From Labs To Opeds

Getting It

• Believe that given a clear enough explanation, you can understand. Don’t be dismissed by anyone saying something is too complex
• Some websites can help. Look for ones with many hits, but check the credentials of who is explaining
• Tell your local or national media that you want clearer explanations of science, especially about new things like the Higgs boson
• Contact your country’s funding agencies and say you want clear explanations of the science you help to fund and public involvement in decision-making

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Clear explanations of the Higgs boson, also dubbed the ‘God particle’, have been about as elusive as the particle itself, which was finally glimpsed in July. Despite major media coverage of the discovery, many people still don’t understand its momentous meaning and significance. Does it matter? Yes.

Science has a profound impact on society, influencing cultures, lives and economies. Whether scientists are trying to create life, enhance our brains, make new materials or evaluate climate change, we are all affected. We need to understand their work.

When countries around the globe spend $10 billion of taxpayers’ money looking for the Higgs boson, we all have a right to know what our money is being used for and to ask that everyone benefits. Economic downturns make spending tax money harder to justify, so scientists must articulate the potential value of their work if they want funds to continue.

A key argument for government funding of basic research—research driven by curiosity, with no immediate impact in sight—is that past discoveries have eventually been harnessed and improved lives. Research on quantum mechanics in the first half of the 20th century was driven by curiosity. Scientists sought to explain the behaviour of sub-atomic particles, like electrons, photons and quarks, that make up all forms of matter. Thanks to their exploration, we can build the technology of the modern world: transistors and microchips, mobile phones and computers, lasers and mri scanners. The discovery of a new particle, decades after the Higgs was predicted, fills a fundamental gap in understanding the universe. Who knows what this could lead to?

Then there is the pure joy of science. Humans are curious. People the world over ponder the workings and origins of the brain or body, the Earth or the universe. Even if you found science dull at school, you can marvel at the beauty of Saturn’s rings through a telescope, enjoy the crazy antics of ants in an ant farm or wonder how lightning forms. The abilities to ask questions, while not knowing the answer, and observe and test what you find, are skills that help us live. Those skills, along with having an open mind for seeing the unexpected, are key aspects of being a scientist.

Over the last decade, scientists at cern—the European Organisation for Nuclear Research, where the giant Higgs-seeking collider was built and the particle was finally detected—have got better at engaging the public. They created rap songs that went viral, with phrases like “the things it discovers will rock you in the head”, and funky animations to explain their work. Their research gained great media attention. Still, few scientists managed to convey clearly the meaning of that research.

Photograph by CERN, From Outlook in collaboration with The New York Times January 2013

Scientists optimistically imagine the benefits their discoveries can bring, but science doesn’t necessarily lead to good. Decisions about how to use science shouldn’t be left to scientists and policymakers. Those working closely on a topic, surrounded by like-minded people, sometimes don’t ask the most basic “what if” questions. Laypeople often suggest ways of making the impacts of science more equitable or acceptable, and they spot issues to tackle. Scientists and the public must communicate. Societies and citizens need to understand science well enough to work out which developments are welcome, and which need caution and careful monitoring.

This happened in Britain in 2008, during discussions about how new substances called “nano-materials”, made from matter on a scale about the size of atoms, may be applied to medical care. In a public dialogue run by a science funder, a diverse mix of laypeople explored which medical projects should be funded. Over several months, they learned about various proposals and discussed their thinking with researchers. Scientists had been excited about “theranostics”, where implanted devices would both diagnose and treat illnesses in people automatically, giving insulin for diabetes, for example. The non-scientists were less enthusiastic. They thought people need to remain in charge of their health, learning how their bodies behave so they can monitor and control their own illnesses, rather than be tended by machines. They were also less enthusiastic about developing nano-materials for use in hospitals as self-cleaning surfaces. The non-scientists just wanted good rules of hygiene to be followed and hospitals properly cleaned. The scientists and funders had not considered these issues. A group of scientists ultimately decided which proposals to fund. Areas the public representatives had voiced concern about were not funded.

Scientists can be prompted by a question from the media, a child or an adult to open a new research area or question a long-held assumption. My colleague Paul Valdes, a professor of climate modelling at the University of Bristol, says a question from the media made him think of a completely new method for modelling past climates and has already led to five papers and new collaborations. During my PhD research studying a remarkable biodegradable plastic made by bacteria rather than oil, a group of American scientists discovered that they could get plants to grow the plastic. They put two different genes from bacteria into different cress plants and “mated” the plants, which then grew tiny nodules of plastic in their leaves. This was around 1995, before widespread concern about genetically modified crops.

Not one scientist from across different disciplines or countries at the conferences I attended on the plastic asked if this was a good idea. Everyone was just too excited at the prospect of making the plastic more economically viable. (Uses for this plastic, now sold under the trade name Biopol, include internal  sutures that are biodegradable.)  I first pondered the “what if” question when a women at a public talk I was giving asked what might happen if the genes that made cress plants grow plastic crossed into other plants. In that moment, I realised the importance of wider perspectives about my work, and science in general.

So, why does the Higgs-boson matter? It was a crucial missing piece in the puzzle of why things are the way they are. Scientists had not been sure about why particles have mass. Understanding something so basic about mass, the building blocks of matter, the building blocks that make us, the planets and the stars is likely to affect our daily lives, we just don’t yet know how.

Peter Higgs suggested that mass could be explained using a new particle, the Higgs boson. Some of the fundamental particles that make up our universe hardly “feel” this Higgs boson—they fly right past it—so they have a small mass, or no mass at all. Others that “feel” it more strongly have larger masses. Finding that the boson exists suggests that this is how particles have their mass. As a comedian put it: “Without Higgs everything would just ping around at the speed of light, not interact, and we couldn’t sit on stuff.” If you remove everything from a space, the Higgs still remains. It’s everywhere. It’s not just another particle in the “zoo” of subatomic particles. It gives other particles their mass. If it gives rise to mass, effectively, it gives rise to us all. It was there fractions of a second after the universe began. It’s the beginning particle. Maybe that’s why Nobel Prize winner Leon Lederman called his book on the Higgs boson The God Particle. The Higgs solves a long mystery in understanding our universe. It’s simply remarkable that it was predicted nearly 50 years ago. Scientists couldn’t prove it back then but thought it must exist because mathematics suggested it: that to maintain symmetry in the equations describing particles, a new and totally different particle was needed. It sounds like such a crazy idea. At the time, many thought it was.

The idea of maintaining symmetry seems almost romantic. But part of the beauty of physics is that mathematics can unlock secrets, and that striving for simplicity and symmetry can be the surest way of finding what’s really going on, not just here on earth, but right across the universe. It’s spine-tingling that with all the glorious messiness of life and existence, some elegant equations transcend space and time.

Kathy Sykes is professor of sciences and society at the University of Bristol