送交者: insight 于 2005-9-27, 20:10:20:
Return of the time lord
Stephen Hawking can only communicate by a twitch in his right cheek, yet his attempt to explain the universe to ordinary people has made him the world's most famous living scientist. His 1988 book, A Brief History of Time, clung to the bestseller lists for 237 weeks. It sold one copy for every 750 people on earth - even if they didn't all read it - and earned him cameos in cult shows such as the Simpsons and Star Trek. Here we publish an exclusive extract from his new, more accessible version while in a rare interview he talks to Emma Brockes about disability, why women can't read maps and thinking in 11 dimensions. And for those of a less scientific bent, we offer our briefest of brief histories
Tuesday September 27, 2005
The Guardian
Stephen Hawking and I get off to a bad start when the questions I send him ahead of the interview are returned the next day with a note: "I want shorter, better focused, numbered questions, not a stream of consciousness." A man for whom it takes 20 minutes to express a single thought, who, since the age of 21, has been told he is living on borrowed time is, of course, allowed to be curt. But if his success tells us anything, it is the folly of reading him solely through his condition. His tone might as easily be a sign of geekiness or superiority or intolerance of non-scientists. I re-send the questions, stripped of extraneous detail, and repair to Cambridge to meet him.
At 63, Hawking has already exceeded his life expectancy by some 40 years. His fame is as much a function of his illness as his science and he plays up to it good-naturedly, providing the voiceover for his cameo in the Simpsons, illustrating his books with cultish, Where's Wally-type photos of himself flying through space in his wheelchair and suffering the condescensions of the press with relative equanimity. With so little to go on, a personality has been created for him, based largely on assumptions of childish good humour. Hawking's smile is always "mischievous"; his propensity to mow people down in his wheelchair is japery rather than ill temper or a sign that - who knows? - were he able-bodied he might be a football hooligan. And although his ex-wife has called him a tyrant and his second wife been accused of maltreating him (the complaint was dropped), the romance of Hawking's image as a butterfly mind trapped in a diving-bell body overrides all others. After meeting him, I suspect that he is cannier at managing it than he is given credit for.
The first thing you notice when you enter his room in the £60m Centre for Mathematical Sciences, is white steam puffing out of a dehumidifier concealed in an ornament on his desk. The hard drive hums and something beeps. Hawking sits in the middle of the room attended by a nurse, one of the 10 who look after him. A PhD student pops his head around the door and says hi - Hawking supervises a small number in his capacity as the Lucasian professor of mathematics, a position once held by Isaac Newton - and the cosmologist either smiles or gears up to communicate. It is hard to tell. His mobility is so limited now that he can only use his finger to operate his computer when he is feeling particularly strong. Otherwise he relies on his right cheek, targeted by an infrared beam, which he twitches to move a cursor through his dictionary, completing a whole statement before sending it to his voice synthesizer. It is the same, agonisingly slow process whether he is speaking or writing and might explain why his latest book, A Briefer History of Time, is a rehash of the earlier blockbuster. It seeks to redress the criticism that lots of people bought the first book but very few got through it.
I ask him if there is enough new material in this second, easier version for people who bought the first one to buy it again. Hawking looks at me, then looks down at his screen and grimaces. There is a beep as he sends his pre-prepared answer to the voice synthesizer.
"My first popular book," he says, "A Brief History of Time, aroused a great deal of interest, but many found it difficult to understand. I decided to write a new version that would be easier to follow. I took the opportunity to add material about new developments and I left out some things of a more technical nature."
There is a long pause, two more beeps and a lot of strenuous cheek movement as he sends the next block of text. "The result is a book that is slightly briefer but it's made plain, more accessible. I would hope that people who have difficulty with A Brief History will try a Briefer History and be pleasantly surprised."
A Briefer History of Time is not exactly String Theory for Dummies. Like a lot of specialists, Hawking has trouble imagining what it might be like not to understand what he does, or rather, where the non-scientist's understanding will be weak and where strong. The book's range is therefore a little eccentric, lurching between explaining what a scientific theory is ("a model of the universe") and going into quantum mechanics in the kind of vertiginous detail that makes you open your eyes very wide as you read. It is fascinating, up to a point.
I ask whether Hawking is worried that it will look like blatant cashing in. "I put a lot of effort into writing A Briefer History at a time when I was critically ill with pneumonia because I think that it's important for scientists to explain their work, particularly in cosmology. This now answers many questions once asked of religion."
There are new sections: string theory - the unproven idea that the universe is made up of lots of tiny, vibrating strings - has apparently moved on since the first book was written, although it is still controversial. This suits Hawking's purpose: he understands that no one, scientist or otherwise, can resist an unanswerable question. When he refers to God it is, as he puts it, in the "impersonal sense", rather as Einstein referred to the laws of nature. It is a euphemism and also a smart bit of marketing, anchoring the unsexy, techie bones of his subject - he once said the best hope for a theory of everything was n=8 supergravity - with the philosophical questions everyone likes to have a stab at.
What one forgets is that the area of cosmology he works in has been partly influenced by his motor neurone disease. He was diagnosed in his first year as a PhD student at Cambridge and as his condition worsened, it became harder and, eventually impossible, to write down equations and so work in pure maths. He must, by necessity, work with problems that can be translated into geometry, which he can then picture in his head, such as the 11 dimensions of string theory.
I ask him what he visualises when he talks about string theory - I am ashamed to admit I see cheese strings. Hawking's cheek twitches and he hits the wrong button - "maybe" he blurts, and then twitches again to scroll back. "Evolution has ensured that our brains just aren't equipped to visualise 11 dimensions directly. However, from a purely mathematical point of view it's just as easy to think in 11 dimensions, as it is to think in three or four."
I gather this is not a question he is very interested in, possibly because he has been asked it before and also because it addresses the inadequacies of people to whom the "purely mathematical point of view" is not one they are ever likely to take. Hawking, barely concealing his irritation, has come up with images to describe the construction of the universe, such as the corridor of a "Howard Johnson hotel" with endless rooms running off it. But one senses he doesn't quite get why they are necessary when a quick equation will give you everything you need, like a capsule of astronaut food.
And yet he is working on a children's book about relativity with his daughter Lucy, because children are the best audience: "Naturally interested in space and not afraid to ask why."
I ask him how, if string theory was proved to be correct, it might impact on people's daily lives? "When we understand string theory, we will know how the universe began. It won't have much effect on how we live, but it is important to understand where we come from and what we can expect to find as we explore."
Both Hawking's parents were at Oxford University - he did his undergraduate degree there and soon after married his first wife, Jane, whom he left 15 years ago for his nurse, Elaine. In the past he was asked how he managed to father three children and replied: "The disease only affects voluntary muscle." In the memoir Jane wrote after the break-up of their marriage, she accused him of having a God complex. He has certainly never wanted for confidence. When he was still young, he interrupted a lecture at the Royal Society by the renowned astrophysicist, Fred Hoyle, to correct what he was saying. I ask if he was nervous before speaking. "I may have been a bit nervous but I was sure of my ground. Hoyle's theory predicted the masses of particles would be infinite. I had seen a copy of the paper and had calculated it."
Hawking lost his speech in 1985 after he fell ill with pneumonia and had to have a tracheotomy. His life became one long exercise in patience. His assistant tells me that when it comes to an interview, he can always outlast his questioner and I will find this to be true when we get to the live part of the interview. I will also discover that, when there is a half-hour lag between question and answer, the scope for clarification is extremely limited.
But for now, we are still reading from the script. I ask if he gives two hoots that there aren't many top women scientists, and if he has an idea as to why. "In the past, there was active discrimination against women in science. That has now gone, and although there are residual effects, these are not enough to account for the small numbers of women, particularly in mathematics and physics." Twitch, bleep. "It is generally recognised that women are better than men at languages, personal relations and multi-tasking, but less good at map-reading and spatial awareness. It is therefore not unreasonable to suppose that women might be less good at mathematics and physics. It is not politically correct to say such things and the president of Harvard got in terrible trouble for doing so. But it cannot be denied that there are differences between men and women. Of course, these are differences between the averages only. There are wide variations about the mean."
The problem with Hawking's voice synthesizer is that there is not much tonal variation; I assume the map-reading, spatial-awareness thing is a joke. The women being less good at science thing is clearly not; it is a widely held but rarely admitted-to assumption that, if not itself chauvinistic, is always made so by its corollary - that science and maths are "harder", more rigorous and ultimately more relevant disciplines than flaky "women's" subjects. Hawking's ex-wife accused him of going the whole hog on this, but we will come to that.
What I want to know is how Hawking deals with the frustrations a man in his position must feel. I ask what he does to wind down when he gets stuck on a problem. "It is no good getting furious if you get stuck. What I do is keep thinking about the problem but work on something else. Sometimes it is years before I see the way forward. In the case of information loss and black holes, it was 29 years."
Does he ever get surges of rage against his immobility? "It is a waste of time to be angry about my disability. One has to get on with life and I haven't done badly. People won't have time for you if you are always angry or complaining."
Where non-mathematicians find his 11 dimensions hard to conceptualise, so Hawking seems to struggle with the concept of talking about himself in any register outside the factual. His shortest answers are the ones to those questions about feeling. I ask if he thinks it very dumb and sentimental of people to bang on about how his "genius" is related, or even enabled, by his disability, and what he thinks, with reference to The Simpsons, of the part it plays in his cult status. He replies: "The Simpsons appearances were great fun. But I don't take them too seriously. I think The Simpsons have treated my disability responsibly."
There is one last question from the script. Does it depress him to think that human life is so short, none of us will ever know how the story ends? Two beeps. "If human life were long enough to find the ultimate theory, everything would have been solved by previous generations. Nothing would be left to be discovered."
Behind his shoulder, his assistant nods. There will now be some time for live questions. Stupidly, given that I have read all about it, I fail to realise just how arduous and time-consuming the process of live communication is. If I did, I wouldn't squander the time on asking a joke, warm-up question. I tell him I have heard he has six different voices on his synthesizer and that one is a woman's. Hawking lowers his eyes and starts responding. After five minutes of silence the nurse sitting beside me closes her eyes and appears to go to sleep. I look around. On the windowsill are framed photos stretching back through Hawking's life. There are photos of one of his daughters with her baby. I notice Hawking's hands are thin and tapering. He is wearing black suede Kickers.
Another five minutes pass. There are pictures of Marilyn Monroe on the wall, one of which has been digitally manipulated to feature Hawking in the foreground. I see a card printed with the slogan: "Yes, I am the centre of the universe." I write it down and turn the page in my notebook. It makes a tearing sound and the nurse's eyes snap open. She goes over to Hawking and, putting her hand on his head, says, "Now then, Stephen," and gently wipes saliva from the side of his mouth. Another five minutes pass. Then another.
Hawking's assistant, who sits behind him to see what is going on on his screen, nods slightly. Here it comes: "That was true of one speech synthesizer I had. But the one I use normally has only one voice. It is 20 years old, but I stick to it because I haven't found better and because I'm known by it worldwide." That's it? The fruit of 20 minutes' effort? This man is a Hercules.
I had planned to ask about his wife Elaine's alleged treatment of him, but in the face of these logistics I lose my nerve. Instead, I ask: it's been said, primarily by your ex-wife, that you have nothing but contempt for the arts, in particular medieval Spanish poetry [her PhD subject]. Is that true? Hawking stares at me and gets on with it. Is it polite to remain silent while he labours? Or should one talk? One of his assistants told me he got the job partly because Hawking was impressed by how natural he was during the silences. He also told me the worst thing you can do is to try to second-guess Hawking - he grinds his teeth to show disapproval - and also that he knows the whole of the London A-Z by heart; when they drive in the capital, Hawking tells him which route to take.
After another 20 minutes, Hawking says: "Not entirely. An awful lot of the arts world is mediocre or sham. But there are a few great works that have a direct effect on people." These two questions have taken almost three-quarters of an hour to answer. I ask: "If you could go back in time, who would you rather meet, Marilyn Monroe or Isaac Newton?" and after 10 minutes he says in that voice that makes the blandest statement sound profound: "Marilyn. Newton seems to have been an unpleasant character."
I am defeated. I get up to go. Hawking stares at me and smiles, with something steelier than mischief.
How far did you get?
Kathy Sykes, TV presenter and professor of public understanding of science at Bristol University
I enjoyed A Brief History of Time. I did feel that having a PhD and a degree in physics helped enormously. Stephen made incredibly tough subjects more palatable than many have managed to do. Nevertheless, I still felt that there was a step or two - or even five - for most members of the public to get their head around it.
Vivienne Parry, science journalist and ex-presenter of Tomorrow's World
I looked at the first page and thought: this isn't for me. I think the human body is infinitely more interesting than space and all that. From the little I read, I felt that my view that [space] was too difficult to understand was reinforced by that book.
Julian Baggini, editor of Philosopher's Magazine
I loved it and remember saying to a friend at the time that I thought it should be a set text at school. I'm not sure I totally understood it, but I didn't get the feeling some people did that it was impenetrable. Some people got stuck at the bits they didn't really grasp, whereas if you could just get over them, I thought the bigger picture was pretty clear. He introduced me to the idea of four-dimensional spacetime and event cones and that's all still reasonably clear, even after almost 20 years.
Seth Shostak, chief astronomer at the Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence Institute, California
I read it from start to finish. But my conclusion at the end was, if you already know what Professor Hawking is talking about here, it's a pretty good book. And if you don't, it's about as opaque as tin foil.
Richard Dawkins
I knew more physics than when I started. But there are better books on the origin of everything, notably Peter Atkins's work of prose poetry, Creation Revisited.
Peter Bazalgette, chairman, Endemol UK
I did start it. Like everyone else, I thought the mysteries of the universe would be revealed to me. By page five I felt mildly confused, by page 10 I felt stupid, by page 15 frustrated, by page 20 giddy, and that was it. A Brief History of Time is the literary equivalent of Colman's mustard: Hawking made his money from the stuff we left on the side of the plate. Too strong to consume.
Geoff Watts, BBC Radio 4 science presenter
What did I enjoy about it? Not a lot. While not a bad book, it's simply not the best attempt made to explain time, the universe and everything. I think many people bought it because they felt there are great insights to be had in this territory - if only they could be helped across the threshold. I doubt it helped them much.
Stephen Minger, stem cell biologist at King's College London
Yes, I did finish it but with some difficulty. It has given me a better understanding of cosmology and the desire to learn more. I love the contrast between the science of what we see down the microscope (where we spend most of our time) and the science you can only see with the imagination. That is Hawking's great strength - he takes concepts that are unintelligible to most of us and creates, through words, an image that we can relate to.
· Interviews by Alok Jha