Russian physics professor Yuli Nazarov made an autobiographic fairytale of his inauguration speech. The plot includes military parades and discouraging publication curves.
Nazarov is a theoretical physicist. And when theorists grasp for the cosmos, they don’t land to do experiments. In his life, Yuli Nazarov has made one exception to that rule: he made a graph of his scientific publications versus the number of citations per publication.
,,It’s quite discouraging,” he says. ,,The curve gets saturated. I could work forever and still get only twice the response I would get if I only worked on Mondays.”
The discouragement doesn’t stop him from smiling. Nazarov: ,,I used to think that theorists weren’t aloud to smile, that they always had to stay serious and complicated. But then I saw the picture of my former mentor, Professor Likharev, in among photo’s of other scientists. A smile between grumpy faces, that’s the way I want my life to be.”
But Nazarov’s fairytale doesn’t start with a smile. It starts with the combative expression of marching soldiers. ,,Like all Russians, I had to do military service. We had to practice for a big parade, for hours and hours and in the poring rain. The major was swearing at us. Then all of a sudden he shouted: ‘Stop. You lot are worthless. Let’s do theory.’ I was flabbergasted. The sweet art of theory seemed in contrast with this stupid marching in the rain. But the major was right, soldiers also theorize. How high you lift your leg, how to swing your arms.”
Nazarov got his PhD at the University of Moscow during the climax of the Cold War. Scientists were enlisted in the military to make rockets, satellites and bombs. But Nazarov got off scot-free. ,,Theoretical physics doesn’t have direct military applications. In general, scientists were relatively free under the communistic regime. They were an authority in their own field. No one could tell them how to do their work, not even commanding officers.”
However, soon after the fall of the Berlin wall Nazarov set sail for the West. Nazarov: ,,After the collapse of communism, Russia was very unstable. I earned about 10 euros per month and my academic prospects were very uncertain.”
In the Netherlands he found his harbour. ,,I also had an opportunity to go to the United States. I could’ve made more money there, but then I would have had to miss drinking beers in the old city centre and listening to the church bells. And that’s priceless.” Every now and then, Nazarov’s mind wanders off to Russia. ,,I miss the endless Russians forests and the close friendships. With the Dutch I mainly have superficial contacts. They say that in the Netherlands people do sports to get to know other people. To me that’s strange: sports to get to know other people?”
Nazarov is a theoretical physicist. And when theorists grasp for the cosmos, they don’t land to do experiments. In his life, Yuli Nazarov has made one exception to that rule: he made a graph of his scientific publications versus the number of citations per publication.
,,It’s quite discouraging,” he says. ,,The curve gets saturated. I could work forever and still get only twice the response I would get if I only worked on Mondays.”
The discouragement doesn’t stop him from smiling. Nazarov: ,,I used to think that theorists weren’t aloud to smile, that they always had to stay serious and complicated. But then I saw the picture of my former mentor, Professor Likharev, in among photo’s of other scientists. A smile between grumpy faces, that’s the way I want my life to be.”
But Nazarov’s fairytale doesn’t start with a smile. It starts with the combative expression of marching soldiers. ,,Like all Russians, I had to do military service. We had to practice for a big parade, for hours and hours and in the poring rain. The major was swearing at us. Then all of a sudden he shouted: ‘Stop. You lot are worthless. Let’s do theory.’ I was flabbergasted. The sweet art of theory seemed in contrast with this stupid marching in the rain. But the major was right, soldiers also theorize. How high you lift your leg, how to swing your arms.”
Nazarov got his PhD at the University of Moscow during the climax of the Cold War. Scientists were enlisted in the military to make rockets, satellites and bombs. But Nazarov got off scot-free. ,,Theoretical physics doesn’t have direct military applications. In general, scientists were relatively free under the communistic regime. They were an authority in their own field. No one could tell them how to do their work, not even commanding officers.”
However, soon after the fall of the Berlin wall Nazarov set sail for the West. Nazarov: ,,After the collapse of communism, Russia was very unstable. I earned about 10 euros per month and my academic prospects were very uncertain.”
In the Netherlands he found his harbour. ,,I also had an opportunity to go to the United States. I could’ve made more money there, but then I would have had to miss drinking beers in the old city centre and listening to the church bells. And that’s priceless.” Every now and then, Nazarov’s mind wanders off to Russia. ,,I miss the endless Russians forests and the close friendships. With the Dutch I mainly have superficial contacts. They say that in the Netherlands people do sports to get to know other people. To me that’s strange: sports to get to know other people?”
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