Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Resurrected Facebook Post No. 3: In Memoriam, Ed Salpeter

(from a Facebook group created in 2008, shortly after Dr. Salpeter's death)

I created this group to commemorate the passing of one of the senior statesmen of astrophysics, Edwin (Ed) Ernest Salpeter, who passed away today.

I'm hoping everyone will take a bit of time to post your memories or thoughts about Ed on this group.

I was at Cornell for only three years, and heard only about Ed through a reference to the Salpeter initial mass function in Carroll and Ostlie's An Introduction to Astrophysics, a popular undergraduate text on astrophysics. For the uninitiated, he basically figured out how stars convert helium into carbon, and calculated the formation rates of stars of different masses in the Galaxy. This would be the equivalent of a mortality gene in humans, or genes, should such a phenomenon ever be discovered. Ed's wikipedia entry

At Cornell, I learned about the Salpeter lectures, a biennial talk that recognized an outstanding member of the astrophysical community and gave that individual an opportunity to give both public and technical talks at Cornell. His biography indicates that he has won every significant award in astronomy, including

But most of my memory of Ed is not formed by his astrophysical contributions. I had the opportunity to see another side of him - the citizen and activist. He was a regular attendant at the Peace Studies Program seminars, especially those with a technical bent. He had been working on calculations involving casualties among Iraqi civilians, in addition to helping his daughter do some statistical analysis for her medical research.

My experience indicates that passionate people attract passionate people. Ed was no exception. I can tell you that his wife is equally outspoken. We were practically shouting at each other during a Peace Studies Program reception about the obligations of academic scientists to broader society, and it was the first time in a while I actually felt like a conservative.

He was an outspoken critic of the Bush administration and the Iraq War. I gathered from conversations and statements (as well as a poster on his door that stated, "The America I Know Would Close Guantanamo Bay Now!") that he was quite liberal, unabashedly so even for an academic. I remember posting the Langston Hughes poem, "America", under the poster on his door. As I explained to him, half-apologetically, that America never existed for many of its citizens. It's a credit to his character - as well as the virtues of the impetuousness of (both of our) youth - that he took my criticism well, and agreed, instead of getting me kicked out of grad school. But he emphasized that, no matter how far America is from its ideal form, we have to fight to inch as close to it as we can.

He also recommended to me a book called The Jasons. I haven't had the opportunity to read it, but from what I gather, he was a Jason. That he was also a vocal critic of the current administration was all the more powerful - the Jasons were citizen-scientists par excellence, with many of them suffering personally for their support of secret government research during the Vietnam War, during which many of them were outted and shunned by their colleagues. I think he wanted me to remember what was at stake, and though my path took me from academic science, I am grateful for his confidence.

This is a short post, partly because my experiences with Ed were so limited. But he was always a classy, cultured, and incredibly sharp man. If my time at Cornell has taught me anything, it is that unlike a sword, the sharpest mind is not kept in the scabbard - it is honed in the battle against the dark walls of ignorance, private and collective.

We'll miss you.

No comments: