Philip Hauge Abelson

Few have been so fortunate as Philip Hauge Abelson to simultaneously possess a brilliant mind, a passion for science and its role in human affairs, and a commitment to celebrating scientific progress while goading scientists on to higher aspirations. Born on 27 April 1913 in Tacoma, Washington, he lived life to its fullest, right up to the time he succumbed to pneumonia in Washington, DC, on 1 August 2004. Phil is missed and will be remembered as one of the giants of the 20th-century physics community.

Phil received his BS in chemistry (1933) and MS in physics (1935) at Washington State College (now University). He decided to pursue additional graduate work at the Radiation Laboratory at the University of California, Berkeley, where he received his PhD in nuclear physics in 1939. He subsequently joined the Carnegie Institution of Washington (CIW) as an assistant physicist. In 1940, he embarked on a short vacation, during which he visited the Radiation Lab. He and Edwin McMillan’s mutual research interests became apparent and they decided to work together. While exploring nuclear fission, the pair discovered neptunium.

Phil left CIW to join the Naval Research Laboratory in 1941. Swept up in the Manhattan Project, he drew on the chemistry background he had obtained during his undergraduate days at Washington State and developed a process to produce gaseous uranium hexafluoride (UF₆), a key step in isotopic separation of uranium isotopes. He also prepared the first feasibility study of nuclear-powered submarines.

After World War II, Phil rejoined CIW, where he directed the Geophysical Laboratory (1953–71) and became the institute’s president (1971–78). During his time at Carnegie, he discovered amino acids in fossils more than 100 million years old.

A researcher of many talents and extraordinary energy, Phil gave most generously of his time. He added to his work at CIW: He became the editor of Science (1962–84) and was a central figure in the evolution of the American Association for the Advancement of Science. His thought-provoking editorials demonstrated both his prodigious capacity to stay abreast of diverse developments in science and technology and his keen insights about the increasing imperative to link the S&T community more effectively to public policymakers and to society in general.

Phil frequently used the editorial pages of Science to report to the S&T community, policymakers, and citizens the results and implications of studies—especially those carried out by the Congressional Office of Technology Assessment. Those editorials provide a still-fresh panorama of the status and prospects of global conditions deeply connected to human aspirations, and the need and opportunities for S&T to contribute in a positive way.

I’m reminded of the following saying: “When all is said and done, more has been said than done.” Phil knew that one answer to that lamentation is to repeatedly lay the matters before the people until action is taken. He also was an inveterate optimist. One of his notable publications was a collection of essays entitled “Enough of Pessimism!” As the director of the Congressional Office of Technology Assessment (1979–92) and assistant for S&T (1993–98) to President Bill Clinton, I had many memorable conversations with Phil about the bright future of energy conservation. I saw it as an optimistic attitude about the power of technology to increase efficiency rather than a pessimistic view of the future of fossil fuels.

Phil’s life was pervaded by an optimism about the power of science to provide new options and help shape a bright future. He enjoyed running—and I don’t mean jogging or walking—up to the end. I’m certain that in his last days, he was full of plans to run a few more miles before preparing his next editorial. We will miss his wise perspectives and incisive voice for a long, long time.