“Confucius famously may or may not have said: ‘When I hear, I forget. When I see, I remember. When I do, I understand.’ And computer-game mechanics can be inspired directly by science. Study it well, and you can invent game mechanics that allow you to engage with and learn about your own reality in a way you can’t when simply watching films or reading books.”
So says Raphael Granier de Cassagnac, a research director at France’s CNRS and Ecole Polytechnique, as well as member of the CMS collaboration at the CMS. Granier de Cassagnac is also the creative director of Exographer, a science-fiction computer game that draws on concepts from particle physics and is available on Steam, Switch, PlayStation 5 and Xbox.
“To some extent, it’s not too different from working at a place like CMS, which is also a super complicated object,” explains Granier de Cassagnac. Developing a game often requires graphic artists, sound designers, programmers and science advisors. To keep a detector like CMS running, you need engineers, computer scientists, accelerator physicists and funding agencies. And that’s to name just a few. Even if you are not the primary game designer or principal investigator, understanding the
fundamentals is crucial to keep the project running efficiently.
Root skills
Most physicists already have some familiarity with structured programming and data handling, which eases the transition into game development. Just as tools like ROOT and Geant4 serve as libraries for analysing particle collisions, game engines such as Unreal, Unity or Godot provide a foundation for building games. Prebuilt functionalities are used to refine the game mechanics.
“Physicists are trained to have an analytical mind, which helps when it comes to organising a game’s software,” explains Granier de Cassagnac. “The engine is merely one big library, and you never have to code anything super complicated, you just need to know how to use the building blocks you have and code in smaller sections to optimise the engine itself.”
While coding is an essential skill for game production, it is not enough to create a compelling game. Game design demands storytelling, character development and world-building. Structure, coherence and the ability to guide an audience through complex information are also required.
“Some games are character-driven, others focus more on the adventure or world-building,” says Granier de Cassagnac. “I’ve always enjoyed reading science fiction and playing role-playing games like Dungeons and Dragons, so writing for me came naturally.”
Entrepreneurship and collaboration are also key skills, as it is increasingly rare for developers to create games independently. Universities and startup incubators can provide valuable support through funding and mentorship. Incubators can help connect entrepreneurs with industry experts, and bridge the gap between scientific research and commercial viability.
“Managing a creative studio and a company, as well as selling the game, was entirely new for me,” recalls Granier de Cassagnac. “While working at CMS, we always had long deadlines and low pressure. Physicists are usually not prepared for the speed of the industry at all. Specialised offices in most universities can help with valorisation – taking scientific research and putting it on the market. You cannot forget that your academic institutions are still part of your support network.”
Though challenging to break into, opportunity abounds for those willing to upskill
The industry is fiercely competitive, with more games being released than players can consume, but a well-crafted game with a unique vision can still break through. A common mistake made by first-time developers is releasing their game too early. No matter how innovative the concept or engaging the mechanics, a game riddled with bugs frustrates players and damages its reputation. Even with strong marketing, a rushed release can lead to negative reviews and refunds – sometimes sinking a project entirely.
“In this industry, time is money and money is time,” explains Granier de Cassagnac. But though challenging to break into, opportunity abounds for those willing to upskill, with the gaming industry worth almost $200 billion a year and reaching more than three billion players worldwide by Granier de Cassagnac’s estimation. The most important aspects for making a successful game are originality, creativity, marketing and knowing the engine, he says.
“Learning must always be part of the process; without it we cannot improve,” adds Granier de Cassagnac, referring to his own upskilling for the company’s next project, which will be even more ambitious in its scientific coverage. “In the next game we want to explore the world as we know it, from the Big Bang to the rise of technology. We want to tell the story of humankind.”
After winning the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1979, Abdus Salam wanted to bring world-class physics research opportunities to South Asia. This was the beginning of the BCSPIN programme, encompassing Bangladesh, China, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, India and Nepal. The goal was to provide scientists in South and Southeast Asia with new opportunities to learn from leading experts about developments in particle physics, astroparticle physics and cosmology. Together with Jogesh Pati, Yu Lu and Qaisar Shafi, Salam initiated the programme in 1989. This first edition was hosted by Nepal. Vietnam joined in 2009 and BCSPIN became BCVSPIN. Over the years, the conference has been held as far afield as Mexico.
The most recent edition attracted more than 100 participants to the historic Hotel Shanker in Kathmandu, Nepal, from 9 to 13 December 2024. The conference aimed to facilitate interactions between researchers from BCVSPIN countries and the broader international community, covering topics such as collider physics, cosmology, gravitational waves, dark matter, neutrino physics, particle astrophysics, physics beyond the Standard Model and machine learning. Participants ranged from renowned professors from across the globe to aspiring students.
Speaking of aspiring students, the main event was preceded by the BCVSPIN-2024 Masterclass in Particle Physics and Workshop in Machine Learning, hosted at Tribhuvan University from 4 to 6 December. The workshop provided 34 undergraduate and graduate students from around Nepal with a comprehensive introduction to particle physics, high-energy physics (HEP) experiments and machine learning. In addition to lectures, the workshop engaged students in hands-on sessions, allowing them to experience real research by exploring core concepts and applying machine-learning techniques to data from the ATLAS experiment. The students’ enthusiasm was palpable as they delved into the intricacies of particle physics and machine learning. The interactive sessions were particularly engaging, with students eagerly participating in discussions and practical exercises. Highlights included a special talk on artificial intelligence (AI) and a career development session focused on crafting CVs, applications and research statements. These sessions ensured participants were equipped with both academic insights and practical guidance. The impact on students was profound, as they gained valuable skills and networking opportunities, preparing them for future careers in HEP.
The BCVSPIN conference officially started the following Monday. In the spirit of BCVSPIN, the first plenary session featured an insightful talk on the status and prospects of HEP in Nepal, providing valuable insights for both locals and newcomers to the initiative. Then, the latest and the near-future physics highlights of experiments such as ATLAS, ALICE, CMS, as well as Belle, DUNE and IceCube, were showcased. From physics performance such as ATLAS nailing b-tagging with graph neural networks, to the most elaborate mass measurement of the W boson mass by CMS, not to mention ProtoDUNE’s runs exceeding expectations, the audience were offered comprehensive reviews of the recent breakthroughs on the experimental side. The younger physicists willing to continue or start hardware efforts surely appreciated the overview and schedule of the different upgrade programmes. The theory talks covered, among others, dark-matter models, our dear friend the neutrino and the interactions between the two. A special talk on AI invited the audience to reflect on what AI really is and how – in the midst of the ongoing revolution – it impacts the fields of physics and physicists themselves. Overviews of long-term future endeavours such as the Electron–Ion Collider and the Future Circular Collider concluded the programme.
BCVSPIN offers younger scientists precious connections with physicists from the international community
A special highlight of the conference was a public lecture “Oscillating Neutrinos” by the 2015 Nobel Laureate Takaaki Kajita. The event was held near the historical landmark of Patan Durbar Square, in the packed auditorium of the Rato Bangala School. This centre of excellence is known for its innovative teaching methods and quality instruction. More than half the room was filled with excited students from schools and universities, eager to listen to the keynote speaker. After a very pedagogical introduction explaining the “problem of solar neutrinos”, Kajita shared his insights on the discovery of neutrino oscillations and its implications for our understanding of the universe. His presentation included historical photographs of the experiments in Kamioka, Japan, as well as his participation at BCVSPIN in 1994. After encouraging the students to become scientists and answering as many questions as time allowed, he was swept up in a crowd of passionate Nepali youth, thrilled to be in the presence of such a renowned physicist.
The BCVSPIN initiative has changed the landscape of HEP in South and Southeast Asia. With participation made affordable for students, it is a stepping stone for the younger generation of scientists, offering them precious connections with physicists from the international community.
Space Oddities takes readers on a journey through the mysteries of modern physics, from the smallest subatomic particles to the vast expanse of stars and space. Harry Cliff – an experimental particle physicist at Cambridge University – unravels some of the most perplexing anomalies challenging the Standard Model (SM), with behind-the-scenes scoops from eight different experiments. The most intriguing stories concern lepton universality and the magnetic moment of the muon.
Theoretical predictions have demonstrated an extremely precise value for the muon’s magnetic moment, experimentally verified to an astonishing 11 significant figures. Over the last few years, however, experimental measurements have suggested a slight discrepancy – the devil lying in the 12th digit. 2021 measurements at Fermilab disagreed with theory predictions at 4σ. Not enough to cause a “scientific earthquake”, as Cliff puts it, but enough to suggest that new physics might be at play.
Just as everything seemed to be edging towards a new discovery, Cliff introduces the “villains” of the piece. Groundbreaking lattice–QCD predictions from the Budapest–Marseille–Wuppertal collaboration were published on the same day as a new measurement from Fermilab. If correct, these would destroy the anomaly by contradicting the data-driven theory consensus. (“Yeah, bullshit,” said one experimentalist to Cliff when put to him that the timing wasn’t intended to steal the experiment’s thunder.) The situation is still unresolved, though many new theoretical predictions have been made and a new theoretical consensus is imminent (see “Do muons wobble faster than expected“). Regardless of the outcome, Cliff emphasises that this research will pave the way for future discoveries, and none of it should be taken for granted – even if the anomaly disappears.
“One of the challenging aspects of being part of a large international project is that your colleagues are both collaborators and competitors,” Cliff notes. “When it comes to analysing the data with the ultimate goal of making discoveries, each research group will fight to claim ownership of the most interesting topics.”
This spirit of spurring collaborator- competitors on to greater heights of precision is echoed throughout Cliff’s own experience of working in the LHCb collaboration, where he studies “lepton universality”. All three lepton flavours – electron, muon and tau – should interact almost identically, except for small differences due to their masses. However, over the past decade several experimental results suggested that this theory might not hold in B-meson decays, where muons seemed to be appearing less frequently than electrons. If confirmed, this would point to physics beyond the SM.
Having been involved himself in a complementary but less sensitive analysis of B-meson decay channels involving strange quarks, Cliff recalls the emotional rollercoaster experienced by some of the key protagonists: the “RK” team from Imperial College London. After a year of rigorous testing, RK unblinded a sanity check of their new computational toolkit: a reanalysis of the prior measurement that yielded a perfectly consistent R value of 0.72 with an uncertainty of about 0.08, upholding a 3σ discrepancy. Now was the time to put the data collected since then through the same pasta machine: if it agreed, the tension between the SM and their overall measurement would cross the 5σ threshold. After an anxious wait while the numbers were crunched, the team received the results for the new data: 0.93 with an uncertainty of 0.09.
“Dreams of a major discovery evaporated in an instant,” recalls Cliff. “Anyone who saw the RK team in the CERN cafeteria that day could read the result from their faces.” The lead on the RK team, Mitesh Patel, told Cliff that they felt “emotionally train wrecked”.
One day we might make the right mistake and escape the claustrophobic clutches of the SM
With both results combined, the ratio averaged out to 0.85 ± 0.06, just shy of 3σ away from unity. While the experimentalists were deflated, Cliff notes that for theorists this result may have been more exciting than the initial anomaly, as it was easier to explain using new particles or forces. “It was as if we were spying the footprints of a great, unknown beast as it crashed about in a dark jungle,” writes Cliff.
Space Oddities is a great defence of irrepressible experimentation. Even “failed” anomalies are far from useless: if they evaporate, the effort required to investigate them pushes the boundaries of experimental precision, enhances collaboration between scientists across the world, and refines theoretical frameworks. Through retellings and interviews, Cliff helps the public experience the excitement of near breakthroughs, the heartbreak of failed experiments, and the dynamic interactions between theoretical and experimental physicists. Thwarting myths that physicists are cold, calculating figures working in isolation, Cliff sheds light on a community driven by curiosity, ambition and (healthy) competition. His book is a story of hope that one day we might make the right mistake and escape the claustrophobic clutches of the SM.
“I’ve learned so much from my mistakes,” read a poster above Cliff’s undergraduate tutor’s desk. “I think I’ll make another.”
Throughout my experiences in the laboratory, I have seen how art is an important part of a scientist’s life. By being connected with art, scientists recognise that their activities are very embedded in contemporary culture. Science is culture. Through art and dialogues with artists, people realise how important science is for society and for culture in general. Science is an important cultural pillar in our society, and these interactions bring scientists meaning.
Are science and art two separate cultures?
Today, if you ask anyone: “What is nature?” they describe everything in scientific terms. The way you describe things, the mysteries of your research: you are actually answering the questions that are present in everyone’s life. In this case, scientists have a sense of responsibility. I think art helps to open this dialogue from science into society.
Do scientists have a responsibility to communicate their research?
All of us have a social responsibility in everything we produce. Ideas don’t belong to anyone, so it’s a collective endeavour. I think that scientists don’t have the responsibility to communicate the research themselves, but that their research cannot be isolated from society. I think it’s a very joyful experience to see that someone cares about what you do.
Why should artists care about science?
If you go to any academic institution, there’s always a scientific component, very often also a technological one. A scientific aspect of your life is always present. This is happening because we’re all on the same course. It’s a consequence of this presence of science in our culture. Artists have an important role in our society, and they help to spark conversations that are important to everyone. Sometimes it might seem as though they are coming from a very individual lens, but in fact they have a very large reach and impact. Not immediately, not something that you can count with data, but there is definitely an impact. Artists open these channels for communicating and thinking about a particular aspect of science, which is difficult to see from a scientific perspective. Because in any discipline, it’s amazing to see your activity from the eyes of others.
Creativity and curiosity are the parameters and competencies that make up artists and scientists
A few years back we did a little survey, and most of the scientists thought that by spending time with artists, they took a step back to think about their research from a different lens, and this changed their perspective. They thought of this as a very positive experience. So I think art is not only about communicating to the public, but about exploring the personal synergies of art and science. This is why artists are so important.
Do experimental and theoretical physicists have different attitudes towards art?
Typically, we think that theorists are much more open to artists, but I don’t agree. In my experiences at CERN, I found many engineers and experimental physicists being highly theoretical. Both value artistic perspectives and their ability to consider questions and scientific ideas in an unconventional way. Experimental physicists would emphasise engagement with instruments and data, while theoretical physicists would focus on conceptual abstraction.
By being with artists, many experimentalists feel that they have the opportunity to talk about things beyond their research. For example, we often talk about the “frontiers of knowledge”. When asked about this, experimentalists or theoretical physicists might tell us about something other than particle physics – like neuroscience, or the brain and consciousness. A scientist is a scientist. They are very curious about everything.
Do these interactions help to blur the distinction between art and science?
Well, here I’m a bit radical because I know that creativity is something we define. Creativity and curiosity are the parameters and competencies that make up artists and scientists. But to become a scientist or an artist you need years of training – it’s not that you can become one just because you are a curious and creative person.
Not many people can chat about particle physics, but scientists very often chat with artists. I saw artists speaking for hours with scientists about the Higgs field. When you see two people speaking about the same thing, but with different registers, knowledge and background, it’s a precious moment.
When facilitating these discussions between physicists and artists, we don’t speak only about physics, but about everything that worries them. Through that, grows a sort of intimacy that often becomes something else: a friendship. This is the point at which a scientist stops being an information point for an artist and becomes someone who deals with big questions alongside an artist – who is also a very knowledgeable and curious person. This is a process rich in contrast, and you get many interesting surprises out of these interactions.
But even in this moment, they are still artists and scientists. They don’t become this blurred figure that can do anything.
Can scientific discovery exist without art?
That’s a very tricky question. I think that art is a component of science, therefore science cannot exist without art – without the qualities that the artist and scientist have in common. To advance science, you have to create a question that needs to be answered experimentally.
Did discoveries in quantum mechanics affect the arts?
Everything is subjected to quantum mechanics. Maybe what it changed was an attitude towards uncertainty: what we see and what we think is there. There was an increased sense of doubt and general uncertainty in the arts.
Do art and science evolve together or separately?
I think there have been moments of convergence – you can clearly see it in any of the avant garde. The same applies to literature; for example, modernist writers showed a keen interest in science. Poets such as T S Eliot approached poetry with a clear resonance of the first scientific revolutions of the century. There are references to the contributions of Faraday, Maxwell and Planck. You can tell these artists and poets were informed and eager to follow what science was revealing about the world.
You can also note the influence of science in music, as physicists get a better understanding of the physical aspects of sound and matter. Physics became less about viewing the world through a lens, and instead focused on the invisible: the vibrations of matter, electricity, the innermost components of materials. At the end of the 19th and 20th centuries, these examples crop up constantly. It’s not just representing the world as you see it through a particular lens, but being involved in the phenomena of the world and these uncensored realities.
From the 1950s to the 1970s you can see these connections in every single moment. Science is very present in the work of artists, but my feeling is that we don’t have enough literature about it. We really need to conduct more research on this connection between humanities and science.
What are your favourite examples of art influencing science?
Feynman diagrams are one example. Feynman was amazing – a prodigy. Many people before him tried to represent things that escaped our intuition visually and failed. We also have the Pauli Archives here at CERN. Pauli was not the most popular father of quantum mechanics, but he was determined to not only understand mathematical equations but to visualise them, and share them with his friends and colleagues. This sort of endeavour goes beyond just writing – it is about the possibility of creating a tangible experience. I think scientists do that all the time by building machines, and then by trying to understand these machines statistically. I see that in the laboratory constantly, and it’s very revealing because usually people might think of these statistics as something no one cares about – that the visuals are clumsy and nerdy. But they’re not.
Even Leonardo da Vinci was known as a scientist and an artist, but his anatomical sketches were not discovered until hundreds of years after his other works. Newton was also paranoid about expressing his true scientific theories because of the social standards and politics of the time. His views were unorthodox, and he did not want to ruin his prestigious reputation.
Today’s culture also influences how we interpret history. We often think of Aristotle as a philosopher, yet he is also recognised for contributions to natural history. The same with Democritus, whose ideas laid foundations for scientific thought.
So I think that opening laboratories to artists is very revealing about the influence of today’s culture on science.
When did natural philosophy branch out into art and science?
I believe it was during the development of the scientific method: observation, analysis and the evolution of objectivity. The departure point was definitely when we developed a need to be objective. It took centuries to get where we are now, but I think there is a clear division: a line with philosophy, natural philosophy and natural history on one side, and modern science on the other. Today, I think art and science have different purposes. They convene at different moments, but there is always this detour. Some artists are very scientific minded, and some others are more abstract, but they are both bound to speculate massively.
It’s really good news for everyone that labs want to include non-scientists
For example, at our Arts at CERN programme we have had artists who were interested in niche scientific aspects. Erich Berger, an artist from Finland, was interested in designing a detector, and scientists whom he met kept telling him that he would need to calibrate the detector. The scientist and the artist here had different goals. For the scientist, the most important thing is that the detector has precision in the greatest complexity. And for the artist, it’s not. It’s about the process of creation, not the analysis.
Do you think that science is purely an objective medium while art is a subjective one?
No. It’s difficult to define subjectivity and objectivity. But art can be very objective. Artists create artefacts to convey their intended message. It’s not that these creations are standing alone without purpose. No, we are beyond that. Now art seeks meaning that is, in this context, grounded in scientific and technological expertise.
How do you see the future of art and science evolving?
There are financial threats to both disciplines. We are still in this moment where things look a bit bleak. But I think our programme is pioneering, because many scientific labs are developing their own arts programmes inspired by the example of Arts at CERN. This is really great, because unless you are in a laboratory, you don’t see what doing science is really about. We usually read science in the newspapers or listen to it on a podcast – everything is very much oriented to the communication of science, but making science is something very specific. It’s really good news for everyone that laboratories want to include non-scientists. Arts at CERN works mostly with visual artists, but you could imagine filmmakers, philosophers, those from the humanities, poets or almost anyone at all, depending on the model that one wants to create in the lab.
When I was an undergraduate physics student in the mid-1980s, I fell in love with the philosophy of quantum mechanics. I devoured biographies of the greats of early-20th-century atomic physics – physicists like Bohr, Heisenberg, Schrödinger, Pauli, Dirac, Fermi and Born. To me, as I was struggling with the formalism of quantum mechanics, there seemed to be something so exciting, magical even, about that era, particularly those wonder years of the mid-1920s when its mathematical framework was being developed and the secrets of the quantum world were revealing themselves.
I went on to do a PhD in nuclear reaction theory, which meant I spent most of my time working through mathematical derivations, becoming familiar with S-matrices, Green’s functions and scattering amplitudes, scribbling pages of angular-momentum algebra and coding in Fortran 77. And I loved that stuff. There certainly seemed to be little time for worrying about what was really going on inside atomic nuclei. Indeed, I was learning that even the notion of something “really going on” was a vague one. My generation of theoretical physicists were still being very firmly told to “shut up and calculate”, as many adherents of the Copenhagen school of quantum mechanics were keen to advocate. To be fair, so much progress has been made over the past century, in nuclear and particle physics, quantum optics, condensed-matter physics and quantum chemistry, that philosophical issues were seen as an unnecessary distraction. I recall one senior colleague, frustrated by my abiding interest in interpretational matters, admonishing me with: “Jim, an electron is an electron is an electron. Stop trying to say more about it.” And there certainly seemed to be very little in the textbooks I was reading about unresolved issues arising from such topics as the EPR (Einstein–Podolsky–Rosen) paradox and the measurement problem, let alone any analysis of the work of Hugh Everett and David Bohm, who were regarded as mavericks. The Copenhagen hegemony ruled supreme.
What I wasn’t aware of until later in my career was that a community of physicists had indeed continued to worry and think about such matters. These physicists were doing more than just debating and philosophising – they were slowly advancing our understanding of the quantum world. Experimentalists such as Alain Aspect, John Clauser and Anton Zeilinger were devising ingenious experiments in quantum optics – all three of whom were only awarded the Nobel Prize for their work on tests of John Bell’s famous inequality in 2022, which says a lot about how we are only now acknowledging their contribution. Meanwhile, theorists such as Wojciech Zurek, Erich Joos, Deiter Zeh, Abner Shimony and Asher Peres, to name just a few, were formalising ideas on entanglement and decoherence theory. It is certainly high time that quantum-mechanics textbooks – even advanced undergraduate ones – should contain their new insights.
All of which brings me to Quantum Drama, a new popular-science book and collaboration between the physicist and science writer Jim Baggott and the late historian of science John L Heilbron. In terms of level, the book is at the higher end of the popular-science market and, as such, will probably be of most interest to, for example, readers of CERN Courier. If I have a criticism of the book it is that its level is not consistent. For it tries to be all things. On occasion, it has wonderful biographical detail, often of less well-known but highly deserving characters. It is also full of wit and new insights. But then sometimes it can get mired in technical detail, such as in the lengthy descriptions of the different Bell tests, which I imagine only professional physicists are likely to fully appreciate.
Having said that, the book is certainly timely. This year the world celebrates the centenary of quantum physics, since the publication of the momentous papers of Heisenberg and Schrödinger on matrix and wave mechanics, in 1925 and 1926, respectively. Progress in quantum information theory and in the development of new quantum technologies is also gathering pace right now, with the promise of quantum computers, quantum sensing and quantum encryption getting ever closer. This all provides an opportunity for the philosophy of quantum mechanics to finally emerge from the shadows into mainstream debate again.
A new narrative
So, what makes Quantum Drama stand out from other books that retell the story of quantum mechanics? Well, I would say that most historical accounts tend to focus only on that golden age between 1900 and 1927, which came to an end at the Solvay Conference in Brussels and those well-documented few days when Einstein and Bohr had their debate about what it all means. While these two giants of 20th-century physics make the front cover of the book, Quantum Drama takes the story on beyond that famous conference. Other accounts, both popular and scholarly, tend to push the narrative that Bohr won the argument, leaving generations of physicists with the idea that the interpretational issues had been resolved – apart that is, from the odd dissenting voices from the likes of Everett or Bohm who tried, unsuccessfully it was argued, to put a spanner in the Copenhagen works. All the real progress in quantum foundations after 1927, or so we were told, was in the development of quantum field theories, such as QED and QCD, the excitement of high-energy physics and the birth of the Standard Model, with the likes of Murray Gell-Mann and Steven Weinberg replacing Heisenberg and Schrödinger at centre stage. Quantum Drama takes up the story after 1927, showing that there has been a lively, exciting and ongoing dispute over what it all means, long after the death of those two giants of physics. In fact, the period up to Solvay 1927 is all dealt with in Act I of the book. The subtitle puts it well: From the Bohr–Einstein Debate to the Riddle of Entanglement.
The Bohr–Einstein debate is still very much alive and kicking
All in all, Quantum Drama delivers something remarkable, for it shines a light on all the muddle, complexity and confusion surrounding a century of debate about the meaning of quantum mechanics and the famous “Copenhagen spirit”, treating the subject with thoroughness and genuine scholarship, and showing that the Bohr–Einstein debate is still very much alive and kicking.
Meinhard Regler, an expert in detector development and software analysis, passed away on 22 September 2024 at the age of 83.
Born and raised in Vienna, Meinhard studied physics at the Technical University Vienna (TUW) and completed his master’s thesis on deuteron acceleration in a linac at CERN. In 1966 he joined the newly founded Institute of High Energy Physics (HEPHY) of the Austrian Academy of Sciences. He settled in Geneva to participate in a counter experiment at the CERN Proton Synchrotron, and in 1970 obtained his PhD with distinction from TUW.
In 1970 Meinhard became staff member in CERN’s data-handling division. He joined the Split Field Magnet experiment at the Intersecting Storage Rings and, together with HEPHY, contributed specially designed multi-wire proportional chambers. Early on, he realised the importance of rigorous statistical methods for track and vertex reconstruction in complex detectors, resulting in several seminal papers.
In 1975 Meinhard returned to Vienna as leader of HEPHY’s experimental division. From 1993 until his retirement at the end of 2006 he was deputy director and responsible for the detector development and software analysis groups. As a faculty member of TUW he created a series of specialised lectures and practical courses, which shaped a generation of particle physicists. In 1978 Meinhard and Georges Charpak founded the Wire Chamber Conference, now known as the Vienna Conference on Instrumentation (VCI).
Meinhard continued his participation in experiments at CERN, including WA6, UA1 and the European Hybrid Spectrometer. After joining the DELPHI experiment at LEP, he realised the emerging potential of semiconductor tracking devices and established this technology at HEPHY. First applied at DELPHI’s Very Forward Tracker, this expertise was successfully continued with important contributions to the CMS tracker at LHC, the Belle vertex detector at KEKB and several others.
Meinhard is author and co-author of several hundred scientific papers. His and his group’s contributions to track and vertex reconstruction are summarised in the standard textbook Data Analysis Techniques for High-Energy Physics, published by Cambridge University Press and translated into Russian and Chinese.
All that would suffice for a lifetime achievement, but not so for Meinhard. Inspired by the fall of the Iron Curtain, he envisaged the creation of an international centre of excellence in the Vienna region. Initially planned as a spallation neutron source, the project eventually transmuted into a facility for cancer therapy by proton and carbon-ion beams, called MedAustron. Financed by the province of Lower Austria and the hosting city of Wiener Neustadt, and with crucial scientific and engineering support from CERN and Austrian institutes, clinical treatment started in 2016.
Meinhard received several prizes and was rewarded with the highest scientific decoration of Austria
Meinhard was invited as a lecturer to many international conferences and post-graduate schools worldwide. He chaired the VCI series, organised several accelerator schools and conferences in Austria, and served on the boards of the European Physical Society’s international group on accelerators. For his tireless scientific efforts and in particular the realisation of MedAustron, Meinhard received several prizes and was rewarded with the highest scientific decoration of Austria – the Honorary Cross for Science and Arts of First Class.
He was also a co-founder and long-term president of a non-profit organisation in support of mentally handicapped people. His character was incorruptible, strictly committed to truth and honesty, and responsive to loyalty, independent thinking and constructive criticism.
In Meinhard Regler we have lost an enthusiastic scientist, visionary innovator, talented organiser, gifted teacher, great humanist and good friend. His legacy will forever stay with us.
Registration is now open for the Open Symposium of the 2026 update to the European Strategy for Particle Physics (ESPP). It will take place from 23 to 27 June at Lido di Venezia in Italy, and see scientists from around the world debate the inputs to the ESPP (see “A call to engage”).
The symposium will begin by surveying the implementation of the last strategy process, whose recommendations were approved by the CERN Council in June 2020. In-depth working-group discussions on all areas of physics and technology will follow.
The rest of the week will see plenary sessions on the different physics and technology areas, starting with various proposals for possible large accelerator projects at CERN, and the status and plans in other regions of the world. Open questions, as well as how they can be addressed by the proposed projects, will be presented in rapporteur talks. This will be followed by longer discussion blocks where the full community can get engaged. On the final day, members of the European Strategy Group will summarise the national inputs and other overarching topics to the ESPP.
Karel Šafařík, one of the founding members of the ALICE collaboration, passed away on 7 October 2024.
Karel graduated in theoretical physics in Bratislava, Slovakia (then Czechoslovakia) in 1976 and worked at JINR Dubna for over 10 years, participating in experiments in Serpukhov and doing theoretical studies on the phenomenology of particle production at high energies. In 1990 he joined Collège de France and the heavy-ion programme at CERN, soon becoming one of the most influential scientists in the Omega series of heavy-ion experiments (WA85, WA94, WA97, NA57) at the CERN Super Proton Synchrotron (SPS). In 2002 Karel was awarded the Slovak Academy of Sciences Prize for his contributions to the observation of the enhancement of the production of multi-strange particles in heavy-ion collisions at the SPS. In 2013 he was awarded the medal of the Czech Physical Society.
As early as 1991, Karel was part of the small group who designed the first heavy-ion detector for the LHC, which later became ALICE. He played a central role in shaping the ALICE experiment, from the definition of physics topics and the detector layout to the design of the data format, tracking, data storage and data analysis. He was pivotal in convincing the collaboration to introduce two layers of pixel detectors to reconstruct decays of charm hadrons only a few tens of microns from the primary vertex in central lead–lead collisions at the LHC – an idea considered by many to be impossible in heavy-ion collisions, but that is now one of the pillars of the ALICE physics programme. He was the ALICE physics coordinator for many years leading up to and including first data taking. Over the years, he also made multiple contributions to ALICE upgrade studies and became known as the “wise man” to be consulted on the trickiest questions.
Karel was a top-class physicist, with a sharp analytical mind, a legendary memory, a seemingly unlimited set of competences ranging from higher mathematics to formal theory, and from detector physics to high-performance computing. At the same time he was a generous, caring and kind colleague who supported, helped, mentored and guided a large number of ALICE collaborators. We miss him dearly.
Günter Wolf, who played a leading role in the planning, construction and data analysis of experiments that were instrumental in establishing the Standard Model, passed away on 29 October 2024 at the age of 86. He significantly shaped and contributed to the research programme of DESY, and knew better than almost anyone how to form international collaborations and lead them to the highest achievements.
Born in Ulm, Germany in 1937, Wolf studied physics in Tübingen. At the urging of his supervisor Helmut Faissner, he went to Hamburg in 1961 where the DESY synchrotron was being built under DESY founder Willibald Jentschke. Together with Erich Lohrmann and Martin Teucher, he was involved in the preparation of the bubble-chamber experiments there and at the same time took part in experiments at CERN.
The first phase of experiments with high-energy photons at the DESY synchrotron, in which he was involved, had produced widely recognised results on the electromagnetic interactions of elementary particles. In 1967 Wolf seized the opportunity to continue this research at the higher energies of the recently completed linear accelerator at Stanford University (SLAC). He became the spokesperson for an experiment with a polarised gamma beam, which provided new insights into the nature of vector mesons.
In 1971, Jentschke succeeded in bringing Wolf back to Hamburg as senior scientist. He remained associated with DESY for the rest of his life and became a leader in the planning, construction and analysis of key DESY experiments.
Together with Bjørn Wiik, as part of an international collaboration, Wolf designed and realised the DASP detector for DORIS, the first electron–positron storage ring at DESY. This led to the discovery of the excited states of charmonium in 1975 and thus to the ultimate confirmation that quarks are particles. For the next, larger electron–positron storage ring, PETRA, he designed the TASSO detector, again together with Wiik. In 1979, the TASSO collaboration was able to announce the discovery of the gluon through its spokesperson Wolf, for which he, together with colleagues from TASSO, was awarded the High Energy Particle Physics Prize of the European Physical Society.
Wolf’s negotiating skills and deep understanding of physics and technology served particle physics worldwide
In 1982 Wolf became the chair of the experiment selection committee for the planned LEP collider at CERN. His deep understanding of physics and technology, and his negotiating skills, were an essential foundation for the successful LEP programme, just one example of how Wolf has served particle physics worldwide as a member of international scientific committees.
At the same time, Wolf was involved in the planning of the physics programme for the electron–proton collider HERA. The ZEUS general-purpose detector for experiments at HERA was the work of an international collaboration of more than 400 scientists, that Wolf brought together and led as its spokesperson for many years. The experiments at HERA ran from 1992 to 2007, producing outstanding results that include the direct demonstration of the unification of the weak and electromagnetic force at high momentum transfers, the precise measurement of the structure of the proton, which is determined by quarks and gluons, and the surprising finding that there are collisions in which the proton remains intact even at the highest momentum transfers. In 2011 Wolf was awarded the Stern–Gerlach Medal of the German Physical Society, its highest award for achievements in experimental physics.
When dealing with colleagues and staff, Günter Wolf was always friendly, helpful, encouraging and inspiring, but at the same time demanding and insistent on precision and scientific excellence. He took the opinions of others seriously, but only a thorough and competent analysis could convince him. As a result, he enjoyed the greatest respect from everyone and became a role model and friend to many. DESY owes its reputation in the international physics community not least to people like him.
Should we start with your father’s involvement in the founding of CERN?
I began hearing my father talk about a new European laboratory while I was still in high school in Rome. Our lunch table was always alive with discussions about science, physics and the vision of this new laboratory. Later, I learned that between 1948 and 1949, my father was deeply engaged in these conversations with two of his friends: Gilberto Bernardini, a well-known cosmic-ray expert, and Bruno Ferretti, a professor of theoretical physics at Rome University. I was 15 years old and those table discussions remain vivid in my memory.
So, the idea of a European laboratory was already being discussed before the 1950 UNESCO meeting?
Yes, indeed. Several eminent European physicists, including my father, Pierre Auger, Lew Kowarski and Francis Perrin, recognised that Europe could only be competitive in nuclear physics through collaborative efforts. All the actors wanted to create a research centre that would stop the post-war exodus of physics talent to North America and help rebuild European science. I now know that my father’s involvement began in 1946 when he travelled to Cambridge, Massachusetts, for a conference. There, he met Nobel Prize winner John Cockcroft, and their conversations planted in his mind the first seeds for a European laboratory.
Parallel to scientific discussions, there was an important political initiative led by Swiss philosopher and writer Denis de Rougemont. After spending the war years at Princeton University, he returned to Europe with a vision of fostering unity and peace. He established the Institute of European Culture in Lausanne, Switzerland, where politicians from France, Britain and Germany would meet. In December 1949, during the European Cultural Conference in Lausanne, French Nobel Prize winner Louis de Broglie sent a letter advocating for a European laboratory where scientists from across the continent could work together peacefully.
My father strongly believed in the importance of accelerators to advance the new field that, at the time, was at the crossroads between nuclear physics and cosmic-ray physics. Before the war, in 1936, he had travelled to Berkeley to learn about cyclotrons from Ernest Lawrence. He even attempted to build a cyclotron in Italy in 1942, profiting from the World’s Fair that had to be held in Rome. Moreover, he was deeply affected by the exodus of talented Italian physicists after the war, including Bruno Rossi, Gian Carlo Wick and Giuseppe Cocconi. He saw CERN as a way to bring these scientists back and rebuild European physics.
How did Isidor Rabi’s involvement come into play?
In 1950 my father was corresponding with Gilberto Bernardini, who was spending a year at Columbia University. There Bernardini mentioned the idea of a European laboratory to Isidor Rabi, who, at the same time, was in contact with other prominent figures in this decentralised and multi-centered initiative. Together with Norman Ramsay, Rabi had previously succeeded, in 1947, in persuading nine northeastern US universities to collaborate under the banner of Associated Universities, Inc, which led to the establishment of Brookhaven National Laboratory.
What is not generally known is that before Rabi gave his famous speech at the fifth assembly of UNESCO in Florence in June 1950, he came to Rome and met with my father. They discussed how to bring this idea to fruition. A few days later, Rabi’s resolution at the UNESCO meeting calling for regional research facilities was a crucial step in launching the project. Rabi considered CERN a peaceful compensation for the fact that physicists had built the nuclear bomb.
How did your father and his colleagues proceed after the UNESCO resolution?
Following the UNESCO meeting, Pierre Auger, at that time director of exact and natural sciences at UNESCO, and my father took on the task of advancing the project. In September 1950 Auger spoke of it at a nuclear physics conference in Oxford, and at a meeting of the International Union of Pure and Applied Physics (IUPAP), my father– one of the vice presidents – urged the executive committee to consider how best to implement the Florence resolution. In May 1951, Auger and my father organised a meeting of experts at UNESCO headquarters in Paris, where a compelling justification for the European project was drafted.
The cost of such an endeavour was beyond the means of any single nation. This led to an intergovernmental conference under the auspices of UNESCO in December 1951, where the foundations for CERN were laid. Funding, totalling $10,000 for the initial meetings of the board of experts, came from Italy, France and Belgium. This was thanks to the financial support of men like Gustavo Colonnetti, president of the Italian Research Council, who had already – a year before – donated the first funds to UNESCO.
Were there any significant challenges during this period?
Not everyone readily accepted the idea of a European laboratory. Eminent physicists like Niels Bohr, James Chadwick and Hendrik Kramers questioned the practicality of starting a new laboratory from scratch. They were concerned about the feasibility and allocation of resources, and preferred the coordination of many national laboratories and institutions. Through skilful negotiation and compromise, Auger and my father incorporated some of the concerns raised by the sceptics into a modified version of the project, ensuring broader support. In February 1952 the first agreement setting up a provisional council for CERN was written and signed, and my father was nominated secretary general of the provisional CERN.
He worked tirelessly, travelling through Europe to unite the member states and start the laboratory’s construction. In particular, the UK was reluctant to participate fully. They had their own advanced facilities, like the 40 MeV cyclotron at the University of Liverpool. In December 1952 my father visited John Cockcroft, at the time director of the Harwell Atomic Energy Research Establishment, to discuss this. There’s an interesting episode where my father, with Cockcroft, met Frederick Lindemann and Baron Cherwell, who was a long-time scientific advisor to Winston Churchill. Cherwell dismissed CERN as another “European paper mill.” My father, usually composed, lost his temper and passionately defended the project. During the following visit to Harwell, Cockcroft reassured him that his reaction was appropriate. From that point on, the UK contributed to CERN, albeit initially as a series of donations rather than as the result of a formal commitment. It may be interesting to add that, during the same visit to London and Harwell, my father met the young John Adams and was so impressed that he immediately offered him a position at CERN.
What were the steps following the ratification of CERN’s convention?
Robert Valeur, chairman of the council during the interim period, and Ben Lockspeiser, chairman of the interim finance committee, used their authority to stir up early initiatives and create an atmosphere of confidence that attracted scientists from all over Europe. As Lew Kowarski noted, there was a sense of “moral commitment” to leave secure positions at home and embark on this new scientific endeavour.
During the interim period from May 1952 to September 1954, the council convened three sessions in Geneva whose primary focus was financial management. The organisation began with an initial endowment of approximately 1 million Swiss Francs, which – as I said – included a contribution from the UK known as the “observer’s gift”. At each subsequent session, the council increased its funding, reaching around 3.7 million Swiss Francs by the end of this period. When the permanent organisation was established, an initial sum of 4.1 million Swiss Francs was made available.
In 1954, my father was worried that if the parliaments didn’t approve the convention before winter, then construction would be delayed because of the wintertime. So he took a bold step and, with the approval of the council president, authorised the start of construction on the main site before the convention was fully ratified.
This led to Lockspeiser jokingly remarking later that council “has now to keep Amaldi out of jail”. The provisional council, set up in 1952, was dissolved when the European Organization for Nuclear Research officially came into being in 1954, though the acronym CERN (Conseil Européen pour la Recherche Nucléaire) was retained. By the conclusion of the interim period, CERN had grown significantly. A critical moment occurred on 29 September1954, when a specific point in the ratification procedure was reached, rendering all assets temporarily ownerless. During this eight-day period, my father, serving as secretary general, was the sole owner on behalf of the newly forming permanent organisation. The interim phase concluded with the first meeting of the permanent council, marking the end of CERN’s formative years.
Did your father ever consider becoming CERN’s Director-General?
People asked him to be Director-General, but he declined for two reasons. First, he wanted to return to his students and his cosmic-ray research in Rome. Second, he didn’t want people to think he had done all this to secure a prominent position. He believed in the project for its own sake.
When the convention was finally ratified in 1954, the council offered the position of Director-General to Felix Bloch, a Swiss–American physicist and Nobel Prize winner for his work on nuclear magnetic resonance. Bloch accepted but insisted that my father serve as his deputy. My father, dedicated to CERN’s success, agreed to this despite his desire to return to Rome full time.
How did that arrangement work out?
My father agreed but Bloch wasn’t at that time rooted in Europe. He insisted on bringing all his instruments from Stanford so he could continue his research on nuclear magnetic resonance at CERN. He found it difficult to adapt to the demands of leading CERN and soon resigned. The council then elected Cornelis Jan Bakker, a Dutch physicist who had led the synchrocyclotron group, as the new Director-General. From the beginning, he was the person my father thought would have been the ideal director for the initial phase of CERN. Tragically though, Bakker died in a plane crash a year and a half later. I well remember how hard my father was hit by this loss.
How did the development of accelerators at CERN progress?
The decision to adopt the strong focusing principle for the Proton Synchrotron (PS) was a pivotal moment. In August 1952 Otto Dahl, leader of the Proton Synchrotron study group, Frank Goward and Rolf Widerøe visited Brookhaven just as Ernest Courant, Stanley Livingston and Hartland Snyder were developing this new principle. They were so excited by this development that they returned to CERN determined to incorporate it into the PS design. In 1953 Mervyn Hine, a long-time friend of John Adams with whom he had moved to CERN, studied potential issues with misalignment in strong focusing magnets, which led to further refinements in the design. Ultimately, the PS became operational before the comparable accelerator at Brookhaven, marking a significant achievement for European science.
It’s important here to recognise the crucial contributions of the engineers, who often don’t receive the same level of recognition as physicists. They are the ones who make the work of experimental physicists and theorists possible. “Viki” Weisskopf, Director-General of CERN from 1961 to 1965, compared the situation to the discovery of America. The machine builders are the captains and shipbuilders. The experimentalists are those fellows on the ships who sailed to the other side of the world and wrote down what they saw. The theoretical physicists are those who stayed behind in Madrid and told Columbus that he was going to land in India.
Your father also had a profound impact on the development of other Big Science organisations in Europe
Yes, in 1958 my father was instrumental, together with Pierre Auger, in the founding of the European Space Agency. In a letter written in 1958 to his friend Luigi Crocco, who was professor of jet propulsion in Princeton, he wrote that “it is now very much evident that this problem is not at the level of the single states like Italy, but mainly at the continental level. Therefore, if such an endeavour is to be pursued, it must be done on a European scale, as already done for the building of the large accelerators for which CERN was created… I think it is absolutely imperative for the future organisation to be neither military nor linked to any military organisation. It must be a purely scientific organisation, open – like CERN – to all forms of cooperation and outside the participating countries.” This document reflects my father’s vision of peaceful and non-military European science.
How is it possible for one person to contribute so profoundly to science and global collaboration?
My father’s ability to accept defeats and keep pushing forward was key to his success. He was an exceptional person with a clear vision and unwavering dedication. I hope that by sharing these stories, others might be inspired to pursue their goals with the same persistence and passion.
Could we argue that he was not only a visionary but also a relentless advocate?
He travelled extensively, talked to countless people, and was always cheerful and energetic. He accepted setbacks but kept moving forwards. In this connection, I want to mention Eliane Bertrand, later de Modzelewska, his secretary in Rome who later became secretary of the CERN Council for about 20 years, serving under several Director-Generals. She left a memoir about those early days, highlighting how my father was always travelling, talking and never stopping. It’s a valuable piece of history that, I think, should be published.
International collaboration has been a recurring theme in your own career. How do you view its importance today?
International collaboration is more critical than ever in today’s world. Science has always been a bridge between cultures and nations, and CERN’s history is a testimony of what this brings to humanity. It transcends political differences and fosters mutual understanding. I hope CERN and the broader scientific community will find ways to maintain these vital connections with all countries. I’ve always believed that fostering a collaborative and inclusive environment is one of the main goals of us scientists. It’s not just about achieving results but also about how we work together and support each other along the way.
Looking ahead, what are your thoughts on the future of CERN and particle physics?
I firmly believe that pursuing higher collision energies is essential. While the Large Hadron Collider has achieved remarkable successes, there’s still much we haven’t uncovered – especially regarding supersymmetry. Even though minimal supersymmetry does not apply, I remain convinced that supersymmetry might manifest in ways we haven’t yet understood. Exploring higher energies could reveal supersymmetric particles or other new phenomena.
Like most European physicists, I support the initiative of the Future Circular Collider and starting with an electron–positron collider phase so to explore new frontiers at two very different energy levels. However, if geopolitical shifts delay or complicate these plans, we should consider pushing hard on alternative strategies like developing the technologies for muon colliders.
Ugo Amaldi first arrived at CERN as a fellow in September 1961. Then, for 10 years at the ISS in Rome, he opened two new lines of research: quasi-free electron scattering on nuclei and atoms. Back at CERN, he developed the Roman pots experimental technique, was a co-discoverer of the rise of the proton–proton cross-section with energy, measured the polarisation of muons produced by neutrinos, proposed the concept of a superconducting electron–positron linear collider, and led LEP’s DELPHI Collaboration. Today, he advances the use of accelerators in cancer treatment as the founder of the TERA Foundation for hadron therapy and as president emeritus of the National Centre for Oncological Hadrontherapy (CNAO) in Pavia. He continues his mother and father’s legacy of authoring high-school physics textbooks used by millions of Italian pupils. His motto is: “Physics is beautiful and useful.”
This interview first appeared in the newsletter of CERN’s experimental physics department. It has been edited for concision.
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