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The blessing and the curse of the axion’s rise in US particle physics

Since the Large Hadron Collider turned up nothing in its search for supersymmetry, physicists have turned their attention to the axion, says Chanda Prescod-Weinstein, a self-described superfan of this hypothetical particle

Nebula and galaxies in dark space. Elements of this image furnished by NASA.; Shutterstock ID 1140040991; purchase_order: -; job: -; client: -; other: -

REGULAR readers of this column know that when it comes to dark matter candidates, I am something of an axion superfan. This hypothetical particle was theorised in the 1970s as part of a solution to a problem in the standard model of particle physics that is still outstanding. For the past eight years, the axion has been the primary focus of my research.

Obviously, I feel I have good reason for this. First, the axion has a great name, with interesting origins that go back to Greek Orthodox Church liturgy. Second, this proposed particle is doubly compelling because, if it exists, it offers both a solution to a real problem with the standard model and can also successfully fulfil the role of dark matter.

For the latter reason, during the time I have been working on it, the axion has become an increasingly popular research subject. When I published my first paper on axions, there were people in the US working on them, but axions were, in some ways, more of a European game. That has radically changed in the years since the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) turned up nothing in its search for supersymmetric (SUSY) particles.

SUSY, like the axion, is considered physics beyond the standard model. It, too, addresses problems in the standard model while simultaneously offering us possible explanations for dark matter. SUSY’s contribution to the standard model is to explain what is known as the hierarchy problem: why is the weak nuclear force, which is responsible for radioactive beta decay, so much stronger than gravity? SUSY solves this issue by introducing new particles. The problem is, we haven’t seen any of these particles, despite looking.

These days, there is a lot of talk in the theoretical physics community about how SUSY is dead because the simplest version of it has been ruled out. I think such comments are over the top – as I have written in these pages before. Nature isn’t working on our schedule, so experiments don’t have to be successful the first time we try them, and the places that are easiest for us to search for evidence of SUSY don’t have to be where new particles actually exist. In other words, SUSY may still be a correct theory of reality, we just haven’t found evidence for it yet.

Nonetheless, the apparent “failure” to find SUSY led many physicists to rethink how they spend their time. They started to pay attention to the fact that the simplest axion model hasn’t been ruled out. At the same time, people like me were doing our best to strengthen interest in the axion. For a few years, I felt like I lived on planes, going to give talks about my research around the world, explaining that axions were a tantalising scientific prospect. In the aftermath of the LHC’s lack of SUSY discovery, we were working in the perfect environment for success. Axion research became a major force in US particle physics.

From a professional perspective, this has been great for me. When I was on the faculty job market, university departments were interested in hiring an axion expert. In my interviews, I could say – with complete honesty – that I was doing leading work on a hot topic. I got a job and over the past few years have successfully published research with two of my PhD students, a postdoctoral fellow in my group and colleagues at other universities, all about axions. I even gave a TED talk showing off some of our research, an experience I described in this column a few months ago.

But there is a professional downside to working on something so popular: the research becomes competitive, and I don’t enjoy competition.

I like to focus on collectivity and collaboration. While collaboration is common in the scientific community, it isn’t with a primary emphasis on working harmoniously across one’s discipline to collectively do the best work. Rather, we are usually breaking up into teams and competing: each team wants to be the first to make a new discovery. That is where the awards and recognition are. That is how you get press. That is how you get tenure, or job security.

The incentives here are broken. If you can write a paper pointing out that someone is wrong, it is seen as better to get a publication out of it, rather than email someone and say: “Hey, we’re getting different results. Shall we chat about it and see what we can make of the situation?” Some scientists do, in fact, do this, but many others don’t.

My response to this difference in values between me and so many colleagues is something I am constantly working through. Part of it is learning to stomach the competitive behaviour while still teaching my students we don’t have to be like that. I am also now diversifying what I work on, branching in directions where I can be left alone to quietly think and do my work, without a fight.

Chanda Prescod-Weinstein is an assistant professor of physics and astronomy, and a core faculty member in women’s studies at the University of New Hampshire. Her research in theoretical physics focuses on cosmology, neutron stars and particles beyond the standard model.

Chanda’s week

What I’m reading
I’m very into Nigerian-British writer Onyi Nwabineli’s debut novel Someday, Maybe.

What I’m watching
Recently, two of my favourite TV shows ended their runs with brilliant finales: Atlanta and The Good Fight.

What I’m working on
Grant proposals, the bureaucratic side of which is a nightmare.

Topics: Dark matter / Physics