Seventy years ago, the physicists Clyde Cowan and Frederick Reines took a custom-built 10-ton detector, surrounded it with thick lead walls and wet sandbags, and placed it near a powerful nuclear reactor at the Savannah River Plant in South Carolina. They called the experiment Project Poltergeist, designed as it was to catch a ghost.
More than a quarter of a century before, physicists had been puzzling over why energy appeared to be lost during a radioactive process called beta decay. Something was missing, and there was no known physics to explain it. Then in 1930, the Austrian physicist Wolfgang Pauli proposed a radical solution: A virtually undetectable particle was silently carrying the missing energy away. “I have done a terrible thing,” Pauli told a friend. “I have postulated a particle that cannot be detected.” It would come to be known as the neutrino. Having almost no mass and no charge, these particles can pass through Earth and everything on it, including our bodies, virtually unimpeded.
The massive device that Cowan and Reines deployed in early 1956 was meant to find what Pauli thought was impossible. That June, the pair of physicists from the Los Alamos National Laboratory sent Pauli a telegram: “We are happy to inform you that we have definitely detected neutrinos.”
Attention then shifted to a broader question. If nuclear reactions produce neutrinos, could we use them to peer at the nuclear fireworks inside stars, including the sun? This presented a huge challenge: How can you possibly catch particles shooting from distant stars if these particles can pass through almost anything undetected? The suspicion was that detecting a particle that rarely collides with matter requires a vast amount of matter for it to collide with. Moreover, the matter would have to be shielded from the noise of other forms of radiation. So the answer scientists came up with was to build some of the biggest, deepest, and most exotic experimental traps in scientific history … and then wait.
In the 1960s, Raymond Davis Jr. and colleagues at Brookhaven National Laboratory placed a tank 1.5 kilometers underground in the Homestake mine in South Dakota and filled it with nearly 400,000 liters of a chlorine-based cleaning fluid called perchloroethylene. On the rare occasion that a passing neutrino struck a chlorine nucleus, it would be transformed into a radioactive form of argon that could be detected and counted. The experiment, which would run for 25 years, found just one-third the number of neutrinos coming from the sun that had been predicted in theoretical models. This became known as the solar neutrino problem.
Decades passed before it was solved—by yet more massive experiments. Deep in the Kamioka mine in Japan, Masatoshi Koshiba built a different kind of detector called Kamiokande, which used 3 million liters of ultrapure water. In this setup, neutrinos occasionally interact with atomic nuclei in the water. The interaction creates an electron that moves so fast, it generates a flash of what’s called Cherenkov light. This light gets picked up by detectors.
Kamiokande and Koshiba confirmed Davis’ shortfall, and a second, even larger detector, Super-Kamiokande, as well as Canada’s Sudbury Neutrino Observatory, explained the discrepancy. Neutrinos come in three different “flavors” (electron, muon, and tau) and can oscillate, or switch, between them. To do so, neutrinos must have mass, which the laws of physics failed (and still fail) to predict.
Newer neutrino detectors continue the tradition of grand ambitions and surprising results. The IceCube Neutrino Observatory below the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station uses Antarctic ice instead of water. It has developed a map of the Milky Way made up only of neutrinos and traced these high-energy cosmic particles back to active galaxies powered by supermassive black holes. On the floor of the Mediterranean Sea, the Cubic Kilometer Neutrino Telescope (KM3NET) has detected the highest-energy cosmic neutrino on record. Its source remains unknown.
