Veery: What do you look for in an assistant? George A. Olah: I answer this as to what I look for in coworkers. My greatest satisfaction in my life was that I was always blessed to work with talented young people. Most of them are doing very well in their careers. If I achieved something in life, I really consider it my main contribution that I had some influence on their life. I hope that I was able to convey to them not only some knowledge (this they could have acquired in many places) but maybe some of my enthusiasm, my approach to science and the general human principles I believe in, which are also so important in life. We are first of all human beings, not just scientists. When you work with young people, you get great satisfaction seeing them growing up and maturing; it's the greatest blessing you can have. I am looking in my coworkers and associates for a bright young person who has real interest reflected in some glimmer in their eyes revealing also drive that promises that they are also willing to put in the effort to achieve their goals. I was blessed and honored with all who chose to work with me, and I hope that they also take some pride on their part in our joint efforts.
Veery: As your years in science accumulate and your experience in the field grows, what becomes more clear to you? George A. Olah: You are very polite. You are basically saying what's happening when you get older. Veery: Not old but experienced. You view a scientific problem differently than when you were in your twenties? George A. Olah: Yes and no. Basically, and maybe I'm too frank, but I will tell you anyhow, deep down I am still an inquiring young man who is enjoying greatly that he has a chance to look at some new idea, some concept, and follow it up. Some of these, to my surprise, turned out to be even somewhat significant. I take my science exceedingly seriously. Fortunately, I never did and do not take myself too seriously. As a matter of fact, I think the decline of many good scientists is when they reach a certain point, get some recognition, they start to take themselves too seriously. Veery: At the age of seventy, do you approach a scientific problem differently than you did when you were thirty? George A. Olah: I don't know. I am seventy now and I still approach them, I think, much the same way. Look, I don't believe that when you have some idea which interests you that you immediately try to evaluate it whether it is significant, is it something meaningful for mankind and so on; at least in my case, I always follow only my curiosity; on the other hand, I also believe that there's nothing wrong to keep your eyes open, if you observe or discover something and eventually ask what is really good for and follow up possible applications. For me, all this comes naturally. I ask the question, "So now, what can I do with this?" "Is it good for anything in the broader sense?" For me, the division people frequently put between fundamental and applied research is and always was quite artificial.
Veery: What scientists do you respect? George A. Olah: This is an exceedingly difficult question to answer. I am a chemist, and as you know, people working in a specific field are influenced to a great degree by their own field.
Chemistry is a fascinating science: it has broad implication from biology on one end dealing with the questions of life itself, to the other end where it allows to make all the man-made compounds and materials we are so dependent on. There are many excellent chemists who contributed in a major way, but there are relatively few chemists who also had intellectual interest to look outside their own narrow field and to look at the broader scope. Let's go back to the great Greek philosophers in the early days: they were tackling the problems of the physical and the spiritual world alike. Then followed the so-called Dark Ages and eventually started to emerge in the sixteenth or seventeenth century, a new understanding, and eventually, our modern science. The trouble is, that probably by necessity by the twentieth century, we got all too specialized. People who were not trained at least to some degree of literacy in the physical sciences have great difficulty following the physical world and therefore few philosophers - not to make fools out of themselves - even try to tackle the major general questions of mankind. From those who try, it looks to me, many have a background in physics, particularly in particle physics and some in biology to prepare them to tackle the big questions, "Where did the universe come from? Where did mankind come from? Where are we going?" There are some chemists (such as Ilya Prigogine and Manfred Eigen) - but generally chemists are intellectually not too active outside their own field. Maybe there's a good reason for it as they are too busy pursuing their own field. But the challenge is there, even for chemists, as after all we are all human beings and there is nothing that says that a chemist can't read and think about broad general issues. But to come to your question, which scientists I admire most, they are not necessarily chemists. There are some really towering major figures who advance our understanding of science, understanding of life. The obvious ones that come to everybody's mind are, of course, Galileo, Newton, Darwin, Einstein, and so on. Some of them were at the same time complex human beings. Newton was a great physicist, but he spent, however, probably more time on alchemy, and was a poor alchemist. He also had rather extreme religious opinions. So here is a complex man, you admire him for one part of his being, while you have serious reservations for the others. But certainly there were giants of science who enlarged our knowledge by paradigm jumps. As far as for contemporaries, we should leave their judgment for future generations.
Veery: Is scientific talent something you are simply born with? George A. Olah: I'm a chemist, and I'm not trying to diminish my field, but I don't think that chemistry necessarily is an intellectually extremely demanding field. I think that most people who have a reasonable education and then decide to become chemists, if they stick with it, can turn themselves into quite well-trained, efficient chemists.
Creativity is another question.
Until I finished high school, I had absolutely no interest or ever thought about chemistry. But probably I had a gift or some feeling for the unexpected, for discovery or originality, and this is something you can't define. Originality is something that you can't acquire and it must come with you. At the same time you also must work on it to enable your originality (or whatever it is) to become successful, so you can apply it. If Picasso never would have learned something about the techniques of painting, he wouldn't have turned into the painter he was.
Mathematics is a field that is in many ways much more difficult than chemistry. I believe that there is such a thing as born mathematical talent just as there is musical talent. I guess if you are born without it, you still can turn yourself into a good working mathematician, but probably not a very creative one. And this is true in other fields. In chemistry you can manage very well without any specific talent (like mathematical and musical talent) but again you probably will lack creativity.
It is frequently accepted that there is a hierarchy of science. Even the Nobel committee follows such a hierarchy: physics comes first at its award ceremony followed by chemistry, followed by medicine (and that includes these days to a large degree biology). There is no prize, however, in mathematics. Many believe that mathematics isn't really a science: mathematics is a general expression of thoughts, like language. In any case, I do not believe that you can strictly divide science and compartmentalize it. Mathematics is an advanced form of human expression and in this way it is closely related to the sciences. What I read about Albert Einstein, he was an average mathematician, but a great scientist.
Veery: Yes, on the theory of relativity, he didn't have the mathematics. George A. Olah: Yes. He was not an outstanding mathematician, but always had friends and colleagues (including his first wife) to help him out with the detailed mathematical treatment of his pioneering concepts. This isn't taking anything away from Einstein's genius. I'm just saying that frequently there is much between an idea or concept and its realization. Things are generally much more complicated, and in most areas of science you can't do very well if you are not well-prepared to follow through your ideas yourself.
Veery: Do you interest yourself in another field to bring your science an added dimension? George A. Olah: I am a chemist who is dealing mainly with hydrocarbons, which are molecules composed of carbon and hydrogen. They compose, for example, oil and natural gas, and are the basis of much of the man-made compounds and materials, from pharmaceuticals to plastics. For many, they are not very interesting or intriguing to work on; for me they are; but again, this is a question of personal judgment. In my field, it's difficult to get involved in direct practical applications. Nobody can start to make synthetic gasoline in his garage, or start a company for making new plastics. But on the other hand, there are many possibilities to apply my chemistry across many fields, including in development of environmentally friendly process to find new solutions. It is also intriguing to see that some of my chemistry may have implications in other fields including in biological or enzymatic studies.
Veery: Before you got into science, what was on your mind as science is on your mind today? George A. Olah: I was interested in history, in philosophy, and other things before I ever became interested in chemistry. After World War II, people who survived in Central Europe, the war and all other miseries and horrors were faced with the question of how to get on with their lives and make a living. In poor little Hungary, there was realistically little chance for anybody to make a living doing history or philosophy. I read once about the Hungarian born Nobelist Eugene Wigner that when he was finishing high school, his father asked him what he wanted to do. Wigner answered that he would like to become a physics professor. His father who was a businessman asked him, "Tell me, how many positions are there for physicists in Hungarian universities?" His son answered, "I don't know. Maybe two or three." At this point the conversation ended. His father insisted that his son go into something more practical. Wigner began to study chemical engineering, but he switched over to physics later.
I also was induced to look for a more practical field when I started university. After I took my first chemistry course, I fell in love with chemistry, and I'm still in love with it. It's one of these things that happens.
Veery: What makes a scientist's career rise? George A. Olah: It depends on what you call a career. Veery: Getting good university appointments, et cetera. George A. Olah: I should tell you a little more about my life. I began my scientific work in Hungarian academia. In 1956, after the defeat of the Hungarian revolution, like many other younger Hungarians, I left for the Western world to start a new life. I had a wife and a two-and- half-year-old son, so I needed to earn a living. I got an industrial job as a research chemist with the Dow Chemical Co., and I stayed for eight years in industry. I did primarily what my employer was interested in, and I was reasonably successful in it. In return, I was given increasingly more freedom to pursue also my own interests. Of course industry was used to having people to work only forty hours a week, but here was this ambitious young Hungarian who was happy to spend eighty or ninety hours a week in the laboratory. Thus, I had a lot of time to pursue things that I was interested in; and this eventually brought some recognition. So yes, I climbed up the ladder, but I always wanted to go back in academic life, and eventually I did: I was in Cleveland first, and then I came out here to Los Angeles. As I told you, I never had the good fortune to be associated with what's considered one of the leading universities. Thus I was, and maybe I'm still, somewhat an outsider. I wasn't part of the proper establishment or had old Ivy school ties. In many ways, however, this was to my advantage as I need always to find my own way. I love this country and I think that our system, with all its shortcomings, is still the best in the world. Here you still can achieve something if you work hard and stay with it. In my case "moving up" on the career ladder meant relatively little. Even if you get some awards or prizes, even the Nobel Prize, these are, however, just outside recognitions. What really counts is how you feel about yourself: have you really done something worthwhile and lasting?
Veery: To what extent does the press play (specialty or general) in the previous question? George A. Olah: Publishing is an integral part of scientific activity. I don't consider any scientific work or research to be completed before it's written up in a reputable refereed journal and made available to others in the world, not only to know about it but to criticize it. Further, if you are a university professor, and you are blessed with having young associates (graduate students or postdoctorals) working with you, you have an additional responsibility to see that your joint work gets published. They need its recognition more than you do. When they start their career, they need to find a job. Their published record is quite important. There are differing views on publishing: some say people publish too much, others say they publish too little. I myself think that there is a clear obligation in science to put your work into print and let others look at it and judge it, and this happens through scientific journals.
So far, I published over 1,100 scientific publications in refereed journals, some twenty books and chapters, but I never looked at it as counting numbers or something which would further my career if I have more publications. I just felt and still feel it's an essential part of my research. You shouldn't pursue research unless you are willing to put your results into published form, to make it available to your colleagues for evaluating and criticizing it.
I've had over the years my share of disagreements with refereed journals, like everybody else, concerning referees who were not agreeing with me, who were even rough on me, but I defend the peer review system: it's still the best there is. It's not ideal but it is extremely helpful. I'll tell you a somewhat related story. There was a Hungarian born Nobel Prize winner in medicine, Georg von Békésy, who got his prize for his studies on the inner ear. Obviously this is not my field, but I found once a wonderful reference by him which I like to quote. What Von Békésy said was that all scientists really need are some good enemies. If somebody does his work, and then sends his manuscript for comments and criticism to some of his friends, they are generally busy people who can spend only limited time to look at it. On the other hand, if someone has a really devoted enemy, he (or she) will spend unlimited time and effort to try to prove whether you are wrong. In a way, this is also about publishing because you open up yourself to criticism and comments by all people, including those who would like to prove that you are wrong. Karl Popper, the philosopher, said that you really never prove anything. You can only disprove things. He called it falsification but this is perhaps too harsh a word. So if your work is published in the open literature, where everyone can look at it, there may be people from Timbuktu to New Zealand who may look at it, with a harsh critical eye and will try to find errors in your work or concepts. I think this is what moves science forward and safeguards us from errors and misconcepts.
Veery: Where does science start? Veery: Where does it start within you? George A. Olah: I don't know when an idea germinates. Obviously, somehow it gets started. I keep notebooks, and I jot down ideas so that I shouldn't forget them. Sometimes I come back to them only years later, but it is useful to always have a certain reservoir of ideas and probable projects.
People generally don't publish their failures, right? If you look into the scientific literature, you never find a paper where somebody says, "I studied this, and it was an utter failure, and I should have known better." Most people try to look the best in their publications. I'm not criticizing this, but what I'm saying is I have a great body of work we did over the years that either turned out to be unsuccessful, or we were unable to solve the problem or it was left "hanging" because at the time we came to a point where because of one reason or another we could go no further in our study.
It happens to me sometimes that some idea comes up, which then triggers something in the back of my mind, and then I remember that maybe twenty-five years ago we did some work which we gave up because I couldn't understand what it meant at the time. Now, however, with some new understanding and new ideas, this could become quite significant. Probably artists, musicians, or writers have the same experience. A novelist isn't publishing everything he ever thought or started to work on. An idea or project sometimes may germinate for a long time.
Veery: What is science? George A. Olah: To me, science is an intellectual endeavor in which we try to find out about nature and the physical world. We try to find out how things in nature are composed and organized, what laws govern them. We then apply this knowledge to widen our understanding and apply it to advance our field and its applications.
I will give you a personal example in my field of carbon compounds or organic chemistry. There was a famous German chemist named Friedrich August Kekulé who in the middle of the last century put forward the concept that carbon, the central atom of this chemistry, can only have four neighbors attached to it at the same time. In other words, carbon can associate or bind with only four other atoms or groups. This concept of the maximum tetravalency of carbon still serves us well, after nearly a hundred and fifty years. I was fortunate in my work connected with the cationic compounds of carbons to show that in some situations carbon can associate (coordinate) simultaneously with five or six or as recently shown even seven other atoms of groups. This was first met with considerable skepticism. As a matter of fact, a controversy arose for many years, at times quite bitter, when the concept of higher coordinated carbon was vigorously attacked (the so-called non-classical ion controversy), but eventually it was unequivocally proven by experimental facts. Scientific controversies, in contrast to political or other controversies, are eventually decided by facts. The concept that carbon can associate itself with more than four neighbors became quite significant, and led to the development of much new chemistry. It is an example where understanding of a new principle allowed exploring its significance and application to many useful applications. It also earned me the Nobel Prize in 1994.
Veery: Who is your favorite science writer of any kind? George A. Olah: Not one particular one. I'm reading much, but science writers generally only recapitulate historical facts of different periods of science. I am more interested in the philosophy of science. This is particularly interesting for me as a chemist because very few of my profession share this interest.
The philosopher Karl Popper had much influence on my thinking. But there are quite a few others. Popper was a significant modern thinker, who at the same time had sufficient scientific education and background that he was able to apply his thinking also to problems of science. As I mentioned before, Popper introduced the concept that we really can never prove anything. We can only falsify (disprove) things showing them wrong. Later this concept was questioned by Thomas Kuhn (who worked for a while with Popper) using Popper's own argument, by saying how can we decide between what's right and what's wrong when we can not prove the former? When Popper asserts that we can only disprove something, it implies that we have some knowledge about what is right and wrong, but this isn't necessarily on firm ground. All this helped me start thinking about underlying more general questions. It's very useful if you try, as a scientist, even as a chemist, to broaden your horizon.
Veery: Who are your favorite writers (novelists, poets, or dramatists) and why? George A. Olah: I was brought up and lived in Hungary for nearly the first three decades of my life and thus carry with me my background. Hungary had a number of excellent poets who I favor such as Petőfi, Ady, et cetera, but they were limited to their own unique language so practically nobody knows about them in the Western world. I read for relaxation novels, including crime novels, not very heavy stuff, which relaxes you and puts you to a good sleep, which is very useful.
Veery: What to you is the point of criticism? George A. Olah: Nobody necessarily likes to be criticized: it's human nature. However, I believe that criticism is a very necessary part of scientific work: it keeps us honest. On the other hand, it can be overdone: it can become personal and thus hurtful. There may be people who criticize others not because they disagree on their science or they genuinely feel that something should be put differently, but who get some kick out of criticizing others in public. Maybe this is also part of human nature. But basically, I think scientific criticism is a very necessary part of science. Veery: How can you differentiate when the criticism is just for the sake of science or when it is jealousy? George A. Olah: I don't try to do this. Many feel that if somebody else is criticized, it's fine for science; if they themselves are criticized, it's only personal attack or jealousy. I think that sometimes there may be some truth in both. If you are, however, active in science, if you are working as a scientist, if you publish, you must take criticism in its positive sense or you should get out of science.
Having been through some major scientific controversies, I feel that you can't influence them in their final outcome. It's one thing when there are mistakes to be corrected, but in many scientific controversies (at least in the ones that I was involved), there never was any question about the facts. When people get involved in a controversy, first they try to find errors in the work in question. This is relatively simple and straightforward. But even if the facts are well-established, there may be still genuine disagreement on their interpretation, which may take a long while to sort out; but eventually in science they are sorted out. It happens, however, unfortunately sometimes, that regardless of the facts some feel to gain a debate by discrediting their opponent by whatever means. This is sad, but can last only for a while. Factually, you have no control about what nature deems proper and scientific debates end without personal bias. However, it's clearly much more fun to come out right than wrong even in a scientific controversy.
Nobel Prize, 1994, Science 1999 First Published In Veery 2020
