by Ben Falk
‘I come from a background where I struggled originally with physics. At school, I found it difficult – I nearly didn’t carry on to study physics at university. I feel very lucky that I did do it. I’m not some kind of great intellect. Quantum physics has got a reputation for being difficult because it’s very, very counter-intuitive. We’re being asked to accept a picture of the world which is in complete contradiction to our common sense. It’s nothing like anything we experience in everyday life.’
The two men crafted the book during runs and over rejuvenating curries. ‘We like running, so we both go running together,’ says Forshaw. ‘Brian has a nice place out in the hills near Manchester. So we often go running together, come back, have a curry, drink some beer – and talk. And keep talking and asking questions of each other. And through that process, we unpick our own understanding of the subject.’
Utilising theories such as Richard Feynman’s least action/sum over paths with clocks representing phase, they dabbled with Werner Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle and tried to explain the fundamentals of quantum theory, which is that atoms could – in essence – explore every part of the universe, every second. Forshaw gave a classic example of this to the Financial Times, arguing it had taken eminent physicists 20 years to get their heads round the concept, even after important breakthroughs. ‘I can throw a ball through the air and we think the ball is kind of moving along some definite trajectory and that it’s always somewhere,’ he explained. ‘But that’s not what’s happening; every atom in that ball is in a real sense exploring the entirety of the universe at every instant.’
This is where the maths comes in, with probabilities, but Forshaw says by treating it as a game, it could be taught to children. ‘People who have heard of the words quantum physics and relativity are interested in them and a little bit more, and quantum physics probably better than any other branch of physics showcases how wonderful modern-day physics is,’ he says. ‘You often hear people say how the fundamental theories of nature that we’ve got these days reveal a universe which is very beautiful, very profound and all these kind of words which hint at something deep. It’s deep in that quantum physics does underpin all natural phenomena; it is beautiful. But we both feel that if you really want to understand what that means, then the way to do that is to actually understand quantum physics. Rather than get some vague sense of the ideas, actually understand the content. That’s what we tried to do. People get confused because it’s so strange; that should be separated from the technical content, which requires very little mathematics. You don’t have to be a master of mathematics to understand it.’
With Cox away, it was left to Forshaw to take a first pass at the manuscript. ‘The version that I write originally is written for Brian,’ he explains. ‘I write it at too high a level. So it’s a really nice process, it really works. We get to convert it from something that is a little bit too dry, a little bit too formal, and then it gets this process where we’re trying to make it more accessible with each iteration. The difficult part is actually getting the structure laid out, getting the ideas laid out and having a clear idea of the material we want to present and how we want to explain it. That’s where all the work goes – in trying to find the way to explain it in the simplest possible way. The way it tends to work is I make a first pass and then Brian goes through and completely rewrites it. And then I go through it again and Brian goes through it again. The whole book, there are no joins in it – it genuinely is written by the two of us, back and forth.’
Reviews were glowing, though a couple were not so convinced as to the ease of the contents. Popularscience.co.uk gave a rave review overall, but suggested fans of Cox’s television series might be surprised if they picked up his latest literary offering. ‘The reason The Quantum Universe will disappoint is not because it is a bad book. It’s brilliant. But it is to Cox’s TV show what the Texas Chainsaw Massacre is to Toy Story. It’s a different beast altogether. As they did with their E=mc2 book, but even more so here, Cox and Forshaw take no prisoners and are prepared to delve deep into really hard-to-grasp aspects of quantum physics. This is the kind of gritty popular science writing that makes A Brief History of Time look like easy-peasy bedtime reading – so it really isn’t going to be for everyone, but for those who can keep going through a lot of hard mental world, the rewards are great, too.’
It went against what Cox and Forshaw were attempting when they set out to write the book, even if its mere presence on the bookshelves made browsers think briefly about science. ‘Brian and I are really motivated to write these books because we want to communicate some of our love of physics to the general public,’ says Forshaw. ‘Given what I said before about struggling myself at the beginning, just knowing how easy it is to miss the boat, I feel passionately that if I can help to contribute to helping people understand better the law of nature and these wonderful laws of physics, then it’s well worth [it] for me to do it.’
Cox had done documentaries, books and music, but he hadn’t considered himself a comedian, at least not professionally. But stand-up and writer Robin Ince had other ideas as he approached him to participate in the next stage of an idea which had really begun back in late 2008. As an atheist, he had created Nine Lessons and Carols For Godless People, a Christmastime comedy show loosely based around the subject of atheism and combining top performers such as Ricky Gervais and Chris Addison alongside former Pulp frontman Jarvis Cocker and scientist Richard Dawkins. The project had flourished and Ince now wanted to move on. His solution was The Infinite Monkey Cage, a Radio 4 show and podcast which saw the comedian team up with Cox for a ‘witty, irreverent look at the world of science’. Each week the pair were joined by guests who contributed songs in case of Tim Minchin, science chat or comedy thanks to folk such as Dara O’Briain and Katy Brand.
‘This is a moment of huge enthusiasm for science,’ said O’Briain. ‘In comedy, there is a big push towards people arguing on behalf of rational thought and great reaction against things that have no basis in reason.’ Each episode revolved around a specific topic, such as Christmas or the origins of life. After becoming a hit on the radio, as a natural live performer Ince saw the idea had further potential. ‘I wanted for a long time to do spectacular shows about science,’ he told journalist James Kettle. ‘I believed there was an audience that wanted to come to a show and then leave with a reading list.’ The result was Uncaged Monkeys, a touring live show featuring Cox, as well as an array of guest stars, depending on which city they were in. The list was impressive – everyone from author Simon Singh and Bad Science journalist Ben Goldacre to comic book maestro Alan Moore.
Despite both himself and Cox not believing in God, Ince was quick to point out that the point of the show was not to take a swipe at religion. ‘The show’s not really about attacking fundamentalism,’ he explained. ‘It’s mostly whizz-bang science, songs and people larking about. It’s about celebrating life.’ Together, they travelled the length and breadth of the UK, though Cox insisted they were put up in better hotels than when he worked for the BBC. Though he wasn’t supposed to focus on trying to be funny, it was a new direction for the scientist, who had previously told interviewers jokes such as ‘What noise does a subatomic cow make? Muon.’
Generally, the reviews were positive. ‘Cox is a compelling speaker, careful to pepper his lectures with gags at the expense of Large Hadron Collider alarmists,’ said the Scotsman of a performance in Glasgow, April 2011. ‘Currently less than the sum of its parts, Uncaged Monkeys nevertheless feels like an important development in live edutainment.’
By the time the tour reached London’s Hammersmith Apollo in the December, it was clear to the 4,000-strong audience that the idea had been warmed to. ‘Two questions sent via Twitter during last night’s interval encapsulated the appeal of pin-up particle physicist Brian Cox,’ wrote Bruce Dessau in the Evening Standard. ‘One asked him if there was a bit of the universe light had not reached. The other asked him to sign a fan’s
penis.’ After Tim Minchin arrived on stage to play his controversial song about Jesus, following which he was joined by Cox for a duet called ‘White Wine In The Sun’, Dessau suggested: ‘In a parallel universe, Minchin and Cox are undoubtedly massive rock stars. They probably feel like rock stars in this one, too.’
For the main duo, the process of trying to combine proper science with comedy was an intriguing experience. ‘I have a problem with telling jokes about physics,’ Ince told The List. ‘Quite often the audience have no idea what you are about and to be honest, I don’t know what I’m talking about either.’ Cox was quick to reply. ‘It depends on the level of your jokes, I suppose,’ he mused. ‘The famous one-liner about F16 fighter jets, Polish plumbers and singularities in the complex plane, requiring a deep understanding of Cauchy’s integral theorem, is probably never going to work. But I do think that a society in which everyone has a basic knowledge of, for example, Newton’s laws of motion, Einstein’s theories of relativity and quantum mechanics would be a better place to live.’
They held no truck with people who argued about alleged bias towards rationalist thinking, echoing Cox’s concerns about reaction to science on TV. ‘When we do Infinite Monkey Cage on Radio 4, we often rail against the idea of “balance”,’ said Ince. ‘So, someone might say, “Shouldn’t an argument about evolution also have someone who believes in intelligent design?” Do you think we could get around that problem by simply saying, “Well, that’s one opinion, but now, in the interest of balance, here is someone who is wrong”?’ Cox was just as vociferous. ‘This would be one acceptable compromise!’ he said. ‘The problem with today’s world is that everyone believes they have the right to express their opinion and have others listen to it. The correct statement of individual rights is that everyone has the right to an opinion, but crucially, that opinion can be roundly ignored and even made fun of, particularly if it is demonstrably nonsense!’
It was clear that the pair were having fun. Life on the road reminded Cox of touring with a band, with some small differences. ‘We won’t be punching the air or stage-diving,’ he explained to Reader’s Digest, ‘but will we be accused of dumbing down science? Yes, of course we bloody will! They’ll be sniping, especially the online lot. It’s just snobbery. Maybe some people think that, because I’ll be sharing a stage with comedians such as Robin and Dara, I’m making fun of science. Not at all! I think there’s a very important connection between it and comedy. If a comedian hears someone talking rubbish, he’ll tackle that person. If a scientist hears someone say that the world was created 6,000 years ago, he’ll say, “No it wasn’t! Shut the fuck up!”
‘Comedians and scientists are often rational people, quite brutal with their intellect. Ultimately, we’re just trying to engage people. I’m trying to advertise science, to say, “This is what it does and this is why it’s important to all of us.”’
The shows attracted a unique crowd, who were rarely catered for by usual theatre experiences. When asked jokily whether the groupies were still in force, Cox told Shortlist: ‘I’ll reserve my judgment about science groupies until after the tour. If we all end up being treated like Take That or the Beatles, then I’ll know something’s up. I’d be surprised, though – we don’t exactly look like the Beatles.’
Though Ince’s concept, it was another brilliant career move on the part of Cox as he looked to spread his wings. Plus, he got to show off another side to himself. ‘There are many Schrödinger’s cat jokes,’ laughed Ince when asked how the show managed to mine comedy out of a seemingly dry subject. ‘Also, Many-worlds Theory allows you to tell one joke and then expound on all the possible different outcomes, which is handy for lengthy stories.’
Many academics might have been flustered being around celebrities, but not Brian Cox. It partly helped he was already friends with many of them but when it came to making appearances on TV chat shows, it was clear that he was comfortable with famous people. Which was lucky, because the BBC decided that the next logical step was to create a show in the tradition of An Audience With… and put Cox at the centre.
Night with the Stars was a pun-friendly programme broadcast on BBC2 in December 2011 from the Royal Institution of Great Britain’s illustrious lecture hall. In front of a crowd crammed into the heavily-raked seats that included Jonathan Ross, Simon Pegg, comedian Al Murray and Fast Show actor Charlie Higson among many others, Cox espoused a lecture on quantum theory. ‘It makes me proud to be a scientist in this day and age,’ said science presenter Liz Bonnin, as the show prepared to go on air, while Top Gear’s James May joked: ‘I’d like to ask Professor Brian Cox about his hair – it’s a shared interest.’
Backed only by a blackboard, an autocue, a million-pound diamond and some small experiments, Cox led the occasionally baffled audience through some of quantum theory’s important points. ‘No helicopters tonight,’ he laughed, pretending to stare into the distance, arguing his loyal fans would be upset if he didn’t do at least one wistful gaze. Instead, this was Cox unplugged, as he got stand-up Sarah Millican to do the double-slit experiment, exploded hydrogen bubbles in May’s hands and embarrassed his friend Ross by getting him to attempt quantum mathematics. While Ross joked about Cox’s apocalyptic outlook, his host explained how quantum physics predicts white dwarves and introduced Pauli’s Exclusion Principle.
The latter even caused something of a furore on the physics Internet message boards, with some commenters on www.physicsforums.com saying he was incorrect. Showing how he still enjoyed interacting with fans – and remained a competitive academic at heart – Cox left his own riposte to the critics, clearing up any misrepresentations and publicising his book at the same time, telling one commenter he would do well to read it because it might mean a better class of degree.
While scenes of Pegg and physicist Jim Al-Khalili waving a spring around as Red Dwarf actor Robert Llewellyn looked on made for entertaining pre-Christmas television, the programme also served as an important watermark. For TV show creators, the giving of a Christmas special by the channel is a massive moment: then comes the realisation that you and your characters have become part of the establishment. As far as TV bystanders were concerned, this was what Night of the Stars was for Cox: an anointment by his BBC employers as someone worthy of that honour. It was also, thanks to the subject matter, a handy advertisement for The Quantum Universe.
When Amazon’s telescope sales were reported as increasing by up to 500 per cent after the first night of Stargazing Live in January 2012, one might be forgiven for asking Cox whether he would rethink those eponymously branded star searchers, as Chris Evans gamely suggested. After 3.8 million people tuned in for the opening episode of the astronomy programme, it wasn’t all that surprising they were thinking skywards. ‘Each time [Cox] appears on TV, we see a jump in telescope sales and that would appear to point to a significant “Brian Cox Effect” encouraging a renewed interest in stargazing,’ said Neil Campbell of Amazon.co.uk.
It wasn’t the first time that Cox and the BBC had attempted something of this scale and showed how ubiquitous he had become as the voice of science for the broadcaster. Here, he was chosen to lead an astronomy-orientated programme even though his research expertise was within the realm of particle physics. He was no doubt a fan of space, but was not a professional cosmologist despite having a cache of knowledge on the subject. To the BBC audience however, his voice was the one they wanted to hear.
The first Stargazing Live had taken place in January 2011 at Jodrell Bank in Manchester, with a three-day extravaganza combining televisual output, an internet presence and more importantly, collaboration with various astronomy groups across the country, who were all invited to participate. In other words it was a truly interactive experience. The 2011 series went well, with Cox talking about Jupiter and speaking to the crew of the International Space Station, while co-host Dara O’Briain (who had studied maths and theoretical physics at university) offered insights. The show got the headlines, too when astronomer Mar
k Thompson (working as an outside broadcaster) told Cox and O’Briain that nothing was happening in the skies over Macclesfield, only for eagle-eyed viewers to point out that he had missed a meteor streaking across the sky. As it turned out, it came from the Quadrantid meteor shower.
More than 40,000 people participated in over 300 Stargazing Live events around the country and some places such as the Newbold Verdon Library in Leicestershire had to add further dates later in the month. It was a highly successful regional event and proved the BBC right in their belief that science programming had truly entered the zeitgeist. ‘The BBC linked with observatories all over the country to motivate people to look at the stars,’ said David Strange, chairman of the Norman Lockyer Observatory in Sidmouth, Devon. ‘Our observatory opened its doors to all budding stargazers and offered help and advice about starting an interest in astronomy. We were at our maximum capacity, so were very pleased with the turnout.’
