Speech by Robbert Dijkgraaf at the Einstein Foundation Berlin
14 March 2025, Bode-Museum Berlin
It is my great pleasure and honor to speak to you on this happy occasion of Einstein's 146th birthday. Particularly to do so here in Berlin, the city where Einstein made his greatest scientific breakthrough, and to so celebrating excellence in research.
Einstein remains the most famous and recognizable scientist. Nobody has expanded our understanding of the universe more profoundly. His visionary ideas also have many practical implications, such as lasers, nuclear energy, and GPS. I like to say: without Einstein, we would all be lost.
For a decade, I walked in his footsteps, literally and figuratively. In Princeton, where Einstein spent his final 22 years, his presence was everywhere. His historic home on Mercer Street—the only residence where three consecutive Nobel laureates have lived. His music, in the form of the Bechstein grand piano in our living room. I can confirm the anecdote about his musical abilities: Indeed, Einstein couldn't count. He preferred to play with a heavy rubato. How appropriate for the discoverer of the curvature of time!
Einstein was no ordinary genius. At age five, young Albert was given a compass. Like any child, he was fascinated that the needle always points north. But he discovered something else. When he moved through rooms, a mysterious force guided the needle. As a five-year-old, he discovered the magnetic field—a perfect metaphor for his later work, uncovering Nature’s deepest secrets hidden within the fabric of space itself.
Einstein was a challenging student. His teachers and professors called him lazy and arrogant. He finished last in his class at university, and he and his wife Mileva were the only graduates who failed to secure academic positions. Working as a civil servant in the Bern patent office afforded him freedom to think freely about space and time, light and matter. In 1905, his annus mirabilis—the year he turned 26—he published four papers that could have earned him four Nobel prizes (although he received only one). Among them was the most famous equation in history: E = mc². It is here on my tie, specially made for me, embroidered in Einstein's own handwriting. When I proudly showed this to Freeman Dyson, my dear colleague at the Institute for Adevanced Study, he said he had a similar tie, also with E = mc². However, this one was given to him by Einstein himself!
Many people are frightened by formulas. However, equations are the great connectors. The true star sits quietly in the middle: the humble equal sign. It relates two concepts that before Einstein's theory of special relativity were seen as completely distinct and unrelated: energy E and mass m. Through the magic of the equation, we learn that mass can transform into energy. The energy contained in something as tiny as a grape would equal a nuclear explosion. Reading the equation in reverse, energy can become mass. When you move, your weight increases. Negligible for us, but the protons racing around at CERN close to the speed of light are more than 7000 times heavier than when at rest.
Albert Einstein was an absolute master in the art of connecting seemingly unrelated scientific domains. He demonstrated this again when his mind turned to gravity. Newton explained how gravity worked, but Einstein revealed why gravity works. In 1907, he experienced his glücklichste Gedanke. Observing repairmen on a rooftop from his office window, he wondered what would happen if they fell. His insight: they would experience no gravity—at least for a moment!
Out of this happy thought came his general theory of relativity—a marriage of elegant mathematics and deep physical intuition. Again, his equation connected two seemingly unrelated realms. On one side, the airy geometries of space and time. On the other side, tangible matter and energy in the universe. Simply put, matter tells space how to curve, and space tells matter how to move.
Einstein realized that his theory had testable consequences: stellar light would bend around the sun. When the 1919 solar eclipse expedition confirmed his calculation, Einstein was elated. Asked how he would have felt had the results contradicted his theory, he reportedly quipped: “Da könnt’ mir halt der liebe Gott leidtun, die Theorie stimmt doch.”
Overnight a scientific star was born. He appeared on the cover of the December 1919 issue of the Berliner Illustrierte Zeitung with the headline "Eine neue Grösse der Weltgeschichte."
His theory of relativity stands perhaps as the greatest achievement of a single human mind. Although it made Einstein the most famous scientist in history, his ideas were so far ahead that he never lived to see most of their consequences. When he passed away, his theory was lauded as a great work of art—damning praise for a working scientist.
Only now, a century later, do we possess the sophisticated technology to observe the full impact of his ideas. Black holes tearing stars apart and producing the most violent explosions in the universe. Gravitational waves offering an entirely new window into the cosmos. How wonderful that there is the concrete possibility for Germany, Belgium and the Netherlands to host together the next generation detector, the Einstein Telescope! And perhaps the greatest gift of all: a comprehensive and detailed understanding of the evolution and composition of the universe. Amazingly, in just one hundred years, humankind has unveiled 13.8 billion years of cosmic history. The acceleration of our knowledge vastly outpaces the expansion of the universe itself.
Einstein also confronts us with our ignorance—a necessary byproduct of breakthrough science. Cosmologists must rank among the happiest scientists, for they know exactly what they do not know. Einstein's theory enables us to measure the weight of the universe and thereby its energy content, with shocking results. All known forms of matter and energy—that is, all particles and radiation comprising Earth, the planets, stars, and intergalactic clouds—comprise just 5 percent of the grand total. The remaining 95 percent is made of unknown "dark matter" and an even more mysterious "dark energy" permeating space and driving the universe to expand faster and faster.
Yet I would claim that our ignorance extends much further. Simply put, we can characterize the science of the previous century as the search for the building blocks of reality. The molecules, atoms, and elementary particles composing matter. The cells, proteins, and genes enabling life. The bits, algorithms, and networks forming information and intelligence, both human and artificial. In this century, we will explore all that can be made with these building blocks.
Throughout 13.8 billion years of cosmic history and almost 4 billion years of life on earth, nature has explored only the tiniest fraction of all its possible designs. We are all winners of the cosmic lottery. From an infinity of alternatives, our genetic codes have been selected to be realized. The same goes for all forms of matter around us and every thought that we’ve ever conceived and recorded. The world as we know it, is only the tip of an endless iceberg of possibilities.
With powerful, self-learning computers, soon to be quantum-based, we will be exploring this infinite realm of artificial materials, life, and intelligence. This prospect both attracts and alarms us, not least because the pace of discovery accelerates. In current technology, a generation can span mere months, as evidenced by recent AI breakthroughs. The ship of science has left the sheltered waterways for the open ocean, filled with crashing waves.
This raises fundamental questions about the role of science and technology in our society. How do we navigate this boundless sea of possibilities. Where are the visionaries who see further and guide us through all ethical dilemma’s? Where are today's Einsteins?
Einstein was not only a brilliant scientist but also a steadfast moral compass. The moment he was crowned Newton's successor, he faced vicious personal attacks, many fueled by antisemitism. In August 1920, at a large gathering in the Berlin Philharmonie, critics denounced his physics as "un-German" and dismissed it as a worthless product of "Jewish-Communist thinking." Though deeply wounded by these attacks, Einstein responded not with silence but with greater conviction. Supported by colleagues, he spoke more forcefully for his principles, emerging as a prominent voice against the rising Nazi movement and worldwide antisemitism. Through his unwavering courage, Einstein transformed from merely a scientific genius into a global advocate for human dignity and freedom.
After relocating to Princeton in 1933, Einstein worked tirelessly to rescue fellow scientists from Nazi Germany. The Institute for Advanced Study became an intellectual Ellis Island, where modest grants enabled scholars to secure visas and escape Europe. IAS director Abraham Flexner wrote in 1939, “Fifty years from now the historian looking backward will, if we act with courage and imagination, report that during our time the center of gravity in scholarship moved across the Atlantic Ocean to the United States.”
Until his death, Einstein continued fighting for the right of scholars and scientists to speak their minds freely. He crafted his public statements as meticulously as his scientific formulas, going through many versions before placing the final text in a wooden box—tweeting avant la lettre.
His activism was called upon again during the McCarthy era, when the political climate in the United States grew increasingly hostile toward scientists, teachers, journalists, and artists. In November 1954, at the height of Joseph McCarthy's campaign against supposed communist infiltration, Einstein wrote that were he a young man again, he "would rather choose to be a plumber or a peddler in the hope to find that modest degree of independence still available under present circumstances." The Chicago plumbers union promptly offered him membership.
McCarthy swiftly condemned Einstein's stance, telling media that whether his "name is Einstein or John Jones," anyone giving such advice was undoubtedly an "enemy of America." But Einstein remained undeterred. In March 1954, he publicly advocated for "the right to search for truth and to publish and teach what one holds to be true." He lamented that in this dark age, "freedom of teaching, mutual exchange of opinions, and freedom of press and other media of communication are encroached upon or obstructed."
Einstein's unwavering commitment to human rights, peace, and freedom remains as relevant as ever. He would recognize with dismay the troubling parallels in our contemporary world. We see growing attacks on academic freedom as the space for intellectual exploration contracts. Governments and ideological movements increasingly impose their views on scholarship. Populists claim to represent the true will of the nation while methodically silencing dissenting voices. Verifiable facts are deliberately undermined by "alternative facts." Scientific findings are weakened by sowing doubt and spreading disinformation, often disguised as legitimate science. Universities —once celebrated as essential pillars of democratic society— face coordinated attacks under the cynical pretext of combating “excessive political correctness.” And in an increasing zero-sum world, international scientific collaboration —the very foundation of modern scientific progress—is reframed as a threat to national interests, even as humanity’s most pressing challenges require global cooperation.
It's an easy prediction that these political and ideological pressures will intensify. Since science pushes society forward, society inevitably pushes back. When scientific findings influence our behavior—dictating what we should eat or how we should travel—it becomes tempting to shoot the messengers bringing uncomfortable news, rather than heed their sensible advice.
The explosive scientific and technological developments confront us with what I call the "knowledge paradox." By definition, research delves deeper into layers of increasing complexity. Who truly comprehends the inner workings of a smartphone or gene therapy? The latest AI models don't even understand their own functioning. Science grows increasingly invisible and incomprehensible to the general public.
Simultaneously, due to its growing complexity, science becomes more useful and relevant. Virtually every policy issue—from climate change to infectious disease control—depends critically on research and global cooperation. We risk science and technology being everywhere and nowhere. Becoming simultaneously all-powerful, governing every aspect of our lives, yet increasingly obscure and invisible—like the angels in Wim Wenders' film "In weiter Ferne, so nah!"
The great challenge for the scholarly community will be to preserve and strengthen academic freedom, to keep expanding our view, and to welcome as many different perspectives as possible. Push back against the push-back. In science, the aim is never to be comfortable, reach compromise, or avoid difficult questions. We must vigilantly protect against interference from governments, political organizations, or internal academic pressure groups. Mix science with politics, and you get politics.
This demands more from the scientific community. Excellent research by itself is not enough. Ultimately, science is a public good—part of humanity’s collective heritage with the potential to address global challenges. It’s the most reliable source of optimism. Achieving this tremendous potential requires ongoing dialogue across academic disciplines, and between scientists and society. Science must understand society's needs while inviting people into its remarkable world by clearly distinguishing scientific knowledge from mere opinion.
A broad-ranging dialogue between science and society is not only necessary for securing future support. It is crucial for attracting young minds to join the research effort. Widely shared knowledge creates fertile ground for future technology, innovation, and economic growth. Well-informed, science-literate citizens are better able to make responsible choices when confronted with “wicked problems,” such as climate change, nuclear power, vaccinations, and genetic modification. Simultaneously, scientists need this dialogue to develop potentially transformative technologies responsibly.
The public engagement of science serves an even higher purpose: society benefits profoundly from embracing scientific culture. Its commitment to accuracy, truth-seeking, critical inquiry, healthy skepticism, respect for both facts and uncertainties, and wonder at the richness of nature and the human spirit.
Albert Einstein continues to inspire us—as a brilliant scientist and a great humanist. He demonstrated how science transcends political and ideological boundaries, the importance of question existing paradigms, and scientists' responsibility to consider the ethical implications of their work. All of this requires an extra sense of urgency in these troubling times. And I feel there is a special role for Berlin. With its past, present and future, this city is a “keystone species” whose wellbeing is a measure for the health and resilience of the global scientific ecosystem.
Perhaps Einstein’s most enduring lesson is our fundamental duty to imagine a better world. This brings me to what was perhaps the most delightful part of my Princeton job. If children write to Santa Claus, I don't know where the mail is delivered. But when they wrote to Professor Einstein, those letters arrived on my desk—like the one from three Italian girls wondering if he liked pizza. Or this postcard from a young child with a message I'm happy to share with you:
"To Albert Einstein, I hope you will never stop being curious."
Happy Birthday, Professor Einstein!
