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If we ask a physicist why he does physics, he will be hard put to it to give a really pertinent answer. He may attempt to justify his work by pointing out its value for science in general or its value for mankind, or perhaps he will appeal to the fact that history has shown us an ever-progressing development of the human mind, to which each of us obligated to contribute his own little bit of brain power. But if he takes an honest look at himself, he will find that all these pretty-sounding goals are nothing but a well constructed mask, a sort of Sunday frock that he dons whenever he must appear in public. In fact, the process that turns an individual into a physicist is both more complicated and more crude. Talent; environment; often, too, material pressures; stumbling by chance into a stimulating circle of fellow physicists; a lucky creative inspiration that brings him recognition in the field, enabling him to establish himself as a physicist — in short, people are drawn into physics, as into other professions, by their experiences, without much relation to an idealistic concern for the development of mankind. And precisely those physicists, who have had to struggle with material want, making their way laboriously in science despite the attractions of a more practical occupation, will be least able to claim that they have derived their strength from a concern for the welfare of mankind. They really are unable to say why it is that they do physics, must do physics — why they keep returning to the laboratory or go on searching for mathematical theories. They just do it; that is, in the end, the only reason they can offer with some credibility.

DOI: 10.1007/978-94-009-9855-1_5

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