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ESO and CERN: a tale of two organizations

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On 5 October 1962, five nations signed the convention that founded the European Southern Observatory (ESO). Belgium, France, the Federal Republic of Germany, the Netherlands and Sweden where soon followed by Denmark. They were later joined by Switzerland, Italy, Portugal, the UK, Finland, Spain, the Czech Republic and, most recently, Austria in 2009. Brazil, whose membership is pending ratification, will be the 15th member state and the first from outside Europe. The organization’s main mission, laid down in the convention signed in 1962, is to provide state-of-the-art research facilities to astronomers and astrophysicists, allowing them to conduct front-line science in the best conditions. With headquarters in Garching near Munich, ESO operates three observing sites high in the Atacama Desert region of Chile, which are home to a world-leading collection of observing facilities.

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ESO’s ruling body is its council, which delegates day-to-day responsibility to the executive under the director-general, while other governing bodies of ESO include the Finance Committee and the Committee of Council. If this sounds familiar, it is probably because the origins of ESO bear more than a passing resemblance to those of CERN. The founding of ESO has its roots in a statement signed on 26 January 1954 by leading astronomers from six countries – the five nations that would later sign the ESO convention, plus the UK (which was to go in a different direction and join ESO only in 2002). The statement pointed to the lack of coverage of the skies of the southern hemisphere – which include interesting regions such as the Magellanic Clouds – by powerful telescopes at that time. It went on to put the case that although no one country had sufficient resources for such a project, it could be possible through international collaboration. Finally, it recommended the establishment of a joint observatory in South Africa that would house a 3 m telescope and a 1.2 m Schmidt telescope with a wide field of view, which would be valuable for surveys. These instruments would complement the 5 m Hale Telescope and the 1.2 m Schmidt that had been observing the skies of the northern hemisphere from the Palomar Observatory in California since 1948.

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The idea for a joint European effort had originated the previous spring, when the pioneering Dutch astronomer, Jan Oort, invited Walter Baade, a renowned German working at the Mt Wilson and Palomar Observatories, to stay at Leiden for a couple of months. Oort mobilized a group of leading European astronomers for a meeting with the influential visitor on 21 June 1953, where Baade proposed capitalizing on existing designs for a 3 m telescope being built for the Lick Observatory in California and for the Schmidt telescope at Palomar. Also present at the meeting was Jan Bannier, director of the Dutch national science foundation and president of the provisional CERN Council.

The ESO convention

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In November 1954, Bannier and Gösta Funke, director of the Swedish National Research Council and a member of the newly established formal CERN Council, drew up the first draft of a convention for ESO, with key similarities to the CERN convention. ESO would have a council with two delegates (at least one an astronomer) from each member state; each country would have an equal vote; financial contributions would be in proportion to national income up to a fixed limit.

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Further progress was slow because the project’s supporters grappled with financial and political difficulties in their countries. Important impetus came with Oort’s successful application in 1959 for a grant from the Ford Foundation in the US for a $1 million – a fifth of the estimated cost at the time – on condition that at least four of the five potential members sign the convention. It took another three years for further issues to be resolved and for the convention to be signed on 5 October 1962, in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Paris. Even then, it was only in early 1964 that real work could begin (and the grant from the Ford Foundation released) when France became the fourth country to ratify the convention, after the Netherlands, Sweden and the German Federal Republic.

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The original idea had been to locate the observatory in South Africa and over the period 1953–1963 searches for suitable places were followed by systematic tests at three sites in the Karoo region. However, in 1959 astronomers in the US began to explore the possibilities in the Chilean Andes, through the Association of Universities for Research in Astronomy (AURA). It soon became clear that the Andes might offer better climatic conditions than South Africa for astronomy and in November 1962 two members of ESO’s site-testing team went to Chile. Their findings indicated a general superiority, in particular longer spells of clear weather and smaller temperature differences during the night (owing, in fact, to the higher altitude).

So, in June 1963 Otto Heckmann, the embryonic organization’s provisional director-general, and others including Oort went to Chile to meet members of AURA and see the mountains chosen by the Americans. Although the ESO convention had still to be ratified by the requisite four countries, in November the ESO Committee opted unanimously for the Andes, a decision that the formal ESO Council approved at its first meeting in 1964. Later that year, ESO decided on a site that was independent of the Americans – a mountaintop at 2400 m that Heckmann proposed naming La Silla (the saddle).

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ESO went on to develop La Silla, first installing a number of intermediate-size telescopes that had been foreseen in the convention, as well as some smaller national telescopes. The official inauguration, by the president of the Republic of Chile, Eduardo Frei Montalva, took place on 25 March 1969.

In the meantime, there was mounting concern about the slow progress on the larger telescopes described in the ESO convention and in March 1969 a working group was set up to advise the ESO Council on this and various administrative matters. In particular, it was to look into budget procedures and the project for the 3.6 m telescope. (The proposed size had grown after experience in the US had shown that the observer’s cage for a 3 m instrument raised problems for larger astronomers.) The working group was chaired by Funke and both he and Augustin Alline, the French government ESO Council delegate, were members of CERN Council. Their recommendations led to the introduction at ESO of the “Bannier process”, which had been established at CERN for budgetary matters; and at Alline’s suggestion, ESO also followed CERN’s example in setting up a Committee of Council, whose informal meetings of fewer people could iron out potential difficulties between meetings of Council.

It was at the meeting of CERN’s Committee of Council in November 1969 that CERN’s director-general, Bernard Gregory, reported on discussions with his counterpart at ESO about a possible collaboration between the two organizations – in essence, a rescue plan for the 3.6 m telescope. The project was similar in size and complexity to that of a large bubble chamber and there was also a strong feeling that particle physicists and astronomers could benefit from closer contact. The committee gave Gregory the go-ahead to report to the meeting of CERN Council in December, which in turn authorized him to continue the discussions with ESO. At the meeting, Bannier, who was currently president of the ESO Council, pointed out that with its greater experience in building large-scale apparatus and in dealing with industry CERN would bring valuable expertise to advance the 3.6 m project.

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By June 1970, a draft co-operation agreement had been drawn up that foresaw the setting up of ESO’s Telescope Project Division at CERN. CERN would provide administrative, technical and professional services – the latter covering the project management as well as technical and scientific advice. This would be at no cost to CERN because all would be financed by ESO and no additional staff at CERN would be required. The June council meetings at ESO and CERN consented to collaboration between the two organizations and on 16 September the agreement was signed by Gregory and Adriaan Blaauw, ESO’s director-general. Within six months, the nucleus of the Telescope Project (TP) Division had formed at CERN. Led by ESO’s Svend Laustsen, it included his small technical group. The division then grew to comprise some 40 astronomers, engineers and technicians, all involved in the final design, construction and testing of the 3.6 m telescope, while benefiting from CERN’s experience in engineering and the administrative aspects of implementing a large project.

The members of TP interacted mainly with CERN’s Proton Synchrotron Department (particularly Wolfgang Richter and the department head, Kees Zilverschoon), the Technical Services and Building Division (Henri Laporte and E Leroy) and the Data Handling Division (Detmar Wiskott), while the placing of contracts involved working with the Finance Division. The first two years focused on completing the design of the telescope and the building to house it, with a first design report issued in February 1971. A year later, the group was awarding contracts related to the construction of the telescope, the building and a computer system, both to steer the telescope and for data-acquisition and some online analysis.

Further developments

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November 1972 saw another development at CERN, with the inauguration of the ESO Sky Atlas Laboratory. To match the atlas of the northern sky made by the 1.2 m Schmidt telescope at Mt Palomar, ESO and the UK were pooling the resources of ESO’s 1 m Schmidt in Chile and the UK’s 1.2 Schmidt in Australia. A copy of each of the glass plates recorded in Chile was sent to the lab at CERN for further copying onto film. After a first rapid survey, ESO’s Schmidt telescope went on to cover red wavelengths in detail, the UK’s instrument covering blue. The Sky Atlas Lab was involved in producing 200 copies of the complete atlas, the full view totalling 200 m2 of film. One highlight of this work was the discovery of a new comet on 5 November 1975, named after its discoverer, the lab’s head, Danish astronomer Richard West.

In April 1975, the 3.6 m telescope was ready for testing in Europe. One innovation concerned the use of a fully automated control system, which involved some 120 individual computer-controlled motors for steering. The 18 m tall structure was assembled in a hall with a specially constructed pit to accommodate it at the Société Creusot-Loire at St Chamond. There, a van from CERN packed with electronic control-circuitry tested out the control system, determining the optimum configuration for driving the telescope’s two orientation axes. With testing complete, the telescope was dismantled and packed up for its journey to Chile, where it would be fitted with its giant mirror. The mirror blank had been ordered from Corning in the US as early as 1965 but a number of problems meant that its final processing to achieve a surface accuracy of 0.06 μm was not completed by the Recherches et études d’optique et de sciences connexes (REOSC), near Paris, until early 1972.

A year after it arrived in Chile, the telescope finally saw its “first light” on the night of 7–8 November 1976. The links with CERN were not quite over, however. A smaller 1.4 m instrument – the Coudé Auxiliary telescope (CAT) – was later designed by the TP team at CERN. Manufactured mainly by industry, it was assembled in CERN in early 1979 before going to Chile, where it fed the 3.6 m Coudé Echelle Spectrometer through a light tunnel. Fully computer controlled, the CAT was used for many different astronomical observations, including measuring the ages of ancient stars. The 3.6 m itself has since gone on to be highly productive, most recently with the High Accuracy Radial velocity Planet Searcher (HARPS), the world’s foremost hunter of planets beyond the solar system.

Writing in ESO’s journal, The Messenger, in 1981, Charles Fehrenbach, the director of the Haute Provence Observatory, who was involved with ESO for many of the early years, stated: “There is no doubt in my mind that it was the installation in Geneva which saved our organization.” The strong links with CERN certainly helped to set ESO on its way and the older organization can now look on with pleasure at its younger sibling’s many achievements.

ESO and CERN – 50 years later

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1948: The 5 m Hale telescope is inaugurated in Palomar, California. 1954: At the instigation of Jan Oort and Walter Baade, a group of renowned European astronomers meets to discuss how, by pooling the efforts of several countries, Europe could rise to the challenge and keep an important place in astronomical research; Jan Bannier, president of the CERN Council, is also present. A statement is adopted: “There is not a more urgent task for astronomers than to install powerful instruments in the southern hemisphere, and in particular a telescope … of at least 3 m.” But the scars of the Second World War are there and it will take several years of discussion before, on 5 October 1962, five governments (Belgium, France, the Federal Republic of Germany, the Netherlands and Sweden) sign the convention that creates the European Southern Observatory, ESO. The convention was drafted by Bannier, largely adapted from the CERN convention in its constitutional set-up, its financial basis and its personnel regulations (ESO and CERN: a tale of two organizations). Thus, in a sense, ESO is a younger sibling of CERN.

Soon, it was decided to establish the observatory at a site in Chile, in the Atacama Desert, chosen for its large proportion of clear nights and its excellent sky quality. A suitable piece of land was purchased at La Silla, close to La Serena. By 1969, a number of 1-m-class telescopes were in operation. Attention then focused on the construction of a 3.6 m telescope. The young organization had not yet mastered the skills necessary for such an endeavour and problems appeared on many fronts. CERN offered its help and soon the ESO Telescope Project Division moved to the CERN. A participant in the preceding discussions, CERN’s Kees Zilverschoon reported that “practically everyone … emphasized the importance of the collaboration between astronomy and high-energy physics [and] common technical developments … and the political aspect: formation of a ‘Communauté scientifique européenne’ .” This was long before the discussions on a European area of research started at the political level. With the help of some CERN engineers, the 3.6 m telescope was completed by 1976. It is still in use today, in particular for the successful search for extra-solar planets with the HARPS spectrometer.

ESO was offered new headquarters in Garching by the German government, settling there in 1980. By then, it had an excellent set of experienced engineers and in 1989 deployed a revolutionary 3.5 m telescope, the New Technology Telescope (NTT). This introduced “active optics” in which the effects of gravity, winds and temperature on image quality are counteracted by controlling the shape of the primary mirror and the position of the secondary mirror.

Even before the first light of the NTT, ESO had begun the Very Large Telescope (VLT) project. It all started in December 1977 with a lively conference at CERN on “Optical Telescopes of the Future”. Detailed studies led to the selection of an array of four telescopes of 8.2 m aperture and with active optics, with the NTT serving as a prototype for the construction of the VLT. An impressive suite of first- and second-generation instruments, most of them developed in national laboratories, have been placed at the 11 available foci, while the 12th is reserved for visitor instruments. The second ESO observatory, on Mt Paranal – with its four large VLT telescopes, four 1.8 m telescopes dedicated to interferometry and two telescopes devoted to surveys of the sky in the optical and the infrared – is now the most productive observatory in the world, allowing major advances in virtually all fields of astrophysics.

It is in the same vicinity, on Mt Armazones, that ESO plans to erect its Extremely Large Telescope (ELT), based on a novel concept that features five mirrors in sequence instead of the usual two, with a segmented primary mirror 39 m in diameter. Corrections for blurring owing to turbulence in the atmosphere, which are today made with small deformable mirrors at the level of the instruments (“adaptive optics”), will – in the ELT – be made partially by two of the five mirrors of the telescope itself.

Following an agreement signed by ESO and the US National Science Foundation in 2003, which was soon joined by the National Astronomical Observatory of Japan in collaboration with Taiwan, ALMA, an ambitious millimetre and submillimetre observatory featuring 66 antennas has been under construction for the past few years on the Chajnantor plateau in the Atacama, at an altitude of 5000 m. The inauguration will take place next March but early science, with 16 telescopes, is already bringing highly exciting results (see, for example, ALMA tastes sugar around a Sun-like star).

In 2000, ESO fostered the creation of EIROforum, a partnership of seven European research organizations with the mission of combining the resources, facilities and expertise of its members to support European science in reaching its full potential. Chaired most recently by CERN in 2011–2012, it has just been joined by a new member, the European X-ray free-electron laser project, XFEL.

ESO and CERN share a range of scientific interests and have held stimulating joint conferences in the past, the last ones also involving ESA. Today, cosmology, dark matter, dark energy, high-energy gamma rays, neutrinos, gravitational waves, general relativity and processes in the vicinity of black holes are all hot topics for both communities and would deserve a new joint conference in the near future.

Time Machines

By Stanley Greenberg; Introduction by David C Cassidy
Hirmer Verlag
Hardback: €39.90 SwFr53.90 £39.95 $59.95

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The American photographer Stanley Greenberg travelled 130,000 km over five years to create the 82 black-and-white photographs included in this large-format book. They are a record of the extraordinary and sometimes surreal complexity of the machinery of modern particle physics. From a working replica of an early cyclotron to the LHC, Greenberg covers the world’s major accelerators, laboratories and detectors. There are images from Gran Sasso, Super-Kamiokande, Jefferson Lab, DESY and CERN, as well as Fermilab, SLAC and LIGO, Sudbury Neutrino Observatory, IceCube at the South Pole and many more.

The LUNA experiment at Frascati is like a giant steel retort-vessel suspended in the air; a LIDAR installation at the Pierre Auger Cosmic Ray Observatory in Argentina is a fantastically hatted creature from outer space bearing the warning “RADIACION LASER”; and the venerable 15-foot bubble chamber sits on the prairie at Fermilab like a massive space capsule that landed in the 1960s. (Who knows where its occupants might be now?)

Not a single person is seen in these beautiful images. They are clean, almost clinical studies of ingenious experiments and intricate machines and they document a world of pipes, concrete blocks, polished steel, electronics and braided ropes of wires. Greenberg has said that his earlier books, such as Invisible New York – which explores the city’s underbelly, its infrastructure, waterworks and hidden systems – are “about how cities and buildings work”, whereas Time Machines is about “how the universe works”. More accurately, perhaps, it is about the things that we build to help us understand how the universe works – but here the builders are invisible, like the particles that they are studying.

In a book whose photographs clearly demonstrate the global nature of particle physics, David Cassidy, author of an excellent biography of Werner Heizenberg, includes a one-sided introduction, concentrating on US labs and achievements. Accelerators are “prototypically American” and his main comment on the LHC is that the US has contributed half a billion dollars to it and that Americans form its “largest national group”. There are also inaccuracies: electroweak theory was confirmed by the discovery of the W and Z bosons at CERN in 1983, not 1973; and the top quark discovery was announced in 1995, not 2008. The introduction does not do justice to Greenberg’s excellent and wide-ranging photography but, fortunately, nor does it detract from it.

Pierre-Gilles de Gennes: A Life in Science

By Laurence Plévert
World Scientific
Paperback: £32
E-book: £41

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Pierre-Gilles de Gennes obtient le prix Nobel de physique en 1991 « pour avoir découvert que les méthodes développées dans l’étude des phénomènes d’ordre s’appliquant aux systèmes simples peuvent se généraliser à des formes plus complexes, cristaux liquides et polymères ». Ni invention ni découverte, c’est un curieux intitulé. Le comité semble honorer un homme plus qu’une contribution identifiée. De fait, la vie de de Gennes se lit comme une épopée. Il naît en 1932 d’une famille alliant la banque et l’aristocratie. Ses parents se séparent, il est doublement choyé. La guerre éclate, c’est l’occasion de vacances alpestres. Cette enfance hors du commun lui apprend discipline et curiosité et lui donne une grande confiance en lui.

Attiré par les sciences à 15 ans, il surmonte les années difficiles de la classe préparatoire en jouant dans un orchestre de jazz. Reçu premier à l’Ecole normale supérieure, il commence la vie libre de normalien, se mariant et devenant papa avant l’agrégation. Il se passionne pour la mécanique quantique et la théorie des groupes, qu’il décortique dans les livres. Feynman est son modèle. L’intuition doit rester souveraine, et il l’applique aussi en politique où il rejette les modes de l’époque. Il vit une révélation avec l’école d’été des Houches, où il rencontre Pauli, Peierls… Les deux mois les plus importants de sa vie, dit-il. Sa vocation pour la physique s’y confirmera, mais quelle voie suivre ? La physique nucléaire ? « J’ai l’impression que personne ne sait décrire une interaction sinon en ajoutant des paramètres de manière ad hoc ».

Sorti de l’ENS, il intègre la division théorique de Saclay. Après son service militaire, il devient professeur à Orsay à l’âge de 29 ans. On lui laisse carte blanche, il s’attaque à la supraconductivité, montant un laboratoire à partir de rien. Se laissant guider par l’imagination, il mélange expérience et théorie. Aux plus jeunes, il insuffle l’enthousiasme, son charisme opère sur tous.

Il quitte Orsay en 1971, appelé au prestigieux Collège de France, pour y créer son propre laboratoire. Il y développe la science de « la matière molle », comprenant les bulles et les sables, les gels, les polymères… Théoricien du pratique, il prône une forte collaboration avec l’industrie. Pluridisciplinaire avant la lettre, il exploite les analogies suggérées par sa grande culture scientifique.

Dans son parcours sans faute, une hésitation apparaît. « Au milieu du chemin de sa vie », il sent le défi de l’âge. Il le relève allègrement fondant une seconde famille, en maintenant un bon rapport avec la première où vivent trois grands enfants. Sa femme ne s’insurge pas. Sa vie privée est aussi fertile que sa carrière, et trois nouveaux enfants naîtront.

Arrive l’heure des distinctions. Il est élu à l’Académie des Sciences, il reçoit la médaille d’or du CNRS, la Légion d’honneur, on lui propose un ministère. Tout en demeurant au Collège de France, il est appelé à la direction de l’ESPCI, qu’il remodèle à son goût, il s’y fait une réputation de despote. C’est un grand patron qui assume sa fonction. De fait, son autorité naturelle suscite chez ses collaborateurs une crainte sacrée. L’apothéose que représente le prix Nobel lui permet d’appliquer ses idées avec encore moins de retenue. Grand communicateur, il popularise ses idées à la télévision.

Un cancer se déclare, il s’accroche à ses activités. Retraité du Collège de France, il poursuit sa vie de recherche à l’Institut Curie dans le domaine des neurosciences. Il meurt en 2007 après une dure bataille.

Pierre-Gilles de Gennes fut un homme de convictions. Parfois décrié pour ses prises de position, il ne craint pas de secouer les habitudes en s’attaquant aux structures sclérosées : « L’université a besoin d’une révolution. » Autre cheval de bataille : la « Big Science » ; il s’oppose au laboratoire de rayonnement synchrotron Soleil et au projet ITER. Humaniste, il publie un délicieux tableau de caractères à la manière de la Bruyère, et il avoue : « J’ai tendance à croire que notre esprit a des besoins autant rationnels qu’irrationnels. »

Bouillonnant d’idées, auteur de 550 publications, homme d’influence qui s’exprime de manière franche, il ose dire : « Il faut accélérer la mort lente de champs épuisés comme la physique nucléaire », et il remarque : « Quand j’ouvrais PRL en 1960, je trouvais chaque fois une idée révolutionnaire, aujourd’hui j’arrive à 2 ou 3 idées par an, dans un journal devenu 5 fois plus épais. » Il est vrai que les idées neuves se font rares. Nous vivons sur l’acquis d’anciennes avancées théoriques, et le Higgs découvert récemment a été postulé il y a 50 ans. D’où le le sentiment dérangeant que le progrès avance plus laborieusement.

Pierre-Gilles de Gennes fut un esprit fertile et passionné, mais il vécut aussi dans une période favorable, offrant des domaines vierges permettant de multiplier les recherches. Une carrière comme la sienne semble impossible aujourd’hui, les spécialités poussées à l’extrême étouffant les initiatives individuelles.

La biographie, très bien écrite par la journaliste Laurence Plévert, est truffée d’anecdotes, elle se lit comme un roman qui emplit le lecteur d’un optimisme renouvelé sur les potentialités de l’aventure humaine et de la recherche fondamentale.

« Renaissance man », dit la quatrième de couverture ; j’oserai comparer Pierre-Gilles de Gennes à un monarque éclairé façon condottiere, ce qui ne contredit pas l’aphorisme d’un journaliste résumant l’attrait de l’homme : « Il est quelqu’un qu’on aimerait avoir comme ami, pour partager le privilège de se sentir un instant plus intelligent. »

This book is a translation of the original French edition Pierre-Gilles de Gennes. Gentleman physicien (Belin, 2009).

A day to remember

On 4 July, particle physicists around the world eagerly joined many who had congregated early at CERN to hear the latest news on the search for the Higgs boson at the LHC (4 July: a day to remember). It was a day that many will remember for years to come. The ATLAS and CMS collaborations announced that they had observed clear signs of a new boson consistent with being the Higgs boson, with a mass of around 126 GeV, at a siginificance of 5 σ. In this issue of CERN Courier the two collaborations present their evidence (Discovery of a new boson – the ATLAS perspective and Inside story: the search in CMS for the Higgs boson) and CERN’s director-general reflects on broader implications (Viewpoint: an important day for science). There was further good news from Fermilab with new results on the search for the Higgs at the Tevatron, described above.

4 July 2012: a day to remember

It’s 2 a.m. in Chicago, 9 a.m. in Geneva and 5 p.m. in Melbourne. Around the world, particle physicists in labs, lecture theatres and in their homes are full of anticipation. They are all waiting to hear the latest update in the search for the Higgs boson at the LHC, following the tantalizing hints presented on 13 December. Everyone knows that something exciting is in the air. The seminar has been rapidly scheduled to align with the start of the 2012 International Conference of the High-Energy Physics in Melbourne. It will be webcast not only to an audience in Melbourne but to the many teams around the world who have contributed over the years.

 

The news has its roots in the 1960s. The work of Robert Brout, François Englert, Peter Higgs, Gerald Guralnik, Carl Hagen and Tom Kibble in 1964 was to become a key piece of the Standard Model, giving mass to the W and Z bosons of the electroweak force. From the 1970s, searches for the so-called Higgs boson progressed as particle accelerators grew to provide beams of higher energies, with experiments at Fermilab’s Tevatron and CERN’s Large Electron–Positron providing the best limits before the LHC entered the game in 2010.

 

It was a day that many will remember for years to come. Englert, Higgs, Guralnik and Hagen were all in the audience at CERN to hear the news directly. (Sadly, Brout died last year and Kibble was unable to attend.) The ATLAS and CMS collaborations announced that they had observed clear signs in the LHC’s proton–proton collisions of a new boson consistent with being the Higgs boson, with a mass of around 126 GeV.

 

 

The adjoining articles (Discovery of a new boson – the ATLAS perspective and Inside story: the search in CMS for the Higgs boson) give some insight into the analysis procedures behind these latest results from the ATLAS and CMS experiments.

To explore all our coverage marking the 10th anniversary of the discovery of the Higgs boson ...

An important day for science

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On 4 July 2012, particle physics was headline news around the world thanks to a scientific success story that began over 60 years ago. It was a great day for science and a great day for humanity: a symbol of what people can achieve when countries pool their resources and work together, particularly when they do so over the long term.

This particular success story is called CERN, a European laboratory for fundamental research born from the ashes of the Second World War with support from all parties, in Europe and beyond. The headline news was the discovery of a particle consistent with the long-sought after Higgs boson, certainly a great moment for science. In the long term, however, the legacy of 4 July may well be that CERN’s global impact endorses the model established by the organization’s founding fathers in the 1950s and shows that it still sets the standard for scientific collaboration today. CERN’s success exemplifies what people can achieve if we keep sight of the vision that those pioneers had for a community of scientists united in diversity pursuing a common goal.

CERN is a European organization, founded on principles of fairness to its members and openness to the world. Accordingly, its governance model gives a fair voice to all member states, both large and small. Its funding model allows member states to contribute according to their means. Its research model welcomes scientists from around the world who are able to contribute positively to the laboratory’s research programmes. Through these basic principles, CERN’s founding fathers established a model of stability for cross-border collaboration in Europe, for co-ordinated European engagement with the rest of the world, and they laid down a blueprint for leadership in the field of particle physics. The result is that today, CERN is undisputedly the hub of a global community of scientists advancing the frontiers of knowledge. It is a shining example of what people can do together.

This fact has not been lost on other fields and over the years several European scientific organizations have emulated the CERN model. The European Space Agency (ESA) and European Southern Observatory (ESO), for example, followed CERN’s example and have also established themselves as leaders in their fields. Today, those thinking of future global science projects look to the CERN model for inspiration.

Scientific success stories like this are now more important then ever. At a time when the world is suffering the worst economic crisis in decades, people – particularly the young – need to see and appreciate the benefits of basic science and collaboration across borders. And at a time when science is increasingly estranged from a science-dependent society, it is important for good science stories to make the news and encourage people to look beyond the headlines. For these reasons, as well as the discovery itself, 4 July was an important day for science.

How the hippies saved physics: science, counterculture, and the quantum revival

By David Kaiser
W W Norton & Company
Hardback: £17.99 $26.95
Paperback: $17.95

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In this curious book, David Kaiser presents a detailed “biography” of a group of young physicists, the “Fundamental Fysics Group”, based in Berkeley, California, and their unconventional impact on the development of “the new quantum age”. Most of the action takes place in the 1970s and includes a surprising mixture of characters and plots, as suitably summarized in these illuminating words: “Many of the ideas that now occupy the core of quantum information science once found their home amid an anything-goes counterculture frenzy, a mishmash of spoon-bending psychics, Eastern mysticism, LSD trips, CIA spooks chasing mind-reading dreams and comparable ‘Age of Aquarius’ enthusiasms.” These people regularly gathered to discuss all sorts of exotic topics, including telepathy and “remote viewing”, as well as faster-than-light communication and the fundamental concepts of quantum theory.

Among many other things, I liked learning about early discussions regarding Bell’s theorem, the Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen paradox and the nature of reality, sometimes taking place in workshops with sessions in hot baths, interspersed by drum playing and yoga exercises. I also enjoyed reading about the first experimental tests of Bell’s work by John Clauser and about the genesis of the bestseller The Tao of Physics, by Fritjof Capra. It was particularly interesting to learn about a paper on superluminal communication (published despite negative reports from referees), which triggered the development of rebuttal arguments that ended up being quite revolutionary and leading to quantum encryption etc. It was thinking outside the “establishment” way that led to a wrong but fruitful idea about implications of Bell’s theorem, which forced others to improve the understanding of quantum entanglement and gave rise to a new and highly successful branch of physics: quantum information. Kaiser’s basic message is that, sometimes, crazy ideas push the understanding of science beyond the frontiers set by people working in conventional environments, within universities, and by government grants.

I know that we should not judge a book by its cover but with such a title I expected this book to be an interesting summertime read and was surprised to find that it is written in a rather heavy style that is more suitable for historians of science than for physicists relaxing on the beach. The topic of the book is actually quite curious, the language is fluid and the narrative is well presented but the level of detail is such that many readers will often feel like jumping ahead. It is elucidating to note that almost 25% of the book’s 400 pages are devoted to listings of notes and of bibliography. Essentially every sentence, every paragraph, is justified by an “end note”, which is an overkill for a book targeting a general audience. Writing this dense book must have been a long-term job for Kaiser, who is both a physicist and a historian. The result does not really qualify as an easy read. I enjoy reading biographies if they have a nice rhythm, some suspense and a few anecdotes here and there – which is not exactly the case for this book. I wonder how many readers end up moving it aside after realizing that they have been misled by the spirited title?

Powering the Future: How We Will (Eventually) Solve the Energy Crisis and Fuel the Civilization of Tomorrow

By Robert Laughlin
Basic Books
Hardback: £17.99 $24.99

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Nearly 90% of the world’s economy is driven by the massive use of fossil fuels. The US spends one-sixth of its gross domestic product on oil alone, without counting the important costs of coal and natural gas, even though its use of oil and the other fossil fuels has progressively decreased since the mid-1970s. While the debate on fossil fuels continues to rage on both sides of the Atlantic, Robert Laughlin, professor of physics at Stanford University and Nobel Laureate for the fractional Hall effect, has written Powering the Future – a hypothetical voyage through the future, where the human race will have demands and expectations similar to those of today but where technologies will probably be quite different.

The book is essentially one of two halves. The first half contains the main chapters, where all of the essential statements and the logical lines of the various arguments are developed with an informal style. These are then complemented by the second half, which consists of a delightful set of notes. The notes encourage readers to form their own opinions on specific subjects using a number of tools, which range from assorted references to simplified quantitative estimates.

Treatises on energy problems that are written by political scientists are often scientifically inaccurate; specialized monographs are sometimes excessively technical. This book uses an intermediate register where the quantitative aspects of a problem are discussed but the overall presentation is not pedantic. Of the numerous examples, here are two short ones. What is the total precipitation that falls in one year on the world? The answer is “one metre of rain, the height of a golden retriever” (page 7 and note on page 127). What is the power-carrying capacity for the highest voltage currently used in North America? The answer is “2 billion watts” (page 46 and note on page 156) and is derived with simple mathematical tools.

Laughlin’s chain of arguments forms a composite approach to the energy challenge, where fossil fuels will still be needed 200 years from now to fly aeroplanes. Nuclear power plants will inevitably (but cautiously) be exploited and solar energy will offer decisive solutions in limited environments (see chapter nine, “Viva Las Vegas!”). While the author acknowledges that market forces (and not green technology) will be the future driver of energy innovation, the book does not explicitly support any partisan cause but tries to inspect thoroughly the issues at stake.

A few tweets may not suffice to develop informed views on the energy future of the human race. On the other hand, Powering the Future will certainly stimulate many readers (including, I hope, physicists) to form their own judgements and to challenge some of the canned statements that proliferate on the internet these days.

The History of Mathematics: A Very Short Introduction

By Jacqueline Stedall
Oxford University Press
Paperback: £7.99 $11.95

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What a wonderful surprise. I was going to review another book before this one but it wasn’t to my liking (actually it was pretty bad) and I gave up after the first few chapters. So I settled instead on this book, mainly because it is short, or “very short” as the subtitle suggests.

Seeing that it was part of a series, I was expecting a typical history starting with Pythagoras and Euclid, then Newton and possibly Leibniz, Euler, Gauss and Riemann, followed by a collection of moderns, depending on how much space was left. I looked in the (excellent) index at the back (opening Q–Z) and was surprised to find no entry for Riemann. Was this British bias? No, Hardy was missing as well – but instead there were other people who I’d never heard of: William Oughtred, for example, (author of the first maths book published in Oxford) and Etienne d’Espagnet (who supplied Fermat with essential earlier works). Samuel Pepys also makes an appearance but more as an example of how little maths educated people knew in the 17th century.

I learnt in this charming book that what I had been expecting is called the “stepping stone” approach to the history of mathematics, focusing on elite mathematicians. This book is refreshingly different. It is actually more about the subject “history of mathematics”, i.e. about how we compile and recount a history of mathematics rather than about a sequence of events. However, it does this by focusing on intriguing stories that show the various features that must be considered. In doing so, it fills in the water between the stepping stones, for example, in the story of Fermat’s last theorem. It also tells the story of the majority of people who actually do maths – schoolchildren – by discussing the class work in a Babylonian classroom (around 1850 BC), as well as in a Cumbrian classroom around 1800.

After reading this “preview version”, I am now going to get the “director’s cut” – The Oxford Handbook of the History of Mathematics, which is co-authored by the same author with Eleanor Robson.

Happy reading and exploring!

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