The Top-Secret Life of Lev Landau
Yüklə 112,61 Kb. Pdf görüntüsü
|
| The Top-Secret Life of Lev Landau KGB archives reveal that the Soviet genius co-authored an anti-Stalin manifesto by Gennady Gorelik T he theories of Lev Davido- vich Landau built the back- bone of 20th-century con- densed-matter physics. They described superfluidity, tenets of superconduc- tivity, and diverse corners of astro- physics, particle physics and many other disciplines. To this day, Landau levels, Landau diamagnetism, Lan- dau spectrum, Landau-Ginzburg the- ory and other Landau discoveries re- main essential tools. His texts taught generations of scientists: the library at Harvard University contains four times as many titles by this Soviet phy- sicist as by the renowned American physicist Richard Feynman. For his achievements, Landau won the Nobel Prize in 1962. His admir- ers saw him as an ivory tower theo- rist — bold, impudent and charming but detached from the humdrum of everyday existence. They ignored two political aspects of his life: his year in Joseph Stalin’s prisons in the late 1930s and his contributions to the dictator’s nuclear bomb a decade later. Only now do we know Landau had a political persona that made him permanently suspect to the KGB, the Soviet secret police. This revelation was partly accidental. In 1989 Maia Besserab, the niece of Landau’s wife, published the fourth edition of her biography of the scientist. Glasnost (or “openness”) had arrived, and the author claimed she could finally an- nounce the full story behind his 1938 arrest. A disgruntled former student by the name of Leonid Pyatigorsky, Besserab stated, had denounced Lan- dau as a German spy. This during Stalin’s Great Terror, when many millions were executed on fanciful charges. Unfortunately for the biographer, Pyatigorsky was still alive. It was in- deed true that Landau had expelled him from the theoretical group at the Kharkov institute in Ukraine. “Dau,” as the great man was called by his adoring students, could be very hard on them: a sign outside his office door warned, “Beware! He bites!” But Py- atigorsky nonetheless continued to revere Landau, and shocked by the accusation, he brought Besserab to court in the summer of 1990. Inside the KGB T he judge for the case asked the KGB to check Landau’s files. They contained no mention of Py- atigorsky, and Besserab published an apology. It was at this time, I believe, that the KGB discovered that the pride of Soviet science was no inno- cent victim of Stalinist insanity but a genuine anti-Soviet criminal. In 1991 the KGB published almost the entire contents of Landau’s file in a short- lived magazine designed for glasnost called the Bulletin of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. As it happened, I had seen Landau’s file just a few weeks before its publi- cation. Soon after perestroika (or “re- structuring”) began in the late 1980s, I obtained a research position at the Institute for the History of Science and Technology in Moscow. The in- stitute’s director was the son of for- mer defense minister Dmitriy Usti- nov. Realizing that his name could lower enormous barriers, I decided to try my luck at getting into the KGB archives. With utmost care, I composed a let- ter pointing out that almost nothing was known about the fate of many important Soviet physicists who had been arrested in the 1930s. Listing two dozen names, I asked if histori- ans could study their files. After two weeks of contemplation, Ustinov signed this letter; to my great fortune (I was later told), it landed next on the desk of an exceptionally liberal deputy to the KGB head. Two months later the agency in- formed me I could examine the files — inside its headquarters, located in the Lubyanka building, where countless prisoners had spent their initial terri- fied hours. At the door a guard searched me with intimate and em- barrassing thoroughness. There was no reading room, only a very small room for prisoners’ relatives. Ex- plaining that it would be uncomfort- able for me to work in a room full of weeping people, my hosts gave me the office of someone who was out sick. This room, still covered in 1930s wood paneling, may even have been the one where Landau was interro- gated. Through the window, I could see the inner prison where he had been incarcerated. I, too, was interrogated. Two offi- cials asked me why the files of dead physicists might contain anything in- Copyright 1997 Scientific American, Inc. teresting. As I answered their questions, I began to wonder why I had been per- mitted to enter the KGB headquarters at all. Surely my interrogators were aware that my Jewish parents had just left Russia for the U.S. — were they trying to trap me? It took me some time to calm down, to understand that the KGB was simply trying hard to soften its public image. When they finally asked me if Andrei Sakharov was indeed a good physicist or merely an overhyped dissi- dent, I accepted that the two men were also just curious. After a few hours, they left me with five files on the desk. The files were dat- ed from 1930 to 1952; some were ex- tremely haphazard. Landau, who was arrested near the end of the Great Ter- ror
— when some sanity was returning — had a very neat file. Opening it, I first asked myself if it was a 1990s forgery. Eventually I decided that all the docu- ments, including any fabrications, were made back in the 1930s. Unfortunately, I had no way of copying anything, ex- cept by hand. Physicists Yuri B. Rumer and Moissey Koretz were arrested the same night as Landau. Rumer was one of the pioneers of quantum chemistry. Koretz, though not a famous man, was Landau’s close friend and ally, someone he turned to for advice on the practical side of life. In Rumer’s file I found three reports by unnamed informers. One was un- dated and bizarre — it stated that an ac- quaintance of Rumer’s was the son of a rabbi, lived in Berlin and worked for Adolf Hitler’s Gestapo. The second re- port, from March 1938, described a conversation between Rumer and Lan- dau about Soviet officials, in which Lan- dau opined that nothing good could be expected from people who were born subhuman. In the third, from April 19, the informer disclosed that Landau and Rumer were aware of an anti-Soviet leaflet that had been prepared for distri- bution. The original, handwritten, copy of this extraordinary leaflet was sup- posed to be in Koretz’s file — which, I was told, was in the office of the attorney general. But Landau’s file contained a typewritten copy. The pamphlet was designed to be du- plicated and discreetly distributed dur- ing the May Day parade. Here is its wording: Comrades! The great cause of the October revolu- tion has been evilly betrayed.... Millions of innocent people are thrown in prison, and no one knows when his own turn will be . . . . Don’t you see, comrades, that Stalin’s clique accomplished a fascist coup! So- cialism remains only on the pages of the newspapers that are terminally wrapped in lies. Stalin, with his rabid hatred of genuine socialism, has become like Hitler and Mussolini. To save his power Stalin destroys the country and makes it an easy prey for the beastly German fascism . . . . The proletariat of our country that had overthrown the power of the tsar and the capitalists will be able to overthrow a fascist dictator and his clique. Long live the May day, the day of struggle for socialism! —The Antifascist Worker’s Party To my knowledge, this manifesto is one of only three explicit denunciations of Stalin made by a Soviet citizen dur- ing the Terror. Another, an open letter, was published in 1939 by a Soviet dip- lomat who escaped to Paris; soon after, he died under mysterious circumstanc- es. The third was an entry in the per- sonal diary of Vladimir Vernadsky, the director of the Radium Institute. Writ- ing, and especially planning to dissemi- nate, such a denunciation took incredi- ble courage, perhaps foolhardiness. To understand why the KGB did not in- stantly shoot the perpetrators requires some background.
B orn on January 22, 1908, in the oil town of Baku in Azerbaijan, Lan- dau was the son of Jewish parents. His father was an engineer with the local oil industry, and his mother a doctor. Lan- dau was only nine years old at the time of the Soviet revolution of 1917. At 14 he entered Baku University, transferring two years later to Leningrad State Uni- versity. Graduating in 1927, Landau continued his studies at the Leningrad Physico-Technical Institute, the cradle of Soviet physics. In 1929 Landau won a fellowship to visit foreign scientific institutions. After working for a year with Niels Bohr in S cientific American August 1997 73 A 1934 SNAPSHOT shows Lev Landau (front, right) and his colleagues on the steps of the Physico-Technical Institute in Kharkov, Ukraine. Landau’s attempts to save pure physics at the institute were soon to land him in trouble. C OUR TESY OF GENNAD Y GORELIK Copyright 1997 Scientific American, Inc.
Copenhagen, he came to think of Bohr
— already famous for his con- tributions to the new quantum physics
— as his mentor. In England he met Pyotr Kapitsa, an influen- tial Soviet experimentalist who had been working in the Caven- dish Laboratory in Cambridge since 1921. In response to one of Kapitsa’s questions, Landau de- veloped the theory of diamag- netism of electrons in a metal, his first major scientific contribution. In 1932 Landau went to Khar- kov to head the theoretical divi- sion of the Ukrainian Physico- Technical Institute. There he be- gan his seminal studies on phase transitions of the second kind — subtle changes in a system, which, unlike the freezing of water, do not involve the emission or absorption of heat. In addi- tion, he worked on ferromagnetism, the process by which magnets form. An able and enthusiastic teacher, Landau also began to write, along with his student Evgenni Lifshitz, the nine- volume classic Course of Theoretical
His institute soon acquired a reputation for creating world-class scientists adept at tackling almost any problem in theo- retical physics. Hendrik Casimir, a physicist who met Landau in Copenhagen, recalls him as an ardent communist, very proud of his revolutionary roots. The enthusiasm with which Landau went about build- ing Soviet science was part of his social- istic fervor. In 1935 he published an odd piece entitled “Bourgeoisie and Con- temporary Physics” in the Soviet news- paper Izvestia. Apart from attacking bourgeois inclinations toward religious superstition and the power of money, he praised the “unprecedented oppor- tunities for the development of physics in our country, provided by the Party and the government.” A committed classifier, Landau designated himself and his friends as “communists,” those he hated as “fascists,” and faculty el- ders as simply wisent
the Russian bi- son, nearing extinction. Despite his faith in the Soviet system, Landau suffered attacks from some so- cialist writers. In the late 1920s a newly discovered nuclear decay, in which some energy could not be accounted for, caused quite a stir. Landau and others initially supported Bohr in his idea that this experiment violated the conserva- tion of energy. Later, however, Landau discovered that this hypothesis contra- dicted Albert Einstein’s theory of gravity and abandoned the concept. (Wolfgang Pauli’s explanation — that an unknown neutral particle, later named the “neu- trino” by Enrico Fermi, had carried off the missing energy — won the day.) Un- fortunately, the co-founder of Marx- ism, Friedrich Engels, had declared in the 19th century that the law of conser- vation of energy was to be forever fun- damental to science, and Landau was severely castigated in the local papers for his (temporary) blasphemy. In any case, his social views were soon to undergo a phase transformation of their own. In 1934 the Kharkov insti- tute acquired a new director — with a mandate to redirect the research into military and applied ventures. Landau fought fiercely to save pure science. He suggested that the institute be split, so that one branch could be dedicated to physics. On the institute’s bulletin board, which featured animated arguments on the future of the institute, Koretz au- thored a vigorous defense of Landau’s plans. And Pyatigorsky, who did not know that opposition to official direc- tives was to be construed as sabotage of the Soviet military enterprise, con- firmed this plan to administrators (for which offense Landau expelled him). In November 1935 Koretz was arrested. Landau tried valiantly to defend his friend, appealing to the KGB head in The Top-Secret Life of Lev Landau 74 Scientific American August 1997 ALL DOCUMENT S C OUR
TESY OF GENNAD Y GORELIK ARREST AND INTERROGATION by the KGB in 1938 were precipitated by a defiantly sub- versive pamphlet written by Landau and Moissey Koretz. This typeset version (left) and the arrest warrant (below) were published by the KGB in 1991. After two months of imprison- ment, Landau wrote a confession (right) detailing his disillusionment with the Soviet system. In 1991 the KGB supplied Landau’s prison mug shot (at bottom) to the Soviet magazine Pi- roda; it declined, however, to provide the profile, on the grounds that it was too depressing. AIP EMILIO SEGRÈ VISU AL AR CHIVES
Copyright 1997 Scientific American, Inc. Ukraine. And amazingly enough for those times, Koretz was released “be- cause of lack of evidence.” (A few months later the KGB official in Khar- kov shot himself. He may have been one of the many idealists who could not live with the increasingly evident gap between communist ideals and re- ality.) But a note in Koretz’s file warned that the KGB should keep an eye on he whose “guilt had not been proved” but who “was a member of a counterrevo- lutionary wrecking organization head- ed by Landau.” In 1937 the KGB arrested several German physicists working at Kharkov and an assortment of other scientists. Before being shot, Landau’s friends Lev Shubnikov and Lev Rozenkevich “con- fessed” that Landau headed a counter- revolutionary organization. Landau felt he had to flee to some other, possibly safer, place. In Moscow, Kapitsa offered Landau a position as head of the theo- retical division of the Institute of Physi- cal Problems, and there he went in Feb- ruary. Koretz soon followed him to Moscow; Rumer was already there. Within a year, on April 28, 1938, Lan- dau and his two friends were arrested. In Prison L andau’s students and colleagues were scolded for supporting Landau in his preachings “against dialectical ma- terialism, and even against the theorem of energy conservation.” They believed Landau had been denounced by an ene- my for his past impudence. Certainly Landau had enemies, for he liked to step on toes. One April Fools’ Day, for instance, he had posted an official no- tice classifying the Kharkov institute’s faculty by ability and rescaling their salaries accordingly — a joke that did not sit well with superiors. The charges against Landau were in fact much graver than scientific heresy. He was accused of heading a counter- revolutionary organization; the confes- sions extorted from his associates “proved” that charge to the KGB’s sat- isfaction. The leaflet merely determined the date of arrest — a week before the traditional May Day parade. Rumer, it turned out, was not involved in the leaflet at all. Both Landau and Koretz testified to that, and he was re- lieved of this accusation. But the fanci- ful charges of espionage for Germany forced Rumer to spend 10 years in a
a scientific and engineering institute run like a prison. Landau was taken to the Lubyanka prison. A hastily scribbled note in his file, apparently made by a KGB officer, records that Landau was forced to stand for seven hours a day and threatened with transfer to the even more horrific Lefortovo prison. After two months he broke and wrote a six-page confession, the most eloquent document in his file. (Every prisoner signed an oath of secre- cy on leaving prison, and Landau never talked about this phase of his life.) The confession states: “At the begin- ning of 1937, we came to the conclu- sion that the Party had degenerated and that the Soviet government no longer acted in the interests of workers but in the interests of a small ruling group, that the interests of the country demanded the overthrow of the existing govern- ment, and creation in the U.S.S.R. of a state that would preserve the kolkhozes [agricultural farms] and State property for industry, but build upon the princi- ples of bourgeois-democratic states.” Although such confessions cannot be taken too seriously given the circum- stances under which they were extract- ed, this statement is so unusual that I believe it to be true. The two physicists had somehow reached a conclusion that eluded most of their countrymen for the next half century. It was Koretz who had convinced Landau of the need for practical action and whose hand- writing was on the leaflet. But the polit- ical intelligence behind it was Landau’s. Landau was known for his “grapho- phobia,” and most of his writing was actually done by his colleagues, includ- ing the famous Courses. (The confes- sion was the longest piece of handwrit- ing Landau accomplished in his life.) The two conspirators had signed the manifesto with the name of a fake or- ganization so that people would take it more seriously. Koretz spent 20 years in the Gulag, returning to Moscow in 1958, where I met him a few times before he died of cancer in 1984. He was enthusiastic about science and worked for a popu- lar science magazine. Wonderfully live- ly and vigorous despite his travails, he told me many stories about Landau — but never the circumstances of their ar- rest. Nor was Koretz ever rehabilitated (that is, officially acknowledged as hav- ing been unjustly accused). This was a
Scientific American August 1997 75
C OUR TESY OF GENNAD Y GORELIK C OUR
TESY OF GENNAD Y GORELIK AIP EMILIO SEGRÈ VISU AL AR
CHIVES Copyright 1997 Scientific American, Inc. hint that unlike most victims of the Ter- ror, his arrest was for some real reason. Kapitsa saved Landau. By virtue of having invented a new technique for production of oxygen — vital for metal- lurgy and therefore industry — Kapitsa had acquired very good relations with the government. He was also extraordi- narily gifted in communicating with officialdom and in his lifetime wrote more than 100 letters to the Kremlin on matters of science policy, as well as to save physicists such as Vladimir Fock, the quantum-field theorist. In 1938 the head of the KGB “disap- peared,” and Lavrenti Beria succeeded him. After two years of carnage, Stalin had achieved his purpose — to destroy all rivals, real and imaginary. Sensing an opportunity, Kapitsa wrote to Prime Minister Vyacheslav Molotov, saying that he had just made a discovery “in the most puzzling field of the modern physics” and that no theorist other than Landau could explain it. And on the eve of May Day, 1939, after a year of im- prisonment, Landau was freed on bail. In a few months, he had explained Ka- pitsa’s superfluidity using sound waves, or phonons, and a new excitation called a roton. It earned both of them a Nobel Prize a few decades later. In 1939 Landau married K. T. Dro- banzeva, and in 1946 they had a son, Igor. The marriage was unusual. Appar- ently Landau believed in free love and urged his students and his distraught wife to practice it as well. A few years after Landau’s release, Stalin instituted the Soviet atomic proj- ect; after Hiroshima, it was pushed full- steam ahead. Kapitsa’s institute was re- cruited for this purpose, and Stalin ap- pointed Beria as the supreme officer overseeing the effort. Kapitsa was not a pacifist but found it unbearable to work under Stalin’s chief gendarme in an at- mosphere of deep secrecy. He wrote to Stalin, charging that Beria was unfit to be heading such a project. Enter the Hydrogen Bomb T his was an exceedingly dangerous ploy. General Andrei Khrulev, a friend of Kapitsa’s, related to him a conversation he overheard between Be- ria and Stalin. Beria wanted Kapitsa’s head, but Stalin told him that although he could dismiss Kapitsa from all posi- tions, he could not kill him. Apparently Stalin respected Kapitsa’s worldwide reputation as a physicist: he was a mem- ber of the British Royal Society. Kapitsa escaped execution — although he remained under a kind of house ar- rest until Stalin’s death. Landau was, however, engaged in the top-secret affair. His bomb duty was numerical mathe- matics rather than theoretical physics. Along with the physicists he directed, Landau calculated the dynamics of the first Soviet thermonuclear bomb, called sloyka — or “layer cake” — filled with lithium deuteride. (According to Hans Bethe, one of the creators of the Ameri- can bomb, the Americans had consid- ered this compound, along with other fillers, for the original “alarm clock” de- sign, which was analogous to the sloy- ka. Unlike Landau’s calculations, how- ever, those of the Americans could not predict the yield.) Part of the mathematics developed to this end was declassified and published during the first nuclear thaw in 1958. The resulting paper on numerical inte-
76 Scientific American August 1997 Landau’s Science I n 1927 Lev Landau became one of the first to introduce the density matrix, a mathematical tool for dealing with mixed quantum states. He went on to de- scribe the behavior of an electron gas, finding that electrons in a magnetic field are confined to orbits of discrete energy, now called Landau levels. In the realm of astrophysics, he postulated the existence of neutron cores, which have come to be known as neutron stars. And simultaneously with an American group, he ex- plained how cosmic rays produce electron showers. Landau’s greatest contributions involve phase transitions of the second kind, in which a substance changes from an ordered to a disordered configuration with- out absorbing heat. One such transition is that of helium from a normal to a su- perfluid state. Landau described superfluidity by means of a roton, an excitation that has since been discovered but whose true nature remains mysterious. He also introduced the order parameter, a kind of large-scale wave function. Applied to superfluid helium, the order parameter described the behavior of atoms in their common quantum state; applied to superconductors, it revealed such properties as how current flows around an intruding magnetic field; applied to superfluid he- lium 3, it described a host of complex configurations. In 1950, with his student Vitaly Ginzburg, Landau developed a framework in which the universal phenomenon of broken symmetry — by which, for example, quarks are believed to acquire mass — can be simply described, again by means of an order parameter. Landau also studied how ferromagnets — the magnets of ordinary experience — divide into domains in which the microscopic components point in different di- rections. He worked on plasma physics and in 1956 developed the theory of Fermi liquids, which contain strongly interacting electronlike particles. His interests en- compassed particle theory as well: he developed a statistical picture of a nucleus, challenged the consistency of quantum electrodynamics and, along with others, postulated the principle of charge-parity conservation. And this is only a partial list of his achievements. — The Editors C OUR
TESY OF GENNAD Y GORELIK TEN COMMANDMENTS of Lan- dau, an engraved list of his major dis- coveries, were drawn up by Landau’s students to celebrate the physicist’s 50th birthday in 1958. Landau creat- ed a “school” of physics — a style of describing the natural world — which he passed on through his teachings. Copyright 1997 Scientific American, Inc. gration looks rather strange in Lan- dau’s Collected Works. Also in this vol- ume is perhaps his most far-reaching publication ever, co-authored with Vi- taly Ginzburg in 1950 in the midst of bomb research. The paper describes a simple and powerful framework in which an enormous variety of sys- tems —
ticles, chemical mixtures and so on — can be described. It anticipates the gener- ic phenomenon of symmetry breaking, vital to particle theorists, among others. For his contributions to the atomic and hydrogen bombs, Landau received, ironically enough, two Stalin Prizes, in 1949 and 1953. In 1954 he was awarded the title “Hero of Socialist Labor.” In 1957, I believe Landau asked the central Communist Party for permission to go abroad. At the party’s request, the KGB produced transcripts of Landau’s conversations with his friends between 1947 and 1957. These drew on “special tech- niques”
— as the KGB described them —
document was found in the archives of the Communist Party; it is revealing. In the transcripts, Landau describes himself as a “scientist slave.” Given his rebellious nature, that is not surprising; besides, his experiences of the 1930s had turned him against Stalin. But the docu- ments reveal a deeper political transfor- mation. On one occasion a friend re- marked that if Lenin were suddenly to revive, he would be horrified by what he saw. “Lenin employed the same kinds of repression,” Landau retorted. Later, he said: “Our regime, as I have learned since 1937, is definitely a fascist regime, and it could not change by itself in any simple way. . . . I believe that while this regime exists, it is ridiculous to hope for its development into some decent thing . . . . The question about a peaceful liquidation of our regime is a question about the future of human- kind . . . . Without fascism there is no war.” Finally, he concluded, “It is quite clear that Lenin was the first fascist.” It is important to realize how extra- ordinary these views were. Almost all Landau’s colleagues were profoundly pro-Soviet — including Igor Evgenyevich Tamm, who won the first Soviet Nobel Prize for Physics, and Andrei Sakharov, who won the first Soviet Nobel Prize for Peace. Those who did recognize Stalin’s sins saw him as a criminal who had be- trayed Lenin’s cause; still, Lenin re- mained a hero. So far as I know, there were only two physicists who expressed their distaste for working on Stalin’s bomb. One was Landau, and the other was Mikhail Leontovich, who in 1951 became the head of theoretical research in the Sovi- et fusion program. Landau served on the bomb project because it shielded him from the authorities. He tried to limit his participation and at one time cursed the physicist Yakov Zeldovich (as “that bitch”) for attempting to ex- pand it. After Stalin died, Landau com- mented to a friend and pupil, Isaac M. Khalatnikov: “That’s it. He’s gone. I’m no longer afraid of him, and I won’t work on [nuclear weapons] anymore.” And he quit the bomb project. An obvious question remains. Given that Landau was reluctant to work on the bomb, how is it that his contribu- tions were so substantial? Khalatnikov, who became the director of the Landau Institute for Theoretical Physics, creat- ed in 1965, offered me an answer: Landau was simply unable to do a shoddy piece of work. Thus, Landau was exceptional in being able to understand the true nature of the Soviet system and for being courageous enough to ex- press himself. Among the Soviet bomb physicists, his position was curiously poignant, be- cause he realized with full clari- ty for whose hands he was creating the mighty weapon. In 1962 Landau suffered a car acci- dent. He survived, but with severe brain injuries that, tragically, changed his per- sonality and robbed him of his scientific genius. Landau seemed to be well aware that he had changed. He died on April 1, 1968; his student Alexander I. Ahkie- zer recalls that on receiving the news, he assumed it was just another of Dau’s April Fools’ jokes. After just two weeks of studying the KGB files, I found myself unable to continue. The multitude of broken lives recorded in them overwhelmed me emotionally. After the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, the KGB was restruc- tured, and so far as I know, no historian has had regular access to the archives since then. Unquestionably, the files still conceal many amazing stories — perhaps even a few more about this extraordi- nary physicist. The Top-Secret Life of Lev Landau Scientific American August 1997 77
GENNADY GORELIK is a research fellow at the Center for Philosophy and History of Science at Boston University. He received his Ph.D. in 1979 from the Institute for the History of Science and Technology of the Russian Academy of Sciences. With the aid of a Guggenheim Fellowship and a grant from the Mac- Arthur Foundation, he is writing a biog- raphy of Andrei Sakharov.
Landau, the Physicist and the Man: Recollections of L. D. Landau. Edited by I. M. Khalatnikov. Pergamon Press, 1989. Kapitza in Cambridge and Moscow: Life and Letters of a Russian Physicist. Edited
by J. W. Boag, P. E. Rubinin and D. Shoenberg. North-Holland, 1990. Matvei Petrovich Bronstein and Soviet Theoretical Physics in the Thirties. Gen- nady E. Gorelik and Viktor Ya. Frenkel. Birkhauser, Basel and Boston, 1994. Stalin and the Bomb: The Soviet Union and Atomic Energy, 1939–1956. David Hol- loway. Yale University Press, 1994. ‘Meine Antisowjetische Taetigkeit...’: Russische Physiker unter Stalin. Gennady Gorelik. Vieweg, Braunschweig, 1995. TOP-SECRET NOTE by Landau asks Igor Evgenyevich Tamm to send data on particle velocities, needed for calculations on the first Soviet hydrogen bomb. SA C OUR TESY OF GENNAD Y GORELIK Copyright 1997 Scientific American, Inc. Yüklə 112,61 Kb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
|