IMAGE: Houghton Mifflin

The Trouble With Physics: The Rise of String Theory, the Fall of a Science, and What Comes Next: Lee Smolin; Houghton Mifflin, Boston; ISBN 978-0-618-55105-7; US $26

Is there a danger that string theory will become detached from reality, that it will become a so-called pathological science?

I think that “pathological science” may be too strong, but there are things that worry me. It’s not ideal science. Identifying a field of science with one untested theory is a problem. It’s a problem when individual researchers define themselves by saying, “I am a string theorist” or “My research group is a string-theory group.” A large number of people are professionally, intellectually, and emotionally overcommitted to one conjecture or hypothesis in a way that I think is unhealthy for science.

How did this state of affairs arise?

American universities expanded very quickly between World War II and the mid-1970s. During this time, there was not much pressure on young people to find positions. A great diversity of people and research styles came in to the academic world that could be comfortably supported. This generation made American science dominant in the world. Then the expansion stopped, and the academic world became very competitive.

But we didn’t think about how to optimize academic science in the face of scarce resources. We failed to discuss how to make sure we diversified investment in risky areas and how to make sure that certain kinds of people who don’t quite fit the mold of a normal scientist, but who still turn out to be necessary for science, are included. I mean the kind of people who just go around and wander between fields, talk to everybody, and ask really good, provocative questions.

Instead, problem solving within a narrowly defined domain became codified as what a professional scientist is. Academic science hasn’t done what people have done in, for example, high-tech business, which is to think about how to optimize investments with what are now sparse and scarce resources, such as university positions and research funding. What happens now is that a university department has one appointment to make at a time, maybe once every five to 10 years.

If a department has a group of three or four people doing x, whether x is string theory or superconductivity research, and a faculty appointment comes up, that group tends to hire in the area that they know. This is because they believe in what they are doing, and secondly, they and their friends and colleagues have students who need positions in this competitive environment.

How can we encourage more diversity in appointments?

The department or university as a whole, as well as funding agencies like the U.S. National Science Foundation, are going to have to get involved and counter the tendency of research groups to replicate themselves. Another thing is the role of diverse funding sources. One can look to the United Kingdom, where there are multiple ways that an academic can be supported. For example, the Royal Society there makes 10-year appointments for gifted young people. This makes it possible for a university to hire that person into a permanent position, with the understanding that if the person lives up to their promise, the university will support them thereafter. As a result, the universities have supported the careers of some remarkable mavericks who in the American system would have had trouble getting started.

There is also a big role for independent foundations and philanthropy. For example, I work at the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics [in Waterloo, Ont., Canada], which was founded by Mike Lazaridis [the man behind the ultra­successful BlackBerry], and which advocates that there are different approaches to quantum gravity. The point is that Mike Lazaridis chose a way to take $100 million and do much more science than he would have done had he just donated that $100 million to 15 universities.

What has been the reaction to your book from the physics community?

Mixed! I do get a lot of very positive feedback—a lot from people outside the string community saying, “Thank you for saying this,” “Somebody finally has to say this,” “This is long overdue,” et cetera. From some string theorists, I also hear complimentary things, even from some people who say that their ­scientific judgment disagrees with me, but they agree about the sociological issues, the way that I have framed the question. I know that a number of people in the string-theory community are very unhappy about the book.

Some string theorists have approached it in a very professional way and communicated with me in blogs, private e-mail, and conversations. We discuss it, and it’s fine. Nothing has changed my overall conclusion so far, but I’m open-minded. A small number of people have been nasty, both in things that they’ve written and things that they’ve said to journalists and other people. I think that that’s unfortunate, because it doesn’t contribute to science; you’re not going to solve problems by calling me names. There is an irony here in that I’m actually very conflict-adverse in person. I lose some sleep when I hear that somebody whom I respect a great deal is very unhappy or angry with the book. I like to think that if they sat down and read it carefully, they wouldn’t be angry, although I can’t promise that.

I hope it’s clear that the things I’ve been talking about—changes in funding practices and so on—are not aimed at string theory in particular but are addressing general issues and would be healthy and helpful for science overall.