The Legacy of Enrico Fermi and the Quest for New Elements

Enrico Fermi, recognized as Italy's top physicist, achieved the remarkable feat of becoming a professor at the young age of 24. Despite his academic success, he faced financial struggles, contrasting sharply with the wealth often associated with prominent figures in science.

Fermi and his team embarked on the ambitious project of creating a new element, a task that involved manipulating protons and neutrons. The periodic table of Fermi's time had significant gaps, particularly in the middle regions, where elements like Technetium and Francium were missing, indicating the potential for discovery.

Fermi explained the concept of nuclear decay, using Carbon-12 and Carbon-14 as examples. Carbon-14, with an imbalance of neutrons, undergoes beta-minus decay, transforming into Nitrogen by converting one of its extra neutrons into a proton, illustrating how slight changes in atomic structure can lead to entirely different elements.

Fermi's innovative approach involved bombarding elements with neutrons to artificially create new elements. However, after conducting experiments, he and his team faced the challenge of confirming their results against known chemistry, ultimately leading to the realization that they might have created elements 93 and 94.

On November 10, 1938, significant historical events unfolded, including the Night of Broken Glass in Germany and the implementation of anti-Semitic laws in Italy. Fermi's Jewish wife, Laura, faced immediate danger, prompting the family to flee Italy without hesitation, marking a pivotal moment in their lives.

Upon arriving in the United States, Fermi discovered that his earlier claims of creating new elements were incorrect; instead, he had inadvertently achieved a groundbreaking scientific milestone—nuclear fission. This revelation, confirmed by subsequent experiments in Berlin, demonstrated that Fermi had split an atom, fundamentally altering the understanding of atomic science.

The narrative begins by referencing a significant event that occurred half a century ago, setting the stage for a story about Victor Ninov and his contributions to the field of nuclear physics.

The speaker introduces the periodic table, emphasizing that while it displays elements with unique proton counts, it does not fully represent the complexity of nuclides, which can have varying numbers of neutrons, leading to thousands of possible combinations beyond the mere dozens of elements.

A detailed explanation of a chart depicting nuclear stability is provided, where the X-axis represents the number of neutrons and the Y-axis represents the number of protons. Each square on the chart corresponds to a possible nucleus, illustrating the relationship between protons and neutrons in elements like Hydrogen and Helium.

The speaker discusses the competing forces within a nucleus: the strong nuclear force, which binds protons and neutrons together, and the repulsive force between positively charged protons. The balance of these forces determines the stability of a nucleus, with neutrons contributing to stability by not repelling each other.

The concept of half-life is introduced, with the height of pillars on the stability chart representing the half-life of stable nuclei. A taller pillar indicates greater stability, and the speaker notes that for lighter elements, stability is achieved when the number of protons equals the number of neutrons.

The speaker describes a 'path of stability' on the chart, illustrating that as one moves away from this path, nuclei become increasingly unstable. The discussion includes the implications of straying from this path, with examples of stable and unstable nuclei represented by different colors on the chart.

The narrative explains the concept of radioactive decay, where unstable nuclei undergo transformations, such as losing protons or neutrons, leading to a cascade of changes until a stable nucleus is reached. The speaker likens this process to tides, suggesting that all paths in nuclear physics eventually lead back to stability.

Enrico Fermi is highlighted as a pioneering figure in nuclear physics, who began his journey in the field and made significant discoveries over the next 50 years. His most notable achievement was the construction of the first nuclear reactor, although he eventually shifted focus away from the hunt for new elements.

The narrative transitions to the discovery of element 93, which took place at the University of California, Berkeley, during a time when the institution was a hub for element hunting. The use of a cyclotron, a type of particle accelerator, is mentioned as a crucial tool for creating new elements, emphasizing the need for precision in the process.

In a groundbreaking moment, Berkeley's advanced tool successfully targeted neutrons, leading to the discovery of Neptunium, a radioactive element. This significant finding was officially confirmed, although the initial publication faced silence and lack of acknowledgment from the scientific community, as America had not yet entered World War II, leaving the lab's top scientists preoccupied with the Manhattan Project.

Glen Seaborg, a descendant of Swedish immigrants, had his family name altered upon arriving at Ellis Island. His journey in chemistry began at a young age, and he later added an extra 'N' to his name. At 24, he was approached by the Radiation lab to take over a project, marking the start of his significant contributions to nuclear chemistry.

Seaborg's work led to the production of Plutonium, a crucial element for the Manhattan Project. He explained the delicate process of creating Plutonium by adding a neutron to Uranium, which could beta decay, and emphasized the complexity of the reactions involved, likening it to a fragile game.

As the Manhattan Project progressed, Seaborg and his team at Berkeley discovered several elements sequentially: Element 93 (Neptunium), Element 94 (Plutonium), Element 95 (Americium), Element 96 (Curium), and Element 97 (Berkelium). The timeline of discoveries was marked by significant historical events, including the atomic bombings of Hiroshima, which underscored the urgency and impact of their work.

The groundbreaking discoveries at Berkeley culminated in recognition from the Nobel Academy, awarding Edwin McMillan and Glen Seaborg for their contributions to nuclear chemistry. Their work led to the identification of Elements 99 (Einsteinium) and 100 (Fermium), named in honor of Albert Einstein and Enrico Fermi, both of whom had passed away shortly before the discoveries.

By 1945, the gaps in the periodic table were filled with the isolation of elements 43, 87, 85, and 61, paving the way for the exploration of superheavy elements. Seaborg's career advanced significantly as he was poised to become the head of the Atomic Energy Commission, further solidifying his role in the field of nuclear science.

Seaborg was closely associated with the development of atomic fuel and played a significant role in efforts to limit the spread of nuclear weapons. However, the narrative diverges from his story as the discussion shifts to the geopolitical implications of nuclear research.

The process of element hunting is likened to shooting birds at night, emphasizing the difficulty and randomness involved. The setup involves a target and a bullet, where both are often radioactive, making direct hits challenging. The odds of success are extremely low, akin to a roulette game with millions of attempts needed to achieve a breakthrough.

The cost of elements varies dramatically; for instance, a gram of Uranium costs about 13 cents, while a gram of Einsteinium is priced at approximately $27 million. This stark difference highlights the financial barriers in element hunting, where only those with substantial resources can afford to pursue rarer elements.

Georgy Flerov, a key figure in the Soviet nuclear program, recognized the abrupt halt in physics publications during World War II and deduced that scientists were focused on bomb development. He advocated for the Soviet Union to allocate resources towards nuclear research, which led to the establishment of the Joint Institute for Nuclear Research (JINR) in Dubna.

The competition for discovering new elements escalated into the Transfermium Wars, characterized by disputes between labs in Sweden, Berkeley, and Dubna. Each claimed discoveries of new elements, but methodological differences led to skepticism and accusations of unreliability. Berkeley's experiments faced setbacks, including evacuations, while Dubna claimed multiple discoveries, further complicating the verification process.

The rivalry between American and Soviet scientists was exacerbated by differing methodologies for confirming new elements. The Soviets preferred cheaper detectors that guaranteed some detection, while Americans focused on tracking alpha decay chains. This divergence led to disputes over the validity of findings, with some good data being dismissed due to biases, stalling progress in element discovery.

When Berkeley claimed the discovery of Curium, they had only 5000 atoms of it, illustrating the challenges of working with elements that have very short half-lives. As the element hunt progressed, the quantities required for verification became increasingly difficult to obtain, complicating the race for new discoveries.

The discussion highlights the challenges faced in nuclear physics, particularly the decay of singular atoms and the impracticality of continuing without significant breakthroughs. It notes that out of 218 Nobel Prize winners in this field, only four have been women, with Marie Curie being the first in the early 20th century, recognized for her pioneering work in radiation.

The concept of 'magic numbers' in nuclear physics is introduced, where certain nuclei exhibit greater stability. This idea was notably advanced by Maria Goeppert-Mayer in 1963, who visualized protons and neutrons as dancers in a room, suggesting that specific configurations (magic numbers) lead to more stable nuclei. The known magic numbers include 2, 8, and 20, corresponding to elements like helium and oxygen.

The discussion delves into the significance of double magic nuclei, which possess both magic numbers of protons and neutrons, making them exceptionally stable. An example provided is element 208, which is considered double magic due to its configuration. The narrative emphasizes the importance of these stable elements in the context of nuclear physics.

The 'magic island' theory is introduced, suggesting a region in the nuclear landscape where elements with specific neutron counts (like 184) could exist stably. This theory implies that elements could potentially be synthesized by starting from the edge of the nuclear cliff, reversing the traditional approach of building elements from lighter to heavier.

Element 106 marked a pivotal moment in nuclear research, with its discovery contested by teams from Berkeley and Dubna in the same month. The narrative describes a shift in tactics during the 1980s, where researchers began using heavier targets like lead instead of radioactive materials, leading to a more efficient synthesis of new elements. This period saw collaboration among three major research institutions: Berkeley, Dubna, and GSI in Germany.

The role of IUPAC in naming new elements is discussed, highlighting the complexities involved in the naming process, especially when multiple teams claim discovery. The organization established rules that required elements to be stable enough to exist for a certain duration. A notable outcome was the naming of element 106 as Seaborgium, honoring Glenn T. Seaborg, who passed away two years after the name was assigned, marking a significant moment in the history of chemistry.

The collapse of the Soviet Union severely impacted the Dubna laboratory, leading to a dire situation for the Russian economy, which was described as a 'garbage fire.' Many non-Russian scientists left for private sector jobs, and there were fears that the lab might close down. However, the lab was saved by an unexpected partnership with Livermore Labs in California, which allowed them to continue their research.

Dubna and Livermore Labs initially focused on creating a new element, aiming to produce a stable isotope by firing Calcium-48 at Plutonium-244. In 1998, they successfully created an atom with 114 protons and 176 neutrons, marking a significant achievement in nuclear physics. This discovery supported the theory of the 'island of stability,' although IUPAC required further verification.

The German team at GSI, despite facing challenges due to their own country's economic struggles, quickly regained their footing and began to make significant discoveries. They managed to produce element 111 by swapping their target from lead to bismuth, achieving this in just two months. Following this, they discovered element 112 within a week, completing a remarkable hat-trick of three elements in a row, thus overtaking Berkeley in the race for new elements.

Victor Ninov, born in Bulgaria in 1959, became a prominent figure in the field of physics. After emigrating to West Germany, he studied physics in the city where GSI is located. Known for his eccentric personality, Ninov was not only a physicist but also a biking enthusiast and a violin player. His adventurous spirit was evident in his travels, including sailing and flying a small aircraft. He became integral to GSI's success, particularly in the digital transformation of their research processes.

Ninov played a crucial role in the co-discovery of elements 110, 111, and 112, which made him a key figure in the scientific community. His expertise in computer technology and software development significantly advanced the lab's capabilities, allowing for more efficient data analysis and element discovery. This success, however, led to a scandal orchestrated by Al Ghiorso, who had a storied history in the field of nuclear physics.

Al Ghiorso's journey in nuclear physics began in the mid-1940s when he met two secretaries while installing equipment. One of these women, Wilma Belt, would later play a significant role in his life. Ghiorso's talent for creating homemade Geiger counters and his collaboration with his friends led to groundbreaking discoveries in the field, solidifying his legacy as a pioneer in the discovery of new elements.

Al Ghiorso emerged as the de facto head of Berkeley's research team, a role he was well-suited for. In the 1940s, he was known for his adventurous spirit, often racing up the hill to the Berkeley accelerator at illegal speeds, demonstrating his dedication to his work. Despite his achievements, he never collected a significant prize, highlighting his humble nature.

Excited by the potential of Victor Ninov, a young rising star at Berkeley, Ghiorso saw an opportunity for collaboration. Ninov was tasked with data analysis while Ken Gregorich, who had overseen the construction of Berkeley's Separator, was responsible for the equipment. This collaboration aimed to build a more convincing experiment to validate claims made by Dubna and Livermore regarding new elements.

The team faced significant challenges, including the need for a safe experimental setup in densely populated San Francisco. Robert Smolanczuk, a theoretical physicist from Poland, proposed a new approach, suggesting they skip elements 113 and aim for element 118 by firing Krypton-86 at a target. His unconventional plan was to achieve results without producing radioactive byproducts, which was a significant departure from traditional methods.

Smolanczuk's calculations suggested that the probability of successfully creating element 118 was higher than previously thought, despite conventional wisdom indicating it was nearly impossible. He introduced the concept of 'barns' as a unit of measurement for collision probabilities, explaining that achieving a reaction measured in picobarns would be extremely challenging and costly, potentially requiring hundreds of thousands of dollars for minimal results.

On April 8, 1999, the experiment commenced, coinciding with the Easter break when most of the lab staff were away. However, Ninov remained to oversee the process. Just 11 days later, lab director Darleane Hoffman received unexpected news, initially fearing it would be negative due to the short timeframe. Ken Gregorich reassured her that the results were promising, marking a significant moment in their research journey.

Darleane Hoffman faced numerous challenges throughout her career, including gender bias in a male-dominated field. After her father's sudden passing, she was forced to balance personal grief with academic responsibilities, even taking a quantum chemistry test under emotional distress. Despite these obstacles, she persevered, achieving success in her field, which underscored her resilience and determination.

Darleane Hoffman experienced a significant moment in her career after a four-month wait for results. She was eager to discover a new element, particularly after a phone call that hinted at a breakthrough. Shortly after, her colleagues Gregorich and Victor Ninov presented her with incredible findings related to element 114, which had not been discovered in 25 years. The team was filled with disbelief and excitement as they prepared to validate their findings through further experiments.

In June 1999, Darleane Hoffman and her colleague Ghiorso announced the discovery of two new elements, marking a significant achievement in their field. The paper detailing their findings was submitted to the journal Physical Review. Victor Ninov, who played a crucial role in the discovery, was the first author, showcasing the collaborative effort of the team, which included semi-retired Ghiorso.

Despite the initial excitement, the Berkeley team faced challenges in reproducing the alpha decay chain recorded by Ninov. By the end of 1999, various labs attempted to replicate the results but encountered difficulties, leading to confusion and concern within the scientific community. Ninov, meanwhile, was actively discussing his findings at conferences, but the Berkeley team struggled to understand the discrepancies in their experiments.

In Spring 2000, Berkeley initiated an independent study under I-Yang Lee's supervision to verify the existence of element 118. By Fall 2000, this new team also found no evidence of the decay chain, prompting Berkeley to overhaul their detection procedures. They meticulously checked the purity of their materials and considered the possibility of contamination, ultimately discovering that their beam was primarily Krypton.

By April 2001, Berkeley was ready to resume testing for element 118. In May, they finally detected a single alpha decay chain, once again reported by Victor Ninov. However, doubts arose as a postdoc named Don Peterson, who was also analyzing the data, concluded that element 118 was not present. This led to growing concerns within Berkeley about the validity of their findings and the implications for their research.

In June 2001, Darleane Hoffman organized a working group to thoroughly review all data related to the detection of element 118. This led to the establishment of three committees to investigate the findings, ultimately shifting the focus from mere experimentation to accountability within the research team. The investigation was extensive, covering various aspects of the experiments and their results, indicating a serious commitment to resolving the discrepancies.

The discussion categorizes the main arguments into three distinct areas: Statistical, Technical, and Identity. The Statistical argument focuses on the likelihood of events occurring, while the Technical argument examines the reliability of the data collection program, and the Identity argument seeks to identify who, if anyone, is to blame for the discrepancies observed.

The statistical analysis revealed that when other labs attempted to verify the findings, they had a higher chance of producing results than Berkeley, which was capped at 1.6 x 10^18 Krypton. GSI and RIKEN combined had a total of 4.9, suggesting that statistically, they should have observed around three times the expected results. However, the actual outcomes were deemed unlikely, raising questions about the validity of the data.

H.K. Schmidt conducted an analysis of elements 110 and 118, emphasizing that the decay of a radioactive atom can vary significantly in time, necessitating the analysis of multiple atoms to establish a reliable distribution. The data for element 110 conformed to expected behavior, but the decay patterns for element 118 were erratic, with only 0.82% of one million random trials yielding results that could be considered real.

The technical argument highlighted issues with the GOOSY program, known for its unreliability and glitches that could corrupt data. The frequency of these problems necessitated an experienced user to interpret the data accurately. The New York Times likened the situation to 'monkeys banging on typewriters,' suggesting that the likelihood of obtaining five pristine alpha decay chains from a malfunctioning program was exceedingly low.

The investigation focused on two significant runs in 1999: Run 013 from April 8-12, which detected three alpha decays, and Run 015 from April 30, both of which were included in the published paper. A subsequent run in 2001 also detected an alpha decay chain. The committee confirmed that the original data from these runs had not been altered, although the original data tape was missing, raising concerns about potential tampering.

Despite the original data being intact, a disk file was found and analyzed, revealing no hits for element 118, which was considered odd. The investigation delved deeper into the GOOSY outputs, examining a massive running log of events. It was noted that while some events matched predictions, discrepancies appeared later in the log, indicating possible tampering that was not immediately visible.

During the investigation, five exceptions were noted in the GOOSY printouts, including a detection of a 200 Mb file that the computer running GOOSY should not have been able to process. The committee speculated that someone might have manipulated the raw data, running it through GOOSY to produce altered outputs that were then saved, effectively overwriting the original log files.

The log files from 1999 were scrutinized, revealing that while the outputs matched those published, the energy and time values had been altered. This raised significant concerns about the integrity of the data presented in the published paper, suggesting that the discrepancies were not merely accidental but indicative of deeper issues within the data collection and reporting processes.

The discussion begins with concerns about the integrity of data in a paper, suggesting that values were manipulated to align with expectations, particularly in relation to data from GOOSY. This raises alarms about potential misconduct, especially if log files were tampered with, leading to the discovery of suspicious log files linked to Victor Ninov.

As the investigation unfolds, Ninov, the accused, is placed on paid administrative leave and hires legal counsel, indicating his determination to contest the allegations. Despite lacking direct evidence of wrongdoing, Ninov's involvement in the project comes under scrutiny, particularly after he announced a significant detection that drew attention to the raw data files.

The committee's investigation reveals that the original data submitted by Ninov was not thoroughly verified, leading to questions about the authenticity of the findings. When pressed, Ninov provides various versions of his data, claiming that others in the lab could have accessed his account and altered files, a defense that the committee finds plausible but problematic due to the lack of oversight.

In October 2001, Berkeley submits letters to the Physical Review Letters (PRL) regarding the situation, but the journal declines to retract the paper, citing Ninov's refusal to cooperate fully. This situation highlights the standard policies of journals regarding retractions and the implications of Ninov's limited engagement with the committee.

As the investigation progresses, Ninov's relationships with colleagues deteriorate, with Walter Loveland noting a significant shift in how others perceive him. Ninov's administrative leave is followed by his official termination in May 2002, after which he files a grievance that yields no results. The eventual retraction of the paper occurs nearly a year later, with no coauthors implicated, raising concerns about the reliance on Ninov as the sole expert in the research.

The fallout from the investigation severely impacts Berkeley's reputation, with insiders acknowledging the disaster it caused. Ken Gregorich and Darleane Hoffman reflect on the dark period, emphasizing the mortification felt by those involved, particularly as their names were associated with a paper that ultimately proved to be based on questionable data. The incident serves as a cautionary tale about the importance of integrity in scientific research.

Victor Ninov's professional reputation was severely damaged after a retracted paper, transforming his resume from a golden asset to a warning sign. Sigurd Hofmann, Ninov's former boss at GSI, noted that while elements 110 to 112 had been verified by other researchers, Ninov's involvement with the lab's GOOSY program raised concerns. Hofmann recalled an incident where Ninov delayed showing a printout of his findings, which ultimately lacked crucial data, leading to confusion and suspicion about the integrity of his work.

Sigurd Hofmann discovered that Ninov had manipulated data related to a decay chain for element 111, indicating an attempt to fake five new elements. This manipulation was evident in the raw data files, which showed only radioactive background, while Ninov's computer contained altered individual numbers. Despite the initial publication's legitimacy, the follow-up paper from GSI acknowledged inconsistencies without directly naming Ninov, hinting at the broader implications of his actions.

The competitive landscape of the element race was highlighted, with institutions like Berkeley, once dominant, becoming increasingly desperate for recognition. Ninov, a young researcher with ties to three elements, was seen as a potential asset, but his unique software knowledge created a precarious situation. The context of this race, coupled with the high-profile frauds of Jan Hendrik Schon and Ninov, prompted the Physical Society to revise its guidelines, emphasizing the need for accountability among coauthors.

The motivations behind Ninov's fraudulent actions remain unclear, contrasting with Schon, who was driven by pressure to produce results. Some speculate that Ninov sought to establish his legacy by claiming discoveries, despite the inherent risks. Al Ghiorso's remark encapsulated the mystery surrounding Ninov's actions, questioning what he stood to gain, especially given that his friend Glenn Seaborg would have been a co-author, potentially leading to personal and professional ruin for both.

Following the fallout from the fraud, Victor Ninov transitioned away from physics, taking on various engineering roles since 2006. Now in his 60s, he no longer holds a position in the academic field, and the exact motives behind his actions may never be fully understood. Hofmann's investigation into Ninov's claims about seeing element 110 on November 11 raised further questions, particularly in light of the peculiarities surrounding German carnival dates.

The discussion begins with a reference to the armistice day coinciding with the claims made by Ninov, which Sigurd interprets as a possible joke or taunt. Although the claim appears weak on its own, it is noted that element 118, another of Ninov's claims, was linked to a birthday, suggesting a potential pattern in his claims.

The narrative shifts to the labs that survived the scrutiny surrounding Ninov's claims, specifically Dubna and Livermore. It is highlighted that in the same year Ninov was dismissed, these labs made claims for elements 116 and 118, and the following year, they also claimed element 115. This collaboration was seen as a formidable force in the scientific community, overshadowing other labs like Berkeley and GSI.

Unexpectedly, the Livermore group was approached by researcher Ken Gregorich, who confirmed their discovery of element 114, following the embarrassment from Ninov's earlier claims. IUPAC officially recognized elements 114 and 116 in 2012, with their names honoring the California city of Berkeley, where significant research was conducted.

The conversation introduces the RIKEN Institute in Japan as a new challenger in the field of element discovery. RIKEN's advanced accelerator technology allowed them to break a decade-long stalemate in the search for new elements, leading to the discovery of element 113. Despite the end of the Cold War, new rivalries emerged in the scientific community.

Element 118 was named in honor of Yuri Oganessian, the long-time director of the Dubna lab, making him only the second living person to have an element named after him, following Glenn Seaborg. This element marks the conclusion of the seventh row of the periodic table, with discussions about the potential existence of an eighth row.

The focus turns to the future of element discovery, particularly elements 119 and 120, which are anticipated to be found by either RIKEN or Dubna-Livermore. Various experimental approaches are being explored, including using Vanadium and Curium by RIKEN and Titanium by Dubna-Livermore, with Calcium-48 identified as the best target material for producing element 119.

The discussion concludes with a reflection on the practical implications of these new elements in real-life chemistry. While some elements have contributed to advancements in cancer treatment and nuclear reactors, the majority exist only briefly and may not have significant utility. The speaker likens the pursuit of these elements to a childhood experiment with LEGO blocks, emphasizing the intrinsic curiosity driving scientific exploration.