Skip to main content

Fusion: the way ahead


At a Glance: Fusion power

  • Fusion is the process whereby two light nuclei bind to form a heavier nucleus with the release of energy
  • Harnessing fusion on Earth via deuterium and tritium reactions would lead to an environmentally friendly and almost limitless energy source
  • One promising route to fusion power is to magnetically confine a hot, dense plasma inside a doughnut-shaped device called a tokamak
  • The JET tokamak provides a vital testing ground for understanding the physics and technologies necessary for an eventual fusion reactor
  • ITER is due to power up in 2016 and will be the next step towards a demonstration fusion power plant, which could be operational by 2035

By 2025 the Earth’s population is predicted to reach eight billion. By the turn of the next century it could be as many as 12 billion. Even if the industrialized nations find a way to reduce their energy consumption, this unprecedented increase in population – coupled with rising prosperity in the developing world – will place huge demands on global energy supplies.

As our primary sources of energy – fossil fuels – begin to run out, and burning them causes increasing environmental concerns, the human race faces the challenge of finding new energy sources. Conventional nuclear power produces long-lived radioactive waste, while renewable energy sources such as wind, wave or solar power provide variable output and are unlikely ever to be able to satisfy total demand.

Nuclear fusion offers a potentially safe, environmentally friendly and economically competitive energy source. To operate for a whole year generating about seven billion kilowatt hours of electricity, a fusion plant would use just 100 kg of deuterium and three tonnes of lithium – releasing no greenhouse gases in the process. A typical coal-fired power station, in contrast, devours three million tonnes of fuel and produces some 11 million tonnes of carbon dioxide to yield the same annual output.

Last year researchers took a major step towards the goal of fusion power, when the partners in the International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor (ITER) project finally decided that the facility will be built at Cadarache in France. Negotiations between ITER’s members – China, the European Union, Japan, Russia, South Korea and the US – over which would host the €5bn machine had been deadlocked since 2003. After much hard bargaining, it was agreed that France would be the favoured site, with Kaname Ikeda from Japan taking over as director general (see page 12; print version only). Since then, India has also joined the project, so that half of the world’s population is now represented in this scientific endeavour.

ITER – which means “the way” in Latin – is scheduled to power up in 2016 and will be the penultimate step towards commercial fusion power. But although the 20,000 tonne facility is now ready for construction, there is still plenty of work to be done at existing fusion experiments. The Joint European Torus (JET) in the UK is playing a vital role in this effort, being the only device capable of operating with the same fuel and materials planned for ITER. Moreover, JET is the only fusion experiment that is currently big enough to approach the enormous power loads expected in an eventual commercial fusion reactor.

From moonshine to sunshine

Ernest Rutherford once famously declared that “anyone who expects a source of power from the transformation of the atom is talking moonshine”. But science fiction has a habit of becoming science fact, and Rutherford’s sentiments were disproved less than 10 years later with the demonstration of controlled nuclear fission by Enrico Fermi in 1942. Fusion, on the other hand, has proved much more difficult to achieve.

Nuclear fusion is the powerhouse of the stars, and is therefore the mechanism by which all the chemical elements around us were created. It is the process whereby two light nuclei bind together to form a third, heavier nucleus: because the mass of the final nucleus is slightly less than the total mass of the initial nuclei, energy is released via Einstein’s famous equivalence of mass and energy (E = mc2).

In the Sun, for example, energy is released through a chain of reactions that begins with the fusion of two protons into a deuteron – a deuterium nucleus containing one proton and one neutron. The deuteron then combines with another proton to produce a nucleus of helium-3, which, in turn, fuses with another helium-3 nucleus to form a nucleus of helium-4 (an alpha particle). This process takes hundreds of millions of years, which is rather fortuitous since if it occurred too rapidly, the solar furnace would have burned out long before life on Earth had a chance to evolve! The downside, of course, is that protonic fusion cannot be used as a viable source of terrestrial fusion energy.

But there is a quicker route to fusion involving the nuclei of deuterium and tritium – an isotope of hydrogen containing one proton and two neutrons. When these two nuclei fuse, they produce a helium-4 nucleus plus a neutron. Because this reaction involves only the rearrangement of protons and neutrons, rather than the transformation of a proton into a neutron, it proceeds much more rapidly than protonic fusion. However, the final mass defect in this reaction is lower, which means that less energy is released. Still, provided the deuterium and tritium nuclei can be made to collide with one another indefinitely at energies of between 10 and 100 keV, the reactions proceed at a useful rate for power production.

One way to achieve this situation is to heat the reactants so that a neutral gas of ions and electrons (a plasma) is produced, and to confine this hot plasma for long enough for significant fusion to occur. In the Sun, this confinement is supplied by the star’s enormous gravitational field. On Earth, confinement alone is insufficient: the plasma must also be isolated from the confining medium to prevent impurities from contaminating the plasma and reducing the fusion efficiency.

There are two ways to create such conditions. The first is magnetic confinement, in which magnetic fields hold the charged plasma particles inside a containment vessel. The other is inertial confinement, whereby fuel is compressed at such high speeds that fusion occurs before the fuel has time to expand and touch the container walls. This latter technique is the principle behind the hydrogen bomb, and it is currently being studied at several research laboratories using high-power lasers. Researchers have been pursuing magnetically confined fusion since 1958, when much of fusion research was declassified at the “Geneva Atoms for Peace” conference. By far the most promising way to do this in terms of an eventual power plant is to use a “tokamak” – a concept pioneered by Soviet physicists Andrei Sakharov and Igor Tamm in the 1950s. ITER, like JET, will be a tokamak.

A tokamak is a doughnut-shaped vessel or torus, in which a helical magnetic field insulates charged particles in the plasma from the surrounding walls. The helical field is produced by combining a toroidal field, which guides particles “the long way round” the torus, and another “poloidal” field, which guides them the short way round (figure 1). The former is provided by large external coils, while the latter is generated by a current flowing through the plasma in the toroidal direction. This plasma current arises from a toroidal electric field that is produced inductively by a coil passing through the centre of the torus, which acts as the primary winding of a transformer (the second winding is provided by the plasma ring).

For fusion to occur, nuclei must be slammed together fast enough and often enough to overcome their Coulomb repulsion and make the process self-sustaining. A tokamak therefore needs to maintain high densities of fuel ions at enormous temperatures – about 100 million degrees – for a sufficiently long time. Achieving this in the face of a multitude of plasma instabilities has been a significant challenge for fusion researchers.

However, it is precisely the lack of “runaway” possibility in a fusion reactor that makes fusion so much more attractive than fission, where the challenge is to get the fuel to react slowly over a period of years. Furthermore, fusion produces no highly radioactive or fissile products and its fuel exists naturally in abundance (deuterium exists in water at concentrations of about 1 part in 6700, and can be extracted easily using electrolysis; tritium can be bred within the fusion reactor itself).

Of all the possible combinations of light elements that could be used for terrestrial fusion, the deuterium-tritium reaction proceeds at the highest rate for the lowest temperature and is therefore the best candidate for a fusion power plant. Each reaction yields an energy of 17.6 MeV, which is shared by an alpha particle and a neutron. The neutrons, carrying most of this energy, escape the confining fields and are captured in the walls of the tokamak where they generate heat. As a result, coolant circulating through the walls can be passed through a heat exchanger to produce steam in order to drive turbines, as in a conventional power station. The walls also double as a “breeding blanket” in which neutrons react with lithium to produce further tritium.

The alpha particles, in contrast, are confined by the magnetic field and transfer their energy to the deuterium and tritium fuel ions via Coulomb collisions. When this alpha heating is sufficient by itself to maintain the density and temperature of the plasma at the required levels, the process becomes self-sustaining and the plasma is said to have ignited. Through this process, ITER aims to produce about 400 MW of fusion power for several minutes. This equates to a “fusion gain” (the ratio of fusion power to the input power required to raise the plasma temperature) of about QDT = 10. When QDT = 1 we say that breakeven is achieved, and QDT = ∞ for an ignited plasma.

The idea of fusion gain was first introduced just over 50 years ago by a young engineer called John Lawson, who was working on the then-secret ZETA fusion experiment at AERE Harwell in the UK. Motivated by “the unrealistic expectations of his enthusiastic physics fellows”, Lawson deduced a condition based on the plasma density and confinement time that would have to be satisfied for a useful reactor. The value of the so-called triple product derived from the Lawson criterion has increased by more than five orders of magnitude since the early tokamak experiments, leaving Rutherford’s pessimistic outlook for nuclear fission sorely misplaced for fusion too (figure 2).

The fusion challenge

One of the reasons why achieving fusion power is so demanding is the vast range of time- and space-scales associated with the underlying physics. For example, understanding how the helium produced in deuterium-tritium reactions affects the stability of the plasma requires tests to be carried out in large devices for long times. To complicate things further, the different timescales are linked: the structure of the plasma on the macro scale, for instance, depends on turbulent processes at the electron Larmor radius scale (about 0.1 mm), while plasma instabilities over periods of hundreds of microseconds can affect the erosion of materials over the course of years.

Only with ITER can these critical aspects of fusion be addressed simultaneously. The challenge facing the fusion community now is to provide as much information as possible to assist ITER’s research programme. This is where JET comes to the fore. As well as being the largest fusion device currently in operation, JET can access many of the key physics regimes of ITER. It also has similar technical capabilities, such as operating with tritium fuel, using beryllium on its plasma-facing surfaces and having similar heating systems as ITER.

JET has recently been upgraded, with various sensors now in place to improve our knowledge of properties such as the temperature, density and shape of the plasma. Further increases in the heating power are also planned in 2008, placing JET in a much stronger position to address the plasma-physics and technological challenges of burning-plasma regimes. In addition to understanding the physics of fusion plasmas, the performance of a tokamak is ultimately determined by boundary conditions imposed at its surfaces. This means dealing with the perennial thorn in fusion’s side: the choice of which material to use for the surfaces that directly face the plasma.

Early tokamaks were simple devices in which the plasma had a circular cross-section and was faced only by the steel walls of the vacuum vessel. To reduce direct plasma-wall interactions, small objects called limiters were strategically placed on the walls to define a “last closed” magnetic surface. Beyond this point, magnetic field lines carrying particles and heat terminate on the limiters, localizing most of the plasma-surface interaction a few centimetres from the wall.

Managing this interaction or “particle exhaust” is not an issue in small tokamaks, but it becomes critical when building a large device such as ITER. Sustained, high-power operation produces considerable particle and heat loads, leading to the release of surface material. Such impurities can make their way into the plasma, polluting it and severely reducing the fusion gain. Furthermore, the alpha particles that sustain the temperature in a fusion plasma must also be removed before they themselves become a source of pollution.

Some modern experimental tokamaks still use limiters to deal with particle exhaust. However, most – including JET and ITER – favour the use of magnetic coils to generate an “X-point” where the poloidal magnetic field is zero (figure 3). The advantage with the magnetic-coil approach is that field lines diverging away from the X-point can be diverted onto a remote target where the plasma-surface interaction and particle exhaust can be localized.

The X-point configuration also brings other important benefits: the weak poloidal field near the zero-field point means that magnetic field lines make many transits around the torus before terminating on the divertor targets. As a result, the plasma at the targets is cool enough to allow electrons and ions to recombine and locally extinguish the plasma “flame”. The low temperatures also allow a region of high neutral pressure to develop, enabling the helium ash produced by the fusion reactions to be efficiently pumped out of the system. This, along with the reduction of heat loads on the targets, will be critical to the success of ITER and future power plants.

Today’s divertor targets and other protection armour inside tokamaks are almost exclusively made from graphite or carbon-fibre composites. Carbon has a low atomic mass, which means that any carbon atoms released into the core of the plasma are stripped of their electrons at temperatures above about 500 eV. As a result, the plasma loses less energy via photon emission due to electronic transitions. In the lower temperatures at the edge and divertor regions, however, carbon radiates extremely efficiently and therefore dissipates energy that would otherwise be channelled into plasma-surface interactions. Carbon is also strong and able to withstand high temperatures. So far so good, but carbon also has two major drawbacks: it reacts chemically with the plasma fuel, and it traps the fuel like a sponge. This can lead to enhanced material erosion and unacceptable levels of tritium retention.

So what material should we use for ITER? For the moment, the machine designers are playing it safe, using carbon in the high-heat-flux divertor areas to cope with the highest temperatures, and using beryllium and tungsten elsewhere to minimize tritium retention. However, even this low ratio of carbon to metal in the plasma-facing surface (about 1%) is probably unacceptable in terms of tritium retention in an eventual fusion reactor. Part of JET and ITER’s remit is therefore to strive for an all-metal solution.

In fact, some tokamaks already use all-metal surfaces. The Alcator C-Mod device at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the Italian FTU machine in Frascati have for many years been running with walls made entirely of molybdenum. And graphite plasma-facing components in the ASDEX-Upgrade tokamak at the Max Planck Institute for Plasma Physics in Garching, Germany, are being systematically replaced with tungsten versions to study high-power plasmas with a metal wall (see “When the choice is not immaterial”).

But as the single existing tokamak capable of handling beryllium, it is only at JET that the material mix planned for ITER can be tested. Preparations are therefore under way to install beryllium in the appropriate locations to gain time in the first few years of ITER exploitation. Combined with the heating upgrade scheduled for the same period, JET will allow us to produce “first-wall” power loadings approaching those expected in ITER.

The price of high performance

Even with the right materials, the walls of a tokamak may still not be resilient enough to withstand the most violent energy emissions from the plasma. These emissions, which can heat the surface to several thousand degrees in a fraction of a second, are a side effect of operating the tokamak in the magnetic X-point configuration.

In addition to providing a convenient mechanism for power exhaust, the X-point configuration naturally produces a transport barrier (a region of very high pressure gradient) near the edge of the plasma. This leads to a regime of high-energy confinement, referred to as the “baseline scenario” for ITER operation. Crucially, the baseline scenario will allow sufficient fusion gain for researchers to study the materials, technologies and plasma control that will be important for an eventual fusion reactor. But the improved confinement comes at a price: the strong pressure gradients across the transport barrier can effectively strip off the outer layer of the plasma and throw out violent bursts of particles and energy. These “edge localized modes” (ELMs) are a double-edged sword. They can actually help particles to escape the plasma, and would prevent helium ash from building up in a working reactor. Left unchecked, however, the bursts would erode the plasma-facing surfaces too rapidly for a power plant to be viable.

The key to dealing with ELMs is to get the heat out of the plasma edge more frequently or more smoothly, preventing the build up of pressure so that the modes do not get too large. For the first time in any tokamak, researchers at JET have recently demonstrated an operating regime with tolerable ELMs that should also work in ITER. To do this, they deliberately introduced impurities such as nitrogen in the edge regions, which radiate energy and reduce the efficiency of the transport barrier, leading to a milder type of ELM. The problem is that disturbing the transport barrier also degrades the overall energy confinement, which would reduce the performance of a fusion reactor.

One way to compensate for this loss in confinement is to operate at higher plasma currents. The 2.5 MA current used at JET extrapolates to 17 MA in ITER (its highest design current), which leaves little room for improvement in performance and leads to increased operational risks. Researchers are therefore seeking other ways to improve performance at lower plasma currents. The JET team, for example, is currently exploring whether changes to the shape of the plasma can increase heat losses between each ELM without reducing energy confinement too much. Elsewhere, researchers at the ASDEX-Upgrade tokamak have injected frozen deuterium pellets into the edge of the plasma at high frequencies in order to “pace” the ELMs. And the DIII-D device at the General Atomics Laboratories in San Diego employs external coils to “churn up” the magnetic surfaces in order to increase particle transport and mitigate the ELMs.

Keeping the plasma burning

The key problem with the baseline scenario is that the plasma current is driven by a transformer, making tokamaks inherently pulsed devices. Any power plant using a tokamak in this regime would be inefficient and expensive since the device would cool down between pulses, experiencing large thermal stresses. Fortunately, there is another way to drive the plasma current called the bootstrap effect, with reference to the infamous Baron Münchhausen, a German serving as an officer in the Russian cavalry who claimed he could lift himself up by his own bootstraps! In short, the banana-shaped cross-sections of particle orbits in the plasma lead to a net current in the presence of strong density or temperature gradients (figure 3).

In order for a tokamak reactor to be economically viable, this “bootstrap current” has to dominate over the current driven by the solenoid or external heating systems. The trick to achieving this so-called advanced scenario (as opposed to the baseline scenario) is to reduce the size of the turbulent eddies inside the plasma, in order to trigger “internal transport barriers”. These eddies normally transport particles and heat outwards across magnetic surfaces. But they can be broken up by introducing a sheared rotation to the plasma (see figure 4), or by modifying the distribution of plasma current to reduce the natural outward “precessional drifts” of the electron orbits that drive them.

To gain control of advanced scenarios the current distribution required to maintain the transport has to be similar to the naturally generated bootstrap currents. At JET, such conditions have already been found; but on the long timescales required in a fusion power plant, we will need to provide some externally driven current and heat to prevent the plasma from evolving to a lower-performing state.

JET has several key capabilities here, the most immediate being its ability to drive the current in various ways thanks to three different types of heating system. This makes JET the only device in which both the pressure and current distributions can be controlled independently. JET’s size also means that the plasma current diffuses over long timescales, allowing the desired current distribution to be “frozen in” by heating shortly after the initial plasma forms. Finally, the long pulse length (tens of seconds) of JET compared with the timescales over which the plasma evolves enables us to control these advanced scenarios in the presence of transport barriers.

These capabilities will be dramatically improved with further heating upgrades at JET, and efforts are now under way to improve the control over barriers that encompass larger volumes of plasma. This is being complemented by studies at other fusion experiments. In 2003, for example, researchers working on the TCV tokamak in Lausanne, Switzerland, achieved almost 100% bootstrap operation, while the use of current drive for very long pulses is being explored at the Tore Supra device in Cadarache.

Given the challenges posed by these advanced scenarios, there is increasing interest in finding a compromise “hybrid” scenario. Like advanced scenarios, the hybrid uses a strong bootstrap-driven current, but it does this without relying on internal transport barriers. The bootstrap current gives a broader and more stable current distribution than the baseline scenario, allowing operation at higher plasma pressures. This, in turn, maintains the strong bootstrap – a virtuous circle. Nevertheless, the bootstrap current is not strong enough to completely replace the inductive drive, so the tokamak remains pulsed. But since the pulses are much longer than in the baseline scenario, the hybrid could allow a power plant to be operated continuously for many hours.

Burn physics

One massive difference between today’s fusion devices and a real working reactor is the way the plasma is heated. In research tokamaks, external heating systems are required, while a reactor plasma (by definition) will burn in a self-sustaining way thanks to the energetic alpha particles produced in the deuterium-tritium reactions. Since these particles originate within the plasma itself, we need to be able to manage this alpha heating without the luxury of external controls. Only high-current tokamaks such as JET allow us to confine and study these fusion-born alpha particles (see “Burning Issue).

Though indispensable to a fusion reactor, alpha particles have a darker side too: they can drive a type of plasma instability known as shear Alfvén waves, in which charged particles travelling along magnetic field lines cause the lines to vibrate in analogy to a guitar string. Alfvén waves can reach speeds as high as 5% of the speed of light, but fusion-born alpha particles can travel even faster and therefore resonate with them. These instabilities can redistribute the alpha particles and change the heating profile, or even cause a loss of alpha confinement altogether, posing a problem for the integrity of the first wall.

Alpha particles can, however, also affect other plasma instabilities. A good example is the “sawtooth” instability, whereby the rising temperature in the core of the plasma suddenly crashes and releases a burst of heat. The alpha particles can help hold off the sawtooth until a higher temperature is reached. The downside is that the final crash is larger, and it can trigger other performance-degrading instabilities. However, JET is pioneering the use of localized current drive to help destabilize sawtooth instabilities thereby making them smaller – a technique also foreseen for ITER.

Towards the final goal

When he was asked how long it would take to build the first fusion power plant, the Soviet physicist Lev Artsimovich – one of the pioneers of tokamak research – replied that “fusion will be there when society needs it”. That time is fast approaching, and with the construction of ITER finally about to start, efforts are now gearing up for the longer-term prospect of fusion energy.

ITER is intended to be the single experimental link required between existing devices and a demonstration power plant, loosely referred to as “DEMO”. However, several issues of importance for DEMO cannot be addressed with ITER. Perhaps the most important is the need to develop radiation-resilient materials, particularly for DEMO’s steel vacuum vessel. ITER’s short operational cycle means that neutron-induced damage will not be an issue, preventing useful tests of materials at high neutron flux.

One way to address this is to use a continuous neutron source that generates fluxes comparable to those expected in a reactor but in a smaller test volume. Such a device, called the international fusion materials irradiation facility (IFMIF) to be sited in Japan, will operate in parallel with ITER.

The IFMIF is part of a package of facilities being planned to speed the development of fusion power. The package also includes a superconducting upgrade to the world’s second largest operating tokamak – JT-60U in Japan – and the founding of a new fusion research centre, also in Japan, dedicated to modelling scenarios for ITER and for performing DEMO studies. Later, such a facility might also become a remote experimental control centre for ITER, reducing the need to relocate people to Europe and allowing round the clock operations by exploiting the time difference between Japan and Europe.

DEMO construction would probably start some time in 2025, with operation perhaps 10 years later. Commercial power plants could then be up and running by around the middle of the century. In the shorter term, it is hoped that the first plasmas in ITER will be achieved by 2016, with full-power deuterium-tritium operation by about 2021. Almost 50 years have passed since fusion research was declassified; but in less than 50 years from now, man-made Suns on Earth could finally become a reality.

When the choice is not immaterial

One of the most crucial aspects of a fusion reactor is what materials to use for the “first wall” surfaces that directly encounter the plasma. Some of these surfaces will have to withstand temperatures of more than 1000 degrees for sustained periods over many years, and will also face enormous neutron fluxes. First-wall surfaces must be chosen such that erosion rates and the subsequent contamination of the plasma are below acceptable limits.

The current choice of material for ITER’s main wall is beryllium, because it has a low atomic number, low tritium retention and efficiently removes any oxygen present in the tokamak. The divertor, which will experience the highest temperatures (V-shaped notches visible in the bottom of the chamber), will be built from carbon on the target plates and tungsten elsewhere.

At JET, an ambitious upgrade is being prepared to mimic this first-wall mix and thus provide ITER with some early indications of the operational consequences. However, without a machine the size of ITER, we will never be confident that a particular material choice will make fusion power feasible. In a single discharge lasting seven minutes, for example, ITER will deposit about three times the number of particles in the divertor as JET manages in three years of operation! Furthermore, compared with only about 0.2 g at JET, ITER will devour a massive 50 g of fuel per discharge. Therefore, if carbon is used in ITER – as it is prolifically at JET and other tokamaks – the amount of tritium retained could very quickly exceed the 350 g limit imposed by nuclear licensing restrictions. On the other hand, it is not yet certain whether metals that trap tritium less efficiently will be able to handle the high transient divertor heat loads expected in ITER without melting. ITER’s task is therefore to apply the knowledge gained from decades of fusion research to solve issues that cannot be addressed without long-pulse, high-power operation in a burning-plasma environment.

Burning issue

A central issue for ITER will be to improve our control over the fusion-burn process. This means finding ways to accurately determine the location and energies of the fast particles produced in the fusion reactions. JET is playing an important role in this effort, with the recent addition of neutron emission spectroscopy and scintillation-detection techniques. For the last few years JET has also been able to perform gamma-ray imaging, which relies on trace impurities such as beryllium in the main plasma to provide information about alpha particles. Here, a beryllium ion struck by a high-energy alpha particle creates a carbon ion, a neutron and a characteristic gamma ray that allows us to visualize the spatial distribution and temperature of alpha particles (image on left). The localization of the alpha particles to the right-hand side of the plasma is a result of the heating system and the lower magnetic field strength in this region. This is consistent with the full orbit trajectory calculation of a trapped “banana” alpha particle on the right, confirming our predictions and validating this approach for “visualizing” the alpha particles in a burning plasma.

JET in context

1973

JET design commences
1979
Laboratory foundation stone laid
1983
Construction completed and JET operated by 16 European states under the auspices of “EURATOM”
1984
Official opening ceremony
1985
ITER project launched
1991
JET provides world’s first deuterium-tritium tokamak experiment, producing 1.7 MW of fusion power for about 0.5 s
1997
JET produces 16 MW of fusion power for 2 s – a world record
2000
JET’s scientific program controlled by European Fusion Development Agreement (EFDA)
2003
Experiments with trace quantities of tritium 2005 ITER site chosen as Cadarache in the south of France

More about: Fusion power
C M Braams and P E Stott 2002 Nuclear Fusion: half a Century of Magnetic Confinement Fusion Research Plasma Phys. Control. Fusion 44 1767
J D Lawson 1957 Some criteria for a power producing thermonuclear reactor Proc. Phys. Soc. B 70 6-10
J B Lister and H Weisen 2005 What will we learn from ITER? Europhys. News 36 47-51
G McCracken and P Stott 2005 Fusion: the Energy of the Universe (Oxford, Elsevier)
J Pamela et al. 2003 Overview of JET results Nuclear Fusion 45 63-85
P-H Rebut et al. 1992 Fusion energy production from a deuterium-tritium plasma in the JET tokamak Nuclear Fusion 32 187-203
J Wesson 2004 Tokamaks (Oxford University Press)
JET public website: www.jet.efda.org

Shelf life: Michael Duff


What are the three best popular-science books?

Dreams of a Final Theory by Steven Weinberg. At a time when wishy-washy “holistic” science and vague ideas of “emergence” are being touted, we need a vigorous defence of reductionism, and no-one does it better than Weinberg.

The Elegant Universe by Brian Greene. An elegant universe requires an elegant book to describe it. Greene captures the notions of beauty and economy that characterize current attempts to find a theory that describes all physical phenomena. It is also one of the first popular books to deal not only with 10D superstrings, but also with my own field of 11D M-theory — the theory that subsumes all the different string theories by incorporating supermembranes.

Relativity by Albert Einstein. After all these years, this is still a masterpiece by the master himself.

What science books are you currently reading?

Strange Matters by Tom Siegfried, Explaining the Universe by John Charap, and Mutants by Armand Marie Leroi. The latter is a disturbing book about human genetic make-up and how it can go wrong. It is written with an extraordinary literary elegance. In other hands, a book on this topic might have degenerated into a freak show, but Leroi turns it into a work of art.

What else are you reading?

Horatio Nelson by Tom Pocock. This is a superb biography. Pocock maintains historical rigour while writing in an entertaining style about Nelson’s life and times, back in the days of pressgangs, grog and the lash.

Which popular-science book have you never read, but feel you ought to have tackled, and why?

Consilience: The Unity of Knowledge by Edward O Wilson. Although I am enamoured with ideas of unification in science, my usual habitat is restricted to unified theories of physics. The unification of knowledge seen through the eyes of a distinguished life scientist is something with which I ought to be better acquainted.

F = ma

The equation F = ma, shorthand for Newton’s second law of motion, is the 1 + 1 = 2 of classical mechanics. The equation seems obvious and straightforward. It appears simply to translate an ordinary experience into measurable terms: push something and it moves.

Yet like 1 + 1 = 2, F = ma grows mysterious when looked at closely. It does not refer to ordinary experience, but to an abstract world of zero resistance; in reality, we must continue pushing things to keep them moving at the same speed. The equation also says nothing about mass-energy exchange. And it gives centre stage to force – a concept absent from most formulations of contemporary theories like relativity and quantum mechanics.

How can such an elementary equation about something as ordinary as motion conceal so much? The answer lies in the historical process leading from ancient times to the formulation of F = ma in the 17th century. This conceptual journey shows that when we learn this equation, we master (and inherit) more than we think. The fact that an equation such as F = ma arose out of a developmental process, however, invites the question of whether the process would happen the same way twice.

Replaying the tape

The evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould once proposed a thought experiment that he called “replaying life’s tape”. Suppose we press the rewind button and return to some point in the past, erasing all interim evolutionary developments. If we let the tape run again, will evolution occur in exactly the same way as before? Gould answered “no”, and used the thought experiment to challenge the assumption that biological evolution is a “ladder of progress” that drives life inevitably to the same advanced forms.

It is interesting to think what might happen if we carried out the same thought experiment, not for living things, but for equations. Would the equations develop in an unpredictable way, like the evolution of species? Or would it be inevitable? If we started all over again, would we still have F = ma? Indeed, would we have equations at all?

In the 19th century, the French philosopher Auguste Comte thought he could answer such questions. Comte advanced what he called “a great fundamental law” according to which each branch of human knowledge – as well as each person, state and civilization – passes through three different developmental stages: theological, metaphysical and scientific. In each stage, human beings try different approaches to securing stable and progressive relations with nature to make their surroundings peaceful and predictable. But inadequacies in each approach force human beings to make revisions, leading to the next stage.

The development of the concept of force nicely illustrates Comte’s law. In primitive times, Comte thought, humans saw the world as ruled by deities. This was natural and inevitable, for all humans acquire a notion of force from individual experiences of pushes and pulls in daily life. Projected into nature, this creates a theological picture in which everything from thunder and rain to the stars is the result of spirits behaving and misbehaving. The theological stage is indispensable because, in it, we learn how to explain, strive for consistency and overcome contradictions with new explanations.

But trying to control nature by pleasing the spirits through ritual and prayer (the earliest forms of technology) did not succeed in bringing about the desired predictability. A far more effective way of influencing nature turned out to be studying the changes that the spirits produced – the patterns in the seasons, tides and stars, in the behaviour of fire, and so on. This shift of attention moved humanity into the second, metaphysical stage. Here humans continued to attempt to explain the “why” of things through some ultimate cause or essence. But the supernatural agents were now replaced by what Comte called “abstract forces, real entities or personified abstractions”.

Force, for instance, was explained as operating through the medieval notion of “impetus”, which is passed from one body to another and causes motion. But these metaphysical agents, too, gradually became emptied of meaning, and reason itself did not provide a sufficient ground for understanding nature.

This led to the final – scientific – stage, which saw the maturation of the human intellect. Physics and astronomy, Comte thought, reached this stage in the 17th century. Human beings ceased to ask why phenomena happened and instead sought to answer how they happened by finding the appropriate laws. The number of such laws tends to decrease as science progresses. Gravitation, for example, was found to unify what had seemed to be myriads of forces into one.

Comte never considered the question of whether individual equations such as F = ma would reappear if the process recurred. But had this thought experiment been proposed to him, he would surely have held that the conceptual trajectory that led to F = ma would be more or less repeated, with theological concepts of force giving way to metaphysical concepts and then to mathematical laws governing abstract quantities.

The critical point

But so what if our thought experiment tells us that we would end up with something like Newton’s second law again? In his recent book, Comte After Positivism, the US philosopher Robert Scharff tries to explain why this conclusion is important.

As Scharff points out, the main function of Comte’s law is to express and articulate his dissatisfaction with the state of science around him. Comte sought to bring to light again the often-forgotten background of science – why we do it, what has been tried and failed, and how it affects the atmosphere of human life. By describing and propounding the law, Comte wanted to improve our understanding of why we do science this way and thus help usher humanity from the metaphysical to the scientific stage.

In fact, Comte’s ideas about thought experiments are still relevant today, given that science is now being challenged theologically by a new brand of creationism, in the form of intelligent design. It is also being challenged politically by an attempt to use it as a pliable instrument for accomplishing ideological ends. And it is challenged even by promoters who are unable to recognize their own tunnel vision. Though our situation differs from that of Comte, his goal of achieving self-consciousness with respect to science and how we inhabit the world it has shaped is more urgent than ever.

From stars to celebrities

Many physicists will have been shocked to learn of the forthcoming closure of the London Planetarium, based at Madame Tussauds in central London. The planetarium has inspired countless generations of youngsters to take an interest in astronomy. But from July the venue – renamed the Auditorium – will be home to shows about celebrities, not heavenly bodies. Of course, as a commercial organization, Tussauds is at liberty to do whatever it likes with its planetarium, which sits uneasily alongside halls filled with waxwork models of pop stars, footballers and Saddam Hussein. But the company’s main reason for closing the planetarium – that it is increasingly focusing on entertainment not education – is disappointing.

Fortunately, London will not be without a planetarium for long. Next year, the Royal Greenwich Observatory, which is part of the National Maritime Museum, will open a 120-seat planetarium as part of a £15m redevelopment of the site. The investment at Greenwich – and at countless other planetariums around the world – proves that people are still fascinated by the night sky.

The quest for brightness

The laser is an essential feature of modern life, from telecommunications to medicine. Its history has been told many times, but Beam focuses on the three intense years from the birth of the idea of the laser to its first demonstration in 1960. Jeff Hecht, a science journalist who has written about lasers and optical physics for the past 30 years, describes the emergence of the concept of a source of coherent optical light.

But who really invented the laser? Hecht portrays the varied characters involved at several competing laboratories, examining the dramatic claims and bizarre twists along the road to success. The book’s chapters are divided between the different labs, meaning some duplication of material as the different players are affected by the same events.

The early development of the laser rests on the shoulders of Charles Townes and Gordon Gould: two very different men who in 1957 both began thinking about how to build a coherent optical beam.

Charles Townes, now 90, is an establishment scientist. He sought fame through academic recognition, which he certainly achieved with the award of a Nobel prize in 1964. He built the first maser, the microwave counterpart of the laser, in 1953, and then began to think about a device, which he termed an “optical maser”, that would operate at wavelengths a thousand times shorter. With his academic perspective, he saw the aim mainly as a contribution to spectroscopy. As a consultant at Bell Labs in New Jersey, he toiled long hours through the week, devoting his Sundays to church and family.

Gordon Gould, who died last year aged 85, was a contrasting character. Dropping out of his doctoral studies in 1958 to become an inventor with the small company Technical Research Group (TRG) in Long Island, New York, he was outside the scientific establishment from the beginning. With an independent-minded and imaginative approach, he envisaged the great potential of coherent optical light, and was in 1957 the first to coin the term “laser”. He foresaw applications in communications technology, materials processing and weapons construction, documenting many of his ideas in extensive notebooks.

But when TRG was awarded a large military contract to build a laser he was barred from the work: his early enthusiasm for Marxism precluded the necessary security clearance. This denied Gould access to his own notebooks, and deprived the company of the success his early insights promised. He also failed to patent his ideas until 1959, leading to decades of legal battles to establish himself as the inventor of the laser. He was eventually awarded patents for some of his inventions, but such delayed success gave him little glory and the legal expenses took most of the money.

Townes and his brother-in-law Arthur Schawlow had the impressive resources of Bell Labs at their disposal. Success ought to have been assured, but they directed their effort at creating a continuous, rather than pulsed, laser. They wanted a source that supplied a steady flow of light rather than intermittent bursts of energy, as the former would be more useful for their spectroscopic studies. This approach ruled out using the ruby crystal as a laser material, and in any case Schawlow was convinced that ruby generated light too inefficiently to function as a laser. In those days it was far from easy to perform precision optical measurements, and established misconceptions tended to linger on.

Hecht then describes how a dark horse overturned those misapprehensions to win the race. Theodore Maiman, working for Hughes Research Laboratory in California, aimed to make a pulsed laser. In the spring of 1960 he successfully demonstrated that his ruby laser emitted coherent light, and submitted an article to Physical Review Letters. Ironically, the then-editor Sam Goudsmit rejected the manuscript out of hand. The journal had been swamped with technical papers on masers, and Maiman’s work, using Townes’ term “optical maser”, was rejected as just another of these, thereby missing the true significance of the work. Maiman submitted a brief version to Nature, where it was promptly published, and he proceeded to write a full-length paper and submitted it to the Journal of Applied Physics. However, its acceptance was barred by it already having been published, without Maiman’s authorization, in the little-known journal British Communications and Electronics.

Townes and his colleagues at Bell Labs were stunned by Maiman’s success, but rapidly constructed their own ruby laser. Their paper was accepted by Physical Review Letters as it avoided the use of the term “maser”. It gave minimal credit to Maiman and formed the basis for the laboratory’s claim to have invented the laser. Several other laser devices followed shortly afterwards. Later in 1960 Peter Sorokin and Mirek Stevenson at IBM achieved the second working system, based on uranium impurities.

In a parallel project at Bell Labs, Ali Javan, Bill Bennett and Don Herriott worked on a gas laser using helium and neon. With this technology they achieved the first continuously operating laser early in 1961. Hecht’s book ends with the first semiconductor laser, realized in 1962 by groups at General Electrics, IBM and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, completing the demonstration of all the basic laser types. Readers interested in subsequent developments should turn to texts such as Mario Bertolotti’s The History of the Laser.

So, who is this book written for? As an experienced science writer, Hecht’s text is accessible to a readership of any background. The historical developments are dramatic enough to maintain interest, but the book is rather technical in its descriptions of the technological advances. The author gets the physics right, but it is not always clear that he translates it to the popular level intended. For my part, I enjoyed the details and anecdotes in the book, and felt they would make good additions to my teaching of laser physics. Beam is perhaps best suited to those who are learning or teaching the subject. They will appreciate the story of the laser’s early development, with its brilliant successes and ironic failures. With laser physics being the huge field that it is, half a century after its genesis, this should be a broad enough readership.

The challenges of fusion

Kaname Ikeda will soon be a name on many physicists’ lips. Though the outgoing Japanese ambassador to Croatia and former science administrator is not currently widely known, that will all change when he starts work later this month as director general of the International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor (ITER). Set to be built at Cadarache near Marseille in southern France – assuming the ITER treaty is ratified – this €10bn facility is designed to show that fusion could be turned into a practical energy source.

To do so would be huge achievement. Fusion reactors could play a massive role in meeting the world’s rapidly growing demand for energy. They promise to be environmentally friendly and relatively safe to operate, while the raw materials they need are plentiful. However, early progress in fusion research led plasma physicists to be over optimistic about this energy source, and a commercial fusion plant remains as far off in the future as it was back in the 1970s. Ikeda therefore has a tough job on his hands, as he readily admits in our interview with him (see p12; print version only). It will be no mean feat to build ITER on time and to budget, and Ikeda will have to draw heavily on his undoubted diplomatic skills to ensure that everyone involved in this complex international project gets on. ITER is hugely ambitious in engineering terms, with vast superconducting magnets needed to confine a deuterium-tritium plasma within a doughnut-shaped “tokamak” vessel.

Numerous technical challenges will have to be addressed to ensure ITER fulfils its goal of releasing more energy than it consumes. These include choosing which material to line the inner wall of the tokamak with, overcoming the accumulation of radioactive tritium on this surface, and controlling the properties of the plasma. Fortunately, such issues are being addressed at the recently upgraded Joint European Torus near Oxford (see “Fusion: the way ahead”). This information will be vital to give ITER – and Ikeda himself – a head start.

Artificial atoms amplify light

The active medium in a laser is usually a gas or a crystal in which the atoms have been excited or “pumped” so that more electrons exist in the upper of two energy levels. Once such a population inversion has been achieved, a beam of light passing through the medium can stimulate electrons to fall into the lower energy level and emit a photon of the same wavelength. The emitted photons then go on to de-excite further atoms, amplifying the original beam. Phillips and co-workers have now shown that if the quantum phases of the electron waves in these two levels are coupled together, using a light pulse, then light can be emitted from the system without the need for population inversion. Although the conditions needed to observe this effect have been produced in gases, they have never been seen in a solid until now.

The UK-Switzerland team made a layered semiconductor nanostructure from indium gallium arsenide and aluminium indium arsenide. The structure contains three energy levels, and their energies and separations can be controlled by altering the thicknesses and compositions of the ultra-thin semiconductor layers that make up these “artificial atoms”. Electrons from the ground state can either jump directly to level two, or go up to level three and come back down again to level two. The electrons behave in a wave-like way and the researchers found a way of controlling, with a laser, the phases of the quantum waves that represent these two processes, so that they interfere with each other. Under these “coherent” conditions they found that the system emitted light even though more than 80% of the electrons remained in the ground state.

The set up also means that the material can be made “transparent” by exploiting an optical effect called electromagnetically induced transparency. Here, a pump laser is used to drive transitions between the different electron energy levels in an atom. If the conditions are correct, quantum interference effects between electron waves and light can cause the probability of transitions between two of the levels to fall to zero. This means that a second “probe” laser with a frequency that is resonant with this transition can travel through the media without being absorbed.

Finally, the researchers observed that the quantum interference increased the refractive index of the material by many orders of magnitude, thereby greatly reducing the speed of light inside it. This phenomenon, says the team, could have applications in optical data storage and even quantum computing.

Physicists learn how to “teleclone”

Quantum teleportation involves a sender (normally called Alice) transferring information about the quantum state of a particle down a classical channel to a receiver (normally called Bob). This is possible because both Alice and Bob are entangled. Quantum cloning involves making copies or “clones” of quantum states.

Quantum telecloning is basically the same as teleportation, except that the information is sent to more than one receiver, such as Bob and Claire. It involves simultaneously cloning a quantum state and sending to it to an arbitrary number of different destinations.

Teleportation uses ordinary, or bipartite entanglement – that is, information is simply transmitted from one sender to one receiver. However, telecloning must use multipartite entanglement because there is more than one recipient. Multipartite entanglement is a form of entanglement in which stricter correlations are required between the quantum particles or systems.

In the new experiment, Braunstein, Furusawa and colleagues telecloned an entire laser beam. They sent information about the beam’s amplitude and phase to two nearly identical beams at remote locations with 58% accuracy, or fidelity. This is a figure of merit that shows how faithfully the quantum state of the first system has been reproduced in the second system. The maximum theoretical limit in such a system is only 66% because of Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle.

Telecloning represents a new quantum information tool and could be used to build quantum computers and quantum communication networks. “Ultimately any applications will still require a lot of improvement in technology before they come to realisation,” says Braunstein. “Who knows though, maybe in several hundred years we will be able to teleclone ourselves from home and turn up both at the office and on the beach.”

Entanglement heats up

Entanglement is one of the most mysterious and fundamental properties of quantum mechanics and allows particles to have a much closer relationship than is possible in classical physics. If two particles are entangled, we can know the state of one particle by measuring the state of the other. However, entangled states are thought to vanish above a certain temperature because of thermal effects that make the system classical in a phenomenon known as “decoherence”.

Now, Vedral and colleagues have shown otherwise. The UK-Portugal-Austria team have calculated that an entangled state formed between the photons in a laser pulse and the phonons — quantum mechanical vibrations of the crystal lattice — in a mirror can persist at arbitrarily high temperatures. The physicists obtained their results by treating both the laser light and the mirror as simple quantum-mechanical harmonic oscillators. The photons and phonons interact via the so-called light pressure mechanism, in which photons bombarding the mirror exert a pressure on it because of mutual interactions.

The pressure exerted on the mirror depends on the number of photons hitting it: the more photons in the laser, the more pressure they exert on the mirror and the more the mirror vibrates. Vedral and co-workers calculated that if they were to measure five photons in the light field, then there would be five phonons in the motion of the mirror; and if they measured ten photons, then that meant ten phonons, and so forth. This is typical of an entangled state but the difference in the new calculation is that it works for large systems too — there are millions of photons in the laser beam and more than a billion atoms in the mirror.

The results show that macroscopic entanglement is not that difficult to create. “If our analysis is confirmed in an experiment — and I see no reason to believe otherwise — then this would push the limits of the validity of quantum mechanics further,” says Vedral. This may also have important implications for quantum computers: “Perhaps we would not need to cool quantum bits (or ‘qubits’) down to low temperatures in order to use them for quantum computation. Maybe we could have room temperature quantum computers, just like the classical ones of today.”

Three’s company

Pluto is the furthest planet in our solar system and lies in a vast band of small, icy bodies beyond Neptune called the Kuiper belt. Charon was discovered in 1978 and although some astronomers suspected that Pluto could have other, smaller, moons, none were found until now because of the difficulty in detecting objects so far away from Earth. The Hubble Space Telescope Advanced Camera for Surveys instrument detected the two new candidate moons in May last year and a team led by Hal Weaver at John Hopkins University and colleagues has now confirmed their existence by reanalysing images taken at this time and in 2002.

Based on measurements of the fraction of visible sunlight that the objects reflect into space, the astronomers have calculated that P1 has a diameter of between around 60 to 165 km and that P2 is about 20% smaller. Although definite orbits have not yet been drawn up, Weaver and colleagues say that both objects orbit Pluto at at least twice the distance Charon does — at around 65,000 km for P1 and 49,000 km for P2. Moreover, the two moons have orbital periods of about 38 and 25 days respectively, in contrast to Charon, which has an orbital period of just six days.

The researchers suggest that these new moons were created at the same time as Charon when another large body collided into Pluto (Nature 439 946). The collision ejected debris into orbit around the planet that then coalesced together under its own gravity to form the moons — the same way as our own Moon is thought to have formed. The team adds that the discovery of P1 and P2 implies that moons around Kuiper-belt objects may be quite common and that similar objects should be found as imaging techniques become more sophisticated. Indeed, Pluto itself might even have more moons.

The International Astronomical Union will now decide on real names for the two objects.

Copyright © 2026 by IOP Publishing Ltd and individual contributors