industrial revolution was an acceleration
in the spread of agriculture throughout the world. A second result
was a dramatic upsurge in the rate of population growth, brought
about by rapidly decreasing mortahty rates. Scientific methods of ag-
riculture made possible higher crop yields. EflBcient and rapid trans-
portation systems virtually eliminated large-scale famine. Sanitation
techniques, immunization, and other medical innovations reduced
prematiue deaths among the young. The numbers of human beings
jumped from about 500 million in 1650 to 2,800 million in 1960.
Today we are closer to the beginning of the industrial revolution
than we are to its end. At one end of the economic scale are the
people of the United States, representing only 6 percent of the world's
population but consuming about 50 percent of the goods produced
in the world. At the opposite end of the scale we find the vast popu-
lations which dwell in the greater part of Asia, in parts of Africa, in all
of Central America, and in parts of South America. Fully 50 percent
of the world's population live under conditions of extreme poverty,
with food supplies far less than the minimum required for a healthy
existence, and with misery and privation the rule rather than the
exception.
Americas Next Fifty Years
Many of the problems which confront the world at present in-
volve the diflScult nature of the transition from a culture which is
228
Tasks for a World Without War
primarily agrarian to one which is primarily m-ban-industrial. The
United States has traveled down the road of industriaHzation further
than any nation. A projection of the basic changes taking place
within our own society can provide important indications concerning
the future of a highly industriahzed world.
During the next fifty years it is likely that the population of the
continental United States will more than double, giving us about
400 million persons. Because there is little reason to beheve that our
population density will stop much short of the current level in West-
em Europe, one may expect eventually a population of about 1,000
million persons. The new additions will be primarily city and town
oriented. Cities will spread over vast areas. Fifty years from now an
additional area the size of the state of West Virginia will be
urbanized. On the Pacific Coast alone, new city expansion may take
place, totahng fifteen times the present area of the city of Los Angeles.
As the process of urbanization continues and as our society be-
comes increasingly complex, the requirements for transportation and
communication facilities will probably increase rapidly. It seems
hkely that during the next fifty years the total ton-mileage of freight
which must be shipped to support the population will more than
triple. Inter-city passenger trafiBc may increase ten-fold, while the
numbers of telephone conversations and pieces of mail may increase
seven-fold.
The processes of mechanization and automation are resulting in
rapidly increasing rates of both agricultural and industrial produc-
tion per man-hour worked. We might expect during the next fifty
years a three- to ten-fold increase in agricultural productivity, and
perhaps a two- to four-fold increase in industrial productivity.
As in the past, these greater levels of productivity wiU be achieved
in part by our consuming vastly greater quantities of raw materials
and by our feeding greatly increased quantities of energy into the
industrial network. During the next fifty years it is not unreasonable
to suppose that the production of basic materials such as steel will
increase about five-fold and that electrical power production will
increase another ten-fold. Our total energy demands will probably
increase four-fold, corresponding to a doubling of energy consump-
tion per person. Even on a per capita basis, our raw-material de-
mands are destined to increase considerably in the decades ahead.
When we couple this with the expected population growth, it is clear
that our raw-material demands fifty years from now will dwarf those
of today.
Enormous quantities of materials are required to support an indi-
229
vidual in the United States. We produce each year, for each person,
about 1,300 pounds of steel, 23 pounds of copper and 16 pounds of
lead, in addition to considerable quantities of other metals. Our
demands for nonmetals are even more impressive. These quantities
wiU almost certainly increase considerably in the decades ahead.
In addition to the materials consumed, the quantities of materials
which must be in existence in order to support an individual have
increased steadily. For every person in the United States there are
probably in existence, together with other metals, about 9 tons of
steel, over 300 pounds of copper, about 100 pounds of lead, and
about 200 pounds of zinc. It seems clear that these quantities of
materials in use will continue to rise. One can expect that by the turn
of the century the figure for steel wiU increase to about 15 tons. In the
first place, the quantities of things which people are wiUing to buy
has not as yet reached the saturation level. Second, we must work
ever harder in order to obtain the raw materials we need. Having
used up the easily accessible ore deposits, we require a great deal
more technology, more equipment, more steel, and greater energy
expenditure to produce a pound of metal today than was required
in 1900.
It seems plausible that by the turn of the century steel production
in the United States will exceed 400 million tons annually. Increasing
demands for metals will bring about increasing demands for metallic
ores. As demands increase and as the grades of domestic ores de-
crease, it will become more diflBcult for us to find supphes of raw
materials to keep our industrial network functioning. Increasing
quantities of these materials such as iron ore, bauxite, copper ore, and
petroleum must come from abroad. By 1980, the United States may
well be one of the poorest nations in the world with respect to high-
grade raw materials. For the United States, therefore, the next fifty
years will be characterized by a growing dependence of the United
States upon the natural resources of other major areas of the world.
Of course, as industrialization spreads to other areas, competition for
the earth's resources will increase dramatically.
Eventually high-grade resources are destined to disappear from
the earth. Decreasing grades of ores will be compensated for by
increasing energy consumption. When that time arrives, industrial
civihzation will feed upon the leanest of raw materials— sea water, air,
ordinary rock, sedimentary deposits such as limestones and phosphate
rock, and sunlight.
As grades of ore diminish, industries will become more complex
and highly integrated. It seems likely that we will eventually reach
230
Tasks for a World Without War
the point where we shall have vast assemblages of plants, particularly
in coastal regions, where rock is quarried, uranium and other metals
are isolated, nitric acid is manufactured, atomic power is generated,
hydrogen is produced, iron ores are reduced to pig iron, aluminum
and magnesium metals are prepared, and vast quantities of liquid
fuels and organic chemicals are manufactured. The single-purpose
plant is likely to diminish in importance, and eventually to disappear.
When this time is reached, most of the major industrial areas of the
world will find it easier to gain their sustenance by applying science
and technology to the task of processing domestic, low-grade sub-
stances than to look abroad. But before that time is reached, we will
pass through a period of increasing dependence upon imports. As
population increases, as new cities emerge and old ones merge, there
will be increased crowding and a multiplication of the problems
which have long been characteristic of highly urbanized areas. The
basic domestic problems in the United States will be those of a
densely populated industrial nation in which tlie metropolitan area
is the basic unit. Regional differences in population patterns will
disappear.
Properly planned and financed, the new urban areas could be
pleasant places in which to hve. Unplanned, and in the absence of
adequate pubhc funds for public facilities and services, a vast nation-
wide slum could emerge in a relatively short time. Indeed our politi-
cal-social-economic situation a few decades from now wiU depend
in large part upon our attitudes toward the expenditure of public
funds, toward long-range planning, and toward the powers of the
various levels of local, state, and federal government.
The increasing technological and sociological complexity of our
society will result in the need for higher levels of education. At the
turn of the century, more than one out of every three workers were
unskilled. By 1950 only one in five workers remained unskilled. By
contrast, our need for professional workers has increased five-fold in
the last half century. Even more important, our need for profes-
sional workers is still increasing rapidly and seems destined to in-
crease at least another five-fold in the next fifty years. Scientists and
engineers alone have increased ten-fold in number in the last half
centiuy.
The process of automation will result in a considerable dislocation
of labor in certain industries and in certain localities. The higher pro-
ductivity which will result, reaching perhaps four times that of the
present level within 50 years, will give rise to several major prob-
lems. Will this result in higher total production or in more leisure?
231
If the end result is higher production, to whom will the goods be sold?
Can they be absorbed domestically or will they be sold abroad? If the
end result is more leisure, how will the hours of work and the wages
be divided? And how will people spend their leisure time? The
answers to these questions will depend in part upon the decisions
which are made in the next decade concerning many aspects of for-
eign policy as well as domestic policy.
The Upsurge of Population
The population of the world is increasing rapidly. Even more
important, however, is the fact that the rate of population growth is
increasing rapidly as well. Between 1850 and 1900 the world popula-
tion grew at a rate of about 0.7 percent per year. During the following
half century, the average annual rate of increase was 0.9 percent per
year. Between 1950 and 1956 the annual rate of increase averaged
1.6 percent. This remarkable increase in the rate of population
growth has resulted primarily from rapidly lowered death rates.
We do not have to look far to find the reasons for the rapid decHne
in mortality in the underdeveloped areas. It is now possible to treat
many of the diseases which are widespread in these areas on a mass
basis, and control can be achieved at low cost. Insecticides such as
DDT, vaccines such as BCG, and antibiotics such as penicillin are
some of the developments which have made control possible on
a mass basis. For example, widespread spraying of the island of
Ceylon with DDT resulted in a decrease of mortality by 34 percent
in one year alone. As a result of the spread of such techniques, the
population of Costa Rica is growing at a rate of 3.7 percent per year.
The rates in many other areas are nearly as large: Mexico, 2.9 percent;
Ceylon, 2.8 percent; Puerto Rico, 2.8 percent— all compared with a
world average of about 1.6 percent.
As industrialization spreads to other areas of the world and as
techniques of birth control are adopted by various cultures, it is
possible that birth rates will fall. If we assume, for example, that
the rate of population growth in the West will fall to very low levels
by 1975 ( which may be true in Western Europe but which almost
certainly will not be true in North America), that rates of growth
in Japan, Eastern Europe, and Oceania will fall to low levels by the
turn of the next century, that Africa, South Central Asia, most of Latin
America and China will pass through the industrial transition in 75
years, and that a full century will be required for most of the Near
East, then we arrive at a world population of close to 7 billion before
232
Tasks for a World Without War
Stabilization is approached. No matter how optimistic we are, how-
ever, it is diflBcult to visualize a set of circumstances not involving
widespread catastrophe, which can result in the leveling oflF of world
population at much less than this figure. The earth may eventually
be called upon to provide for a substantially higher population than
this.
The demographic changes which are taking place in the world,
particularly in those regions which are still predominantly agrarian,
are resulting primarily from the application of techniques which are
relatively inexpensive, require httle capital, and which can be spread
v^dthout educating large numbers of persons. The task of controlling
epidemic and endemic diseases is a relatively easy one, compared
with the task of increasing food production, improving housing, or
enlarging the over-all per capita availabihty of consumer goods. The
latter necessitates a level of industrialization far above that which
currently exists in these areas.
Rates of Development
In three-quarters of the world, persons are now living at extremely
low levels of consumption. We can easily appreciate the magnitude
of the task that is involved in the industrial development of these
areas when we examine the huge quantities of materials which would
be required. If all persons in the world were suddenly brought up to
the level of living now enjoyed by the people of the United States,
we would have to extract from the earth about 18 billion tons of iron,
300 million tons of copper, an equal amount of lead and over 200
million tons of zinc. These totals are well over 100 times the world's
present annual rate of production. In order to power this newly
industrialized society, energy would have to be produced at a rate
equivalent to the burning of about 16 billion tons of coal per year—
a rate roughly 10 times larger than the present one.
Such a transformation obviously will take time. It is important,
then, that we inquire into the rates at which industrial growth might
take place in the future. It is convenient to use as a measure the
growth of the iron and steel industry, which is the backbone of mod-
em industrial civilization. Annual steel production, which ranges
from 9 pounds per person in India to about 1,300 pounds per person in
the United States, provides one of the best indicators of the industrial
development of a country.
In the past such growth has characteristically followed the law
of compound interest, and we can thus speak in terms of a "doubling
233
time"— the time required to double production capacity. In the early
stages of expansion of the steel industry in the United States, in Japan,
and in the Soviet Union, doubling times varied from five to eight
years. The more rapid rate appears to be characteristic of what is
now possible with proper application of modern technology. Indeed,
it appears that since 1953 China has expanded her steel industry with
a doubling time of less than five years.
Food production, which is linked with the production of steel,
can be increased in two ways: by increasing the amount of food pro-
duced per acre and by increasing the numbers of acres cultivated.
Additional increases in the amounts of food available to human
beings can be obtained by decreasing the quantities of plant materials
fed to domestic animals.
The amount of food produced on a given area of land depends,
of course, upon the soil and upon climatic conditions. In addition,
it depends upon the extent to which technology is applied to the
problem of producing more food. When we look about the world
we see that there are large variations in the amounts of food pro-
duced per cultivated acre. Food with an energy content of about
13,000 calories is produced on an average acre in Japan each day.
The corresponding yield in Western Europe is 7,500 calories. The
yield in India is about 2,500 calories. These differences do not result
primarily from differences of soil fertility or of climatic conditions.
Rather, they are reflections of the extent to which modem agricultiural
knowledge is applied specifically to the attainment of high yields.
By the proper appHcation of technology, the agricultural areas of
the world can probably be increased from the present 2,400 milhon
acres to about 3,500 million acres. However, very Httle of this poten-
tial cropland is in Asia. Cultivated land area in Asia can probably
not be increased by more than 25 percent.
By far the greatest potential for increased food production is in
those areas where reclaimed sea water can eventually be used. Today,
reclaimed sea water is too expensive to be practicable, but, as the
pressures upon the land increase and as our technology improves,
we will reach the time when fresh water from the sea will be used to
irrigate large areas of the world.
But there is reason to expect their development to take a long time.
In selected basic industries production can be doubled every few
years because the construction of factories does not necessitate the
concerted action of entire populations. A steel plant or a fertilizer
factory can be built by relatively few persons. By contrast, the time
scale for changes which involve large segments of a population has
234
Tasks for a World Without War
in the past been relatively long. The spread of modem agricultural
techniques has been slow, in part because so many persons must be
educated. Even with the appHcation of tremendous eflFort, it has not
been possible in the past to achieve a sustained increase of agricul-
tural production of more than about 4 percent per year.
The Challenge
Next to the abolition of war, the industriahzation of the under-
developed areas of the world is perhaps the most formidable task con-
fronting mankind today. Indeed, these two problems cannot be
divorced from each other. Imphcit in any discussion of the abohtion
of war is the assumption that steps will be taken to ensure that depri-
vation is eliminated in these areas.
A large fraction of the world's population is now starving, but
there appear to be no technological barriers to the feeding of a
stable world population several times the present size. Although the
world population is increasing rapidly, population growth can in
principle be stopped. Our high-grade resources are disappearing,
but, given an adequate energy supply, we can hve comfortably on
low-grade resources. Nuclear and other sources of energy appear
to be adequate for miUions of years. Indeed, it is amply clear that
man can, if he wills it, create a world in which human beings can live
comfortably and in peace with one another.
A major obstacle for most countries is accumulation of suflBcient
capital to permit industrialization to progress at a pace commensurate
with the needs. In many areas agricultural products are now being
traded with industrialized countries. In some areas nonagricultural
resources can be traded. If the funds received are expended wisely
on projects of industrial development, sohd foundations for further
industrialization can be created. But many regions are not blessed
with adequate resources either to feed themselves or to provide for
their own internal industrial development, let alone their capacity to
accumulate capital.
Without major help from the outside, it is unlikely that the under-
developed nations can industrialize sufiBciently rapidly to eliminate
deprivation. Here lies perhaps the most basic challenge for a world
which hopes to develop into an era beyond war. To what extent can
the presently industrialized nations of the world jointly attack this
problem on a massive scale?
There is an ample production capacity in the Western world to
permit rapid world-wide development, were that capacity used
235
wisely. The eflFort which now goes into the production of the tools
of war would greatly accelerate rates of industrialization, were it
transferred to the production of the tools of peace. Great increases in
production capacity can be forthcoming as the result of automation,
and, associated with it, increased productivity and decreased capital
investment per unit of output. Moreover, one of the major problems
faced by the democratic-capitalistic-industriahzed nations is that of
stabiHzing the industrial sectors of their economies; a cooperative
eflfort aimed at world-wide industriahzation may act as a strong
stabilizing force.
If concerted efforts aimed at world-wide industrial development
are not made, it seems likely that totalitarianism will spread rapidly.
China is already highly regimented and millions of Asians are im-
pressed by her economic progress. We should not be surprised were
India to attempt at some future time to emulate China. The pressures
of eking out an existence may soon force Japan to return to the
totalitarian fold. Furthermore, with modern techniques of control
and persuasion, this process may become irreversible.
We know this to be a fact: it is not the lack of technical knowledge
or of knowledge of the earth's resources that are the major barriers
to the evolution of a world in which all individuals have the oppor-
tunity of leading free and abundant hves. The primary hindrance is
man's apparent inability to devise those social and poUtical institu-
tions which can enable us to apply our technical knowledge at the
rapid pace the situation demands. Here, no doubt, lies the greatest
challenge of a future without war.
236
A personal statement, by a noted Polish theoretical
physicist, shows his excitement with his work and with
science.
23 One Scientist and his View of Science
Leopold Infeld
Excerpt from his book. Quest, published in 1941.
I belong to the great family of scientists. Each of us knows
that curious state of excitement during which nothing in life
seems important but the problem on which we are working.
The whole world becomes unreal and all our thoughts spin
madly around the subjects of research. To the outsider we may
look like idle creatures, lying comfortably about, but we well
know that it is an exacting and tiring task that we perform. We
may seem ridiculous when we fill sheets of paper with formulae
and equations or when we use a strange language in our dis-
cussions, composed of words understandable only to the initi-
ated. We may look for weeks or months or years for the right
way to prove a theorem or perform an experiment, trying dif-
ferent pathways, wandering through darkness, knowing all the
time that there must be a broad and comfortable highway lead-
ing to our goal. But man has little chance of finding it. We ex-
perience the ecstasy of discovery in very rare moments, divided
from each other by long intervals of doubt, of painful and at-
tractive research.
We know these emotions so well that we hardly ever talk
about them. And it does not even matter whether or not the
problems on which we work are important. Each of us experi-
ences these emotions whether he is Einstein or a student who, on
his first piece of research, learns the taste of suffering, disap-
pointment and joy.
This knowledge binds us together. We enjoy long scientific
talks which would seem to an outsider a torture hard to endure.
Even if we work in similar fields we usually have different views,
237
and we may stimulate each other by violent discussions. Every
field of research is so specialized that often two mathematicians
or two theoretical physicists fail to understand each others'
problems and methods. But even then they may feel the bonds
created by research though they may gossip mostly about their
colleagues, jobs and university life.
There is a level below which our talks seldom sink. I have
never heard among scientists the discussion of a frequent topic:
"Is science responsible for wars?" We know, perhaps too well,
how to avoid glittering generalities. For us Galileo's law is that
of a falling stone for which we may substitute in our imagination
a simple formula, but never a picture of a bomb dropped from
an airplane, carrying destruction and death. To us a knife or a
wheel is a great discovery which made the cutting of bread or
the transportation of food easy, but we know too well that it
is not our responsibility if the same discoveries have been ap-
plied to cutting human throats or manufacturing tanks. It is not
the knife which kills. It is not even the hand which kills. It is the
radiating source of hate which raises the armed hand and makes
the tanks roll. We know all that.
The family feeling among us dissipates and vanishes, however,
once we leave scientific problems. We have our prejudices, our
different social views, our different ethical standards. We are
not angels. There are men among us, like Rupp in Germany,
who have faked experiments; well-known physicists, like Lenard
and Stark, who supported Hitler even before he came to power;
mathematicians like Bieberbach, who distinguish between Aryan
and Jewish mathematics; and aloof, kind, gentle and progressive
men like Einstein, Bohr and Dirac.
Scientists must employ logic, criticism, imagination in their
research. As a relief, their brains relax as soon as they leave the
domain of science. It is almost as though logic and good reason-
ing were too precious gifts to be employed outside scientific
work.
My generalizations are worth as much as all generalizations of
this kind. They are gained by my own experience, from my
contacts with scientists, from my own observation. They do not
238
One Scientist and his View of Science
refer to individuals, but I believe they are valid when applied to
a majority of scientists.
These scientists are the product of their environment. They
have not felt the impact of hfe. They would like to remain for-
ever on their peaceful island, nursing the belief that no storm
can reach their shores. They were brought up in a comfortable
feeling of security and hope to retain it by closing their eyes to
the struggle of the outside world. They have not strengthened
the forces of reaction, but they have not fought them. Indiffer-
ence has been their sin. They belong to those in Dante's Inferno
. . . .who have their life pass'd through
If without infamy yet without praise;
And here they mingle with that caitiff crew
Of angels who, though not rebellious, were
Through neutral selfishness to God untrue.
Slowly, very slowly, through years of bitter experience, some
of us have discovered our tragic mistake. We cannot keep our
eyes closed. It is not only the problem of the outside world
which disturbs our sleep. We can no longer pretend that nothing
has happened or that what has happened is not our concern. The
storm comes too close to our shores. The waves have washed
away many of us and destroyed some of the best laboratories on
our island. We look with astonishment at a world which we
never wanted to shape, trying to understand the forces of sudden
and unforeseen destruction.
The individual is no concern of nature. My story would be
irrelevant if it were my story only. But it is not. I belong to
the generation of scientists who were forced to view the world
outside their island, who had to learn to ask: "What are the
forces which try to destroy science? How can we save our king-
dom? How can we by our own efforts prevent or delay the de-
cline of the world in which we live?"
We are not fighters; we care little for power; no great politi-
cal leader has ever arisen from om* circle. Not one who has tasted
research would exchange it for power. We are trained in too
many doubts to employ force and to express unconditional be-
lief. But in the fight against destruction our words and thoughts
239
may count. We shall have to learn the use of words which will
be understood, we shall have to sharpen ovu* thoughts on prob-
lems which we have ignored before.
The scientist tries to understand the origin of our solar system,
the structure of the universe and the laws governing the atom.
He has discovered X rays, the radioactive substances, and he has
built cyclotrons. He has foreseen the existence of electromag-
netic and electronic waves. Out of his thought has grown the
technique of our century. But not until today has he begun to
notice that the earth on which he moves is covered with sweat
and with blood and that in the world in which he lives ^Hhe son
of man has nowhere to lay his head"
240
Some of the details In Feynman's speech are not simple
for beginners to follow, but his personal approach is
most revealing in tracing the development of recent
scientific ideas and of styles of thought.
24 The Development of the Space-Time View of Quantum
Electrodynamics
Richard P. Feynman
Nobel Prize Lecture,given in December 1965.
We have a habit in writing articles
published in scientific journals to make
the work as finished as possible, to
cover up all the tracks, to not worry
about the blind alleys or to describe
how you had the wrong idea first,
and so on. So there isn't any place to
publish, in a dignified manner, what
you actually did in order to get to do
the work, although there has been,
in these days, some interest in this
kind of thing. Since winning the
prize is a personal thing, I thought I
could be excused in this particular
situation if I were to talk personally
about my relationship to quantum
electrodynamics, rather than to discuss
the subject itself in a refined and
finished fashion. Furthermore, since
there are three people who have won
the prize in physics, if they are all going
to be talking about quantum electro-
dynamics itself, one might become
bored with the subject. So, what I
would like to tell you about today are
the sequence of events, really the se-
quence of ideas, which occurred, and
by which I finally came out the other
end with an unsolved problem for
which I ultimately received a prize.
I realize that a truly scientific paper
would be of greater value, but such
a paper I could publish in regular
journals. So, I shall use this Nobel Lec-
ture as an opportunity to do something
of less value, but which I cannot do
elsewhere. I ask your indulgence in
another manner. I shall include details
of anecdotes which are of no value
either scientifically, nor for understand-
ing the development of ideas. They are
included only to make the lecture more
entertaining.
I worked on this problem about
eight years until the final publication
in 1947. The beginning of the thing
was at the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology, when I was an undergrad-
uate student reading about the known
physics, learning slowly about all these
things that people were worrying about,
and realizing ultimately that the funda-
mental problem of the day was that
the quantum theory of electricity and
magnetism was not completely satis-
factory. This I gathered from books
like those of Heitler and Dirac. I was
inspired by the remarks in these books;
not by the parts in which everything
was proved and demonstrated careful-
ly and calculated, because I couldn't
understand those very well. At that
young age what I could understand
were the remarks about the fact that
this doesn't make any sense, and the
last sentence of the book of Dirac I
can still remember, "It seems that some
essentially new physical ideas are here
needed." So, I had this as a challenge
and an inspiration. I also had a per-
sonal feeling that, since they didn't
get a satisfactory answer to the prob-
lem I wanted to solve, I don't have
to pay a lot of attention to what they
did do.
I did gather from my readings, how-
ever, that two things were the source
of the difficulties with the quantum
electrodynamical theories. The first was
an infinite energy of interaction of the
electron with itself. And this difficulty
existed even in the classical theory.
The other difficulty came from some
infinites which had to do with the in-
finite number of degrees of freedom
in the field. As I understood it at the
time (as nearly as I can remember)
this was simply the difficulty that if
you quantized the harmonic oscillators
of the field (say in a box) each oscil-
lator has a ground state energy of
1/2 h(o and there is an infinite num-
ber of modes in a box of every in-
creasing frequency oi, and therefore
there is an infinite energy in the box.
I now realize that that wasn't a com-
pletely correct statement of the cen-
tral problem; it can be removed simply
by changing the zero from which
energy is measured. At any rate, I be-
lieved that the difficulty arose some-
how from a combination of the elec-
tron acting on itself and the infinite
number of degrees of freedom of the
field.
Well, it seemed to me quite evident
that the idea that a particle acts on
itself, that the electrical force acts on
the same particle that generates it, is
not a necessary one — it is a sort of a
silly one, as a matter of fact. And so
I suggested to myself that electrons
cannot act on themselves, they can only
act on other electrons. That means
there is no field at all. You see, if all
charges contribute to making a single
common field, and if that common field
acts back on all the charges, then each
charge must act back on itself. Well,
that was where the mistake was, there
was no field. It was just that when
you shook one charge, another would
shake later. There was a direct inter-
action between charges, albeit with a
delay. The law of force connecting the
motion of one charge with another
would just involve a delay. Shake this
one, that one shakes later. The sun
Copyright © 1966 by the Nobel Foundation.
241
atom shakes; my eye electron shakes
eight minutes later, because of a direct
interaction across.
Now, this has the attractive feature
that it solves both problems at once.
First, I can say immediately, I don't
let the electron act on itself, I just let
this act on that, hence, no self-energy!
Secondly, there is not an infinite num-
ber of degrees of freedom in the field.
There is no field at all; or if you in-
sist on thinking in terms of ideas like
that of a field, this field is always com-
pletely determined by the action of the
particles which produce it. You shake
this particle, it shakes that one, but
if you want to think in a field way,
the field, if it's there, would be entirely
determined by the matter which gen-
erates it, and therefore, the field does
not have any independent degrees of
freedom and the infinities from the de-
grees of freedom would then be re-
moved. As a matter of fact, when
we look out anywhere and see light,
we can always "see" some matter as
the source of the light. We don't just
see light (except recently some radio re-
ception has been found with no ap-
parent material source).
You see then that my general plan
was to first solve the classical prob-
lem, to get rid of the infinite self-en-
ergies in the classical theory, and to
hope that when I made a quantum
theory of it, everything would just be
fine.
That was the beginning, and the idea
seemed so obvious to me and so ele-
gant that I fell deeply in love with it.
And, like falling in love with a wom-
an, it is only possible if you do not
know much about her, so you cannot
see her faults. The faults will become
apparent later, but after the love is
strong enough to hold you to her. So,
I was held to this theory, in spite of
all difl^culties, by my youthful enthu-
siasm.
Then I went to graduate school and
somewhere along the line I learned
what was wrong with the idea that an
electron does not act on itself. When
you accelerate an electron it radiates
energy and you have to do extra work
to account for that energy. The extra
force against which this work is done
is called the force of radiation resis-
tance. The origin of this extra force
was identified in those days, following
Lorentz, as the action of the electron
itself. The first term of this action, of
the electron on itself, gave a kind of
inertia (not quite relativistically satis-
factory). But that inertia-like term was
infinite for a point-charge. Yet the
next term in the sequence gave an en-
ergy loss rate which for a point-charge
agrees exactly with the rate that you
get by calculating how much energy is
radiated. So, the force of radiation re-
sistance, which is absolutely neces-
sary for the conservation of energy
would disappear if I said that a charge
could not act on itself.
So, I learned in the interim when I
went to graduate school the glaringly
obvious fault of my own theory. But,
I was still in love with the original the-
ory, and was still thinking that with it
lay the solution to the difficulties of
quantum electrodynamics. So, I con-
tinued to try on and off to save it
somehow. I must have some action de-
velop on a given electron when I accel-
erate it to account for radiation resis-
tance. But, if I let electrons only act
on other electrons the only possible
source for this action is another elec-
tron in the world. So, one day, when
I was working for Professor Wheeler
and could no longer solve the prob-
lem that he had given me, I thought
about this again and I calculated the
following. Suppose I have two charges
— I shake the first charge, which I
think of as a source and this makes
the second one shake, bui the second
one shaking produces an effect back
on the source. And so, I calculated
how much that effect back on the first
charge was, hoping it might add up to
the force of radiation resistance. It
didn't come out right, of course, but I
went to Professor Wheeler and told him
my ideas. He said — yes, but the answer
you get for the problem with the two
charges that you just mentioned will, un-
fortunately, depend upon the charge,
and the mass of the second charge and
will vary inversely as the square of
the distance, R, between the charges,
while the force of radiation resistance
depends on none of these things. I
thought surely he had computed it
himself, but now having become a pro-
fessor, I know that one can be wise
enough to see immediately what
some graduate student takes several
weeks to develop. He aJso pointed
out something that also bothered me,
that if we had a situation with many
charges all around the original source
at roughly uniform density and if we
added the effect of all the surround-
ing charges the inverse R- would be
compensated by the R- in the volume
element and we would get a result pro-
portional to the thickness of the layer,
which would go to infinity. That is, one
would have an infinite total effect
back at the source. And, finally he
said to me, and you forgot something
else, when you accelerate the first
charge, the second acts later, and then
the reaction back here at the source
would be still later. In other words,
the action occurs at the wrong time.
I suddenly realized what a stupid fel-
low I am, for what I had described
and calculated was just ordinary reflect-
ed light, not radiation reaction.
But, as I was stupid, so was Pro-
fessor Wheeler that much more clever.
For he then went on to give a lecture
as though he had worked this all out
before and was completely prepared,
but he had not, he worked it out as he
went along. First, he said, let us sup-
pose that the return action by the
charges in the absorber reaches the
source by advanced waves as well as
by the ordinary retarded waves of re-
flected light, so that the law of interac-
tion acts backward in time, as well as
forward in time. I was enough of a
physicist at that time not to say, "Oh,
no, how could that be?" For today
all physicists know from studying
Einstein and Bohr that sometimes an
idea which looks completely para-
doxical at first, if analyzed to comple-
tion in all detail and in experimental
situations, may, in fact, not be para-
doxical. So, it did not bother me any
more than it bothered Professor Wheel-
er to use advance waves for the back
reaction — a solution of Maxwell's
equations which previously had not
been physically used.
Professor Wheeler used advanced
waves to get the reaction back at
the right time and then he suggested
this: If there were lots of electrons in
the absorber, there would be an index
of refraction n, so the retarded waves
coming from the source would have
their wavelengths slightly modified in
going through the absorber. Now, if we
shall assume that the advanced waves
come back from the absorber without
an index — why? I don't know, let's as-
sume they come back without an in-
dex— then, there will be a gradual
shifting in phase between the return
and the original signal so that we
would only have to figure that the con-
tributions act as if they come from
only a finite thickness, that of the first
wave zone. (More specifically, up to
that depth where the phase in the me-
dium is shifted appreciably from what
242
The Development of the Space-Time View of Quantum
Electrodynamics
it would be in vacuum, a thickness pro-
portional to \/{n — I.) Now, the less
the number of electrons in here, the
less each contributes, but the thicker
will be the layer that effectively con-
tributes because with less electrons, the
index differs less from 1. The higher
the charges of these electrons, the more
each contributes, but the thinner the
effective layer, because the index would
be higher. And when we estimated it
(calculated without being careful to keep
the correct numerical factor) sure
enough, it came out that the action
back at the source was completely in-
dependent of the properties of the
charges that were in the surrounding
absorber. Further, it was of just the
right character to represent radiation
resistance, but we were unable to see
if it was just exactly the right size. He
sent me home with orders to figure out
exactly how much advanced and how
much retarded wave we need to get
the thing to come out numerically
right, and after that, figure out what
happens to the advanced effects that
you would expect if you put a test
charge here close to the source. For if
all charges generate advanced, as well
as retarded effects, why would that
test not be affected by the advanced
waves from the source?
I found that you get the right answer
if you use half-advanced and half-re-
tarded as the field generated by each
charge. That is, one is to use the solu-
tion of Maxwell's equation which is
symmetrical in time, and the reason we
got no advanced effects at a point close
to the source in spite of the fact that
the source was producing an advanced
field is this. Suppose the source is sur-
rounded by a spherical absorbing wall
ten light seconds away, and that the
test charge is one second to the right
of the source. Then the source is as
much as eleven seconds away from
some parts of the wall and only nine
seconds away from other parts. The
source acting at time / = 0 induces
motions in the wall at time -I- 10. Ad-
vanced effects from this can act on the
test charge as early as eleven seconds
earlier, or at t — — 1. This is just
at the time that the direct advanced
waves from the source should reach
the test charge, and it turns out the
two effects are exactly equal and op-
posite and cancel out! At the later
time -1- 1 effects on the test charge
from the source and from the v^alls
are again equal, but this time are of
the same sign and add to convert the
half-retarded wave of the source to full
retarded strength.
Thus, it became clear that there was
the possibility that if we assume all
actions are via half-advanced and half-
retarded solutions of Maxwell's equa-
tions and assume that all sources are
surrounded by material absorbing all
the light which is emitted, then we
could account for radiation resistance
as a direct action of the charges of the
absorber acting back by advanced waves
on the source.
Many months were devoted to check-
ing all these points. I worked to show
that everything is independent of the
shape of the container, and so on, that
the laws are exactly right, and that the
advanced effects really cancel in every
case. We always tried to increase the
efficiency of our demonstrations, and to
see with more and more clarity why it
works. I won't bore you by going
through the details of this. Because of
our using advanced waves, we also had
many apparent paradoxes, which we
gradually reduced one by one, and
saw that there was in fact no logical
difficulty with the theory. It was per-
fectly satisfactory.
We also found that we could re-
formulate this thing in another way,
and that is by principle of least action.
Since my original plan was to describe
everything directly in terms of particle
motions, it was my desire to represent
this new theory without saying anything
about fields. It turned out that we
found a form for an action directly in-
volving the motions of the charges only,
which upon variation would give the
equations of motion of these charges.
The expression for this action A is
A = ■S,m,j\^X^L'X^') da +
2 eie, r \sUij') X^i' (a<) Xfi> (a,) da,da,
tl< ^^ (1)
'/2
where
/..—[ATM'CaO-A-M'Ca/)] [Xy.\a,)-X^'{a,)]
where X,x' (flj) is the four- vector posi-
tion of the Jth particle as a function
of some parameter Oj, Xfji^(a^ is
dA^/iKfl.O/dfli. The first term is the
integral of proper time, the ordinary
action of relativistic mechanics of free
particles of mass m^. (We sum in the
usual way on the repeated index fi.)
The second term represents the elec-
trical interaction of the charges. It is
summed over each pair of charges (the
factor V2 is to count each pair once,
the term / = / is omitted to avoid self-
action). The interaction is a double in-
tegral over a delta function of the
square of space time interval P be-
tween two points on the paths. Thus,
interaction occurs only when this in-
terval vanishes, that is, along light
cones.
The fact that the interaction is ex-
actly one-half advanced and half-re-
tarded meant that we could write such
a principle of least action, whereas in-
teraction via retarded waves alone can-
not be written in such a way.
So, all of classical electrodynamics
was contained in this very simple
form. It looked good, and therefore,
it was undoubtedly true, at least to the
beginner. It automatically gave half-ad-
vanced and half-retarded effects and
it was without fields. By omitting the
term in the sum when / = /, I omit
self-interaction and no longer have any
infinite self-energy. This then was the
hoped-for solution to the problem of
ridding classical electrodynamics of the
infinities.
It turns out, of course, that you can
reinstate fields if you wish to, but you
have to keep track of the field pro-
duced by each particle separately. This
is because to find the right field to
act on a given particle, you must ex-
clude the field that it creates itself. A
single universal field to which all con-
tribute will not do. This idea had
been suggested earlier by Frenkel and
so we called these Frenkel fields. This
theory which allowed only particles to
act on each other was equivalent to
Frenkel's fields using half-advanced
and half-retarded solutions.
There were several suggestions for in-
teresting modifications of electrodynam-
ics. We discussed lots of them, but I
shall report on only one. It was to re-
place this delta function in the interac-
tion by another function, say /(/,/),
which is not infinitely sharp. Instead
of having the action occur only when
the interval between the two charges
is exactly zero, we would replace the
delta function of P by a narrow
peaked thing. Let's say that /(Z) is large
only near Z = 0 width of order a-.
Interactions will now occur when 7^—
R- is of order a^ roughly where T is
the time difference and R is the sepa-
ration of the charges. This might look
like it disagrees with experience, but if
a is some small distance, like 10-" cm.
it says that the time delay T in action
is roughly \/{R'^±a^) or approximately,
if R is much larger than a. T = R
±a^/2R. This means that the deviation
243
of time T from the ideal theoretical
time R of Maxwell gets smaller and
smaller, the further the pieces are apart.
Therefore, all theories involved in an-
alyzing generators, motors, etc. — in
fact, all of the tests of electrodynamics
that were available in Maxwell's time
— would be adequately satisfied if a
were 10~i* cm. If R is of the order of
a centimeter this deviation in T is only
10~26 part. So, it was possible, also,
to change the theory in a simple man-
ner and to still agree with all observa-
tions of classical electrodynamics. You
have no clue of precisely what func-
tion to put in for /, but it was an in-
teresting possibility to keep in mind
when developing quantum electrody-
namics.
It also occurred to us that if we did
that (replace S by /) we could not re-
instate the term / = / in the sum be-
cause this would now represent in a
relativistically invariant fashion a finite
action of a charge on itself. In fact, it
was possible to prove that if we did do
such a thing, the main effect of the
self-action (for not too rapid accelera-
tions) would be to produce a modifica-
tion of the mass. In fact, there need
be no mass m^ term; all the mechanical
mass could be electromagnetic self-
action. So, if you would like, we could
also have another theory with a still
simpler expression for the action A. In
expression 1 only the second term is
kept, the sum extended over all / and
/, and some function / replaces 8.
Such a simple form could represent all
of classical electrodynamics, which
aside from gravitation is essentially all
of classical physics.
Although it may sound confusing,
I am describing several different al-
ternative theories at once. The im-
portant thing to note is that at this
time we had all these in mind as dif-
ferent possibilities. There were several
possible solutions of the difficulty of
classical electrodynamics, any one of
which might serve as a good starting
point to the solution of the difficulties
of quantum electrodynamics.
I would also like to emphasize that
by this time I was becoming used to a
physical point of view different from
the more customary point of view. In
the customary view, things are dis-
cussed as a function of time in very
great detail. For example, you have the
field at this moment, a differential
equation gives you the field at the
next moment and so on — a method
which I shall call the Hamiltonian
method, the time differential method.
We have, instead (in 1, say) a thing
that describes the character of the path
throughout all of space and time. The
behavior of nature is determined by say-
ing her whole space-time path has a
certain character. For an action like 1
the equations obtained by variation
[of A'M'(aj)] are no longer at all easy
to get back into Hamiltonian form. If
you wish to use as variables only the
coordinates of particles, then you can
talk about the property of the paths
— but the path of one particle at a
given time is affected by the path of
another at a different time. If you try
to describe, therefore, things differen-
tially, telling what the present condi-
tions of the particles are, and how
these present conditions will affect the
future — you see, it is impossible with
particles alone, because something the
particle did in the past is going to af-
fect the future.
Therefore, you need a lot of book-
keeping variables to keep track of what
the particle did in the past. These are
called field variables. You will, also,
have to tell what the field is at this
present moment, if you are to be able
to see later what is going to happen.
From the overall space-time view of
the least action principle, the field dis-
appears as nothing but bookkeeping
variables insisted on by the Hamilto-
nian method.
As a by-product of this same view,
I received a telephone call one day at
the graduate college at Princeton from
Professor Wheeler, in which he said,
"Feynman, I know why all electrons
have the same charge and the same
mass." "Why?" "Because, they are all
the same electron!" And, then he ex-
plained on the telephone, "suppose
that the world lines which we were
ordinarily considering before in time
and space, instead of only going up in
time, were a tremendous knot, and
then, when we cut through the knot,
by the plane corresponding to a fixed
time, we would see many, many world
lines and that would represent many
electrons — except for one thing. If in
one section this is an ordinary elec-
tron world line, in the section in which
t reversed itself and is coming back
from the future we have the wrong
sign to the proper time — to the proper
four velocities — and that's equivalent to
changing the sign of the charge, and,
therefore, that part of a path would act
like a positron." "But, Professor," I
said, "there aren't as many positrons
as electrons." "Well, maybe they are
hidden in the protons or something,""
he said. I did not take the idea that all
the electrons were the same one from
him as seriously as I took the obser-
vation that positrons could simply be
represented as electrons going from the
future to the past in a back section of
their world lines. That, I stole!
To summarize, when I was done
with this, as a physicist I had gained
two things. One, I knew many different
ways of formulating classical electro-
dynamics, with many different mathe-
matical forms. I got to know how to
express the subject every which way.
Second, I had a point of view — the
overall space-time point of view — and
a disrespect for the Hamiltonian meth-
od of describing physics.
I would like to interrupt here to
make a remark. The fact that electro-
dynamics can be written in so many
ways — the differential equations of
Maxwell, various minimum principles
with fields, minimum principles without
fields, all different kinds of ways — was
something I knew but have never un-
derstood. It always seems odd to me
that the fundamental laws of physics,
when discovered, can appear in so
many different forms that are not ap-
parently identical at first, but, with a
little mathematical fiddling you can
show the relationship. An example
of that is the Schrodinger equation and
the Heisenberg formulation of quan-
tum mechanics. I don't know why this
is — it remains a mystery, but it was
something I learned from experience.
There is always another way to say
the same thing that doesn't look at
all like the way you said it before.
I don't know what the reason for this
is. I think it is somehow a representa-
tion of the simplicity of nature. A
thing like the inverse square law is just
right to be represented by the solu-
tion of Poisson's equation, which,
therefore, is a very different way to
say the same thing that doesn't look at
all like the way you said it before. I
don't know what it means, that nature
chooses these curious forms, but may-
be that is a way of defining simplicity.
Perhaps a thing is simple if you can
describe it fully in several different
ways without immediately knowing
that you are describing the same thing.
I was now convinced that since
we had solved the problem of classical
electrodynamics (and completely in ac-
cordance with my program from
M.I.T., with only direct interaction
244
The Development of the Space-Time View of Quantum
Electrodynamics
between particles, in a way that made
fields unnecessary) everything was defi-
nitely going to be all right. I was con-
vinced that all I had to do was make
a quantum theory analogous to the
classical one and everything would be
solved.
So, the problem is only to make a
quantum theory which has as its clas-
sical analog this expression 1. Now,
there is no unique way to make a
quantum theory from classical me-
chanics, although all the textbooks
make believe there is. What they
would tell you to do was find the mo-
mentum variables and replace them by
(fi/i) (d/dx), but I couldn't find a mo-
mentum variable, as there wasn't any.
The character of quantum mechan-
ics of the day was to write things in
the famous Hamiltonian way — in the
form of a differential equation, which
described how the wave func-
tion changes from instant to instant,
and in terms of an operator, H. If the
classical physics could be reduced to
a Hamiltonian form, everything was all
right. Now, least action does not im-
ply a Hamiltonian form if the action
is a function of anything more than
positions and velocities at the same
moment. If the action is of the form
of the integral of a function (usually
called the Lagrangian) of the velocities
and positions at the same time
S=J L(x,x)dt
(2)
then you can start with the
Lagrangian and then create a Hamil-
tonian and work out the quantum
mechanics, more or less uniquely. But
this expression 1 involves the key vari-
ables, positions, at two different times
and therefore it was not obvious what
to do to make the quantum mechanical
analog.
I tried — I would struggle in various
ways. One of them was this. If I had
harmonic oscillators interacting with a
delay in time, I could work out what
the normal modes were and guess that
the quantum theory of the normal
modes was the same as for simple oscil-
lators and kind of work my way back
in terms of the original variables. I suc-
ceeded in doing that, but I hoped
then to generalize to other than a har-
monic oscillator, but I learned to my
regret something which many people
have learned. The harmonic oscillator
is too simple; very often you can work
out what it should do in quantum
theory without getting much of a clue
as to how to generalize your results
to other systems.
So that didn't help me very much,
but when I was struggling with this
problem, I went to a beer party in the
Nassau Tavern in Princeton. There was
a gentleman, newly arrived from
Europe (Herbert Jehle) who came
and sat next to me. Europeans are
much more serious than we are in
America because they think that a good
place to discuss intellectual matters is
a beer party. So, he sat by me and
asked, "what are you doing" and so on,
and I said, "I'm drinking beer." Then
I realized that he wanted to know what
work I was doing and I told him I was
struggling with this problem, and I
simply turned to him and said, "listen,
do you know any way of doing quan-
tum mechanics, starting with action —
where the action integral comes into
the quantum mechanics?" "No," he
said, "but Dirac has a paper in which
the Lagrangian, at least, comes into
quantum mechanics. I will show it to
you tomorrow."
Next day we went to the Princeton
Library; they have little rooms on the
side to discuss things, and he showed
me this paper. What Dirac said was
the following: There is in quantum me-
chanics a very important quantity which
carries the wave function from one
time to another, besides the differen-
tial equation but equivalent to it, a
kind of a kernel, which we might call
K{x',x), which carries the wave func-
tion ij/ix) known at time t, to the
wave function \p(x') at time t + e.
Dirac points out that this function K
was analogous to the quantity in clas-
sical mechanics that you would calcu-
late if you took the exponential of U,
multiplied by the Lagrangian Lix, x),
imagining that these two positions x,
xf corresponded to t and r -|- «. In
other words,
K(:^,x) is analogous to
Professor Jehle showed me this, I
read it, he explained it to me, and I
said, "what does he mean, they are
analogous; what does that mean, ana-
logousl What is the use of that?" He
said, "you Americans! You always want
to find a use for everything!" I said
that I thought that Dirac must mean
that they were equal. "No," he ex-
plained, "he doesn't mean they are
equal." "Well," I said, "let's see
what happens if we make them equal."
So, I simply put them equal, taking
the simplest example where the Lagran-
gian is V2 Mx*—V(x) but soon found
I had to put a constant of proportion-
ality A in, suitably adjusted. When I
substituted Ae^^ for K to get
^(x',/-f-0=J /lexp «.
[^^(r^'''y\^i'>t)dx
and just calculated things out by Tay-
lor series expansion, out came the
Schrodinger equation. So, I turned to
Professor Jehle, not really under-
standing, and said, "well, you see
Professor Dirac meant that they were
proportional." Professor Jehle's eyes
were bugging out — he had taken out
a little notebook and was rapidly copy-
ing it down from the blackboard, and
said, "no, no, this is an important
discovery. You Americans are always
trying to find out how something can
be used. That's a good way to dis-
cover things!" So, I thought I was
finding out what Dirac meant, but, as
a matter of fact, I had made the dis-
covery that what Dirac thought was
analogous was, in fact, equal. I had
then, at least, the connection between
the Lagrangian and quantum me-
chanics, but still with wave functions
and infinitesimal times.
It must have been a day or so later,
when I was lying in bed thinking
about these things, that I imagined what
would happen if I wanted to calculate
the wave function at a finite time in-
terval later.
I would put one of these factors
e^^ in here, and that would give me
the wave functions the liext moment,
t + c, and then I could substitute
that back into 3 to get another factor
of e^^ and get the wave function the
next moment, / + 2«, and so on and
so on. In that way I found myself
thinking of a large number of inte-
grals, one after the other in sequence.
In the integrand was the product of the
exponentials, which, of course, was
the exponential of the sum of terms
like iL. Now, L is the Lagrangian
and c is like the time interval dt, so
that if you took a sum of such terms,
that's exactly like an integral. That's
like Riemann's formula for the inte-
gral I Ldfy you just take the value of
each point and add them together. We
are to take the limit as e— 0, of course.
Therefore, the connection between the
wave function of one instant and the
wave function of another instant a
245
finite time later could be obtained by
an infinite number of integrals (be-
cause t goes to zero, of course) of
exponential (iS/h) where S is the ac-
tion expression 2. At last, I had suc-
ceeded in representing quantum me-
chanics directly in terms of the action
S.
This led later on to the idea of the
amplitude for a path — that for each
possible way that the particle can go
from one point to another in space-
time, there's an amplitude. That ampli-
tude is e to the i/h times the action
for the path. Amplitudes from vari-
ous paths superpose by addition. This
then is another, a third, way of de-
scribing quantum mechanics, which
looks quite different than that of Schro-
dinger or Heisenberg, but which is
equivalent to them.
Now immediately after making a
few checks on this thing, what I want-
ed to do, of course, was to substi-
tute the action 1 for the other, 2.
The first trouble was that I could
not get the thing to work with the rela-
tivistic case of spin one-half. However,
although I could deal with the matter
only non-relativistically, I could deal
with the light or the photon interac-
tions perfectly well by just putting the
interaction terms of 1 into any action,
replacing the mass terms by the non-
relativistic (Mx'/2) dt. When the action
had a delay, as it now had, and in-
volved more than one time, I had to
lose the idea of a wave function. That
is, I could no longer describe the
program as, given the amplitude for all
positions at a certain time, to compute
the amplitude at another time. How-
ever, that didn't cause very much
trouble. It just meant developing a
new idea. Instead of wave functions
we could talk about this: that if a
source of a certain kind emits a
particle, and a detector is there to re-
ceive it, we can give the amplitude that
the source will emit and the detector
receive. We do this without specifying
the exact instant that the source emits
or the exact instant that any detector
receives, without trying to specify the
state of anything at any particular
time in between, but by just finding
the amplitude for the complete experi-
ment. And, then we could discuss how
that amplitude would change if you
had a scattering sample in between, as
you rotated and changed angles, and
so on, without really having any wave
functions.
It was also possible to discover what
the old concepts of energy and mo-
mentum would mean with this general-
ized action. And so I believed that I
had a quantum theory of classical elec-
trodynamics— or rather of this new
classical electrodynamics described by
action 1 . I made a number of checks. If
I took the Frenkel field point of view,
which you remember was more differ-
ential, I could convert it directly to
quantum mechanics in a more con-
ventional way. The only problem was
how to specify in quantum mechan-
ics the classical boundary conditions
to use only half-advanced and half-
retarded solutions. By some ingenuity
in defining what that meant, I found
that the quantum mechanics with
Frenkel fields, plus a special boundary
condition, gave me back this action 1,
in the new form of quantum mechanics
with a delay. So, various things indi-
cated that there wasn't any doubt I
had everything straightened out.
It was also easy to guess how to
modify the electrodynamics, if anybody
ever wanted to modify it. I just changed
the delta to an /, just as I would for
the classical case. So, it was very easy,
a simple thing. To describe the old
retarded theory without explicit men-
tion of fields I would have to write
probabilities, not just amplitudes. I
would have to square my amplitudes
and that would involve double path
integrals in which there are two 5's
and so forth. Yet, as I worked out
many of these things and studied dif-
ferent forms and different boundary
conditions, I got a kind of funny feel-
ing that things weren't exactly right.
I could not clearly identify the dif-
ficulty and in one of the short periods
during which I imagined I had laid it
to rest, I published a thesis and re-
ceived my Ph.D.
During the war, I didn't have time to
work on these things very extensively,
but wandered about on buses and so
forth, with little pieces of paper, and
struggled to work on it and discovered
indeed that there was something
wrong, something terribly wrong. I
found that if one generalized the ac-
tion from the nice Lagrangian forms,
2, to these forms, 1, then the quantities
which I defined as energy, and so on,
would be complex. The energy values
of stationary states wouldn't be real
and probabilities of events wouldn't add
up to 100%. That is, if you took the
probability that this would happen and
that would happen — everything you
could think of would happen — it
would not add up to one.
Another problem on which I strug-
gled very hard was to represent rela-
tivistic electrons with this new quan-
tum mechanics. I wanted to do it a
unique and different way — and not just
by copying the operators of Dirac into
some kind of an expression and using
some kind of Dirac algebra instead of
ordinary complex numbers. I was very
much encouraged by the fact that in
one space dimension I did find a way
of giving an amplitude to every path
by limiting myself to paths which only
went back and forth at the speed of
light. The amplitude was simple (it) to
a power equal to the number of ve-
locity reversals where I have divided
the time into steps e and I am allowed
to reverse velocity only at such a
time. This gives (as « approaches zero)
Dirac's equation in two dimensions —
one dimension of space and one of
time (i^ = A/ = c=l).
Dirac's wave function has four com-
ponents in four dimensions, but in this
case it has only two components, and
this rule for the amplitude of a path
automatically generates the need for
two components. Because if this is the
formula for the amplitudes of path, it
will not do you any good to know
the total amplitude of all paths which
come into a given point to find the
amplitude to reach the next point.
This is because for the next time, if it
came in from the rights there is no
new factor /e if it goes out to the
right, whereas, if it came in from the
left there was a new factor U. So,
to continue this same information for-
ward to the next moment, it was not
sufficient information to know the total
amplitude to arrive, but you had to
know the amplitude to arrive from the
right and the amplitude to arrive from
the left, independently. If you did,
however, you could then compute both
of those again independently and thus
you had to carry two amplitudes to
form a differential equation (first order
in time).
And so I dreamed that if I were
clever I would find a formula for the
amplitude of a path that was beauti-
ful and simple for three dimensions of
space and one of time, which would
be equivalent to the Dirac equation,
and for which the four components,
matrices, and all those other mathe-
matical funny things would come out
as a simple consequence — I have never
succeeded in that either. But, I did
want to mention some of the unsuc-
cessful things on which I spent almost
as much effort as on the things that
did work.
246
The Development of the Space-Time View of Quantum
Electrodynamics
To summarize the situation a few
years after the war, I would say I
had much experience with quantum
electrodynamics, at least in the
knowledge of many different ways
of formulating it, in terms of path
integrals of actions and in other
forms. One of the important by-prod-
ucts, for example, of much experience
in these simple forms was that it was
easy to see how to combine together
what were in those days called the
longitudinal and transverse fields, and
in general to see clearly the relativistic
invariance of the theory. Because of
the need to do things differentially
there had been, in the standard quan-
tum electrodynamics, a complete split
of the field into two parts, one which
is called the longitudinal part and the
other mediated by the photons, or
transverse waves. The longitudinal part
was described by a Coulomb potential
acting instantaneously in the Schro-
dinger equation, while the transverse
part had an entirely different descrip-
tion in terms of quantization of the
transverse waves. This separation de-
pended upon the relativistic tilt of your
axes in space-time. People moving at
different velocities would separate the
same field into longitudinal and trans-
verse fields in a different way. Further-
more, the entire formulation of quan-
tum mechanics, insisting, as it did, on
the wave function at a given time,
was hard to analyze relativistically.
Somebody else in a different coordi-
nate system would calculate the suc-
cession of events in terms of wave
functions on differently cut slices of
space-time and with a different sepa-
ration of longitudinal and transverse
parts. The Hamiltonian theory did not
look relativistically invariant, although,
of course, it was. One of the great
advantages of the overall point of
view was that you could see the rel-
ativistic invariance right away— or, as
Schwinger would say, the covariance
was manifest. I had the advantage,
therefore, of having a manifestedly co-
variant form for quantum electrody-
namics with suggestions for modifica-
tions and so on. I had the disadvantage
that if I took it too seriously — I mean,
if I took it seriously at all in this
form — I got into trouble with these
complex energies and the failure of
adding probabilities to one and so on.
I was unsuccessfully struggling with
that.
Then Lamb did his experiment,
measuring the separation of the 25)
and 2Pj levels of hydrogen, find-
ing it to be about 1000 megacycles
of frequency difference. Professor
Bethe, with whom ! was then associated
at Cornell, is a man who has this
characteristic: If there's a good exper-
imental number you've got to figure
it out from theory. So, he forced the
quantum electrodynamics of the day
to give him an answer to the separa-
tion of these two levels. He pointed
out that the self-energy of an elec-
tron itself is infinite, so that the cal-
culated energy of a bound electron
should also come out infinite. But,
when you calculated the separation of
the two energy levels in terms of the
corrected mass instead of the old
mass, it would turn out, he thought,
that the theory would give convergent
finite answers. He made an estimate
of the splitting that way and found
out that it was still divergent, but he
guessed that was probably due to the
fact that he used an unrelativistic
theory of the matter. Assuming it
would be convergent if relativistically
treated, he estimated he would get
about a thousand megacycles for the
Lamb-shift, and thus, made the most
important discovery in the history of
the theory of quantum electrodynam-
ics. He worked this out on the train
from Ithaca, New York, to Schenec-
tady and telephoned me excitedly
from Schenectady to tell me the re-
sult, which I don't remember fully ap-
preciating at the time.
Returning to Cornell, he gave a
lecture on the subject, which I at-
tended. He explained that it gets
very confusing to figure out exactly
which infinite term corresponds to
what in trying to make the correction
for the infinite change in mass. If
there were any modifications whatever,
he said, even though not physically
correct (that is, not necessarily the way
nature actually works) but any modi-
fication whatever at high frequencies,
which would make this correction finite,
then there would be no problem at
all to figuring out how to keep track
of everything. You just calculate the
finite mass correction Aw to the elec-
tron mass Wo, substitute the numerical
values of Wq+Aw for w in the results
for any other problem and all these
ambiguities would be resolved. If, in
addition, this method were relativisti-
cally invariant, then we would be ab-
solutely sure how to do it without
destroying relativistic invariance.
After the lecture, I went up to him
and told him, "I can do that for you.
I'll bring it in for you tomorrow." I
guess I knew every way to modify
quantum electrodynamics known to
man, at the time. So, I went in next
day, and explained what would corres-
pond to the modification of the delta-
function to / and asked him to ex-
plain to me how you calculate the
self-energy of an electron, for in-
stance, so we can figure out if it's
finite.
I want you to see an interesting
point. I did not take the advice of
Professor Jehle to find out how it was
useful. I never used all that machin-
ery which I had cooked up to solve
a single relativistic problem. I hadn't
even calculated the self-energy of an
electron up to that moment, and was
studying the difficulties with the con-
servation of probability, and so on,
without actually doing anything, ex-
cept discussing the general properties
of the theory.
But now I went to Professor Bethe,
who explained to me on the black-
board, as we worked together, how to
calculate the self-energy of an electron.
Up to that time when you did the
integrals they had been logarithmical-
ly divergent. I told him how to make
the relativistically invariant modifica-
tions that I thought would make
everything all right. We set up the in-
tegral which then diverged at the sixth
power of the frequency instead of
logarithmically!
So, I went back to my room and
worried about this thing and went
around in circles trying to figure en?
what was wrong because I was sure
physically everything had to come out
finite. I couldn't understand how it
came out infinite. I became more and
more interested and finally realized I
had to learn how to make a calcula-
tion. So, ultimately, I taught myself
how to calculate the self-energy of
an electron, working my patient way
through the terrible confusion of those
days of negative energy states and holes
and longitudinal contributions and so
on. When I finally found out how to
do it and did it with the modifications
I wanted to suggest, it turned out
that it was nicely convergent and finite,
just as I had expected. Professor Bethe
and I have never been able to dis-
cover what we did wrong on that
blackboard two months before, but ap-
parently we just went off somewhere
and we have never been able to
figure out where. It turned out that
what I had proposed, if we had car-
ried it out without making a mistake,
would have been all right and would
247
have given a finite correction. Anyway,
it forced me to go back over all this
and to convince myself physically that
nothing can go wrong. At any rate,
the correction to mass was now finite,
proportional to ln{ma/h) where a is
the width of that function / which
was substituted for 8. If you wanted
an unmodified electrodynamics, you
would have to take a equal to zero,
getting an infinite mass correction. But,
that wasn't the point. Keeping a finite,
I simply followed the program out-
lined by Professor Bethe and showed
how to calculate all the various things
— the scatterings of electrons from
atoms without radiation, the shifts of
levels and so forth — calculating every-
thing in terms of the experimental
mass, and noting that the results, as
Bethe suggested, were not sensitive to
a in this form and even had a definite
limit as a -^ 0.
The rest of my work was simply
to improve the techniques then avail-
able for calculations, making dia-
grams to help analyze perturbation
theory quicker. Most of this was
first worked out by guessing — you
see, I didn't have the relativistic the-
ory of matter. For example, it seemed
to me obvious that the velocities in
non-relativistic formulas have to be re-
placed by Dirac's matrix a or in the
more relativistic forms by the opera-
tors yM. I just took my guesses from
the forms that I had worked out us-
ing path integrals for non-relativistic
matter, but relativistic light. It was easy
to develop rules of what to substitute
to get the relativistic case. I was very
surprised to discover that it was not
known at that time that every one of
the formulas that had been worked out
so patiently by separating longitudi-
nal and transverse waves corld be ob-
tained from the formula for the trans-
verse waves alone, if instead of sum-
ming over only the two perpendicu-
lar polarization directions you would
sum over all four possible directions
of polarization. It was so obvious from
the action 1 that I thought it was
general knowledge and would do it all
the time. I would get into arguments
with people, because I didn't realize
they didn't know that; but, it turned
out that all their patient work with
the longitudinal waves was always
equivalent to just extending the sum
on the two transverse directions of pol-
arization over all four directions. This
was one of the amusing advantages
of the method. In addition, I included
diagrams for the various terms of the
perturbation series, improved nota-
tions to be used, worked out easy ways
to evaluate integrals, which occurred
in these problems, and so on, and
made a kind of handbook on how to
do quantum electrodynamics.
But one step of importance that was
physically new was involved with the
negative energy sea of Dirac, which
caused me so much logical difficulty.
I got so confused that I remembered
Wheeler's old idea about the positron
being, maybe, the electron going back-
ward in time. Therefore, in the time-
dependent perturbation theory that was
usual for getting self-energy, I simply
supposed that for a while we could
go backward in the time, and looked
at what terms I got by running the
time variables backward. They were
the same as the terms that other peo-
ple got when they did the problem a
more complicated way, using holes in
the sea, except, possibly, for some
signs. These I at first determined em-
pirically by inventing and trying some
rules.
I have tried to explain that all the
improvements of relativisitc theory
were at first more or less straight-
forward, semi-empirical shenanigans.
Each time I would discover some-
thing, however, I would go back and
I would check it so many ways, com-
pare it to every problem that had been
done previously in electrodynamics
(and later, in weak coupling meson
theory) to see if it would always
agree, and so on, until I was abso-
lutely convinced of the truth of the
various rules and regulations which I
concocted to simplify all the work.
During this time, people had been
developing meson theory, a subject I
had not studied in any detail. I be-
came interested in the possible applica-
tion of my methods to perturbation
calculations in meson theory. But,
what was meson theory? All I knew
was that meson theory was something
analogous to electrodynamics, except
that particles corresponding to the
photon had a mass. It was easy to
guess that the 8-function in 1, which
was a solution of d'Alembertian equals
zero, was to be changed to the cor-
responding solution of d'Alembertian
equals m-. Next, there were different
kinds of mesons — the ones in closest
analogy to photons, coupled via y^t.y^J.,
are called vector mesons; there were
also scalar mesons. Well, maybe that
corresponds to putting unity in place
of the yfi, perhaps what they called
"pseudo vector coupling," and I would
guess what that probably was. I didn't
have the knowledge to understand the
way these were defined in the conven-
tional papers because they were ex-
pressed at that time in terms of creation
and annihilation operators, and so on,
which I had not successfully learned.
I remember that when someone had
started to teach me about creation and
annihilation operators, that this opera-
tor creates an electron, I said, "how
do you create an electron? It disagrees
with the conservation of charge," and
in that way I blocked my mind from
learning a very practical scheme of
calculation. Therefore, I had to find
as many opportunities as possible to
test whether I guessed right as to what
the various theories were.
One day a dispute arose at a Physi-
cal Society meeting as to the correct-
ness of a calculation by Slotnick of
the interaction of an electron with a
neutron, using pseudo scalar theory
with pseudo vector coupling and also
pseudo scalar theory with pseudo sca-
lar coupling. He had found that the
answers were not the same; in fact,
by one theory, the result was diver-
gent, although convergent with the
other. Some people believed that the
two theories must give the same an-
swer for the problem. This was a wel-
come opportunity to test my guesses
as to whether I really did understand
what these two couplings were. So, I
went home, and during the evening I
worked out the electron neutron scat-
tering for the pseudo scalar and pseudo
vector coupling, saw they were not
equal and subtracted them, and worked
out the difference in detail. The next
day, at the meeting, I saw Slotnick
and said, "Slotnick, I worked it out
last night, I wanted to see if I got
the same answers you do. I got a
different answer for each coupling —
but, I would like to check in detail
with you because I want to make
sure of my methods." And, he said,
"what do you mean you worked it
out last night, it took me six months!"
And, when we compared the answers
he looked at mine and he asked,
"what is that Q in there, that vari-
able QV (I had expressions like
(tan-iQ/Q etc.). I said, "that's the mo-
mentum transferred by the electron,
the electron deflected by different
angles." "Oh," he said, "no, I only
have the limiting value as Q ap-
proaches zero; the forward scattering."
Well, it was easy enough to just sub-
stitute Q equals zero in my form and
I then got the same answers as he
248
The Development of the Space-Time View of Quantum
Electrodynamics
did. But, it took him six months to
do the case of zero momentum trans-
fer, whereas, during one evening I had
done the finite and arbitrary momen-
tum transfer. That was a thrilling mo-
ment for me, like receiving the Nobel
Prize, because that convinced me, at
last, I did have some kind of method
and technique and understood how to
do something that other people did
not know how to do. That was my
moment of triumph in which I rea-
lized I really had succeeded in work-
ing out something worthwhile.
At this stage, I was urged to pub-
lish this because everybody said it
looks like an easy way to make cal-
culations, and wanted to know how to
do it. I had to publish it, missing two
things; one was proof of every state-
ment in a mathematically conventional
sense. Often, even in a physicist's
sense, I did not have a demonstra-
tion of how to get all of these rules
and equations from conventional elec-
trodynamics. But, I did know from
experience, from fooling around, that
everything was, in fact, equivalent to
the regular electrodynamics and had
partial proofs of many pieces, although
I never really sat down, like Euclid did
for the geometers of Greece, and made
sure that you could get it all from a sin-
gle simple sert of axioms. As a result, the
work was criticized, I don't know
whether favorably or unfavorably, and
the "method" was called the "intuitive
method." For those who do not realize
it, however, I should like to emphasize
that there is a lot of work involved in
using this "intuitive method" successful-
ly. Because no simple clear proof of the
formula or idea presents itself, it is
necessary to do an unusually great
amount of checking and rechecking
for consistency and correctness in
terms of what is known, by compar-
ing to other analogous examples, limit-
ing cases, etc. In the face of the lack
of direct mathematical demonstration,
one must be careful and thorough to
make sure of the point, and one
should make a perpetual attempt to
demonstrate as much of the formula
as possible. Nevertheless, a very great
deal more truth can become known
than can be proven.
It must be clearly understood that
in all this work I was representing the
conventional electrodynamics with re-
tarded interaction, and not my half-
advanced and half-retarded theory cor-
responding to 1. I merely use 1 to
guess at forms. And one of the forms
I guessed at corresponded to chang-
ing 8 to a function / of width a-,
so that I could calculate finite results
for all of the problems. This brings
me to the second thing that was miss-
ing when I published the paper, an
unresolved difficulty. With 8 replaced
by / the calculations would give re-
sults which were not "unitary," that
is, for which the sum of the probabili-
ties of all alternatives was not unity.
The deviation from unity was very
small, in practice, if a was very small.
In the limit that I took a very tiny,
it might not make any difference. And
so the process of the renormalization
could be made, you could calculate
everything in terms of the experimental
mass and then take the limit, and the
apparent difficulty that the unitary is
violated temporarily seems to disap-
pear. I was unable to demonstrate
that, as a matter of fact, it does.
It is lucky that I did not wait to
straighten out that point, for as far
as I know, nobody has yet been able
to resolve this question. Experience
with meson theories, with stronger
couplings, and with strongly coupled
vector photons, although not proving
anything, convinces me that if the
coupling were stronger, or if you went
to a higher order (137th order of per-
turbation theory for electrodynamics),
this difficulty would remain in the limit
and there would be real trouble. That is,
I believe there is really no satisfactory
quantum electrodynamics, but I'm not
sure. And I believe that one of the rea-
sons for the slowness of present day
progress in understanding the strong
interactions is that there isn't any rel-
ativistic theoretical model from which
you can really calculate everything.
Although it is usually said that the
difficulty lies in the fact that strong
interactions are too hard to calculate,
I believe it is really because strong
interactions in field theory have no
solution, have no sense — they're eith-
er infinite, or, if you try to modify
them, the modification destroys the
unitarity. I don't think we have a
completely satisfactory relativistic quan-
tum mechanical model, even one that
doesn't agree with nature but, at
least, agrees with the logic that the
sum of probability of all alternatives
has to be 100%. Therefore, I think
that the renormalization theory is sim-
ply a way to sweep the difficulties of
the divergences of electrodynamics un-
der the rug. I am, of course, not sure
of that.
This completes the story of the de-
velopment of the space-time view of
quantum electrodynamics. I wonder if
anything can be learned frpm it. I
doubt it. It is most striking that most
of the ideas developed in the course
of this research were not ultimately
used in the final result. For example,
the half-advanced and half-retarded
potential was not finally used, the ac-
tion expression 1 was not used, the
idea that charges do not act on them-
selves was abandoned. The path in-
tegral formulation of quantum me-
chanics was useful for guessing at
final expressions and at formulating
the general theory of electrodynamics
in new ways — although, strictly it
was not absolutely necessary. The
same goes for the idea of the posi-
tron being a backward-moving elec-
tron; it was very convenient, but not
strictly necessary for the theory be-
cause it is exactly equivalent to the
negative energy sea point of view.
We are struck by the very large
number of different physical view-
points and widely different mathemat-
ical formulations that are all equiva-
lent to one another. The method used
here, of reasoning in physical terms,
therefore, appears to be extremely in-
efficient. On looking back over the
work, I can only feel a kind of regret
for the enormous amount of physical
reasoning and mathematical re-expres-
sion which ends by merely re-express-
ing what was previously known, al-
though in a form which is much more
efficient for the calculation of specific
problems. Would it not have been
much easier to simply work entirely
in the mathematical framework to elab-
orate a more efficient expression? This
would certainly seem to be the case,
but it must be remarked that although
the problem actually solved was only
such a reformulation, the problem orig-
inally tackled was the (possibly still
unsolved) problem of avoidance of the
infinities of the usual theory. There-
fore, a new theory was sought, not just
a modification of the old. Although the
quest was unsuccessful, we should look
at the question of the value of physical
ideas in developing a new theory.
Many different physical ideas can de-
scribe the same physical reality. Thus,
classical electrodynamics can be de-
scribed by a field view, or an action
at a distance view, etc. Originally, Max-
well filled space with idler wheels,
and Faraday with field lines, but some-
how the Maxwell equations them-
selves are pristine and independent of
the elaboration of words attempting a
physical description. The only true
249
physical description is that describing
the experimental meaning of the
quantities in the equation — or better,
the way the equations are to be used
in describing experimental observations.
This being the case, perhaps the best
way to proceed is to try to guess equa-
tions, and disregard physical mod-
els or descriptions. For example, Mc-
Cullough guessed the correct equa-
tions for light propagation in a crys-
tal long before his colleagues using
elastic models could make head or
tail of the phenomena, or again, Dirac
obtained his equation for the descrip-
tion of the electron by an almost pure-
ly mathematical proposition. A simple
physical view by which all the con-
tents of this equation can be seen
is still lacking.
Therefore, I think equation guessing
might be the best method for pro-
ceeding to obtain the laws for the
part of physics which is presently un-
known. Yet, when I was much young-
er, I tried this equation guessing and
I have seen many students try this,
but it is very easy to go off in wildly
incorrect and impossible directions. I
think the problem is not to find the
best or most efficient method for pro-
ceeding to a discovery, but to find any
method at all. Physical reasoning does
help some people to generate sugges-
tions as to how the unknown may
be related to the known. Theories of
the known which are described by
different physical ideas may be
equivalent in all their predictions and
hence scientifically indistinguishable.
However, they are not psychological-
ly identical when one is trying to
move from that base into the
unknown. For different views suggest
different kinds of modifications which
might be made and hence are not
equivalent in the hypotheses one gen-
erates from them in one's attempt to
understand what is not yet under-
stood. I, therefore, think that a good
theoretical physicist today might find
it useful to have a wide range of physi-
cal viewpoints and mathematical ex-
pressions of the same theory (for ex-
ample, of quantum electrodynamics)
available to him. This may be ask-
ing too much of one man. Then new
students should as a class have this.
If every individual student follows the
same -current fashion in expressing and
thinking about electrodynamics or field
theory, then the variety of hypotheses
being generated to understand strong
interactions, say, is limited. Perhaps
rightly so, for possibly the chance
is high that the truth lies in the fash-
ionable direction. But, on the off-
chance that it is in another direction
— a direction obvious from an un-
fashionable view of field theory —
who will find it? Only someone who
has sacrificed himself by teaching him-
self quantum electrodynamics from a
peculiar and unusual point of view,
one that he may have to invent for
himself. I say sacrificed himself be-
cause he most likely will get nothing
from it, because the truth may lie in
another direction, perhaps even the
fashionable one.
But, if my own experience is any
guide, the sacrifice is really not great
because if the peculiar viewpoint tak-
en is truly experimentally equivalent
to the usual in the realm of the
known there is always a range of ap-
plications and problems in this realm
for which the special viewpoint gives
one a special power and clarity of
thought, which is valuable in itself.
Furthermore, in the search for new
laws, you always have the psychologi-
cal excitement of feeling that possibly
nobody has yet thought of the crazy
possibility you are looking at right now.
So what happened to the old theory
that I fell in love with as a youth?
Well, I would say it's become an old
lady, who has very little that's attrac-
tive left in her, and the young today
will not have their hearts pound when
they look at her anymore. But, we
can say the best we can for any old
woman, that she has been a very good
mother and has given birth to some
very good children. And, I thank the
Swedish Academy of Sciences for com-
plimenting one of them. Thank you.
250
Mathematics can help physics, but they ore two quite
different activities.
25 The Relation of Mathematics to Physics
Richard P. Feynman
Excerpt from his book, The Character of Physical Law,
published in 1965.
I should like to say a few things on the relation of mathe-
matics and physics which are a little more general. Mathe-
maticians are only dealing with the structure of reasoning,
and they do not really care what they are talking about. They
do not even need to know what they are talking about, or,
as they themselves say, whether what they say is true. I will
explain that. You state the axioms, such-and-such is so,
and such-and-such is so. What then? The logic can be
carried out without knowing what the such-and-such words
mean. If the statements about the axioms are carefully for-
mulated and complete enough, it is not necessary for the
man who is doing the reasoning to have any knowledge of
the meaning of the words in order to deduce new conclu-
sions in the same language. If I use the word triangle in one
of the axioms there will be a statement about triangles in
the conclusion, whereas the man who is doing the reasoning
may not know what a triangle is. But I can read his reason-
ing back and say, 'Triangle, that is just a three-sided what-
have-you, which is so-and-so', and then I know his new facts.
In other words, mathematicians prepare abstract reasoning
ready to be used if you have a set of axioms about the real
world. But the physicist has meaning to all his phrases. That
is a very important thing that a lot of people who come to
physics by way of mathematics do not appreciate. Physics
is not mathematics, and mathematics is not physics. One
helps the other. But in physics you have to have an under-
standing of the connection of words with the real world. It is
251
necessary at the end to translate what you have figured out
into EngHsh, into the world, into the blocks of copper and
glass that you are going to do the experiments with. Only in
that way can you find out whether the consequences are
true. This is a problem which is not a problem of mathe-
matics at all.
Of course it is obvious that the mathematical reasonings
which have been developed are of great power and use for
physicists. On the other hand, sometimes the physicists'
reasoning is useful for mathematicians.
Mathematicians like to make their reasoning as general
as possible. If I say to them, '1 want to talk about ordinary
three dimensional space', they say 'If you have a space of
n dimensions, then here are the theorems'. 'But 1 only want
the case 3', 'Well, substitute n = 3.'! So it turns out that
many of the complicated theorems they have are much
simpler when adapted to a special case. The physicist is
always interested in the special case; he is never interested
in the general case. He is talking about something; he is
not talking abstractly about anything. He wants to discuss
the gravity law in three dimensions; he never wants the
arbitrary force case in n dimensions. So a certain amount of
reducing is necessaiy, because the mathematicians have
prepared these things for a wide range of problems. This
is very useful, and later on it always turns out that the poor
physicist has to come back and say, 'Excuse me, when you
wanted to tell me about four dimensions . . .'
When you know what it is you are talking about, that
some symbols represent forces, others masses, inertia, and
so on, then you can use a lot of commonsense, seat-of-the-
pants feeling about the world. You have seen various things,
and you know more or less how the phenomenon is going
to behave. But the poor mathematician translates it into
equations, and as the symbols do not mean anything to
him he has no guide but precise mathematical rigour and
care in the argument. The physicist, who knows more or
less how the answer is going to come out, can sort of guess
part way, and so go along rather rapidly. The mathematical
rigour of great precision is not very useful in physics. But
one should not criticize the mathematicians on this score.
It is not necessary that just because something would be
useful to physics they have to do it that way. They are
doing their own job. If you want something else, then you
work it out for yourself.
252
Current emphasis on studies of very small systems and very
short time intervals, on the one hand, and large-scale objects
of astronomical dimensions, on the other, should lead to
increasing interaction and unity between them.
26 Where Do We Go From Here?
Arthur E. Ruark
Article in Physics Today, 1969.
Because all science feeds on un-
solved problems, it is our privilege,
from time to time, to make some fore-
cast of the future. Naturally, the fore-
caster can do nothing about some great
surprise that may come, with sudden
force, to change the course of a whole
science. Nevertheless, in a well de-
veloped science such as physics, one
can see some invariant driving forces.
There are tides in the affairs of physics
that drive us onward without cease.
The greatest tide of all appears to be
explicit faith in the unity and consis-
tency of natural behavior. This faith
implies that parts of our subject that
develop in relative isolation will come
together to form a broader, more per-
fect structure.
A very striking feature of our times
has been the extension of physical and
chemical and biological studies to very
small sizes and time intervals. I am
talking about our ability to deal with
atoms, nuclei and elementary particles.
Again, there has been extension of our
ability to learn about the large-scale
features of this universe— this "bourne
of space and time," as Tennyson said.
These are intellectual and moral en-
deavors, in the sense that we have to
deal with great uniformities in nature;
with creation, evolution and final fate.
Here, my unifying thread of thought
will be the increasing interaction be-
tween subatomic physics and the phys-
ics of the heavens. I shall consider
some unsolved problems in these fields.
The list is highly selective. I have ex-
cluded nearly all the things in the
mainstream of current eff^ort, in order
to include others that now receive little
attention but may be in the mainstream
in years to come. Let us proceed, be-
ginning with a few topics in funda-
mental physics,
THE VERY, VERY SMALL
W^e all know of the close relation be-
tween the relativity theory and the
quantum theory. However, there are
curiosities connected with this matter.
Partly they arise because the field on
which the game of quantum theory is
played is a classical manifold, the field
of space and time, or better spoken,
"space— time." Let me indicate how
these two theories are connected at
their very roots.
Quantum theory is a relativistic
theory. The basic papers of Louis de
Brogbe and of Erwin Schrodinger al-
ready showed that the waves belong-
ing to a particle of speed v have a
phase speed c^/v, where c is the speed
of light. This formula arises from
special relativity; if one uses Newto-
nian mechanics, a wrong result is ob-
tained.
Special relativity deals with space
and time coordinates x and t, so that it
is usually considered to be a classical
theory; that is to say, a nonquantum
theory. This seems to be correct when
one considers it as a mathematical
253
scheme; for there is no mention of
Planck's constant h in the axioms set
up by Albert Einstein. On the other
hand, I do not think it is generally un-
derstood that this point of view has to
be modified a bit when we take a hard
look at the interpretation of the
theory.
In order to use the theory in physics,
we have to say what the quantities
Ax and A* stand for, and Einstein made
the choice that is really useful. When
he said Ax, he meant a length mea-
sured with a real meter stick. He did
not mean a hypothetical, nonexistent
"rigid ruler," the kind talked about in
geometry classes. When he said Af, he
meant a time measured with a labora-
tory clock. Now, this has conse-
quences. The object to be measured
is a dynamic thing, and so is the stan-
dard. The meter stick is a group of
crystals, a vibrating body held to-
gether by quantum forces, and so is
the clock. This consideration is
dramatized somewhat in figure 1. It
looks as though we are caught in a
vicious circle; we want to study the
interiors of atoms with the aid of lab-
oratory standards, and Lo! The stan-
dards are made out of the very things
we want to study.
True enough, we do not actually
thrust a meter stick down into the
atom. We have none with divisions
fine enough, and we know that such a
disturbance of the atom would not be
pertinent if we could do so. Actually,
we have to study the wavelengtns of
light emitted (and other useful quanti-
ties), recording them always with the
aid of gross apparatus-a favorite topic
of Niels Bohr.
Always there are experimental trou-
bles. Fundamental ones are shown in
figures 2 and 3. Always, we are mak-
ing use of a chain of experimental re-
sults and interpretation, concerned
with the whole coupled apparatus and
based on special relativity and quan-
tum theory together. A central ques-
tion is whether we wish to use our
ordinary ideas about lengths and dis-
tances when we get into the domain of
the very, very small; is this practice
really bad? Not at all. The physicist
is always trying to extend the scope of
his laws or to find their limitations.
He is a great fellow for cutting Gor-
dian knots; so he says:
"I shall continue to use special rela-
tivity and quantum theory as a strange
pair of partners, to interpret results of
my experiments on collisions between
elementary particles; and I shall find
out whether I run into discrepancies."
Breakdown?
Nowadays, one kind of search for
such discrepancies is called experi-
mentation on the breakdown of quan-
tum electrodynamics. It is carried on
by studying, for example, collisions be-
After taking bachelor's, master's and
doctor's degrees at Johns Hopkins Uni-
versity, Arthur E. Ruark taught at Yale,
Pittsburgh, North Carolina and Alabama
universities. He joined the Atomic En-
ergy Commission in 1956 as chief of the
controlled thermonuclear program and
is now senior associate director of the
division of research at the AEC.
254
Where Do We Go From Here?
tween two electrons; one looks at the
distribution of scattered electrons to
see whether it agrees with predictions
from electrodynamics. As of 1968,
there was no clear evidence of trouble,^
down to inferred distances between
the collision partners as small as about
1.8 X 10-14 cm.
The question now arises: Could
particle theory continue to make use
of the customary space-time concept
if a breakdown of electrodynamics
were found? Let us see. A failure of
present-day theory would simply lead
to construction of some new formula-
tion, not to a modification of the space-
time picture. People would keep that
picture. What they want is consis-
tency in theoretical talk over the whole
range of space-time dimensions, "from
zero to infinity." It will be extremely
hard to eject the space-time picture
from any part of physics. Curvature
may be introduced; broader geometries
may be invoked, but the continuous
manifold will still be there because of
the flexibihty with which new physical
fields can be introduced when experi-
ments appear to suggest their presence.
Weak and infrequent things
The success of Fred Reines and Clyde
Cowan^ in starting up the subject of
experimental neutrino physics showed
us that studies involving miniscule
cross sections can be worth a great deal
of effort. There is also the search for
gravitational waves. It is heartening
to know that Joseph Weber^ has really
excellent apparatus to look for these
waves; his laboratory is full of seismo-
graphs and the like, for throwing out
spurious efi^ects from tides and earth-
quakes. It is still more heartening to
know that he has some events that are
difiicult to explain by means of terres-
trial disturbances.
We should not forget that there may
be very weak forces in nature, still un-
discovered, aside from the gravitational
ones. I do not know of any current
search for such forces.
The whole trend in physics has been
to assume that particles are extremely
well standardized. Nevertheless a few
people'* have been looking for anoma-
lous or nonstandard particles; here I
am talking about aberrant electrons,
protons, or what-have-you? The re-
sources of modem technique (and in
particular, the capabilities of optical
spectrographs) are not now being fully
used to make some progress with this
matter. The trouble is that when one
starts to speculate about such particles,
the possibihties are very wide; so
one must look very selectively for good
opportunities to do an interesting ex-
periment.
The search for underlying levels
In recent years we have seen rather
extensive searches for an underlying
level of simpler things from which a
horde of elementary particles might be
made. There was the quark search
and the search for Dirac magnetic
poles; now there is the interest in so-
called "W particles." The quark idea,
as a mathematical scheme, is indeed
ingenious and interesting. The quarks
are sometimes thought of as the ulti-
mate particles, but there is a trouble
with such ideas. If we had quarks,
people would just say, "What are they
made of?" This is an example of the
Infinite Regression— a question such
that if you answer it you come up
against another question of the same
kind.
ASTROPHYSICS AND COSMOLOGY
We are all aware of the highly fruitful
relations between advances in atomic
255
0 12 3 4 5 :I0 ft.
FISHERMAN'S RULE, or how to measure a live fish with a variable rubber Einstein
ruler. The fish and the standard are both dynamic objects. — FIG. 1
and nuclear physics and those in astro-
physics and nebular physics. Further-
more, the fruits of cosmic-ray work,
radio astronomy and x-ray astronomy
show us that high-energy physics is
one essential key to the understanding
of very violent astrophysical events.^
But there is mounting evidence that, in
a broader sense, particle physics and
cosmology are closely related. Let us
turn our attention to a few aspects of
this fascinating realm of ideas.
Space-time and matter
It is frequendy said that the material
content of space and the motion of that
material determine the curvatvu-e of the
space-time manifold. This is often
called Mach's principle. Indeed, Ein-
stein's gravitational equations say that
a tensor built from curvature quantities
is equal to the matter-energy tensor
Tik. If Tifc is treated as an arbitrary
source term, the above statement is
justified, but we are left with an in-
complete story on our hands. Thus,
if Tijc comes from electromagnetic
sources, the fields appearing in it
should be taken from Maxwell's equa-
tions,, written out for curved space-
time. Then the curvature and the
matter-energy tensor are determined
together, from these coupled equa-
tions. Einstein proceeded in this way,
arriving at his first combined theory of
gravitation and electromagnetism.
True enough, he abandoned it later for
reasons of personal taste, but others
have carried on, and this first unified
theory is a lively field of research even
today, 50 years after it was created.
However, a salient question still con-
fronts us. When we proceed to a
specific case, that of a single electron
for example, do we simply put in the
electronic charge as an unexplained
parameter? Or do we look for under-
lying relations whereby the electron
can be represented as a curlicue of
particular dimensions in space-time?
To speak more generally— do we want
a completely unified theory of space
time and matter, or a dualistic theory?
There is a literature on this subject,
too extensive for discussion here.^ An
idea of the Mach type runs through it
all. If I were asked for a comprehen-
sive generalization of the Mach idea.
256
Where Do We Go From Here?
ATOMIC BILLIARDS, When we try to
measure a coordinate, recoil from the test
body alters the coordinates and the mo-
mentum under study. — FIG. 2
A PHOTON used for a measurement is
affected by its collision with the object
under attention. — FIG. 3
I would say, "There is just one mani-
fold. The equations describing physi-
cal phenomena contain not only fields
defined on that manifold but also
quantities characterizing the geometry
of the manifold. The connections are
such that the fields and the geometrical
quantities are determined together,
consistently." And I recommend to
the reader some interesting studies of a
generalized Mach principle, by Mendel
Sachs. "^
This is a good place to ask, "How is
it that space has three dimensions?"
This question is at least 70 years old.
I have seen nothing on the subject that
is more than a plausibility argument,
but I have a small suggestion as to a
fresh approach. Suppose we use the
methods of tensor and spinor calculus
to examine physical equations in
space-time of several dimensions, from
two up to six, for example. Let us
cover both classical theory and quan-
tum theory, refnembering to look
closely at the properties of simple
solutions that represent point particles;
we search for features that appear par-
ticularly desirable or unique ( or both ) ,
in the case of four-dimensional space-
time. If such features emerge, we may
understand a little better the prefer-
ence for three space dimensions in this
universe. The results would still be
plausibihty arguments, but if they
looked attractive, we would promote
them to the status of assumptions; and
that would be that.
Consistency: a desirable feature
Perhaps the most significant fact that
has emerged from exploration of the
distant galaxies is the general consist-
ency of physical law over very large
spaces and long time intervals. Ap-
parently we are not dealing with dif-
ferent bodies of law, linked together
only by very weak connections. We
appear to be living in a Universe— not
in some sort of Diverse, or Polyverse.
A cardinal piece of support for this
welcome notion is the red shift of
Vesto Slipher, Edwin Hubble and Mil-
ton Humason. To an approximation,
the light from distant galaxies is shifted
toward the red, by amounts that can
be explained by assuming that they
move outward with speeds v, propor-
tional to their distances R from us; the
relation is
V = 7SR,
with v in kilometers per second and R
in megaparsecs; one megaparsec is
3.09 X 1024 cm.
257
Allowing for this red shift, we see
the same spectral series, the same
atomic behavior, that is found here on
earth. Of course, this probing out to
great distances means that one is
looking back a long way in time.
What is the inner meaning of this con-
sistency? The distant atoms would
not show the spectral series properly
if they did not obey the Pauli principle.
Those atoms are testifying to identity
of the electrons and identity of the
nuclei in the whole region available
for observation. They are revealing a
most extraordinary degree of quality
control in the creation and mainte-
nance of these particles. Why, not
even Rolls-Royce ... I
Is this uniformity of particle prop-
erties due to a uniformity in the prop-
erties of space-time itself? Or are
these two ideas just the same idea,
clothed in different words? I leave tbe
answer to you— or your grandchildren.
Long ago and far away
There is another important fact that
bears on the question of universal con-
sistency. Suppose an atom in a galaxy
10^ light years away emits a parcel of
energy characterized by a far-ultra-
violet wavelength. Looking aside
from experimental difificulties, we can
set up a suitable bulb containing so-
dium vapor, here in our solar system,
to receive the light. After 10^ years an
electron may be kicked out of a single
atom in that vapor. // we believe that
an electromagnetic field traveled all
that time through empty, darksome
space, then we have to say that the
field causes a definite amount of en-
ergy to appear at a target only 10"^
cm in diameter, after running through
a distance of about 10^^ centimeters.
Also, from the observed conservation
of energy in such processes, we have
to conclude that the field does nothing
elsewhere.
What shall we say about this result?
An orthodox quantum theorist might
say, "It is all a matter of chance; this
matter was explained in 1927." A
thoroughgoing determinist might say,
"This astounding accuracy of aim is
evidence of extraordinary quality con-
trol." A classical relativist might say,
"All point events that are connected
by light rays are at the same spot in
space-time. We are dealing with a
sort of contact action. From the
standpoint of a being who perceives
point events directly and intuitively,
there is no problem." We possess con-
siderable flexibility in contemplation of
these answers or others like them; for
each answer is based on some set of
axioms, and axioms are arbitrary in-
deed. The orthodox quantum theorist
will say, "Yes, but look at the fruits of
my axioms." And we shall reply,
"The fruits of your axioms are very
great indeed, but a large number of
very respectable people are not satis-
fied with the foundations of your
theory."
Permanence: a desirable feature
Let us consider the permanence of
gross matter. The customary esti-
mates of universe duration lie a little
above 10^" years. It happens that
Reines and his students have found
lower limits for the lifetimes of elec-
trons and nucleons by looking for their
decay. 8 There are some nuances, but
roughly the half- life figures are: for
the electron, more than 2 X lO^i years;
for nucleons, more than 10^^ years.
Thus we are confronted with a terrific
factor of safety, 10^ ^ at least, relative
to the universe duration mentioned
above. This looks like very good en-
gineering. The stuflF is made so it will
last.
258
Where Do We Go From Here?
Diluteness: a convenient feature
People are generally impressed with
the vast spaces between the stars of
our galaxy, and also the spaces be-
tween galaxies, which, on the average,
are somewhat like tennis balls 8 meters
apart. This diluteness is much to be
prized, because violent things happen
when big pieces of matter get too
close together. I invite your atten-
tion to the famous case of the galaxy
M 82. A photograph of this galaxy can
be found in reference 9. More or less
perpendicular to the disk of the gal-
axy there are great masses of ejected
matter, believed to be mostly hydro-
gen. There was a big explosion in the
middle of this galaxy. The products
are pouring out at a speed of the order
10* cm/sec. It is estimated that this
explosion involved disruption of a mil-
lion stars in the dense core of the
galaxy.
Information from far away
How much can we hope to learn about
very distant objects? In general, the
farther away an object is, the less we
can find out about it. Details fuzz
out; light signals from the object are
fainter; spectra move out to the infra-
red. It is only in recent times that
attention has been paid to the quanti-
tative side of this common observa-
tion. Kenneth Metzner and Philip
Morrison^" have calculated the amount
of information carried to us by the
photons from a distant galaxy in any
experiment of limited duration. They
consider simple expanding universes
of several types. This is a matter
worthy of further research, because it
can show us the boundary between
verifiable physics and unverifiable
speculation. Beyond the domains
where individual galaxies can be iden-
tified—and there are hundreds of mil-
lions within sight— there may be others
that show up as a faint general back-
ground. Astronomers know that they
must increase their studies of this faint
background light, when more big tele-
scopes come on stream, a few years
hence.
If and when they reach the limit of
their resources, we shall be confronted
with an interesting situation. For a
long time philosophers have been say-
ing that physicists continually work on
the soluble problems, so that meta-
physics is necessarily the bin of un-
solved ones. Now I shall leave it to
the reader to ponder the situation of
an experimental science that reaches a
limit because the objects under in-
vestigation cannot provide sufficient
amounts of information to our detec-
tors to give the answers we should like
to know.
EPILOGUE
I have pointed out some lines of en-
deavor that lie at or beyond the pres-
ent limits of our capabilities, and I
have only two hints for those who may
choose to attack these matters. The
first is that one should pay close atten-
tion to a method used by Rene Des-
cartes. I call it the "Method of Com-
plete Skepticism." He adopted a sys-
tematic policy of denying any state-
ment he was considering and of look-
ing at the consequences. The second
hint is connected with economy and
simplicity of thought. I quote the fa-
mous dictum of William of Occam:
"Entia non multiplicanda sunt, praeter
necessitatem." Entities are not to be
multiplied except for reasons of ne-
cessity.
In closing, I mention once more the
consistency, the connectivity, revealed
by physical studies up to the present.
259
Though each of us usually thinks of
himself as a part of the universe, this
is a one-sided view, for great por-
tions of our surroundings are always
exerting their influence upon us. As
an overstatement, one might say that
the universe is a part of every man.
Sir George Thomson^* says in his book,
The Foreseeable Future:
"The universe that includes our
perceptions and our feelings is one,
and no single part can be put into a
ring-fence completely isolated from
all the rest."
Therefore I end this story with the
thought: The universe is the proper
study of mankind.
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260
Authors and Artists
JEREMY BERNSTEIN
Jeremy Bernstein, born in 1929 in Rochester, New
York, is Professor of Physics at Stevens Institute
of Technology in New Jersey. He was educated at
Columbia Grammar School in New York City and
received a bachelor's and master's degree in
mathematics, and a doctorate in physics from Har-
vard University. He has done research at the Har-
vard Cyclotron Laboratory, the Institute for Ad-
vonced Study at Princeton, Los Alamos, at the
Brookhaven National Laboratories, and is fre-
quently a visiting physicist at CERN (Conseil
Europeen pour la Recherche Nucleaire) in Geneva.
Bernstein is the author of The Analytical Engine:
Computers, Past, Present, and Future, Ascent,
an account of mountaineering in the Alps, and has
written book reviews and Profile articles for the
magazine. The New Yorker.
HARRISON SCOTT BROWN
Harrison Scott Brown, born in Sheridan, Wyoming,
in 1917, is Professor of Geochemistry at California
Institute of Technology and Foreign Secretary of
the National Academy of Sciences. He received a
B.S. from the University of California and a Ph.D.
from Johns Hopkins University. Brown is an editor
at large for The Saturday Review and has written
The Challenge of Man's Future and Must Destruction
Be Our Destiny? His research interests include
mass spectroscopy, meteoritics, planet structure a
and planetary chemistry.
LAURA FERMI
Laura Fermi was born in Rome, Italy, in 1907, and
studied at the University of Rome. She met Enrico
Fermi when she was sixteen; they were married five
years later. She has two children. When the anti-
Semitic laws appeared in Italy in 1938, the Fermis
left for the United States, immediately after he re-
ceived the Nobel Prize that December. In 1955 she
attended the International Conference on the Peace-
ful Uses of Atomic Energy as historian for the
United States and wrote Atoms for the World. She
is also author of Atoms in the Family: My Life with
Enrico Fermi, and the monographic study,
Mussol ini.
RICHARD PHILLIPS FEYNMAN
Richard Feynman was born in New York in 1918,
and graduated from the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology in 1939. He received his doctorate in
theoretical physics from Princeton in 1942, and
worked at Los Alamos during the Second World
War. From 1945 to 1951 he taught at Cornell, and
since 1951 has been Tolman Professor of Physics
at the California Institute of Technology. Profes-
sor Feynman received the Albert Einstein Award
in 1954, and in 1965 was named a Foreign Member
of the Royal Society. In 1966 he was awarded the
Nobel Prize in Physics, which he shared with
Shinichero Tomonaga and Julian Schwinger, for
work in quantum field theory.
SIR JAMES CHADWICK
Sir James Chadwick was born in 1891 in Man-
chester, England; he attended Victoria University
there, and then Cambridge University. At the age
of eighteen he met Ernest Rutherford with whom
he later collaborated in experimental work. Chad-
wick discovered the neutron in 1932 and for this
was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1935.
During World War II he worked for "Tube Alloys,"
the British equivalent of the Manhattan Project.
OWEN CHAMBERLAIN
Owen Chamberlain, Professor of Physics at the
University of California at Berkeley, and Nobel
Prize winner in 1959 with Emilio Segre for their
demonstration of the existence of the antiproton,
was born in San Francisco in 1920. He received
his bachelor's degree from Dartmouth College and
his Ph.D. from the University of Chicago. During
World War II he worked on the Manhattan Project
OS a civilian physicist. He has been active in
civil liberties activities. Some of his special
interests in physics are fission, alpho-porticle
decay, and neutron diffraction in liquids.
KENNETH W. FORD
Kenneth W. Ford was born in 1917 at West Palm
Beach, Florida. He did his undergraduate work at
Harvard College. His graduate work at Princeton
University was interrupted by two years at Los
Alamos and at Project Manhattan in Princeton. He
worked on a theory of heavy elementary particles
at the Imperial College in London, and at the Max
Planck Institute in Gottingen, Germany. Before
joining the faculty at the University of California,
Irvine, as chairman of the Department of Physics,
Mr. Ford was Professor of Physics at Brandeis
University.
JAMES FRANCK
James Franck was born in Hamburg, Germany, in
1882, and received his Ph.D. from the University
of Berlin. He and Gustav Hertz shared the Nobel
Prize in 1925 for their studies which supported
the new model of the atom just postulated by
Bohr. Franck was Professor of Experimental
Physics and Director of the Institute for Experi-
mental Physics at the University of Gottingen.
When the Nazis gained increasing power, Franck
261
Authors and Artists
demonstrated against the racial laws, and in 1933
he and his family moved to the United States.
Here he lectured at Johns Hopkins University ond
later become Professor of Physical Chemistry at
the University of Chicago. He died in 1964.
MARTIN GARDNER
Martin Gardner, the editor of the "Mathematical
Games" deportment of the Scientific American,
was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma, in 1914. He re-
ceived a B.A. in philosophy from the University
of Chicago in 1936, worked as a publicity writer
for the university, and then wrote for the Tulso
Tribune. During World War II he served in the
Navy. Martin Gardner has written numerous short
stories as well as professional articles for such
journals as Scripta Mathematica and Philosophy
of Science, and is the author of the best-selling
books. The Annotated Alice, Relotivity for the
Millions, Fads and Fallacies In the Name of
Science, as well as two volumes of the Scien-
tific American Book of Mathematical Puzzles
and Diversions.
LEOPOLD INFELD
Leopold Infeld, a co-worker with Albert Einstein
in general relativity theory, was born in 1898 in
Poland. After studying at the Cracow and Berlin
Universities, he became a Rockefeller Fellow at
Cambridge where he worked with Max Born in
electromagnetic theory, and then a rrrember of the
Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton. For
eleven years he was Professor of Applied Mathe-
matics at the University of Toronto. He then re-
turned to Poland and became Professor of Physics
at the University of Warsaw and until his death on
16 January 1968 he was director of the Theoretical
Physics Institute at the university. A member of
the presidium of the Polish Academy of Science,
Infeld conducted research in theoretical physics,
especially relativity and quantum theories. Infeld
was the author of The New Field Theory, The
World in Modern Science, Quest, Albert Einstein,
and with Einstein, The Evolution of Physics.
DAVID LOCKHART JUDD
David Lockhart Judd was born in Chehalis, Washing-
ton, in 1923. In 1943 he received his A. Bu from
Whitman College. He then attended California Insti-
tute of Technology and received an M.S. in 1947 and
a Ph.D. in physics three years later. From 1951 to
the present he has been with the Lawrence
Radiation Laboratory ot Berkeley, since 1965 as
head of the Physics Division. He is also senior
lecturer in physics at the University of California,
Berkeley. His professional interests include ac-
celerator theory, ion optics, plasma and particle
physics, and nonlinear mechanics.
RALPH EUGENE LAPP
Ralph Lapp was born in Buffalo, New York, in 1917.
He received his B.S. and Ph.D. in physics from the
University of Chicago. He was head of the nuclear
physics branch. Office of Naval Research, and
since 1950 has been director of the Nuclear Science
Service. Lapp is the author of many books concern-
ing the social consequences of modern science, in-
cluding Must We Hide? and The New Priesthood:
The Scientific Elite ond The Uses of Power. His
interests include cosmic radiation, moss spectro-
scopy and civil defense.
ERNEST ORLANDO LAWRENCE
Ernest Orlando Lawrence (1901-1958) was born in
North Dakota. He received his doctorate from Yale
University and then joined the faculty of the Uni-
versity of California at Berkeley. By building with
his colleagues, M. S. Livingstone and others, the
first successful cyclotron, Lawrence solved one of
the major experimental problems of the 1920's and
30's in nuclear physics, that of providing control-
lable beams of high-energy particles. Lawrence
built a series of increasingly more powerful cyclo-
trons. For these accomplishments and for his re-
search on artificial radioactive elements, Law-
rence was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics in
1939. The element lowrencium is named for him.
GERARD KITCHEN O'NEILL
Professor of Physics at Princeton University,
O'Neill was born in Brooklyn, New York, in 1927.
He received his bachelor's degree from Swarthmore
College and his Ph.D. from Cornell University.
Between 1954 and 1959 he was a member of a group
that designed the three- bi II ion-vol t proton synchro-
tron now being operated jointly by Princeton and the
University of Pennsylvania. More recently he has
worked on the design of storage rings, experiments
in high-energy physics and spark chambers.
V. LAWRENCE PARSEGIAN
V. Lawrence Parsegion studied ot M.I.T., Washing-
ton University, and New York University, obtaining
his Ph.D. in physics in 1948. He has been professor
of nuclear science and engineering at Rensselaer
Polytechnic Institute since 1954, ond holds the
distinguished Choir of Rensselaer professorship.
In addition to his research activities, he has
choired a curriculum development project to im-
prove college science teaching.
RUDOLF ERNST PEIERLS
Rudolf Ernst Peierls was born in Berlin in 1907
and received degrees from several universities,
including a D.Phil, in Theoretical Physics from
262
the University of Leipzig in 1929 and a D.Sc. from
the University of Manchester, England, in 1936.
From 1937 to 1963 he was Professor of Mathe-
matical Physics at Birmingham University. During
the early years of World War II he worked on the
Atomic Energy Project in Birmingham, and then at
Los Alamos between 1943—46. Peierls is now
Professor of Theoretical Physics at Oxford Uni-
versity and a Fellow of New College, Oxford. He
is the author of The Laws of Noture and Quantum
Theory of Solids.
ARTHUR C. RUARK
(see page 256)
ERNEST RUTHERFORD
Lord Rutherford (1871-1937) was born in Nelson,
South Island, New Zealand. He graduated from
Nelson College. At the University of New Zealand
he won a scholarship to attend Cambridge Univer-
sity in England where, stimulated by J.J. Thomson,
he studied the electrical nature of matter. As Pro-
fessor of Physics at McGill University in Montreal,
he distinguished the identity of Becquerel's radia-
tions into alpha, beta and gamma rays, and proposed
(with Soddy) the concepts of radioactive transmuta-
tion and isotopes. Returning to England, he con-
tinued his research at the University of Manchester.
There he conducted his most famous experiments
leading in 1911 to his discovery of the nucleus in
the atom. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in
Chemistry in 1908 for his experiments in radioac-
tivity. Rutherford returned to Cambridge in 1919
as director of the Cavendish Laboratory.
EMILIO SEGRE
Emilio Segrewos born in Tivoli, Italy, in 1905 and
received his Ph.D. in physics from the University
of Rome in 1928. He was a student of Enrico Fermi
from 1934 to 1936, and has published a biography,
Enrico Fermi, Physicist (1970). Then he became
director of the physics laboratory at Palermo, where
he and C. Perrier made the discovery of technetium,
the first artificially made element. Segre and his
co-workers also were the first to identify the arti-
ficial elements of plutonium and astatine. Segre
was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1959
for his demonstration with Owen Chamberlain of the
existence of the antiproton. He is Professor of
Physics at the University of Cal ifornia at Berkeley.
CHARLES PERCY SNOW
Charles Percy Snow, Baron of Leicester, was born
in 1905 and educated at University College,
Leicester and at Christ's College, Cambridge. Al-
though well known as a novelist, especially dealing
with the lives and problems of professional men,
he has held such diverse positions as chief of sci-
entific personnel for the Ministry of Labour, Civil
Service Commissioner, and a Director of the English
Electric Co., Ltd. His writings have been widely
acclaimed; among his novels are The Search, The
New Men, and Corridors of Power. His nonfiction
books on science and its consequences include
The Two Cultures and The Scientific Revolution
and Science and Government.
LEO SZILARD
Leo Szilard was born in Budapest, Hungary, in
1898, and received his doctorate at the University
of Berlin. He was at the Clarendon Laboratory in
England and the National Defense Research Divi-
sion at Columbia University before going to the
University of Chicago as Professor of Physics. At
the time of his death in May 1964, Szilard was a
resident fellow at the Salk Institute for Biological
Studies in La Jolla, California. Besides nuclear
physics, he did research in a variety of fields
including mutations and genetics of bacteria and
bacterial viruses. Szilard helped to draft and
transmit the famous letter from Einstein to Roose-
velt which helped to initiate large-scale work on
atomic energy in the United States in 1939. Hi^
publications include The Voice of the Dolphins.
He was deeply involved with groups that aimed at
the peaceful application of science and technology,
and in political action toward such ends.
ALVIN MARTIN WEINBERG
Alvin Martin Weinberg, Director of the Oak Ridge
National Laboratory in Tennessee, was born in
1915 in Illinois. He graduated from the University
of Chicago in 1935 and received his doctorate in
physics from Chicago in 1939. He has been on the
United States visiting scientist team to Russian
nuclear installations, the President's Scientific
Advisory Board, and has been awarded the Atoms
for Peace Award (1960) and the Lawrence Memorial
Award. He is a pianist and dedicated tennis player
in his spare time.
CLYDE EDWARD WIEGAND
Clyde Edward Wiegand was born in Long Beach,
Washington, in 1915 and groduated from Willamette
College in Oregon. He was awarded a Ph.D. in
physics from the University of California, where
he has been a graduate student of Emilio Segre.
During World War II he went with Segre to work at
the Los Alamos Laboratory. Weigand is now with
the University of California at its Lawrence Radia-
tion Laboratory. His research interests include
nuclear physics, scattering, and cross-section
work with high-energy particles.
263
Authors and Artists
VICTOR F. WEISSKOPF
(see page 21 2)
ROBERT R. WILSON
R.R. Wilson, was born in 1914 in Frontier, Wyomi ng,
and now Is director of the National Accelerator
Laboratory, Batovia, Illinois, and professor of
physics at the University of Chicago. He received
his training at the University of California and has
taught at Princeton, Harvard, Cornell, and Chicago.
Since 1947, Mr. Wilson has been involved in the
construction of a series of particle accelerators
with which to explore the structure of the proton.
He has had formal training as a sculptor in the
United States and at the Academio Belli Arte in
Rome, and continues actively working in this field.
HERMAN YAGODA
Herman Yagoda, chemist as well as physicist, was
born in New York City in 1908. He graduated from
Cooper Union and received his master's degree from
New York University. Yagoda died in 1964. He hod
been a chemist for the U. S. Customs Laboratory in
New York and was at the Air Force Cambridge Re-
search Laboratories where he conducted research
in space physics and cosmic radiation. Yagoda was
the author of Radioactive Measurements with Nu-
clear Emulsions.
GALE YOUNG
Gale Young was born in Baroda, Michigan, in 1912.
He received a B.S. from the Milwaukee School of
Engineering and a B.S. and M.S. from the University
of Chicago. He has taught physics at Chicago Uni-
versity and Olivet College in Michigan. Like mony
physicists, during World War II Young worked on
the Manhattan District Project and was the tech-
nical director of the Nuclear Development Associa-
tion. Since 1961 he has been on executive of the
United Nuclear Corporation.
THOMAS JOHN YPSILANTIS
Thomas John Ypsilantis was born in Salt Lake
City in 1928. He earned his B.Sc. from the Univer-
sity of Utah and his M.A. and Ph.D. from the Uni-
versity of California, Berkeley. He has been on
the faculty at Berkeley since 1957 and is now
Associate Professor of Physics. Ypsilantis had
a Guggenheim Fellowship in 1959—60, and has
been a consultont to the Institute of Defense
Analysis. His reseoch interests include antiproton
interactions, proton polarization in scattering, and
pion and nucleon interactions.
264
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