Polypropylene is produced by chemically linking thousands of propylene molecules to make long chains, or polymers. When the individual molecules are linked together, methyl groups are left pointing outwards from the chain – like short branches on a very long tree.

The mechanical properties of the resulting plastic depend on how the individual branches are arranged. If they all point in the same direction, an inelastic plastic is produced. It will soften when heated and can be moulded or made into fibres. But these will only bend, and will not stretch. But if the branches extending from the individual molecules of propylene are not lined up with each other, the resulting material is elastic.

Until now, industrial plants have only been able to make the inelastic version. Like many chemical reactions, the formation of polypropylene happens very slowly unless it is speeded up by a catalyst. The catalysts used in polypropylene production favour the regular, inelastic polymer.

Geoffrey Coates and Robett Waymouth of Stanford University in California have identified a novel catalyst which can produce a mixture of both regular and irregular sequences along the length of each polypropylene chain as it is being formed. By carefully controlling the conditions of the reaction, the chemists have found that they can choose just how rubbery the final polymer will be.

The catalyst belongs to a family of chemicals called metallocenes, which consist of a metal atom sandwiched between two flat carbon-based molecules. In the new catalyst, the central atom is zirconium, which is linked to two molecules called phenylindenyl groups. The key to the catalyst’s ability to form both types of polymer is that these groups can twist relative to one another, influencing the alignment of propylene molecules as they are joined to the chain.

When the two phenylindenyl groups line up one on top of the other, the molecule catalyses the formation of irregular, elastic polymer chains. When the two groups face in different directions, however, regular chains are formed.

The catalyst constantly twists back and forth between these two shapes, producing chains with alternating regular and irregular sequences. But the chemists found that they could control the composition of the alternating chains simply by altering the amount of propylene present in the reaction mixture. With small amounts of propylene, the resulting polymer alternated between short lengths of regular and irregular chain. If more propylene was added, the length of each of the alternating regular and irregular sequences increased. The effect of this was to increase the plastic’s elasticity (Science, vol 267, p 217).

This discovery means that polypropylene can now be made to meet any desired degree of “rubberiness”. And importantly, it should be possible to use the new metallocene catalyst in existing polypropylene manufacturing plants. Elastic propylene could find a wide range of uses, from power cable insulation to expanded flexible foam for soft furnishings (see Diagram)

Now, Singh has gone one better. In a paper to be published later this year, he has shown that the hypothetical belated phase transition would require a small residual cosmological constant. This constant, Singh calculates, is just the right size to boost the age of the Universe above the ages of its oldest stars. The constant would have been at work during the couple of billion years after the big bang. It may even have lingered on after the phase transition, fading away gradually over time.

Singh also points out that the precise neutrino mass needed to solve the solar neutrino problem would mean that the belated phase transition occurred just over 2 billion years after the big bang. This is about the time when most quasars were formed, and Singh suggests that the quasars are associated with black holes that were produced during the phase transition.

It should be possible, in theory, to calculate the mass of neutrinos from experiments using particle colliders. The problem is that this will require colliders vastly more powerful than any available today.

This 64-million-dollar question is beginning to haunt the science of
fullerene chemistry and physics. The fullerenes, you may remember, are closed
cage, all-carbon molecules of varying sizes and shapes which collectively
represent a third form of carbon after diamond and graphite. The fullerene,
which consists of 60 carbon atoms, was discovered in 1985, is shaped like
a football and is called buckminsterfullerene in honour of the eccentric
American architect Richard Buckminster Fuller, whose geodesic domes gave
C₆₀â€ČŮ discoverers vital clues to unravelling the mystery of its
structure.

Fullerene science took off in a big way in September 1990, following
the discovery of a simple and relatively cheap method for making C₆₀
and its relatives in bulk quantities. In the past four years, C₆₀
has been characterised by virtually every analytical technique known to
science. An elaborate ‘three-dimensional’ fullerene chemistry is very much
in the making, and this chemistry has so far yielded a wide variety of C₆₀
derivatives, biologically active molecules and polymeric compounds. When
traces of alkali metals such as potassium are added, solid C₆₀
becomes a high-temperature superconductor. More detailed studies of the
synthesis of fullerenes led to the further discovery of carbon tubes measuring
a thousand-millionth of a metre in diameter, which chemists nicknamed carbon
nanotubes. When scientists irradiated graphite with high-energy electron
beams, they discovered sequences of fullerenes-inside-fullerenes which they
dubbed hyper-fullerene carbon ‘onions’.

Something to think about when next you blow the candles out on your
birthday cake is that minute quantities of fullerenes are formed in the
smoke from a candle flame. They have turned up in small amounts in the deposits
that were laid down 65 million years ago, and which mark the boundary between
the Cretaceous and Tertiary periods and the end of the reign of the dinosaurs.
Evidence has been found for the formation of fullerenes in space and clues
to the possible existence of an ionised form of C₆₀ in interstellar
clouds were reported in the journal Nature in May. All this from the observation
in September 1985 that, when it comes to carbon, there might be something
special about the number 60.

In a more romantic age, we might have simply celebrated these discoveries
as evidence of the joyous diversity of nature. Here was a simple demonstration
that even in the rather staid and stuffy world of modern chemistry, where
big surprises are rare if not anathema, it was still possible to discover
something fundamentally new about one of the most familiar of all chemical
elements. And it had not taken ‘big science’ to do it. But these discoveries
do not in themselves appear to be enough. Like our man at the dinner party,
many people are growing increasingly impatient to know what the fullerenes
are supposed to be good for.

Donald Huffman, a professor of physics at the University of Arizona
and a co-discoverer of the method now widely used to make buckminsterfullerene,
believes that the scientists’ inability to find a practical application
for the new molecules is seriously hurting fullerene science in the US.
Funding agencies appear increasingly loath to spend money on research which
is not overtly geared towards some commercial objective. Perhaps most surprisingly,
even the peer reviewers of funding applications are beginning to mutter
darkly in their reports about the lack of progress towards practical applications.

This kind of attitude is totally absurd. When they were discovered,
the fullerenes represented no instantly marketable solutions to any problems
that may have existed in our technology-hungry world. The fullerenes were
not the result of some clearly targeted piece of research and development,
initiated with a commercial objective in mind. Quite the opposite. The fullerenes
were born from a series of experiments that couldn’t have been less commercially
orientated, founded as they were in a desire to improve our understanding
of the constitution of interstellar gas and dust. Even in an industry with
a clearly identified and thoroughly research target market, it may take
five years or more to complete an R&D programme and convert the results
into a commercial proposition. Why, then, should we expect so much from
the fullerenes in only four years?

I fear that part of the answer to this question lies in the hype. This
is the hype that now surrounds almost every scientific discovery of any
consequence. The hype results from a conspiracy between scientists seeking
to promote themselves and their science in search of further funding, and
journalists and science popularisers seeking to meet the demands of their
editors and readers for ‘relevance’ and topicality. A scientific discovery
thus becomes a ‘major breakthrough’; a major breakthrough becomes a ‘revolution’.
And then we are all surprised when the discovery doesn’t quite live up to
expectations.

Not all scientists (and not all journalists) get drawn onto the bandwagon,
but it’s damnably hard to resist, and for every scientist who refuses to
indulge in wild speculation, there will nearly always be half a dozen prepared
to discuss at length all manner of half-baked ideas.

It’s not as though it’s all been silent on the commercial front as far
as the fullerenes are concerned. In 1992, the US Patent Office saw more
correspondence on fullerenes than on all other subjects combined. Away from
the hype, there are several promising avenues for commercialising the fullerenes.
These include the development of optical devices, hardening agents, photocopying
toners, chemical sensors, gas separation devices, precursors for diamond
production, batteries, catalysts, hydrogen storage media and polymers. The
biological activity of some fullerene derivatives hints at possible medical
applications in the longer term. Richard Smalley, another of C₆₀â€ČŮ
co-discoverers, is currently pulling together about $40 million of mostly
private funds to implement some new nanotechnology research at Rice University
in Houston. The carbon nanotubes, with promise as nanowires, nanopipettes
and ‘proximate probes’ – nanometre-sized extensions of human fingertips
which can ‘feel’ their way around structures such as living cells – will
form a core part of this work.

As we seek to push our desire for instant gratification into the world
of science and technology, we should not forget the basic lesson of the
fullerene story. Buckmin-sterfullerene, and all that followed from it, was
discovered by scientists who were not looking for what they found. At its
most fundamental level, science works best as an open, reflective way of
investigating a nature both unpredictable and capricious. Success demands
a flexible approach almost wholly at odds with the disciplined targets
and timetables of commercial R&D programmes. As we search for uses for
the things we discover we must be sure not to constrain fundamental science
too much, or we will cease to discover anything we don’t already know.

Jim Baggott is a science writer. His latest book Perfect Symmetry: The
Accidental Discovery of Buckminsterfullerene is published in October by
Oxford University Press.

But hey! Cheer up. There is at least one issue on which Britain’s three
main political parties agree. All want to expand access to higher education.
Now that is something, isn’t it?

Let’s see what the manifestoes say. Conservative: ‘By the year 2000,
one in three young people will follow full-time higher education courses.
. . We will continue to expand the number of students in higher education.’
Labour: ‘. . . within 20 years, we will double the number of students
in higher education, with at least one in three young adults participating
by the year 2000.’ Liberal Democrats: ‘We will increase the number of students
in higher education to two million by the year 2000.’

It looks as though this is really going to happen, no matter what the
outcome of the election. The trouble is, I do not believe that universities
can deliver their share of this kind of mass education without some profound
changes, particularly in the sciences where the greater emphasis is still
very much on research. Some kind of formal separation of teaching from research
seems inevitable. A two-tier system, with some universities designated as
teaching-only, is emerging as the most likely result of past government
policies. Is this what we really want? Although an academic scientist is
employed by a university to teach in a specialist subject area, the recruitment
and selection process focuses almost exclusively on the candidate’s research
record. Likewise, the assessment of performance and prospects for promotion
are heavily biased towards achievements in research. Signs of success include
a long list of publications, a good track record in securing funds and a
high visibility at national and international conferences. In the general
scheme of things, teaching is accorded a lower status. A demonstrated ability
in teaching is no passport to academic success.

Most academic scientists are dedicated teachers. They argue that they
benefit enormously from regular contact with undergraduate students and
firmly believe that teaching and research go hand in hand. But make no mistake,
these same academics are researchers first and teachers second.

However, the government has not been prepared to provide enough money
to allow every scientist the chance to pursue every research proposal, even
when the proposal has been highly rated by peer review. The message is clear:
a re-elected Conservative government will want to see more emphasis on more
teaching and less on ‘unnecessary’ or ‘irrelevant’ research.

Rather than foster a climate for constructive change, the government
has been intent on forcing reforms through a process of attrition. It adopted
a simple strategy. Starve the education system and the research councils
of funds; introduce ranking and selectivity in research; ‘encourage’ institutions
to cram in more students and weaken the academic community to the point
where it can no longer raise an effective voice of complaint.

As part of this strategy, the Universities’ Funding Council recently
announced that future increases in funding are to be split between teaching
and research. Universities with poor ratings for research which have nevertheless
been successful at squeezing students into their institutions will be encouraged
to recruit more students. Others recognised as centres of excellence in
research will receive more research money. To all intents and purposes,
this is a race with ‘winners’ and ‘losers’, the losers being ‘downgraded’
to second-rate teaching-only institutions whose sole purpose is to stack
’em high and teach ’em cheap.

There are two reasons why this is unacceptable. First, those academics
pushed out of research against their will become disillusioned and demoralised.
They were recruited largely to do research, and their status within the
academic community is determined by the quality and quantity of their output
of research. Denying academics the opportunity to continue with research
in this way only deepens the sense that university teaching is a second-class
occupation.

Secondly, learning about science in a teaching-only institution deprives
students of early contact with research. There are great benefits to be
had from learning about science in an institution where some frontier research
is done and where the subject is kept very much alive. This is true even
for those students who have no intention of continuing in academic study
beyond their first degree.

I believe there is an alternative. It involves raising the status of
teaching within the existing system. The efficient transfer of knowledge
and understanding should become the responsibility of a new class of teacher-scholars.
This could be achieved by formally designating academics within each science
department as either teacher-scholars or research scholars, and judging
performance (and awarding promotion) accordingly.

In such a department, a proportion of the academic staff would be responsible
for teaching students and for enhancing the clarity and accessibility of
their chosen subjects through scholarship. This is no less demanding or
desirable than research that breaks new ground. In fact, it would be surprising
if a deep examination of our present knowledge did not turn up some gaps
and provide some new ideas for research. Of course, this kind of scholarship
is a form of research, but one that deals with existing knowledge and concepts
and which does not require capital expenditure on new laboratory equipment.
It also does not require frantic rounds of applications for grants and publishing
of research papers.

The department would also maintain a research programme, conducted by
research scholars freed from otherwise burdensome teaching responsibilities.
Both teaching and research staff would benefit through their mutual interaction,
based on equality of status, in a department whose atmosphere is pervaded
by a sense of common commitment to learning.

No doubt this is a naive proposal. Many academics remain unconvinced
of the need for change and are busily defending the status quo. It will
certainly be difficult to counter the prejudice that does exist against
teaching as the primary activity of an academic scientist. One good way
to start would be to recognise that raising the status of teacher-scholars
and implementing change requires more – not less – spending on salaries
and infrastructure. Constructive change requires a positive strategy for
higher education. My problem is that I cannot find such a strategy in any
election manifesto.

I think you ought to know I am feeling very depressed. . .

Jim Baggott was a university lecturer in physical chemistry from 1983
to 1988. He now works in industry and writes on science in his spare time.