It was an oddly muted moment. Physics at the start of the 20th century was bursting with discoveries of lasting importance. J.J. Thomson had been honoured in 1906 for discovering the electron. Albert Michelson followed in 1907 with his precision optical experiments. In contrast, Lippmann’s painstaking technique was already being overtaken by faster photographic processes. The question is not why he invented it, but why he won the most coveted award in physics for it.
Support from Home
The Nobel archives reveal that Lippmann was no outsider. Between 1901 and 1908, he was nominated 23 times by 12 different people, including laureates and leading academics. Yet every one of these nominations came from France.
According to Karl Grandin, director of the Academy’s Center for History of Science, such coordinated efforts were “quite common in the first years” of the prize. Speaking to Physics World, he added that national lobbying did not always guarantee success: “Sometimes when all the members of the French Academy have signed a nomination, it might be impressive at one point, but it might also be working in the opposite way.”
So while French advocacy secured Lippmann’s visibility, it was not the sole factor. What really tipped the decision in Stockholm was a mix of hesitation over radical new theory and the personal rivalries of powerful scientists.
When rivalries intervened
In 1908, the Nobel physics committee, then chaired by Knut Ångström, initially favoured Max Planck. His theory of quantized energy was changing the foundations of physics. But the committee faced a dilemma. Planck’s ideas were still new and lacked solid experimental confirmation. Awarding him alone seemed premature, and no experimental physicist in quantum theory had been nominated to share the honour.
This uncertainty opened space for personalities to shape the outcome. Svante Arrhenius, the influential Swedish chemist and Nobel laureate, strongly supported Planck. His adversary, mathematician Gustaf Mittag-Leffler, disagreed. Their rivalry had become a defining feature of Stockholm’s small scientific community, something brought out vividly in Physics World’s insightful series “Nobel prizes you’ve never heard of”.
Karl Grandin observed, “Stockholm at the time was a small place. Everyone knew each other, and it wasn’t big enough to host both Arrhenius and Mittag-Leffler.” When the matter reached a full Academy vote, Mittag-Leffler seized the moment. Playing on doubts about quantum theory, he argued against Planck.
The result was decisive. Planck received only 13 votes, while Lippmann, listed as the safe alternative, secured 46. Later, boasting of his influence, Mittag-Leffler wrote: “Arrhenius wanted to give it to Planck…but his report, which he had nevertheless managed to have unanimously accepted by the committee, was so stupid that I could easily have crushed it.”
A comfortable choice
Lippmann’s achievement, though technically cumbersome, was easy to reward. It demonstrated ingenuity without provoking controversy. As Ångström reflected afterward, Lippmann was “obviously a prizeworthy candidate who did not give rise to any objections,” even if “the radiation laws constitute a more important advance in physical science than Lippmann’s colour photography.”