Authors: Michael Frayn
After the war, certainly, Heisenberg was not just passively reluctant about any military application of nuclear power, but very actively so. In the 1950s, when there was a proposal to arm Federal Germany with nuclear weapons, he joined forces with Weizsäcker and others to fight a vigorous campaign that entirely and permanently defeated it.
There is also one small piece of evidence about his attitude during the war that Powers rather curiously doesn’t
comment on: the question of the cyclotron.
At the crucial meeting between Heisenberg and Speer in 1942, which seems finally to have scuppered all possibility of a German bomb, Heisenberg is reported to have emphasised the need to build a cyclotron. A cyclotron could have been used, as the cyclotrons in America were, for isotope separation, the great sticking-point in the German programme. In the account of this meeting in his memoirs Speer says: ‘Difficulties were compounded, Heisenberg explained, by the fact that Europe possessed only one cyclotron, and that of minimal capacity. Moreover, it was located in Paris and because of the need for secrecy could not be used to full advantage.’ Powers mentions this, but does not go on to the obvious corollary: that if Speer’s recollection is accurate, then Heisenberg was plainly lying, because he knew perfectly well that there was a second cyclotron to hand—at Bohr’s institute in Copenhagen. This would suggest that his apparent anxiety to lay his hands on a machine that might actually separate some U235 was not quite what it seemed. Or, at the very least, that he placed Germany’s war aims below his desire to protect Bohr’s institute.
Perhaps Speer is simply wrong. It seems uncharacteristic of Heisenberg to have risked such a blatant falsehood, and he makes no mention of it in his own accounts of the meeting. All the same, when he went back to Copenhagen in 1944, after Bohr had fled, to adjudicate a German proposal to strip the institute of all its equipment, presumably including the cyclotron, he seems to have contrived to leave it even then still in Danish hands.
*
One of the forms of indeterminacy touched upon in the play is the indeterminacy of human memory, or at any rate the indeterminability of the historical record. There are various examples which I left out, for fear of making the play even more tangled than it is. Some, such as the difficulties about the amazingly realistic figure for the critical mass that von
Ardernne recollected being given by Heisenberg and Hahn in 1941, I have already mentioned in this Postscript. There were others. A minor one concerns whether there were two ships sent to load the Jews of Copenhagen for deportation, as some witnesses recall, or a single one (named as the Wartheland). A more significant point of dispute is the drawing which Heisenberg did or didn’t make for Bohr during their meeting in 1941.
According to Hans Bethe, who was one of the team at Los Alamos, Heisenberg drew a rough sketch to show Bohr the work that was being done in Germany. Bohr evidently took it to Los Alamos with him when he went, because Bethe (and others) recall it being passed around at a meeting there. Bethe told Powers that Bohr believed it represented a bomb; but the consensus of opinion at the meeting was that it was a reactor. However, Aage Bohr, Niels’s son, a physicist himself (and another Nobel prizewinner), who was with his father in Copenhagen during Heisenberg’s visit, and with him again in Los Alamos, was absolutely insistent that there was no drawing.
If the story is true it might help to explain Goudsmit’s insistence, in the teeth of the evidence from Farm Hall, that Heisenberg couldn’t tell the difference between a reactor and a bomb. It would certainly cast doubt on Heisenberg’s recollection that the entire discussion with Bohr in 1941 took place during the walk, and that Bohr broke off the conversation almost as soon as it was broached. It seems improbable to me that Heisenberg would have risked putting anything down on paper, and if even so he had then I can’t see why he didn’t seize upon it after the war, to support his claim that he had hinted to Bohr at the German research on a bomb. I suppose it’s possible that Bohr made the sketch himself, to illustrate to his colleagues at Los Alamos what he thought Heisenberg was getting at, but the truth of the matter seems to be irretrievable.
*
I have had many helping hands with this play, both before it was produced in London and since. Sir John Maddox kindly read the text for me, and so did Professor Balázs L Gyorffy, Professor of Physics at Bristol University, who made a number of corrections and suggestions. I am also indebted to Finn Aaserud, the Director of the Niels Bohr Archive in Copenhagen, and to his colleagues there, for much help and encouragement. Many scientists and other specialists have written to me after seeing the play on the stage. They have mostly been extraordinarily generous and supportive, but some of them have put me right on details of the science, for which I am particularly grateful. They also pointed out two mathematical errors so egregious that the lines in question didn’t make sense from one end to the other—even to me, when I re-read them. All these points have now been addressed, though I’m sure that other mistakes will emerge. So much new material has come to hand, in one way or another, that I have extensively overhauled and extended this Postscript to coincide with the production of the play in New York.
One matter of dispute that I have not been able to resolve completely concerns the part played by Max Born in the introduction of quantum mechanics. The matter was raised (with exemplary temperance) by his son, Gustav Born, who was concerned about the injustice he felt I had done to his father’s memory. I was reluctant to make the play any more complex than it is, but I have since made adjustments both to the play itself and to this Postscript which go at any some way to meeting Professor Born’s case. We are still at odds over one line, though, in which Heisenberg is said to have’invented quantum mechanics’. I am quoting the judgment of other physicists here (including one not especially sympathetic to Heisenberg), but I realise that it is a huge over-simplification, and that it seems to compound the original injustice committed when Heisenberg was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1932 ‘for the creation of quantum mechanics’, while Born had to wait another 22 years to have his part acknowledged in the same way. The trouble is that I have not yet been able to think of another way of putting it briefly enough to work in spoken dialogue.
The American physicist Spencer Weart, in a letter to Finn Aaserud, very cogently pointed out that the calculation of the critical mass was much harder than I’ve made it seem for Heisenberg once Bohr has suggested it to him. ‘Perrin failed to get it and his publication of a ton-size critical mass subtly misled everyone else, then Bohr and Wheeler failed, Kurchatov failed, Chadwick failed, all the other Germans and Russians and French and British and Americans missed it, even the greatest of them all for such problems, Fermi, tried but missed, everyone except Peierls … Physics is hard.’
Some correspondents have also objected to Heisenberg’s line about the physicists who built the Allied bomb, ‘Did a single one of them stop to think, even for one brief moment, about what they were doing?’, on the grounds that it is unjust to Leo Szilard. It’s true that in March 1945 Szilard began a campaign to persuade the US Government not to use the bomb. A committee was set up—the Committee on Social and Political Implications—to allow the scientists working on the project to voice their feelings, and Szilard also circulated a petition among the scientists, 67 of whom signed it, which mentioned ‘moral considerations,’ though it did not specify what exactly these were.
But the main stated reasons for Szilard’s second thoughts were not to do with the effects that the bomb would have on the Japanese—he was worried about the ones it would have on the Allies. He thought (presciently) that the actual use of the bomb on Japan would precipitate an atomic arms race between the United States and the Soviet Union. The Committee’s report (which Szilard himself seems to have written) and the petition stressed the same points. By this time, in any case, the bomb was almost ready. It had been Szilard who urged the nuclear programme in the first place, and at no point, so far as I know, while he worked for it (on plutonium production) did he ever suggest any hesitation about pursuing either the research or the actual manufacture of the bomb.
I think the line stands, in spite of Szilard’s afterthoughts. The scientists had already presented their government with the bomb, and it is the question of whether the German
scientists were ready or not to do likewise that is at issue in the play. If Heisenberg’s team
had
built a bomb, I don’t think they would have recovered very much moral credit by asking Hitler to be kind enough not to drop it on anyone—particularly if their objection had been the strain it might place upon post-war relations among the Axis powers.
*
One looming imponderable remains. If Heisenberg had made the calculation, and
if
the resulting reduction in the scale of the problem had somehow generated a real eagerness in both the Nazi authorities and the scientists, could the Germans have built a bomb? Frank believes that they could not have done it before the war in Europe was over—‘even the Americans, with substantial industrial and scientific advantage, and the important assistance from Britain and from ex-Germans in Britain did not achieve that (VE-Day, 8 May 1945, Trinity test, Alamogordo, 6 July 1945).’ Speer (who as armaments minister would presumably have had to carry the programme out) suggests in his memoirs that it might have been possible to do it by 1945, if the Germans had shelved all their other weapons projects, then two paragraphs later more cautiously changes his estimate to 1947; but of course he needs to justify his failure to pursue the possibility. Powers makes the point that, whatever the timetable was, its start date could have been much earlier. Atomic energy in Germany, he argues, attracted the interest of the authorities from the first day of the war. ‘The United States, beginning in June 1942, took just over three years to do the job, and the Soviet Union succeeeded in four. If a serious effort to develop a bomb had commenced in mid-1940, one might have been tested in 1943, well before the Allied bomber offensive had destroyed German industry.’
If this ‘serious effort’ had begun only after Heisenberg’s visit to Copenhagen, as the play suggests might have happened if the conversation with Bohr had gone differently, then even this timetable wouldn’t have produced a bomb until late 1944—and by that time it was of course much less
likely that German industry could have delivered. In any case, formidable difficulties remained to be overcome. The German team were hugely frustrated by their inability to find a successful technique for isolating U235 in any appreciable quantity, even though the experimental method, using Clusius-Dickel tubes, was of German origin. They could have tried one of the processes used sucessfully by the Allies, gaseous diffusion. This was another German invention, developed in Berlin by Gustav Hertz, but Hertz had lost his job because his uncle was Jewish. (It was, incidentally, the delays in getting the various American isotope-separation plants to function which meant that the Allied bomb was not ready in time for use against Germany.)
The failure to separate U235 also held up the reactor programme, and therefore the prospect of producing plutonium, because they could not separate enough of it even for the purposes of enrichment (increasing the U235 content of natural uranium), so that it was harder to get the reactor to go critical. The construction of the reactor was further delayed because Walther Bothe’s team at Heidelberg estimated the neutron absorption rates of graphite wrongly, which obliged the designers to use heavy water as a moderator instead. The only source of heavy water was a plant in Norway, which was forced to close after a series of attacks by Norwegian parachutists attached to Special Operations Executive, American bombers, and the Norwegian Resistance. Though perhaps, if a crash programme had been instituted from the first day of the war, enough heavy water might have been accumulated before the attacks were mounted.
If, if, if .… The line of ifs is a long one. It remains just possible, though. The effects of real enthusiasm and real determination are incalculable. In the realm of the just possible they are sometimes decisive.
*
Anyone interested enough in any of these questions to want to sidestep the fiction and look at the historical record should certainly begin with:
Thomas Powers:
Heisenberg’s War
(Knopf 1993; Cape 1993)
David Cassidy:
Uncertainty: The Life and Science of Werner Heisenberg
(W H Freeman 1992)
Abraham Pais: Niels
Bohr’s Times
(OUP 1991)—Pais is a fellow nuclear physicist, who knew Bohr personally, and this, in its highly eccentric way, is a classic of biography, even though Pais has not much more sense of narrative than I have of physics, and the book is organised more like a scientific report than the story of someone’s life. But then Bohr notoriously had no sense of narrative, either. One of the tasks his assistants had was to take him to the cinema and to explain the plot to him afterwards.
Werner Heisenberg:
Physics and Beyond
(Harper & Row 1971)—In German,
Der Teil und das Ganze
. His memoirs.
Jeremy Bernstein:
Hitler’s Uranium Club, the Secret Recordings at Farm Hall
, introduced by David Cassidy (American Institute of Physics, Woodbury, New York 1996)
or the British edition of the transcripts:
Operation Epsilon, the Farm Hall Transcripts
, introduced by Sir Charles Frank. (Institute of Physics Publishing 1993)
Also relevant:
Heisenberg:
Physics and Philosophy
. (Penguin 1958)
Niels Bohr:
The Philosophical Writings of Niels Bohr
(Oxbow Press, Connecticut 1987)
Elizabeth Heisenberg:
Inner Exile
(Birkhauser 1984)—In German
Das politische Leben eines Unpolitischen
. Defensive in tone, but revealing about the kind of anguish her husband tended to conceal from the world; and the source for Heisenberg’s ride home in 1945.