The Soviet Resonance Controversy: Outside Views

[Part 7 of 7]

Even though the resonance controversy was largely one contested between Soviet scientists and Linus Pauling, many outside members of the scientific public, as well as the media, weighed in on the dispute. By and large, the reaction was quite supportive of Pauling, with most commentators coming to his defense.

One scientist who definitely fit this bill was George W. Wheland, a colleague of Pauling’s who worked with him to develop resonance theory. In a letter to the editor of Chemical and Engineering News dated August 4, 1952, Wheland denounced the Soviet attack on resonance as being driven by a “patriotic, political, and ideological invective, which from the Western viewpoint, has no scientific content.”

Moyer Hunsberger, a chemist from the University of Chicago and Fordham University, felt similarly, and in 1952 he delivered a series of lectures meant to thwart “the Russian chauvinistic ideological approach” to scientific inquiry. In them, Hunsberger labeled the Soviet position and its steadfast support of A.M. Butlerov an “extremely obvious exaggeration of [his] contributions to organic chemistry.” Likewise, “the intensity and crudeness” of the Soviet condemnation of Pauling’s ideas “appear[ed] to be without parallel in the annals of chemistry.”

Other scientists added their voices in concert. Notably, Harvard University president James Bryant Conant argued that,

If the Russians continue to attempt to force science to follow along a path determined by politics, Russia is sure to grow weaker. If Russians are not allowed to use the resonance theory or are deprived of scientific freedom in any other direction, Russian science will fall behind western science and Russian technology will suffer. I think that Syrkin and Diatkina and other Russian chemists who have been criticized for using the theory are among the most able in Russia today. Their book, The Chemical Bond and the Structure of Molecules is an excellent work. It is based almost entirely on resonance theory – and I think there is no substitution for that.


But scientists weren’t the only ones who came to Pauling’s defense. Many media outlets also published articles about the controversy and, as with the academics, they were strongly in support of Pauling and his resonance theory.

Perhaps the first mention of the controversy in the stateside media appeared in a July 15, 1951 New York Times article titled, “Soviets Dispute a Chemical Theory.” In the article, the author impugns the Soviets for not acknowledging the centrality of resonance theory and even asserts that the Soviet atomic bomb projects were necessarily informed by the work. As such, it was clearly hypocritical for the theory to be described as “bourgeois mysticism” when it had been so important to advancing goals fundamental to the national interest.

Shortly thereafter, on September 1, 1951, the California Institute of Technology News Bureau released a bulletin about the controversy that sought to summarize the Soviet attack and defend the importance of Pauling’s ideas. “The theory is now an accepted part of chemistry,” the News Bureau wrote, “at least in the Western world. It is taught in general and organic chemistry textbooks and has contributed to the simplification of the science.”

These early analyses in hand, other newspapers began to report on the controversy, with some even drawing comparisons between the Soviets’ stance and actions taken by the U.S. government a year prior. In particular, a Seattle Times piece from September 2, 1951 compared the resonance controversy to accusations made by the House Un-American Activities Commission a year earlier, wherein Pauling was branded a communist. By recognizing and naming the similarities between the two controversies, the author of the Seattle Times piece put forth both an exoneration of Pauling’s political activities in the U.S. as well as the perception of his science in the USSR.

That same day, the Washington Star published its own article containing a very similar sentiment, and the steady flow of support continued from there. As the year moved forward, the Los Angeles Times, Newsweek, Time, and the Pasadena Independent were among those publishing popular articles that upheld resonance theory and denounced the Soviet position.


In 1952, the New York Times published a second article investigating the topic. The piece sought to explain resonance theory in basic terms that “every schoolboy” could understand while also responding to lingering objections from Soviet scientists.

According to the article, scientists in the U.S.S.R. had recently reaffirmed their denouncement of resonance theory, calling its ideas “mere illusions, senseless structures.” These critics continued that

Pauling and his like are said to cherish perverted concepts which are typical examples of bourgeois thinking. The man to follow is A.M. Butlerov, who has a more materialistic concept of chemical structures.

This established, the Times article then put forth a clarification. “It may be that resonance structures are illusory,” the author wrote, but “That is not the point. A theory is not a statement of absolute truth. It is an invention, a tool. […] So far, the theory of resonance explains what cannot be explained by older theories of valence.” The piece concludes of resonance theory, “Benighted Western chemists will continue to apply it.”


But not all outside observers were entirely behind Pauling, and one figure in particular deserves mention. In 1977, two years after his passing, a biographical memoir was written of Robert Robinson, the former president of the British Royal Society. In this piece, it was revealed that Robinson did not at all agree with Pauling’s ideas on resonance.

Robinson and Pauling had known one another for over two decades and were clearly friends. When Robinson received the Nobel Prize in chemistry in 1947, Pauling wrote to convey his “heartiest congratulation,” and at nearly the same time Robinson helped Pauling to secure his Eastman fellowship at Oxford University. When Robinson’s wife died in 1954, Pauling reached out to express his “deep affection.” Some years later, Robinson’s daughter gave Pauling a portrait of her father from 1955, which Pauling later put on his desk as a reminder of the times they had shared together “sitting on stools at the little eating house after the Royal Society Meeting” and their “boat trip down the St. John’s River.”

But despite this close personal connection, Robinson differed on the issue of resonance theory. In the biographical memoir, Robinson was quoted as having referred to Pauling’s resonance work as “very misleading” and an “unfortunate contribution” to science. Pauling was upset by this revelation, so much so that he wrote a response in which he argued that Robinson’s beliefs were “based entirely on misunderstanding or incompleteness of knowledge of the nature and early history of the theory of resonance.”

The late Robinson’s critique stood as an outlier though and, upon final reflection, it appeared that Pauling’s experience with the Soviets did not leave a lasting mark. In a Royal Society paper about resonance theory that he wrote in 1977, Pauling addressed the controversy just once, and in it he did not even specifically mention the Soviets. Rather, Pauling’s text indicated that resonance theory had been “rather strongly attacked…because of the failure of critics to understand it.” And with that, he seems to have summarized his feelings about the Soviet resonance controversy in as succinct a manner as possible.

The Soviet Resonance Controversy: Dying Embers

“Glory and Pride of Russian Science,” Pravda, November 22, 1961. Note Pauling’s annotation at far right.

[Part 6 of 7]

After the death of Joseph Stalin in 1953, scientists in the Soviet Union began to decrease the intensity of their attacks on Linus Pauling and his theory of resonance. This process played out for at least another ten years, during which time the combatants’ points of emphasis gradually shifted.

Instead of arguing against the theory because it opposed Soviet ideology, Pauling’s critics now focused on his failure to acknowledge the work of Russian scientists whom they argued were influential to his breakthrough. This difference marked a monumental deviation from the scientists’ earlier platform for opposition. Before, the Soviets put forth a blanket rejection of resonance as an idea, and thus abandoned its use in developing their scientific work. However, post-Stalin, the Soviets tacitly began to recognize the utility of resonance while still arguing for credit that they felt was owed to luminaries of their past.

Pauling also began to soften his rhetoric in defending his theory, perhaps in part because of the complex nature of his relationship with the Soviet Union. The years of the resonance controversy coincided with stateside accusations that Pauling was a communist and a Soviet sympathizer. During this period, Pauling had also been very public in urging the Soviets to slow down the pace of their atomic weapons development and testing. In the midst of these heady issues, the battle to defend resonance was perhaps just not quite so pressing, and it was in this context that the final phase of the resonance theory controversy took place.


Notes used by Pauling in his 1961 Moscow lecture.

The last chapter of the dispute began when Pauling gave a speech on resonance in Moscow, a talk that would have been unimaginable during Stalin’s lifetime. Delivered on December 3, 1961, Pauling made his remarks to the chemistry division of the Soviet Academy of Sciences.

At his hosts’ urging, Pauling began by praising a Russian chemist, Mikhail Vasilyevich Lomonosov (1711-1765), for first theorizing that the properties of chemicals are a result of “their structure as aggregates of atoms.” Pauling’s offering of acclaim was not without calculation however, in that he also argued that that Lomonsov was a free thinker, and that he had used his “imaginative effort” and “high originality” to develop his ideas.

Perhaps most importantly, Pauling stressed that Lomonosov’s ideas were based on conceptual findings, not ideological doctrine. In this, Pauling was clearly trying to emphasize the ways in which Russian science had differed from the more contemporary Soviet approach, with old masters like Lomonosov developing their thinking on the basis of experimental data. By using Lomonosov as an anchor for this argument, Pauling made clear throughout his speech his continuing objection to the Soviet ideological attack on his theory.


Question submitted to Pauling by an audience member following his 1961 Moscow lecture.

The controversy had been brewing for well over a decade by the time Pauling gave his speech, so it would stand to reason that many in attendance still doubted the validity of resonance theory. And indeed, handwritten questions offered to Pauling at the conclusion of his lecture ranged from outright denial of resonance theory to asking whether or not molecular orbital theory or other explanations could be used instead to understand chemical structures and their properties.

Generally speaking though, these audience-generated questions were not ideologically based, perhaps because Pauling had deliberately chosen at the outset to “ignore the criticism [of his theory] on ideological grounds” and instead devoted most of his speech to systematically arguing in support of the science. The case that he made was clear and straightforward, but also imbued with undertones of sadness. Specifically, Pauling mourned the loss of scientific contributions that could have been made had the Soviet establishment bought in to resonance from the beginning. This sentiment comes across most acutely in the talk when Pauling laments that there is not a single “textbook of chemistry published by any Soviet scientist during the past ten years in which the theory of resonance is presented in a reasonably satisfactory way,” an omission that would guarantee that future Soviet students would be “seriously hampered.”


Pauling’s Moscow lecture signaled a clear shift in the arc of the controversy. Though still critical of Soviet science and its lack of fundamental integration of resonance theory, Pauling was at least willing to visit the Soviet Union and concede a small piece of intellectual ground. In the wake of these actions, the controversy moved into its final, least aggressive form.

Publications authored in the months following Pauling’s visit increasingly came to show that the Soviets no longer rejected resonance, but did want to be included in the story of its discovery. One notable example was a May 1962 article by G.M. Bykov titled “The Origin of the Theory of Chemical Structure.” The piece was written in English, a clear indication of its intended audience, and argued that all chemical structure theory should be based on the work of Russian scientists. It is “[t]rue,” Bykov writes, that Russian scientists such as A.M. Butlerov “did not develop and did not always support” other ideas about chemical structures. But for Bykov and his colleagues, Butlerov was “the founder of the theory of chemical structures” and “the establishment of a correct conception of chemical atoms” would necessarily be based on his ideas.

Excerpt from “In the Memory of a Theory.”

Responses of this sort allowed the Soviet academy to protect national pride while simultaneously updating their practices to align with the rest of the world. The shift in rhetoric also helped to end the extreme animosity that had been directed towards Pauling and, by the 1970s, the Soviets had essentially retracted any ideological objection to resonance theory. In fact, in 1972 the popular Soviet science magazine, Znanie Sila (“Knowledge is Power”) published a retrospective titled “In the memory of a theory” that used interviews with M.E. Diatkina to recount the resonance story and its importance in the world of chemical structures.


By the 1970s, Pauling and the Soviets had effectively ended their feud with both sides having offered a bit of a compromise. Even though Pauling never fully acknowledged Russian science as directly influencing his theory, he did concede for the records that Russians had developed some early ideas regarding the structure of chemicals. For their part, the Soviets lessened the intensity and direction of their objections and gradually adopted resonance theory into their modeling.

Despite this thawing of relations, other scientists and the public at large continued to weigh in on the controversy, as they had done since its genesis. The story of these outside perspectives, and Pauling’s responses to them, will be the subject of our final post in this series.

The Soviet Resonance Controversy: Pauling Fights Back

[Part 5 of 7]

Beginning in the late 1940s, Linus Pauling’s theory of resonance came under attack in the Soviet Union, first by scientists and then by the Soviet state itself. The primary points of contention for Pauling’s Soviet critics hinged on the seeming abstractness of his theory as well as his failure to acknowledge Russian and Soviet scientists deemed important to the development of his ideas. The more they considered the theory, the more their contempt grew, to the point where Soviet chemists were eventually called upon to lead an “army of many thousands strong” against Pauling. These sentiments did not reach Pauling until 1951, a full two years after the debate within the Soviet Union began. Though surprised by the tone of the Soviets complaints, Pauling did not stand down and instead launched a counter-offensive of his own in support of his scientific work.


Pauling became aware of the brewing controversy in August 1951, when a translated article from the Soviet scientific literature was sent to his office. In response, Pauling wrote a charged letter to the Soviet Academy of Sciences condemning the piece and upholding the importance of resonance theory as key to growth in the field of structural chemistry. In the letter, Pauling made clear his belief that the critics’ rhetoric was falsely placed and, indeed, that “the attempted suppression of a part of science is based upon a faulty conception of the nature of science.”

Pauling took particular objection to the ideological arguments against his theory, finding them baseless since they did not intersect at all with the scientific principles that informed his theory. He also warned of the dangers of refusing to incorporate resonance into an entire nation’s scientific vernacular, judging that “Any chemist in the modern world who attempts to carry on his work without making use of the theory of resonance […] is seriously handicapped.”

At the conclusion of the letter, Pauling took pains to praise the two Soviet scientists, Ia. K. Syrkin and M.E. Diatkina, who had translated his work, had spread word of his theory among their colleagues, and who had ultimately been forced to recant their support. In Pauling’s view, the duo were “among the most able chemists in the USSR.”

Pauling’s reply was met with scorn in the Soviet Union, and as a direct result of the letter, the Soviet Academy organized a special meeting to specifically discuss and condemn resonance theory. Held at the end of 1951, the meeting was attended by over 400 people and featured public denunciations of Pauling’s work by no fewer than forty-four prominent Soviet scientists.

One especially notable speaker was Ia. K. Syrkin, the erstwhile translator of Pauling’s Nature of the Chemical Bond. In his presentation, Syrkin introduced his remarks by suggesting that Pauling’s

substitution of the real molecule by a set of resonance structures for the sake of convenience led to an arbitrary and speculative element, and brought about what looks like an explanation, instead of an actual critical analysis and discussion of the mechanism of chemical reactions.

While it is unclear if this notion represented Syrkin’s true feelings, it is reasonable to presume that his words echoed the sentiments of many in attendance. As he moved forward through his talk, Syrkin put forth a standard criticism of resonance objecting to the notion that a molecule might not have a discrete structure. This argument, of course, was grounded fully in Soviet ideology, and specifically the belief that everything must be real and known.


Joseph Stalin lying in state

As it turned out, Pauling’s letter and the Soviet Academy meeting that followed marked the crescendo of the resonance theory controversy. Following the conclusion of the 1951 conference the debate continued to simmer, with small attacks volleyed by both sides for another two years. But in 1953, curiously, the controversy came to an end, specifically because of the death of Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin.

The end if Stalin’s reign ushered in a new era for the Soviets, one where it was no longer imperative to uphold orthodoxy for fear of severe punishment, including death. And the fact that the Soviet scientific community did not pursue its condemnation of resonance theory with any vigor following Stalin’s demise suggests that the debate was never actually rooted in beliefs about problems with the science of resonance. More likely, resonance was just one of many convenient targets for Stalin and other Soviet figureheads in their war against ideas that were ideologically incongruent with Soviet doctrine.

Whatever the case, after 1953 the resonance controversy was effectively concluded, though a few actions remained to be taken by both parties involved. These activities, as well as the western scientific world’s take on the dispute, will be the focus of our final two posts in this series.

Yuri Ovchinnikov, 1934-1988

Yuri Ovchinnikov

Yuri Ovchinnikov, a friend of Linus Pauling’s and the youngest person to ever serve as vice president of the Soviet Academy of Sciences, died thirty-two years ago this month at the age of 53, the victim of an undisclosed illness. A prominent biochemist, much of Ovchinnikov’s work focused on gene-engineering interferons and their potential use in the manufacture of insulin and other medical applications. Ovchinnikov’s contributions were immense and garnered a great many accolades including the Hero of Socialist Labor prize, the Lenin Prize, and the Soviet State Prize, as well as honorary doctorates from universities in Poland, France, Sweden, Bulgaria, Spain, Peru, and East Germany.

Ovchinnikov was born on August 2, 1934 in Moscow. He received his Ph.D. in chemistry from Moscow State University in 1962, and was promptly hired as a research fellow at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich, working under a future Nobel laureate in chemistry, Vladimir Prelog. In 1966 Ovchinnikov returned to Moscow to teach at his alma mater, and in 1970 he attained the rank of full professor at Moscow State University. That same year, he became the director of the Shemyakin Institute of Bioorganic Chemistry, a position that he held until his death in 1988.


Ovchinnikov’s scientific and professional achievements paralleled one another and fueled his rise to prominence in the Soviet Union, the United States and Europe alike. Part of his success could be attributed to his ability to deftly straddle the scientific ideals of a failing Lysenkoist system while incorporating these same principles into the new field of membrane biology. Perhaps more importantly, Ovchinnikov was comfortable crossing disciplinary boundaries from chemistry to biochemistry to biophysics, a trait that he shared with Linus Pauling.

Ovchinnikov is perhaps best known for his work on developing gene-engineered interferons, insulin, and other medically useful preparations, but his scientific contributions were not limited to these areas. Working in Switzerland with Vladimir Prelog, Ovchinnikov was introduced to the stereochemical structures of peptides, a line of inquiry that he continued in the years that followed.

Specifically, Ovchinnikov was interested in unraveling the structure of peptides, a task that had stood as a huge challenge for the scientific community up until that point. As he worked on the problem, Ovchinnikov developed a novel spectroscopic approach that ultimately proved successful in developing an understanding of the structures of various depsipeptides as well as certain antibiotics, such as gramicidin. Ovchinnikov’s achievements were so significant that he is now considered to be a father of what is today called dynamic conformational studies.

Ovchinnikov next turned his attentions to molecules that were even more complex, and in 1979 he published what was perhaps his most influential paper. In it, he outlined a correct model for bacteriorhodopsin, the first time that this had been done for a membrane protein. In fact, many of the structures that he found in bacteriorhodopsin, which were completely novel at the time (such as its seven transmembrane sections) are found in other molecular structures, including membrane pumps, channels, and receptors.

The biomedical implications of Ovchinnikov’s work quickly became apparent, and it did not take long before he was collaborating with scientists all over the world. As the collaborations matured, Ovchinnikov began to apply computer modelling techniques to correctly decipher other highly complicated structures, including pig kidney enzymes. This particular discovery eventually led Ovchinnikov to use recombinant DNA to investigate human enzyme functions and structures, which in turn led to the gene-engineering work for which he is so highly regarded today.


Ovchinnikov speaking at the Lomonosov Gold Medal ceremony, Moscow, 1978

In 1974 Ovchinnikov became vice-president of the Soviet Academy of Sciences, and it was in this capacity that his life began to overlap with Pauling’s. One of Ovchinnikov’s tasks for 1977 was to edit a book to honor the 70th birthday of M.M. Shemyakin, a famous Soviet scientist, and Pauling was asked to submit a contribution. Pauling agreed to do so and drafted a paper titled “The Nature of the Bonds Formed by Transition Metals in Bioogranic Compounds and other Compounds.” Not long after, Pauling was awarded the Lomonosov Medal during a trip to the USSR, and it was during this visit that he met Ovchinnikov for the first time.

The two became much more closely acquainted in the summer of 1984 when Pauling spent an additional three weeks in the Soviet Union, in part to attend a conference on “Frontiers in Bioorganic Chemistry and Molecular Biology.” Ovchinnikov was Pauling’s host for that trip, and the two men spent nearly the entire time together. Their friendship cemented by this experience, Pauling returned home from his travels with a profound respect for Ovchinnikov and his scientific work.

Indeed, evidence of a strong, cordial relationship shows up in the correspondence that followed. In January 1985, Ovchinnikov wrote to Pauling to tell him that he was writing a book about bioorganic chemistry and wished to include short biographies of some of the great men in the field. Naturally, he hoped to include Pauling, and asked if a suitable photograph might be supplied. (Pauling was happy to comply.) Two years later, when Ovchinnikov and his brother published a paper on organic polymer ferromagnetism in the highly respected journal Nature, Pauling took the time to send a note of congratulations and best wishes.


When Ovchinnikov unexpectedly passed away in 1988, large segments of the scientific community came together to mourn the loss. In Pravda, a Russian language newspaper based in Moscow, sixty-five prominent Soviet figures signed a letter expressing grief at Ovchinnikov’s passing. Notably, the first signature to appear was that of Soviet premier Mikhail Gorbachev.

Pauling seemed equally shaken by the news. In a letter to Ovchinnikov’s replacement at the Shemyakin Institute, Pauling wrote, “It was one of my pleasures to have been acquainted with Yuri Ovchinnikov for a number of years and to have the benefit of conversations with him about scientific problems. His death is a great loss.” In a separate correspondence, Pauling reflected of his old friend that

If he had lived, he would, I am sure, have become an even more valuable person in developing science in the Soviet Union and improving the relationship between the Soviet Union and the United States. He had a fine personality and a very good mind.

The Lenin Peace Prize: Aftermath

Wire article published in the New York Daily News, April 17, 1970

[Part 2 of 2]

In June 1970, Linus Pauling accepted the International Lenin Peace Prize for Strengthening Peace Among Peoples, an award bestowed by the Soviet Union in the spirit of forging unity with the United States. An acknowledgement of Pauling’s efforts to work towards world peace, the prize also served as a symbolic gesture for many people who were active in the global peace community.

Despite the high profile and prestige of the prize, only a small number of people were invited to attend the ceremony itself, which was held at the Soviet embassy in Washington, D.C. But that did not mean that the prize went unnoticed, and Pauling received a great many letters of congratulation once word of his accomplishment began to receive media attention.

One such correspondent was Romesh Chandra, Secretary General of the World Peace Council, who, on April 17, sent a telegram expressing “hearty congratulations” and specifically recognizing Pauling’s “pioneering work and continued ceaseless action against United States aggression in Vietnam.” A day later, Nikolai Tikhonov, the chairman of the Soviet Peace Commission, wrote a similar telegram in which he commended Pauling for his “indefatigable activities for peace,” and his “courageous denouncements of militarism, especially […] against [the] shameful war in Vietnam.”

Ava Helen and Linus Pauling with Boris Davydov of the Second Department of the Soviet Embasy. Lenin Peace Prize ceremony event, June 15, 1970

That same day, Pauling received another telegram from the president of the Peace Council of the German Democratic Republic, Dr. Guenter Drefahl, congratulating Pauling for his “outstanding struggle for disarmament and peace.” And as the week moved forward the commendations continued to pour in. On April 20, a telegram from the Bulgarian Peace Committee offering their “warmest congratulations”; on April 21 a message from the Hungarian Peace Fighters sending their “appreciation” for Pauling’s work.

Gen. Hugh Hester

The majority of these letters received a warm, if somewhat standard reply. One exception was that of Pauling’s correspondence with a decorated U.S. Army Brigadier General, Hugh Hester. Perhaps because Hester was an outspoken critic of the U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War, or maybe due to the high Army rank that Hester had attained before he retiring some twenty years prior, Pauling’s reply deviated from the standard acknowledgments that he afforded most others. Notably, Pauling took pains to express his feeling that “this is a terrible time for the world,” and his hope “that Nixon has finally gone too far, and that the Congress will succeed in stopping him.”


The rush of global praise brought about by Pauling’s receipt of the prize did not negate the complications of a somewhat curious incident that preceded the award ceremony. In addition to an engraved medal bearing the image of Vladimir Lenin in profile, the prize came with a 25,000 ruble honorarium. Because rubles were valueless outside of the Soviet Union at the time, an interesting investigation into how the monetary award could be converted into usable currency ensued.

The situation was eventually sorted out when Linda Kamb, Pauling’s daughter, visited the Soviet Embassy shortly before the award ceremony was to take place. Upon arriving, Linda spoke with Henry Kissinger, who was serving as the US National Security Advisor at the time, and who also happened to also be at the embassy that day. Linda met as well with the Soviet Ambassador to the United States.

In these conversations, Pauling’s daughter asked the two men about her father’s unusual problem of not being able to spend or use rubles, a circumstance that effectively rendered the cash prize as useless for non-Soviets. The two men subsequently conferred and decided that the prize money could be converted into US dollars at a rate of one ruble to $1.10, with the exchange happening within the embassy. This quote was apparently satisfactory, and a delve into Pauling’s financial documents for the year 1970 indicates that he did in fact utilize the currency conversion option that his daughter had investigated and communicated to him.

Pauling’s Receipt of the Lenin Peace Prize

Dmitry Skobeltsyn, Linus Pauling, Marilla [?] and Ava Helen Pauling, Lenin Prize ceremonies, June 15, 1970

[Part 1 of 2]

“Now is the time for us to change from our immoral course, from our dedication to the archaic institution of war, to a policy of peace and rationality and morality. I am confident that the Soviet Union would follow our lead, that the conduct of international affairs could be made to find the just solution of international problems, that we can achieve the goal of a world of justice and morality, a world in which the wealth of the world is used for the benefit of human beings, a world of freedom and dignity, a world of which our idealistic young people will be glad to be a part.”

–Concluding remarks of the first draft of Linus Pauling’s acceptance speech, written on the occasion of his receipt of the International Lenin Prize for Strengthening Peace Among Peoples, June 1970

On June 15, 1970, at the Soviet Embassy in Washington, D.C., Linus Pauling gave an acceptance address acknowledging his receipt of the 1968-69 International Lenin Prize for Strengthening Peace Among Peoples. Created in 1949, this award was originally named the International Stalin Prize for Strengthening Peace Among Peoples in honor of then Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin. In 1956, three years after Stalin’s death, the prize was renamed by his successor as premier, Nikita Khrushchev. For most of its history, the prize was awarded annually to non-Soviet citizens who upheld the foundations of world peace. The award was discontinued following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991.

For Pauling, receiving the Lenin Prize represented, among other things, an opportunity to leverage attention toward his peace-oriented goals. Perhaps most notably, Pauling’s private correspondence reveals that when he heard that he was to receive the prize, his initial response was that he wanted the ceremony to be held at the United Nations building in New York. In a letter to the Soviet Academy of Sciences, Pauling wrote that he felt that the UN headquarters would be appropriate, “especially at this time, when the world is torn by wars and oppressed by militarism[.] [T]he symbolic significance of the presentation of this Peace Prize in the United Nations Headquarters could be very important.”

In addition to being appropriate on its own merits, Pauling also cited precedent in support of his suggestion. The opening ceremony of the 1965 International Convocation on the Requirements of Peace, he noted, was sponsored by the Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions and held at the UN Headquarters. Mostly for these reasons, Pauling was convinced that the UN Secretary General, U Thant, would approve of his idea.

It is unclear why the ceremony was not held at the UN headquarters, and instead at the Soviet Embassy in Washington, D.C., but what is clear is that the ceremony was celebrated with much fanfare and adulation for Pauling and his accomplishments towards peace.


At the embassy, the Prize was given to Pauling by Soviet physicist and academician Dmitry V. Skobeltsyn, who addressed all in attendance with a warmhearted, “Comrade Ambassador, Dear Mr. and Mrs. Pauling, Ladies and Gentlemen, Dear Friends.” He then detailed the history of the prize, suggesting that it was established to support some of Lenin’s ideals, including his fight for “true brotherhood, equality, and freedom of peoples.” For Skobeltsyn, Pauling was the true embodiment of these ideals as well as an “ardent fighter for peace.”

Skobeltsyn continued that Pauling was receiving the award for his “personal merits in the struggle for peace and the contribution which is being made to the cause of defending peace by the wide movement of the progressive international community, and among them, by progressive circles in the United States.” He then pointed out that “Pauling is widely known in the world…as the name of an outstanding public figure who is ceaselessly struggling to ensure that the achievement of science serve the cause of peace and that the danger of [nuclear weapons’] use in a new destructive world war, which would threaten mankind with incalculable sufferings, be eliminated.”

From there, Skobeltsyn enumerated several of Pauling’s major peace-related accomplishments, including his 1957 petition to the United Nations “calling for an immediate conclusion of an international agreement banning the tests of nuclear bombs,” and his 1961 establishment (with the help of Ava Helen Pauling) of a conference against the spread of nuclear weapons. He concluded his remarks by expressing his hope that “friendly relations between Soviet and American peoples grow stronger and develop in the interest of peace.”

For his part, Pauling regarded the prize to be fitting and even serendipitous, noting that the day he had become aware of the honor in April 1970 was also the same day that the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks between the United States and Soviet Union had begun. Pauling then traced his work in attempting to end the arms race between the Soviet Union and the United States, and stressed that the beginnings of the SALT talks had marked a turning point in the trajectory of this work. For Pauling, it was a moment of optimism; the talks a source of “more hope on cutting down the armament burden than we have had for a long time.”

The reverse of the Pauling’s Lenin medal. The text reads: “For the Strengthening of Peace Among Peoples.”

Pauling’s Induction into the Soviet Academy of Sciences

1958h.4-400w

On June 20, 1958, in the midst of the Cold War and almost exactly 25 years after being inducted into the National Academy of Sciences, Linus Pauling was unanimously approved for inclusion in the Akademia Nauk (Academy of Sciences) of the USSR. Founded in 1724 during the reign of Peter the Great and charged with conducting national research and overseeing scientific publications, the Academy had attained a position of major importance in Soviet society and its domestic members were among the highest paid individuals in the communist country.

Though often critical of Soviet leaders, Pauling never had any qualms about engaging in scientific exchanges with Russian scientists, even during the frostiest years of U.S-Soviet tensions. In one particular instance, a year prior to being honored by the Soviet Academy, Pauling had extended invitations to two of its members to visit Caltech and deliver lectures on their current research. At the time however, the greater Los Angeles and San Francisco areas had both been closed “to anybody holding a Russian passport,” and the scientific invitees were unable to accept Pauling’s offer.

In response, Pauling made a point of criticizing the U.S. Department of State, claiming that its policies ran counter to a recent commitment by the federal government to increase “freer exchange of information and ideas,” to push that “all censorship [be] progressively eliminated” and to “further exchanges of persons in the professional, cultural, scientific and technical fields.”


Pauling’s award notification from the Academy expressed “the hope that your election as a foreign member will promote further strengthening of the bonds between scientists of the USA and the Soviet Union.” And while Pauling accepted the offer warmly, others cast a very skeptical eye toward his embrace of this particular decoration.

While the responsibilities of his membership were purely honorary and the Academy insisted that he was being recognized for his scientific accomplishments, many media outlets, including the New York Times, suspected that the decision had been politically motivated. In his response, Pauling noted that the Soviets “have been strongly critical of my work in the past,” pointing out in particular that, in 1951, the Academy had deemed his theory of resonance to be “reactionary” and “bourgeois.” In the years since, Pauling supposed that the Soviets had “learned that you can’t mix politics up with science.”

Pauling was well-aware that his acceptance of the Academy’s nomination would garner criticism, but for him it was worth it to take a stand in favor of academic freedom. In a statement to the Associated Press, Pauling affirmed his strong belief “in the importance of improving international relations in every way” and expressed enthusiasm at the idea of “becoming better acquainted with the scientists in the USSR.” The letters of congratulation that he received from his colleagues indicate that this point of view was shared by many.


Pauling did not travel to the Soviet Union to accept his award, but he did address the topic of his membership in several lectures that he delivered during the summer of 1958. One talk, delivered at Antioch College on the day of his nomination, used the honor as a rhetorical starting point for a deeper discussion of a path toward reducing the risk of nuclear was. In this, Pauling emphasized that the United Nations must be strengthened, that nuclear weapons tests must cease, and that the world choose to recognize the communist government in China.

The president of Antioch College sent Pauling a follow-up letter indicating that the local media had mostly accepted Pauling’s ideas on merit, though the Dayton Daily had refused to report on the event at all due to Pauling’s membership in the Soviet Academy.


lp-bronk

In addition to Pauling, one other American was added to the Soviet Academy in 1958. Detlev Bronk, a well-known and accomplished scientist, had also served as president of Johns Hopkins University from 1948-1953. During this time he created the Hopkins Plan, a successful approach to student advancement that emphasized allowing undergraduates to choose their own rate of progression through their course of study.

Bronk and Pauling were also friends who corresponded with one another about issues both personal and professional well before their induction into the Academy. Their bond had been formed by shared scientific interests, but also by a similar worldview. Notably, Bronk had shown himself to be a defender of academic liberty by speaking out in favor of a professor who had been accused by Senator Joseph McCarthy of communist involvement in the early 1950s.

Another relevant and significant name from this time period was Bruno Pontecorvo, who was  inducted into the Academy alongside Pauling in 1958. Pontecorvo, a highly regarded Italian-born physicist, was living in the US and working on atomic research when he disappeared in 1950. Considered missing for several years, Pontecorvo eventually appeared on Soviet television, at which point it was understood that he had defected. Moreover, it later became clear that the scientist had risen to a position of authority within the Soviet nuclear development program.

Confirmation of Pontecorvo’s defection came as a shock, and some feared that Pauling would follow in his footsteps. Needless to say, this did not come to pass. Pontecorvo, on the other hand, remained in the USSR and worked under the Russian flag until his death in 1993.

 

The First Two Soviet Trips

Ava Helen and Linus Pauling with Soviet colleagues including A. I. Oparin (front right) and N. M. Sissakian (back right), 1957.

[Part 2 of 3]

Summer 1957 marked the first time that Linus and Ava Helen Pauling visited the Soviet Union. Linus had been invited by A. I. Oparin to deliver a paper at the International Symposium on the Origin of Life on the Earth. At first the Paulings were hesitant to accept due to high costs and questions about their ability to obtain travel visas. But ultimately these issues were resolved and they accepted the invitation, voicing in their correspondence with Oparin their excitement at the prospect of the symposium and the opportunity to visit a new part of the world. And so it was that, in August, they arrived in Moscow to attend the symposium at the Institute of Biochemistry where Pauling presented his paper “The Nature of the Forces of Operation in the Process of the Duplication of Molecules in Living Organisms.”

During their first stay in Russia, Ava Helen kept a private diary to record everything they did and saw – mostly museum visits, festival activities and dance performances. Included were trips to the Bolshoi Theatre to see a ballet, an opera, and an operetta. Other noteworthy excursions included the treasure house of the Kremlin, Cathedral Isaac, the Pushkin Museum and a Russian kindergarten. Of the visit to the kindergarten, Ava Helen noted that the children were presented in such an organized fashion – specifically in their music and gymnastics classes – that she had a hard time buying into what she was seeing and enjoying the visit. Something she did enjoy however, was watching the Youth Festival parade, one which featured spectacular performances and a breathtaking fireworks display.

The Paulings made time to dine with Oparin, their primary contact during their visit, as well as their colleagues the Folkensteins, at the Savoy Hotel in Moscow. The duo also went to an old monastery, since repurposed as the Institute of Chemical Physics, to visit N. N. Semenov’s laboratory. This was just one of a number of laboratory tours, including visits to the nuclear physics lab in Moscow, Oparin’s lab, the Orekhovich Lab, and the Tatyveskis Geo-Chemical Institute Lab.

Pauling in Leningrad, 1957.

Upon returning to the U.S., his visit to Russia completed, Linus Pauling invited new colleagues V. N. Orekhovitch to and Vladimir Knorre to visit him at Caltech. It was not to be however as, in December, Pauling received a letter from the U.S. State Department informing him that Pasadena, San Francisco, and Los Angeles were officially closed to anybody holding a Soviet passport. Outraged by this action, Pauling called State Department official Lawrence Mitchell, urging him to arrange for Orekhovich’s visit to Pasadena. In response, Mitchell informed Pauling that Berkeley, California was open to Soviet visitors, but that the U.S. government could not very well make an exception for Orekhovich, as this would have “little effect in applying pressure on the Russian Government.” Pauling then proceeded to write to the Secretary of State, voicing his opinion on the situation. Pauling claimed that he felt very strongly opposed to this action because, “it gives the Russian scientists who come to the United States a false impression – the impression that we are a police state, where scientists are not free to talk with other scientists, but are ruled by the Department of State.” Orekhovitch eventually made it to the U. S. but was unable to visit Pauling or Caltech.

About a month after Pauling wrote to the Secretary of State, he received a reply from Frederick T. Merrill, Director of the East-West Contacts Staff. In it Merrill reiterated Lawrence Mitchell’s original argument. According to Merrill, it was within the seventeen-point policy of the United States to increase contacts with peoples of Eastern Europe, but this policy had been rejected by the Soviet Union. As such, until negotiations could be revived on the matter of the barriers that had been raised by the USSR to contacts between the two countries, the United States had to restrict Soviet travel as a way of pressuring the USSR into negotiations.


Soviet Academy of Sciences, Certificate of Membership, 1958.

In 1958 Pauling was elected a foreign member of the USSR Academy of Sciences (Akademia Nauk USSR), the second American to receive this honor. Asked for a statement on his selection, Pauling conveyed gratitude to the Academy and commented on the great importance of improving international relations. Since his stance on matters of international relations was well known, colleagues and other figures in Russia wrote to Pauling encouraging him to continue to fight against nuclear testing in the United States.

The Paulings made their second visit to Moscow in November 1961. While there, as an elected member of Akademia Nauk, Linus Pauling gave a speech titled “World Cooperation of Scientists” at a conference hosted by the Academy in celebration of the 250th anniversary of the birth of M.V. Lomonosov. In his speech, Pauling discussed the approaches taken by Lomonosov and other Russian scientists to atomic investigations into the structure of matter. He also commented on the contributions that Soviet scientists had made toward world peace, and reflected on the need to reconsider the Soviet Union’s official decision on Pauling’s chemical theory of resonance.

Pauling expounded on the resonance controversy at a later talk given in Moscow at the Academy’s Institute for Organic Chemistry. His theory of resonance used quantum mechanics and wave functions to model a hypothetical structure of a molecular system as expressed as a sum of wave functions. And his presentation of this theory during the 1961 trip was particulalry important because, ten years earlier, the Institute of Organic Chemistry of the Academy of Sciences, U.S.S.R. had formally rejected the work as “pseudoscientific” and “hostile to the Marxist view.” [For much more on the resonance controversy, see this collection of our posts.]

In response, Pauling had written to Akademia Nauk arguing in support of his theory and asking the organization to reconsider. In 1954 the Soviet group eventually consented to a written debate of the theory between Professor N. D. Sokolov and Pauling – a debate which never actually took place. By 1961, when Pauling gave his lecture on resonance to a Soviet audience, technical facets of the theory remained controversial within the chemistry world and as such provided good fodder for conversation among scientists, irrespective of the political aspects of the debate.

While in Moscow, Pauling likewise gave a talk in which he urged the Soviet Union to end its nuclear testing programs and address its stockpiles of nuclear weapons. He also attended a panel discussion at which he once again called on the Soviet government to halt all nuclear tests.

Diary entry by Ava Helen Pauling, 1961. “6 December. Went to Lenin Library with Angella Gratcheva. It is some experience to ride with her in her car. I only worry about the pedestrians. She does seem a bit crazy.”

Ava Helen attended these events with her husband, but once again found time for adventures of her own. As before she kept a diary during the 1961 trip, most of which is devoted to her husband’s presentations. A substantial portion of the diary is, however, dedicated to documenting the “wild rides” that she experienced with her guide, one Angella Gratcheva. Apparently Gratcheva drove very erratically, and while navigating the Russian roads commonly recited poetry, sang songs and engaged in very animated conversations with Ava Helen. Her driving was so unpredictable that the police stopped them, a “misunderstanding” that the guide cleared up with more animated speech. From scientific controversy to peace activism to crazy driving, it would seem that Russia proved to be an interesting place indeed.

As with much of his international travel, Pauling’s relationship with the Soviet Union and its scientists grew stronger with each visit. The 1957 and 1961 trips set the foundation for Pauling to be viewed as a respected figure in the U.S.S.R., established precedence for future visits to the country and strengthened his position as an advocate for peace in both his home country and its rival nation.

Travels in the Soviet Union: Some Background

[Part 1 of 3]

Linus and Ava Helen Pauling traveled to the Soviet Union six times between the years 1957 and 1985. For the most part, Linus Pauling’s relationship with the Soviet Union was steeped in science, but he did speak on peace issues and the need to cease nuclear tests during his travels through the USSR.

Unlike many of his peers, Pauling did not see the Soviet Union purely as a threat, but chose to view it instead as a potential, and vital, partner in peace. Likewise, most of the Soviet scientists with whom he interacted were viewed as having pure motives for advancing their research agendas. Unfortunately, Pauling’s cordial relations with contacts in the Soviet Union caused others in the United States to be suspicious of his own true motives and political affiliation during the decades of the Cold War.

For those inclined to criticize Pauling, one group that raised eyebrows was the National Council of American-Soviet Friendship, of which Pauling was a member. For his part, Pauling affiliated with the group out of hope that it might live up to its name. Specifically, in a letter to the Council, Pauling expressed his desire that the council assist in establishing scientific links, particularly with respect to chemistry and medicine, between the Soviet Union and the United States. He believed that, above all else, the two countries needed to cooperate and ultimately desired to see an exchange of professors and students between the USSR and the US in near the future.

Pauling was also invited to attend the meetings of the Russian-American Club of Los Angeles. At one such gathering, in November 1945, he delivered a speech encouraging that the two countries work together in order to attain peace between all nations. Pauling likewise participated in events sponsored by Progressive Citizens of America, a group considered by some to be communist.

Generally speaking, Pauling was not one to take fright at the specter of communism. Whether or not this meant that he agreed with communist ideals was a matter of continuing debate during his life. A reasonable assessment might be that he had a very tolerant outlook of it all, truly believing that communism was not anything to be worried about; that it was just a set of ideals holding sway in another country and that those views should not affect scientific or diplomatic relationships between the United States and the Soviet Union. He was not naïve though. He was well aware that Moscow was not an innocent player on the world stage. Indeed, he believed them to be recalcitrant, but thought if the United States were to take the first step towards initiating peace, only good could result.

At home, these ideals only served to grow others’ suspicion of him. The start of the 1950s brought about the first wave of false claims being levied against Pauling and the sharpening of the FBI’s keen eye upon his activities. Newspapers would declare that he participated in communist activities and in 1955 declarations were made against him, especially by Louis F. Budenz, that he was a concealed communist. This charge in particular bolstered his FBI file, causing him to be watched and investigated for connection to any activities that may remotely have been related to communism.

On June 20, 1952, Linus Pauling officially denied Communist Party membership. Despite this denial, the FBI still maintained a close record of his associations, investigating and attempting to interpret his activities. Despite this, the Bureau had trouble finding current sources that would identify Pauling as a past or present Communist Party member. Effectively, the investigators were operating off of the testimony given by Budenz – a former Communist Party functionary – that Pauling was a concealed communist. Budenz also claimed that Pauling made monetary contributions to the party even though he was not openly a member. Pauling denied these allegations, stating that he was not a member and not a contributor, but was an advocate for the inclusion of Soviet scientists in international conferences and symposia. In the climate of the time, even this level of support was grounds for reprimand.

Another action that contributed to suspicion of Pauling was his appeal to the White House for the commutation of the death sentences handed down to Julius and Ethel Rosenburg. Pauling was keenly interested in the Rosenberg case and read widely of the details underlying their sentencing. His actions on their behalf were based in his analysis of these details, an analysis that led him to conclude that the death sentences were extreme and unjust. But no matter the reason, these sorts of actions made it difficult for him to convince others of his trustworthiness and his lack of association with the Communist Party. When he did give anti-communist statements in his speeches and talks, they were branded as being too weak.

The pressures on Pauling built up to the point where traveling overseas became extremely difficult. He was famously forced to issue an oath that he was not a communist in order to receive a limited passport to travel to England in 1952. Institutions also began to reject his affiliation with them, including the University of Hawaii, which rescinded its invitation to Pauling that he speak at a building dedication in 1951.

Eventually the climate of fear that permeated the Red Scare began to fade and it grew easier for Pauling to travel and to issue opinions on the Soviet Union that strayed from mainstream orthodoxy. Finally, in 1957, he made his first trip to the USSR where he was at last able to meet with many of the scientists whose right to participate in international meetings he had advocated over the much of the previous decade.

Pauling and the Soviet Union in the 1960s and 1970s: The Thawing of Frosty Relations

As the dynamics of Soviet dogma evolved, the enmity surrounding the so-called “resonance controversy” simmered down, and by the late 1960s Pauling had gone from being a disparaged name in Soviet chemistry to a respected scientist and much-admired advocate of nuclear test bans and international peace.

Pauling’s first visit to the Soviet Union in 1957 did a great deal to rehabilitate his scientific reputation among Soviet scientists.  In his Pauling Chronology, Dr. Robert Paradowski notes that “Russia remind[ed] Pauling of Eastern Oregon, and the Russian people seem[ed] to him like Western Americans. ”

This visit was swiftly followed by his election to the Soviet Academy of Sciences in 1958 – along with Detlev Bronk, the head of the National Academy of Sciences, Pauling was the first American to receive full recognition from the Soviet Academy.  Predictably, the honor was likewise enough to raise the eyebrow of the U.S. media, including the New York Times, which suggested that “it is impossible in today’s world position simply and naively to ignore the political implications” of the decoration.

Linus and Ava Helen traveled to the Soviet Union a second time in 1961 to attend the second centenary celebrations of the Academy of sciences, where they took the opportunity to deliver a handful of lectures, and to see more of the country, including a visit to Siberia and the shores of Lake Baikal.

The early 1960s also saw the reacceptance of Pauling’s formerly disgraced popularizer, Ia. K. Syrkin, back into the Soviet Academy of Sciences. By 1970 Pauling was recognized by the Soviet government for his peace activism with the Lenin Peace Prize, a honor bestowed upon foreign individuals conducting notable work in furthering international peace. Eight years later the Soviet Academy of Sciences decided to formally recognize Pauling’s scientific achievements by awarding him the Lomonosov Gold Medal, the highest award the Academy gave.

Lenin Peace Prize medal, June 15, 1970

Lenin Peace Prize medal, June 15, 1970

Lomonosov Medal, awarded by the Presidium of the Academy of the USSR, September 1978.

Lomonosov Medal, awarded by the Presidium of the Academy of the USSR, September 1978.

As might have been expected, Pauling did not hesitate to use his increasing fame in the Soviet Union to continue his advocacy for nuclear testing bans and better cooperation between the Soviet Union and the United States. His correspondence with Nikita Khrushchev, as contained in the Pauling archive, provides a revealing look into the increasingly intimate relationship between advocacy and diplomacy that helped define Pauling’s later peace work.

Draft of a letter from Linus Pauling to Nikita Khruschev, October 18, 1961.

Draft of a letter from Linus Pauling to Nikita Khruschev, October 18, 1961.

Khruschchev's response to Pauling, October 27, 1961.

Khruschchev's response to Pauling, October 27, 1961.

Learn more at the website “Linus Pauling and the International Peace Movement,” available via the Linus Pauling Online portal.