Lise Meitner (1878-1968) was born in Vienna, where she first studied physics at the University of Vienna under Ludwig Boltzmann. She earned her doctorate in 1906 (the second woman at the university of Vienna to do so in physics) under Franz Exner for a dissertation entitled Test of a Formula of Maxwell's. Already at this time, Meitner had shown evidence of a scientific precocity and taste for ambition. In fall of '07 she moved to Berlin where she attended Max Planck's lectures at the Friedrich-Wilhelm-Universitat and was introduced to Otto Hahn, then an Assistent in the Chemistry Institute headed by Emil Fischer.
From that point on, the story of the Meitner-Hahn collaboration accelerates, culminating in the discovery of fission some thirty years. With the exception of a brief period during the first world war, these thirty years are story of scientific discovery at breakneck speed: the discovery of 231-Pa, a long-live isotope of the element protactinium; early description of the Auger effect (predating the account of Pierre Auger, for whom the effect is named); the search for the "trans-uranes", elements heavier than uranium, the heaviest element known at the time; and, stemming from this work on high molecular weight radioactive isotopes, the discovery of nuclear fission. These were heady times. One can only imagine at the inspiration to any junior scientist in the audience of the "Wednesday colloquium" (and intimidation to the speaker): evidently, Einstein, Planck, Laue, Nernst, and Haber sat in the first row while Meitner, Baeyer, Franck, Geiger, Hertz, and "others not quite so distinguished" would occupy rows two and three (p. 96)
And that is only the scientific story. Overlapping this period of intense scientific activity in the '30s is a story of social unease and political strife, and the rise of the Third Reich. The time leading to Meitner's own eleventh hour escape from Germany was fraught with fear and confusion, not only, but especially, for Meitner. The narrative is captivating, of course. How could it not be. But, this is more than a biography of a near catastrophe. For, what one sees most clearly is how institutions like the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Institut become overwhelmed by the sea of politics surrounding it and above all how important are the personalities of the characters. One sees not just the development of scientific ideas as a social process, but the execution of experimental research, the resistance or capitulation of scientists to serve political ends, and the shortsightedness of the involved parties, even among the more clear-headed ones (except, perhaps for Einstein).
The story, after this climax, comprises not much more than a sad, and very lengthy, denouement. Her long time collaborator and friend Otto Hahn received the Nobel prize for the discovery of fission -- without Meitner, despite her crucial involvement in the discovery. Worse, after World War II, Hahn distanced himself from Meitner, possibly as a psychological defense in the face of the patent unfairness of his being the sole recipient of the prize and/or his continued involvement in German science throughout the war (though Hahn did not work on the German bomb project). Thus, Meitner lost not only the credit for her contribution to the discovery of fission, she also lost a deep friend in the process. Europe's loss of great physicists was America's gain. It was Meitner's loss, too. She lost many friends to America and spent most of the remaining years of research feeling isolated and alienated (but at least employed) at the Nobel Institute for Experimental Physics in Stockholm, Sweden.
Why is the story of Lise Meitner, co-discoverer of nuclear fission, student of Boltzmann, colleague of Einstein, second woman recipient of the physics doctorate at the University of Vienna not more widely known to reader's of science history? Partly it is because out of modesty (or a sense of propriety too tightly wound?) she did not tout her own discoveries. This cannot be said of many of the more well known physicists of the period. Partly it was due to the continuous, if sometimes subtle, prejudice she experienced as a woman scientist in an era and discipline dominated by men. Indeed, the domination of the discipline by men is striking. There is a photograph reproduced in this book of 41 of the world's most prominent physicists of the time (most of the names will be known to the reader knowledgeable in the history of science). Only two are women: Lise Meitner and Irene Joliot-Curie. Finally, at least partly it is that while Meitner was a lover of physics and science, she was not a careerist. For reasons of psychological inertia and her preference for continental Europe, Meitner several times rejected occasions to move that would have advanced her opportunities and reputation.
Lise Meitner is doubtless the best book I've read so far this year. In my judgment, it belongs with other great books of the period and topic--American Prometheus, the biography of J. Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird and Martin Sherwin, and The Nazi Doctors, by Robert Jay Lifton--books that simultaneously touch one with both the humanity and inhumanity of science's history. Like these, the characters are alternately charming and winsome, quirky, malicious, or downright evil. Like these, the narrative is absorbing. Like these, a greater number of questions are raised than answered. The reader is challenged to wonder if society's aims, manifested in the unstable political ends of the temporarily powerful--and influential to science in the funding, propogandization, and institutionalization of research--are indeed proper guides to the path of scientific discovery. But, to whom else is science responsible? To whom could it be responsible? And, above all, how has the emergence of technologically advanced societies affected our moral well-being? To these and related questions, history is very much an imperfect guide.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 License.
From that point on, the story of the Meitner-Hahn collaboration accelerates, culminating in the discovery of fission some thirty years. With the exception of a brief period during the first world war, these thirty years are story of scientific discovery at breakneck speed: the discovery of 231-Pa, a long-live isotope of the element protactinium; early description of the Auger effect (predating the account of Pierre Auger, for whom the effect is named); the search for the "trans-uranes", elements heavier than uranium, the heaviest element known at the time; and, stemming from this work on high molecular weight radioactive isotopes, the discovery of nuclear fission. These were heady times. One can only imagine at the inspiration to any junior scientist in the audience of the "Wednesday colloquium" (and intimidation to the speaker): evidently, Einstein, Planck, Laue, Nernst, and Haber sat in the first row while Meitner, Baeyer, Franck, Geiger, Hertz, and "others not quite so distinguished" would occupy rows two and three (p. 96)
And that is only the scientific story. Overlapping this period of intense scientific activity in the '30s is a story of social unease and political strife, and the rise of the Third Reich. The time leading to Meitner's own eleventh hour escape from Germany was fraught with fear and confusion, not only, but especially, for Meitner. The narrative is captivating, of course. How could it not be. But, this is more than a biography of a near catastrophe. For, what one sees most clearly is how institutions like the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Institut become overwhelmed by the sea of politics surrounding it and above all how important are the personalities of the characters. One sees not just the development of scientific ideas as a social process, but the execution of experimental research, the resistance or capitulation of scientists to serve political ends, and the shortsightedness of the involved parties, even among the more clear-headed ones (except, perhaps for Einstein).
The story, after this climax, comprises not much more than a sad, and very lengthy, denouement. Her long time collaborator and friend Otto Hahn received the Nobel prize for the discovery of fission -- without Meitner, despite her crucial involvement in the discovery. Worse, after World War II, Hahn distanced himself from Meitner, possibly as a psychological defense in the face of the patent unfairness of his being the sole recipient of the prize and/or his continued involvement in German science throughout the war (though Hahn did not work on the German bomb project). Thus, Meitner lost not only the credit for her contribution to the discovery of fission, she also lost a deep friend in the process. Europe's loss of great physicists was America's gain. It was Meitner's loss, too. She lost many friends to America and spent most of the remaining years of research feeling isolated and alienated (but at least employed) at the Nobel Institute for Experimental Physics in Stockholm, Sweden.
Why is the story of Lise Meitner, co-discoverer of nuclear fission, student of Boltzmann, colleague of Einstein, second woman recipient of the physics doctorate at the University of Vienna not more widely known to reader's of science history? Partly it is because out of modesty (or a sense of propriety too tightly wound?) she did not tout her own discoveries. This cannot be said of many of the more well known physicists of the period. Partly it was due to the continuous, if sometimes subtle, prejudice she experienced as a woman scientist in an era and discipline dominated by men. Indeed, the domination of the discipline by men is striking. There is a photograph reproduced in this book of 41 of the world's most prominent physicists of the time (most of the names will be known to the reader knowledgeable in the history of science). Only two are women: Lise Meitner and Irene Joliot-Curie. Finally, at least partly it is that while Meitner was a lover of physics and science, she was not a careerist. For reasons of psychological inertia and her preference for continental Europe, Meitner several times rejected occasions to move that would have advanced her opportunities and reputation.
Lise Meitner is doubtless the best book I've read so far this year. In my judgment, it belongs with other great books of the period and topic--American Prometheus, the biography of J. Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird and Martin Sherwin, and The Nazi Doctors, by Robert Jay Lifton--books that simultaneously touch one with both the humanity and inhumanity of science's history. Like these, the characters are alternately charming and winsome, quirky, malicious, or downright evil. Like these, the narrative is absorbing. Like these, a greater number of questions are raised than answered. The reader is challenged to wonder if society's aims, manifested in the unstable political ends of the temporarily powerful--and influential to science in the funding, propogandization, and institutionalization of research--are indeed proper guides to the path of scientific discovery. But, to whom else is science responsible? To whom could it be responsible? And, above all, how has the emergence of technologically advanced societies affected our moral well-being? To these and related questions, history is very much an imperfect guide.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 License.
