Should you be involved in political causes and
activism as a scientist? This was a question that squarely confronted many of the
twentieth century's scientists, and it heralded a meld of politics and science
that continues to challenge and haunt us today. No other scientific development
of the 20th century pushed the problem to the fore as much as the advent of
atomic energy, and in some sense, no two individuals showcased the dilemmas and
promises inherent in the participation of scientists in political affairs more
than Robert Oppenheimer and Hans Bethe. This difference in their perception
seems to have played a very significant role in the divergent paths their lives
took, and it is one that is well-explored for instance in Sam Schweber’s
outstanding contrasting study of Oppenheimer and Bethe, “In the Shadow of the
Bomb”.
Both Oppenheimer and Bethe were precocious and
were educated at the best universities in the world – Bethe at Munich and
Oppenheimer at Göttingen. They met when Bethe fled the Nazis for
the United States. Both of them became world-renowned for their accomplishments
in research and teaching and for establishing world-class centers of physics;
Oppenheimer at the University of California, Berkeley and Bethe at Cornell
University. Early on Oppenheimer recognized Bethe as a truly outstanding
theoretician and picked him to lead the important theoretical division of the
Manhattan Project at Los Alamos. In turn Bethe enormously respected
Oppenheimer's intellect, astonishingly quick mind and vast knowledge of diverse
fields. After the war both Bethe and Oppenheimer served as top consultants to
the government on atomic energy and defense. While Bethe spearheaded the
development of physics in the country from Cornell, Oppenheimer served as
director of the famed Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, where he worked
with individuals like Einstein, Dyson, Gödel and von Neumann. Both Bethe and
Oppenheimer acted as wise men who others consulted for advice on important
matters of science and policy. Both men remained very good friends till
Oppenheimer's death in 1967; Bethe was one of three speakers at
Oppenheimer’s memorial service.
On the other hand there were vast differences
which partly owed their provenance to each man's personality and which were
responsible for shaping their lives. Oppenheimer harbored a conflict of
personality and self-doubt throughout his life. He was insecure in his Jewish
identity whereas Bethe was largely indifferent to his Christian identity. While
both men were prodigiously talented, Oppenheimer often searched for the center
of his identity whereas Bethe was largely secure in his identity. Oppenheimer
could be conceited, had a sharp tongue and made enemies, enemies who finally
brought about his downfall in the government. Bethe on the other hand was one
of the most balanced and strong-willed scientists of the century. He displayed
remarkable equanimity and had rock solid self-confidence without a hint of
arrogance. He could be calm under the most trying of circumstances and served
as a sounding board on whom others could depend for sound advice. One of the
reasons Oppenheimer picked Bethe rather than his volatile friend Edward Teller
to lead the theoretical division of the project was because he knew that Bethe
was far more likely to persevere, soothe egos and carry projects through to
their end.
The
differences in personality also led to each man's politics being quite
different. While Bethe was avowedly liberal, his more balanced frame of mind
and dedication to science kept him from actively pursuing radical political
causes. Oppenheimer's soul-searching in the 30s led him to being associated
with a variety of left-wing organizations on the West Coast. His brother,
sister-in-law, wife, girlfriend and several students were active members of the
Communist Party. While membership in the party was considered much more
innocuous in the 30s than what it was later, I cannot imagine Bethe in a
similar position. Such left-wing associations of course meant little of
substance in Oppenheimer’s case and were common among intellectuals of that
depressing decade; they mostly indicated nothing more than naive idealism, but
nonetheless came to haunt Oppenheimer after the war. There is another
interesting and unseemly difference between the two men’s personal
relationships: Bethe was generally known to be very loyal to those he admired,
whereas Oppenheimer was more political and attuned to what direction the wind
was blowing in; this led to him denouncing a few of his left-wing colleagues as
communists after the war.
A reading of Schweber’s book and other sources
demonstrates that these great differences in personal traits were partly
responsible for the path that each man's life took. With his plodding approach
and enormous stamina, Bethe made contributions of astonishing breadth and depth
to modern physics, won a Nobel Prize and continued to work until his death at
the ripe age of 99. Oppenheimer's contributions were also outstanding but more
limited. Perhaps his greatest contribution was the founding of modern
theoretical physics in the United States, a school whose descendants continues
to place the United States at the forefront of physics research. Scientifically
his greatest feat was the discovery of black holes. Nonetheless, many people
thought his contributions were not commensurate with his brilliance, partly
because of his less focused approach and his being interested in several fields
of study (among other things, he was as interested in French poetry and
Sanskrit as he was in physics). Unlike Oppenheimer who in his friend Isidor
Rabi’s words often saw the frontiers of physics as “surrounded by a fog”, Bethe
was a practical man who stressed that he was not a philosopher, was
self-assured in his science and always drove for hard agreement with
experiment. He may not have been as quick as Oppenheimer, but he was more
thorough in his approach to both physics and life.
Bethe
served as a consultant to the government on important matters almost all his
life because he could be more gentle and diplomatic than Oppenheimer, who with
his sharp tongue and candid opinions quickly made powerful enemies. This led to
him being hauled in front of a tribunal which revoked his security clearance.
Wounded and depressed by this ungrateful action, Oppenheimer continued to
write, teach and speak on science and society but could not influence
government policy. On the other hand, Bethe continued to be more valuable as a
government advisor throughout his life partly because he knew how to compromise
and could be more diplomatic and modest than Oppenheimer. He could take courageous
stands, but these stands often came in the form of well-argued and
well-researched articles in magazines like Scientific American and the Bulletin
of the Atomic Scientists. He was a key voice advising the government on the
peaceful exploitation of atomic energy, and during the 80s he clashed with his
old friend Edward Teller on the feasibility of Ronald Reagan’s Strategic
Defense Initiative (‘Star Wars’). Even Republican administrations sought his
advice.
The
moral dilemmas generated by physics in the form of Oppenheimer and Bethe in the
twentieth century have been picked up by other fields, most notably biology and
climatology, in the twenty-first. As science grapples with more and more
politically inflammatory topics – climate change, the teaching of evolution,
stem cell research, recombinant DNA technology – scientists would do well to
heed the lessons offered by Oppenheimer and Bethe. The question before many of
them would be the following: should they take a more radical stance like
Oppenheimer and try to change policy in the short-term, or should they be more
plodding like Bethe and make modest but more solid contributions to policy in
the long-term?
